#like i know it's bad. I KNOw. unfortunately I love it

[lexiputellas]

Car Kiss

The moment your car collides with his, two things hit you harder than the airbag that just exploded in your face:

1. This was absolutely not your fault. (Technically.)

2. You did not deserve this.

For a second, everything is still. Your hands are locked around the wheel, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. The scent of burnt fabric and chemicals fills the car, the deployed airbag sagging pathetically in your lap like it just gave up on life.

Then—

"Are you fucking serious right now?!"

A voice—loud, pissed, and very much alive—cuts through your haze.

Your pulse stumbles.

Right. The other driver.

Slowly, stiffly, you peel your fingers off the wheel, every nerve in your body still humming with leftover adrenaline. The heat outside is relentless, pressing against the windshield, turning the inside of the car into an oven. Your skin feels sticky, your dress clinging uncomfortably as you try to process the disaster you just walked into.

You force yourself to move. The door groans as you push it open, and the second you step out, the sun slams into you like it's personally offended by your existence.

The man standing by the other car is fuming.

He's tall, broad, dressed in a crisp white button-down that’s now slightly wrinkled—probably from the sheer force of his frustration. His tie is loosened, his hands are on his head, and his expression is pure disbelief.

"You weren’t even looking!" he accuses, waving a hand toward the wreckage like it’s some kind of crime scene.

You inhale slowly, adjusting your sunglasses, trying to summon even a shred of calm. "Okay, first of all—let’s not jump to accusations."

His nostrils flare. "Look. At. My. Car."

You do.

And—okay. Yeah. It’s… seen better days. The bumper is hanging on by a miracle, the front crumpled in like a crushed soda can.

Then you turn to Alexia’s car.

And feel actual fear for the first time.

The front end looks exhausted. Like it’s seen things and would like to never be perceived again. The airbag is fully deployed, slumped over the steering wheel in silent, tragic judgment. The scent of burnt chemicals still lingers in the air.

You swallow hard. Maybe you should’ve just stayed home today.

"Are you even listening?!" the guy snaps, dragging a hand down his face. "You literally just crashed into me, and you’re acting like—"

"Okay, I hear you," you interrupt, forcing a smile. "I do. But, like… have you ever tried deep breathing? It’s amazing for stressful situations."

His eye twitches. "We're calling insurance."

You're already pulling out your phone. "Great idea!"

Of course, you’re not calling insurance.

You're calling her.

Alexia picks up after two rings.

"Bebé” Her voice is soft, familiar, but there’s an edge to it—like she already knows.

You hesitate.

The airbag. The crumpled hood. The fact that this isn’t even your car.

"Before I say anything," you start, voice syrupy sweet, "just know that I love you."

Silence.

Then—

"What did you do?"

You glance at the guy, who is still pacing beside his ruined car, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like legal threats.

You wince. "Hypothetically speaking, if something happened to your car—"

The silence sharpens.

"—not saying it did, but if it had a little accident—"

"Define ‘little.’"

You peek back at the scene. The wreckage. The airbag’s limp, tragic existence. The guy still looking like he’s one second away from suing you for emotional distress.

"Like… a kiss. A car kiss. Just a very unfortunate, high-speed one."

"You said you needed my car for work."

"I did. And I used it so responsibly. Except for this… one tiny—okay, medium—moment."

She exhales, long and sharp. "Is it bad?"

You hesitate. "...Define bad?"

"Is it drivable?"

"Technically."

"Is anything hanging off?"

"...Define ‘hanging.’"

"You’re actually unreal."

"It’s mostly cosmetic!" you argue. "Like, it still looks like a car! Just… also like it needs a nap. And a therapist."

"Where are you?"

"Outside work. I just parked. But the guy’s yelling about insurance and—wait, hold on—" You lower the phone. "Sir, are we exchanging info, or are you just gonna keep pacing?"

He glares. "Someone’s paying for this."

You sigh, lifting the phone back. "Ale, babe. Help."

"Send me a picture."

"...Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather hear about it first?"

"Now."

The call ends.

You groan and snap a photo of the wreckage. Then, because you’re already in deep shit, you send another one.

Of your boobs—one of the many emergency nudes you keep saved, because honestly, who doesn’t have a backup plan?

Her reply is immediate.

Alexia:

You are actually deranged.

A few more seconds. Then—

Alexia:

I’m leaving training. Stay there.

Uh-oh.

Fifteen minutes later, an SUV pulls up fast.

Too fast.

The tires bite into the pavement, rolling to a sharp, precise stop. The door swings open, and she steps out.

And suddenly, the heat of the sun feels second to the way she carries herself.

Alexia looks dangerous in the way only someone completely in control can. She’s still in her training gear—dark compression shorts hugging her legs, a fitted Barça tee damp with sweat. Her hair is tied back, loose strands framing her face in a way that should not look as good as it does. She shuts the car door with purpose, her sharp gaze sweeping the scene like she’s assessing an opponent.

First, the damage.

Then, the guy.

Then, you.

You smile delicately, clasping your hands together like the very picture of innocence. "Hi, my love."

"Are you hurt?"

The question takes you by surprise.

You blink. "Huh?"

Her eyes soften—just barely. "Are you hurt?" she repeats.

Your stomach does something weird.

You clear your throat. "No. Just—bruised ego."

She nods once, accepting that, before turning to the guy.

"We’ll handle this through insurance," she states, her tone cool, absolute.

The guy, who had previously been full of righteous anger, suddenly looks… uncertain. "Well, yeah, obviously, but—"

"Give me your details," she cuts in, leaving zero room for argument. "The tow truck is already on its way. We’ll handle the paperwork."

You glance at your phone, realizing you missed the call she must’ve made while driving.

The guy hesitates, then sighs in defeat. "Fine."

Alexia doesn’t waste another second. She turns to you, jaw tight. "Passenger seat."

You hesitate. "I can explai—"

"Passenger. Seat."

Your stomach flips.

Something about the way she says it—calm, but final—sends a thrill through you. You don’t argue this time.

The tow truck arrives as you settle in, the driver stepping out and immediately greeting Alexia with a handshake. She’s already handling it, already making the process smooth, efficient. You watch her through the windshield, chin propped on your hand.

Eventually, she gets back in. Silence settles between you as she pulls onto the road. It lingers for a while, heavy with everything that just happened.

Inside the car, you watch her, awed despite yourself. The way she carries herself. The way people listen to her. Honestly, kind of hot for someone who’s about to yell at you.

You reach over, fingers brushing against hers on the console. Her grip loosens slightly.

"You're mad," you murmur.

She exhales through her nose. "You sent me nudes after crashing my car."

You grin. "Did it help?"

Her lips twitch—just slightly. "You're impossible."

You smile. "But you’re not mad about the boobs, right?" A pause. Then, carefully—

"You crash my car and send me nudes." She shakes her head, half in disbelief, half in something else you can’t quite place. "Honestly. Who raised you?"

You shrug. "A woman with taste."

A pause. Then, carefully—

"Your driving privileges are suspended."

You gasp. "You can’t do that."

"Watch me."

"Babe. My freedom."

She glances over, lips twitching. "I’ll think about it."

You grin, leaning in, voice low, teasing. "I can be very persuasive."

She hums, eyes still on the road but amusement curling at the edges of her mouth.

[jacktheeldergod2]

Fuck it I'm answering all of them

1. It's bad

2. A random bird I saw outside. Common city pidgeon

3. Yeah. Not telling

4. Yeah. I'm also the most confident person ever. It's weird

5. Polycule. But all of them are a fucking ocean away

6. Either bleed out somewhere in peace with the whole thing or with my belly full of alcohol and a pretty face on my crotch

7. Green apple

8. Not professionaly yet but I do muay thai

9. I don't bite my nails. I anxiously rip off the ever regenerating skin of my lips

10. Like a few months ago. It was very short cause the pe teacher broke us up immediately

11. Yes. My lovers

12. No but it sounds fun in a way

13. Bigots,my mother etc

14. @mmmmmmky . Kay doesn't talk on the internet much so I miss Kay almost constantly

15. Mind your business

16. Hateful

17. I never made out at all my lovers live seas away

18. Fuck no. Spiders? The cool looking weavers? No I fucking don't

19. Why? To wait like I'm waiting right now all over again? To suffer more?

20. Nowhere. I haven't done that

21. Jacking off to @puppygirllaika 's content and playing hades

22. I hate kids. Humans should fully grow up in a single year like most animals. We'd have so much more time of youthful vigor that way

23. Not yet. I want snake bites and a bunch in my ears

24. I'm not good at school and none of them ever really felt good

25. Some friends from here that deleted their blogs and cut contact

26. Sex

27. No. Well I refused to be my first girlfriend's lover at the start out of fear that I'd fuck it up so maybe that counts

28. My relationships are open. If my lovers are being happy that's good for me whether I am involved or not. I'm a grown man not a 12 year old girl like I once was

29. I don't think so. I've pissed em off a few times though

30. Everything

31. My lovers and my friends

32. Purple,indigo,pink,that general range of color

33. Yes. Severely

34. random shit happened. Among them @sapient-marshmallow-princess had a computer. It was new and all that

35. Mother. Years ago

36. Never

37. Forget. Even if I forget what was done I'll forgive none of it

38. No

39. I haven't had one

40. No although I'd like to. Feels good to be naked y'know

41 through 50 are missing

51. Παστίτσιο

52. Nothing ever happened for a reason except the actions of living beings. The universe itself is just space and the matter within it

53. Masturbation

54. Yeah

55. Very much so

56. Not many,not too little. Never got really bad unfortunately. I wanna bring a human halfway to hell with my hands

57. I am incapable of perfectly differenting sexual attraction and romantic love. Perhaps I love my lovers platonically but have some special connection with them. I don't believe in some "the one" or "fated love" bullcrap. I never was so juvenile

58. Storms

59. Yes but it never snows here unfortunately

60. Doesn't matter to me. @moonsfavoritedaughter wants to so we'll buy some rings and tell the oaths to each other in the woods. This is more to make her happy,I needn't a ring to prove the love I feel

61. No

62. @moonsfavoritedaughter @mmmmmmky @sapient-marshmallow-princess

63. Already did. My name is Jack Spawn. Or the feminine version,Jackie Spawn. Maybe I'll change it more. Jojo sounds kinda good but I'm not sure

64. I haven't kissed

65. Fuck probably

66. If I can't act my complete self around someone they are not my friend. So yes

67. Your mom

68. Bella

69. Do I look like a 5-7 year old to you?

70. All my friends and lovers

@coiled-dragon you tagged me in a "people I wanna get to know better post last month so you can read this if you want

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[ppyopulii]

📋 the study of prosody.

PREVIEW. pros·​o·​dy. noun. the patterns of stress and intonation in a language. an example of its use would be the study of the following phrases: i.) if you want me, ii.) if you want me, iii.) if you want me.

FEATURING. stargazer!yoon jeonghan x linguist!reader GENRE(S). yearning, fluff, friends to lovers, suggestive (minors beware.) LENGTH | WC. <20min | 3.4k words EXPLICITS. cursing, one (1) mention of a spider, r ends up on yjh’s lap, car makeout session, light marking, grinding, yjh calls r sweetheart, lowk sub!r & sub!yjh (they are so effing down bad for one another)

JAY’S MUSINGS. been in the Craziest jeonghan brainrot for So long. someone help. for my beloved ashi, @junplusone, as we will now unfortunately promptly disappear again as stem major curriculums pick up once more. i offer u my love thru begging jeonghan. tysm for beta-reading. (p.s. slightly inspired by @mochacoda's night d(r)ive!! there is so much love written into her words it consumes me whole. pls go take a look <3)

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. if you want me, you better speak up by ljh. understand by keshi. striptease by carwash. touch tank by quinnie. better half by jeonghan (ft. omoinotake).

i.) if you want me,

“Bog time?”

Jeonghan looks up from the GPS on his phone, an eyebrow quirked up at your out of the blue words. He has the address of a random park punched into the navigation, finger hovering over the Start Route button, but he easily swipes out of the tab as if it was a mere thought in the back of his mind.

“And what might you mean by,” he lazily curls two fingers in the air in quotation marks, “Bog time?”

To his question, you simply offer your phone to him. There’s a curve to his smile as he takes the device and stares at the screen; it’s directions to a wetland park about nine minutes out from your location, in some suburban neighborhood. Pictures show a few benches around the small pond and a trail leading behind to the forest.

You beam at him, eyes sparkling in the sun’s last rays of the day, like a pet showing its owner a present they brought back from the outside. “A bog! Have you ever been to one?”

Jeonghan hands you back your phone, fingers sliding against yours, and looks to the sky thoughtfully. He rests his hand on the steering wheel of his sleek black Toyota Camry, the leather glinting with shine, tapping his finger to a beat you wished you knew.

“Not until tonight, I haven’t,” is his smooth answer; and before you know it, he’s pulling the shift into drive and pressing hard on the gas.

Loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy.

It’s more of an afterthought for you at this point. You grab the last bag of his favorite chips at the convenience store? He’s planning his move to steal it as if you weren’t going to surrender it to him without a fight, but you play along anyway to indulge him. There’s a spider in the kitchen? He’s cheering you on for moral support as you grab a cup and some paper to trap it, but it takes one tremble of your hands for him to click his tongue, say you’re too slow, and get the job done for you.

His quick-witted, ever playful banter keeps you on your toes. You thrive in the presence of him like a sponge soaking up as much water as it can—except, unfortunately for you, you’re constantly on the verge of having it all flood out and drowning in it.

Because while loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy, wanting him is a whole different story.

Loving doesn’t result in an ache in your heart every time he talks about his latest date with someone. Loving doesn’t cause the burning pit in your stomach that surfaces when he leans over, just right, to whisper something only meant for your ears.

Love, to you, is the noun you hold for Jeonghan, stored in your hands when you light-heartedly swat him away with a tsk—and want is the verb that jumps out of you when he effortlessly catches your wrist in his hand, honey eyes gleaming in your lamp’s light.

“Yah, we’re here.”

His teasing tone snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink in surprise. There’s no parking lot; his car is stalled on the side of the road, the headlights flickering for a moment before turning off.

“Where’s the bog?” you tilt your head in different directions, trying to get an unsuccessful glimpse of your surroundings.

Jeonghan snorts and pushes a lock of blonde hair behind his ear. “You tell me, dude. Can’t see shit out here.”

“Language,” you scold, before unlocking your side of the car and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

The neighborhood is quiet save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the wind’s loud escapades through the trees. You shiver and tuck yourself into the knitted sweater you had chosen for tonight, the wind picking up ever so slightly as if to mock your choice of clothing. Jeonghan is on your side before you can even think of yanking him out of the car, much to your dismay. He shuts your door and shines the flashlight of his phone onto the dewy lawn grass.

“What even is a bog?” Jeonghan queries as the two of you begin to walk in a seemingly random direction. “Just a wetland?”

“Basically, yeah. The thing we’re going too isn’t really a bog. More of a pond with some swamp aspects. I just think bog’s a funny word.”

Your shoes scrape against the cement. From Jeonghan’s light, you can see up ahead that just across the road is the sign from your Google Search, signifying your destination is close. Your eyes trace the trail winding behind it into the forest.

“Explain it to me.”

Startled, you glance back. Jeonghan’s face is faintly illuminated from the light bouncing off of you. If you were to focus well enough, you would be able to outline the slope of his cheekbone and the way some strands of his hair brushed against it ever so softly.

“The word bog? Are you serious? It’s really nothing,” you try to argue, turning back around.

“Come on. Try me.”

You heave a sigh. “Alright. If you want me to.”

“Yah. ‘Course I want you to.”

The air feels a little thicker now, but you swallow the feeling back and press forward as the grass gets taller. You wish it was warmer; maybe, if you were lucky, you’d be able to hear the night calls of a toad, or see fireflies milling about the shoreline.

“Gaelic origin, mostly. Just an adjective that describes something that’s soft and damp. There’s also some roots back to Ireland—they had a word that describes moist ground.”

While you’re explaining, Jeonghan carefully takes the lead, shining his flashlight onto the wooden sign marking the entrance to the trail and oncoming wetland. He hums in response.

“Nerd.”

You smack his shoulder blade.

“Ow—fuck, okay, I’m sorry!”

He’s laughing, and like the death of a star your anger explodes into oblivion, rolling your eyes good-naturedly as you shove him with your elbow. “You were the one who asked.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right.” You glance at Jeonghan from within your peripherals while he speaks. There’s a flicker of surprise as you take note of his small smile that curls with an emotion you can’t quite read.

“Can’t help it, y’know,” he muses aloud. “To want is a cruel thing.”

ii.) if you want me,

Your breath evens as the concrete path gradually gives way to wooden boardwalk. The two of you walk quietly side by side, the water’s surface still and reflecting the moon’s light from above. Jeonghan had mentioned earlier that it was a waxing gibbous, and that a super moon would be occurring in a few nights’ time.

Moments were always stolen with Jeonghan—not because you two didn’t have the time for each other, but more so because you two seemed to have all the time in the world to spend in each other’s presence. Inseparable like the twin stars marked by the constellation dubbed Gemini, you grew so used to his existence that it took outrageously spontaneous adventures like this one to really cherish him.

Or, in this particular case, curse him and his ever observant nature.

“You want me to do what?”

“Just come here,” he urges, opening his arms a little wider.

Your hesitance is palpable, but ultimately, you relent, wiggling your way into his warm embrace. His hoodie is worn with seasons of journeys that you’ve accompanied him on, and it’s always been a comfort you’ve relied on for warmth.

Just… never with him alongside it.

“There you go,” Jeonghan’s lips skim the crown of your hairline and you shudder, the motion backfiring on you when he only presses you closer to him. “Y’know, you usually know better than to wear the thinnest knitted sweater known to man on a night like this.”

“You could’ve just given me your hoodie, you know.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to do that. Then I’d be freezing. This is a win-win.”

“You’re insufferable,” you say, and bury yourself further against the fabric.

The self-proclaimed bog is forgotten as the two of you find more interesting things to take notice of. Once more, a comfortable quiet overtakes you two, with your eyes following the sway of a tree’s branches and Jeonghan focused on the sky above. A moment to journal about later, maybe, with a fern taken and pressed to be studied after it dried. Perhaps tonight you’d snag the formidable prickles of the pine tree nearby. You’d always be interested in how words took shape after nature, the conifer’s history included.

As if on cue, Jeonghan’s voice is pulling you out of your thoughts in asking about the tree before you two. You respond in turn about the specifics of the pine.

“Doesn’t that have another meaning? Pine?”

“Mhm,” you hum noncommittally. “The tree existed first, then the verb pine came about later; means to long for or seek after, similar to yearning. They both actually stem from two different Latin words—pine tree from pinus and pining from poena. Cool how they ended up as the same word though, huh?”

Jeonghan is surprisingly still for a while. Leaves rustle nearby, being stirred by the wind, and you bite your lip.

Even though he’s heard you ramble about nonsense background contexts of words a thousand times over, the silence scares you. Sometimes you still fear Jeonghan will be bored by your constant, monotone voice, as if he was only listening to reply rather than understand.

“Hey, look up. D’you see those three stars up there?”

You glance above the tree you’re studying and nod against the fabric of his hoodie. The three stars in question are a straight shot line, banded together diagonally like a belt. Above those, another group of stars come together to form the torso of a man, one arm held out to hold something akin to a bow.

“Orion and his belt,” you confirm. “You’ve told me his story before—the hunter who boasted about killing all animals, right? I remember arguing about the right myth to follow.”

“Yeah, well, there’s more to it,” Jeonghan chuckles and wraps his arms a smidge tighter around you. You try to ignore the electricity shooting through your veins, piercing your heart like a lightning strike.

He lowers his face so that his mouth is close, so close, right by your ear. Freeing one of his hands from your embrace, he tilts your chin up with his fingers ever so slightly, pointing at a faint cluster of stars somewhere above and to the right. You squint your eyes to focus better as Jeonghan softly begins his story.

“The Pleiades were seven sisters who were sought after by Orion. Their father was Atlas, the Titan condemned to holding up the sky, and once barred to his eternal punishment, Orion took this chance to begin his pursuit. He was persistent in his chase for the sisters, wanting to win any of their favors through any means possible. Zeus eventually had enough of Orion’s attempts and turned the Pleiades into doves to free them; however, they asked to be placed in the sky to be closer to their father. That’s how the constellation we know of now came to be formed. Unfortunately for them, Orion took to the skies soon after and continues to chase them to this day.”

It’s your turn to fall speechless. Something about the tale makes your bottom lip jut out in a solemn expression; eternal punishment of any form, be it to hold up the sky for forever or to be chased unwillingly by a hunter in various forms, makes your heart ache. You stubbornly hope there is an end to your own suffering, fingers shaking as Jeonghan pulls his hand away from cupping your face.

“Don’t worry, though,” he whispers; his tone is so gentle it has you leaning into him subconsciously. “The Pleiades are safe. All Orion can do is long for, or pine after them, as you so dutifully defined for me earlier.”

“I’m glad.” Your voice, low and full of emotion, is almost lost to the wind as it begins to surge. “Sometimes feelings just can’t be returned, no matter how much we desire them to be. I would want them to be happy.”

You stare woefully at the sisters. Jeonghan’s gaze remains fixated on you.

“Me too.”

iii.) if you want me.

As you stare up at Orion and the Pleiades, your gaze rests on the silhouette of the tree before the two of you. The branches sway in the wind, catching the breeze, and you trail the outline of the tree across the sky. From just the right angle, Orion seems to lean against the pine, his weight being supported by the sturdy evergreen like it had grown specifically for him to rest upon. The thought makes you smile.

“Isn’t it crazy?” comes your muffled murmur from against the material of his hoodie; Jeonghan makes a noise for you to continue.

“Just.. how perfectly nature fits within itself sometimes, like one big recurring metaphor. As if the mother of the universe finds her favorite verses in the stars and rewrites them over and over because she can’t get enough of them.”

The wind begins to die down; there’s no need for you to be bundled up within Jeonghan’s arms, but you stay, waiting with bated breath for his response.

“How so?”

Perhaps it’s the late hour that boldens you with no room for overthinking, your phones tucked neatly away in your pockets as to not distract you. Your heart is throwing itself against your ribcage as you muster up a confession.

“There’s so many tales like Orion and the Pleiades, as sad as it is. But there are just as many triumphs as there are tragedies, all recreated over and over. The universe—she’s trying to tell us something. She’s telling us to find love in each other, and therefore, in ourselves.”

You swallow back any possible regret and finish, “Personally, I think I’ve received the message pretty well through you.”

There’s a sharp intake of air. You feel Jeonghan exhale a breath, tingling your skin, and his lips are so close they kiss the shell of your ear as they move.

“I agree. I guess we are yet another recreation of her favorite tale of love, then.”

Something shifts in you; an unspoken agreement that has your head reeling when he doesn’t let you slip away from him on the way back to the car. Your fingers are grasped lightly in his, and soft giggles tumble out of you when he fumbles to open the door of your side. They fall silent as he slides in, adjusting the chair back and looking up at you expectantly. His hand is out for you to take.

“Well?” is all he says, and the single word’s implication hits you like a freight truck.

Aren’t you going to be with me?

The wind howls, delighted and amped up from the excitement swirling within you. Your hair whips around your face protectively, tears beginning to stain the apples of your cheeks. There is nothing in your mind except for the way Jeonghan’s wisps of blonde hair fall away from their place behind his ears. You ache to fix them.

“Are you sure?” is all you can croak out.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, and with no hesitation he replies, “Yes, if you want me.”

Your weight rests on his lap in a painfully easy manner. The car door clicks shut and is swiftly locked, and before you know it, Jeonghan’s hands are settled around your waist.

“Hi.” You squeak ever so eloquently.

Jeonghan has his face mere inches away from you. His nose tickles yours in a sheepish laugh. “Hi to you, too.”

“Did you mean it?” you blurt out with trembling fingers, daring to clutch onto the hem of his sweater as if he’ll blow away with no warning. “Are you serious about this?”

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” he teases. “Are you saying I’ve been implying something tonight?”

“I want to say so. I want to believe that you have been.”

The way your name falls off his tongue is pure silk, and you swear he’s reinvented a new meaning to it just now. Who knew that meanings could be born from different intonations?

“Please,” Jeonghan breathes your name again; it’s a borderline whine that rushes the air out of your lungs. “Just let me want you. I’ve been denied it for so long.”

The kiss that follows is searing, burning with the desire you’ve wrestled with shoving back into your throat until now. You aren’t entirely sure who’s lips pressed to who’s first, but what you are sure of is the moan that slips from Jeonghan’s mouth, his breathing harsh and ragged.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and you have half the mind to tell him to mind his language again when he interrupts you by squeezing your waist. “You’re so goddamn hot.”

Laughter bubbles out of you. Jeonghan glances up at you in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering with confusion. You giggle and cup his cheek.

“Weren’t you just versing poetry to me thirty seconds ago? What happened to that?”

He just shrugs and leans forward to press a feverish kiss to your lips. “The duality of man.”

“The duality of man, indeed,” you murmur.

Your fingernails scrape along his neck enticingly, tangling in the tufts of his blonde hair. You give an experimental tug and revel in the gasp he lets out, a whimper being drawn out of you.

Jeonghan tilts your chin up and begins to pepper your jawline with kisses, each more passionate than the last. He’s pushing your sweater’s neckline to the side by the time he reaches your collarbone, spurred on by your quiet moans and high intones of his name, nipping marks into your skin. Red blooms across your shoulders from his love bites.

“I didn’t know you were a biter,” you quip through gasps. “Should’ve figured, though.”

His fingers, running along your curves from under your sweater, suddenly pinch your butt. You yelp and whine at his antics while Jeonghan just laughs.

“Better than you, sweetheart,” he smirks, rubbing circles into your skin as a silent apology. “All bark, no bite.”

You kiss him to shut him up, tongue sliding against his before beginning to suck on his bottom lip. He tastes like the honey lemon tea you shared earlier at the cafe. You wonder if you taste the same.

A wave of heat scores through you at the thought, wanting nothing more than to eternally be enveloped by his scent, his taste, his everything. You don’t even realize how hard your hips are pressing into his until he breaks the kiss with a groan, bucking up into you with a delicious sigh.

You feel him, hard and hot and sorely needy, and you take the chance to grind back down against him, adoring the way his shuddering lips chase yours. The world is lost to you; all you know is Yoon Jeonghan, and he simply is enough.

“I want you,” you suddenly say, pausing to take in the sight below you.

His cheeks are flushed, yours no doubt no better, and his hoodie is barely hanging on to the lower half of his torso. Pale, muscled skin peeks out and tenses at your touch sliding up his abdomen. Jeonghan is glowing, and tears prick the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by emotion.

“I want you,” you repeat, lips ghosting his. “But I want you to want me, too. Do you?”

“Dumb question,” he whispers back. “That’s never been something to ask of me. It’s always been pure fact, like the origin of the word bog. Pine has different Latin roots, Orion chases the Pleiades, and I want you.”

A sigh escapes you, and you let yourself press once more to him, answering his confession with a kiss.

 I want you. Your body, made by the universe, retells your story over and over as it moves in time with his own. I want you and I want you to want me and I want us.

Jeonghan eagerly kisses you in return as if to say, Go ahead then, take me. Take it all. I want you.

Take everything in me, and leave nothing left but us.

[mosaickiwi]

Hey hey !!! Just wanted to say I really appreciate your writing, reading a fic of yours always brings me comfort :D

I was wondering if you’d be okay doing a body swap! AU between Angel and Ren/Redacted. You’re welcome to take whatever approach you deem fit, I’m curious as to what you come up with

thank you !!!

Thank you very much <33 Taking this as a warm up so I can remember wtf i'm doing!! So it's a HC list with a little blurb :3c most of my writing the past four months has been for my own projects/personal use lmao

Also happy day 5 yayyy yippee ���

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Body Swap!!

[REDACTED] in your body?? Thriving

Fascinated and loving it. Since they've been studying you for years he knows all the little physical quirks you have, but now he gets to experience them himself and it's weirdly exciting.

Additionally, NO ONE would realize anything was wrong. Acting like you would be even easier than getting into character for Haruko. Except he might not be able to help himself and do a little friendship sabotaging.

He's being extremely weird in private if you give him permission lmao

A little unsure of physical affection at first because of the self loathing. Of course he still wants it, but being on the other side of things has his thoughts all "that's how my scars feel to you? my hands are really this cold?" Notes for himself to keep plenty of hand warmers in his pockets.

Puts the collar of their shirt over his mouth like he's cold… but it's really just a quick excuse to sniff your clothes outright in public I'm so sorry.

You in his body?? Suffering

You bump your head on door frames, constantly hit your hip on counters, trip in your platform shoes if you're not used to them.

You're tired all the time??? You knew they hardly slept but it was THIS bad? The constant coffee and energy drinks are the only reason you don't fall asleep in the middle of conversations.

Piercings feel weird too if your angel doesn't have them. Constantly touching your tongue to the roof of your mouth, fiddling with your ears, etc. 

Unaware of your new strength. Picking up furniture is surprisingly easy. You probably broke a door lock when turning the key with a little too much force. 

Your friends are dismissive and standoffish with you. Can you blame them? At best he ignores them, and at worst you have to be physically between them (but closer to [REDACTED]) to keep both parties happy.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

"Watch your head," you heard from in front of you. 

You carefully ducked into the doorway to your apartment. It was hard to get used to your new height — and almost as hard to get used to hearing someone else use your voice.

The same couldn't be said of your partner. Not even thirty minutes had passed since the unfortunate incident, but [REDACTED] already seemed at home in your body. As if it was natural to him. 

While you panicked about suddenly swapping bodies in the middle of a hangout with your friends, he calmly made a plan. All you could do was follow along.

You'd observed them, dumbfounded as they perfectly mimicked your personality and mannerisms. He'd excused you both from the carnival early, and gotten you home without a hint of suspicion from anyone. It was unexpected and illogical, but his obsession with you clearly paid off.

No one seemed to notice — or care, since they weren't friends with him — that the pissed off emo their friend dragged around looked crazier than usual as you both left.

The door shut as you stumbled into the living room like a newborn fawn, your now shorter partner hovering at your side. How did he manage to wear three-inch platform boots while this tall? You tripped your way over to the couch with a sigh.

"I'm calling in sick tomorrow," you groaned into the armrest. The couch felt even more uncomfortable in his body. Inviting him over just to let him sleep on the couch one too many times probably warranted an apology. 

"We should be back t'normal in a few hours."

"Is that what WebDR said?" There was no response, but you threw out another question. "I guess we could kill time and watch a movie, what do you think?"

Again, he didn't answer. You heard the faintest sound of your phone vibrating and searched every inch of your outfit. When you found his phone instead, you sat up to look for him. 

The temporary owner of your body was standing just beside the couch, your phone still ringing in their hand, but his thumb hovering dangerously close to the screen. There was an annoyed frown on his face… your face? 

"Leon's calling," he finally said.

"Oh my god." You jumped up to snatch the phone away and hurriedly declined the call. 

Your partner's frown quickly turned to amusement at the situation. "Y'don't trust me t'play nice with him?"

"When you're using my voice? Fuck no." You texted an apology to Leon for leaving early, lied about your throat hurting so he wouldn't call back, then hid the device in one of your many pockets. "Oh wow." 

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing, I guess."

Staring down at your own face this closely was… off. You reached forward and grabbed their chin, turning it every which way as if something about it would change. 

"You really get to look at me from all the worst angles when you're this tall, huh?" you hummed to yourself. 

"And y'look perfect at every single one, love."

God, he was awful. "Ignoring you."

[ilvermornie]

amortentia ୨୧ lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

in which lorenzo’s plans to keep his infatuation with you to himself fail (successfully?)

warnings none | masterlist

all of enzo’s friends knew he was in love with you. sure, he never outright said it himself, but these boys have known him since he was just a lonely kid sitting alone on the train to hogwarts, nervous for what was to come; they could read him like a book.

they noticed the way his eyes would fill with curiosity as soon as your name was brought up in conversation, needing to know what you’d been up to lately. they noticed how his voice would change whenever he’d speak to you - becoming softer, more gentle. most of all, they noticed all the crumpled up letters, failed attempts at confessing his undying love to you buried deep in enzo’s wardrobe. saying things has never been his strong suit.

after the fifteenth letter (one which included the line “if you don't want to date me that's okay but please give me a chance anyway”) was haphazardly shoved into the usual hiding spot, enzo decided to simply keep his little secret to himself. if he couldn't even write how he felt about you, how was he ever supposed to speak about it?

unfortunately for him, he made that decision a little too late, as the boys found the letters long before he had gotten to fifteen, and made it their lives’ mission to make you two official.

the plan started with a friday potions class.

“look at him, poor boy,” pansy whispered to draco, her eyes lingering on enzo’s figure as he stared longingly at his own cauldron of amortentia, as if willing you to come out of it.

draco hummed, now also staring at enzo with his brows furrowed. contrary to popular belief, he didn't enjoy other people’s misery - only those who deserved it, and enzo definitely did not deserve it. it was at that moment when draco decided to concoct a plan to finally bring his friend and his true love together. he was done toying around with the secret enzo had unknowingly shared with all of them.

seeing snape distracted with some hufflepuffs who just couldn’t seem to brew anything right, draco gestured for enzo’s partner, mattheo, to come over and help him come up with a plan. but if enzo was bad with words, mattheo was even worse when it came to gestures.

“what?” mattheo mouthed, his brows furrowing in confusion. draco tried again, his patience growing thin. this time, mattheo did get something out of draco; the wrong thing.

giving draco a thumbs up and a large smile, mattheo slyly pulled his wand out of his pocket and made the whole potion spill all over enzo.

instantly, enzo jumped, feeling a complete shift in his entire body. everything was warm, and he couldn’t think about a single thing but you. his mouth begged to betray him, wanting to say words he only ever thought about in bed, staring at his bedroom ceiling, but luckily he swallowed them down.

turning to mattheo, he yelled, “what the hell is wrong with you? why would you do that?”

“oopsies,” was all he got out of mattheo.

promptly, snape appeared and lectured mattheo for what he had done, deducting fifty points from his own house in the process. this didn’t faze him, partially because he never cared for the house point system anyway, and partially because just earlier that morning, he had overheard you talking to your friends about how you liked enzo back, you were just too nervous to tell him.

in mattheo’s eyes, he was doing you both a favour. did he know what would happen to someone who was doused with a fresh batch of amortentia? no, but he knew it would be something magical.

as soon as class ended, enzo ran to his dorm room and locked himself in there, trying to do anything to calm his nerves. he couldn’t be seen outside until the effects of this wore off, or else he’d do something that would result in him becoming the laughingstock of slytherin.

meanwhile, a heated discussion was happening in the slytherin common room.

“how was i supposed to know you wanted me to come over?” mattheo said, angrily sitting down on the deep green couch.

“because that’s what everyone does when they want someone to come over, you idiot!” draco shot back, exasperated as he paced around the room.

not wanting to waste any more time on draco and mattheo’s argument, as well as seeing the possibility of an opportunity coming out of this, pansy said, “okay, well, it’s already happened and there’s nothing any of us can do to reverse it. what happens to someone who just had amortentia poured on them anyway?” she turned to blaise, who’d been reading up on that very subject the entire time.

giving the textbook in his hand a quick glance, he replied, “it says here they become ‘consumed with their infatuation with the person the amortentia smells like’ and that they have to ‘fight the urge to do rash things as a result of that infatuation’,”

instantly, mattheo rose from the couch and exclaimed, “this is perfect! all we need is to bring y/n and enzo here and he’ll finally tell her how he feels!” then, to draco, he said, “who's the idiot now?”

the four didn't even have to move from their positions for their new plan to begin. a mere second later, you walked into the slytherin common room, a green and silver scarf in your hands.

“hey, is emilia here? she left her scarf...” you asked, scanning the room for both your friend and the boy you were madly in love with, and finding neither one of them. at this, you pouted. you had really hoped to see at least one of the two, especially the latter, since you were worried he’d been avoiding you lately.

guiding you to an empty seat, mattheo said, “nope, no emilia here, but don't worry! i’m sure she'll turn up soon,” as he did so, he gave pansy a look, urging her to distract you with conversation. after lorenzo, pansy was the one you got along with most, and distract you was exactly what she did. in fact, she did it so well you didn't notice a certain love-filled brunet come down the stairs to the common room.

after sitting with his feelings for a while, enzo felt the effects of the amortentia subsiding and decided to go down to the common room to give mattheo a piece of his mind, thinking he was in the clear. unfortunately, he was not, for as soon as his eyes met yours and he saw the way you brightened up, a large smile on your beautiful face, the effects of the amortentia were back and as if they never left in the first place.

he began to turn around, but ever-attentive theo had already seen him, “oh look, there’s lorenzo!” he said, smirking. enzo had no choice to stay where he was and pray that he didn't mess everything up.

“hi enzo!” you said, your hands immediately making their way to a stray piece of your hair as you tried to make yourself look as presentable as you could, “have you seen emilia? she forgot her scarf in class earlier today.”

enzo took a deep breath, making a mental script of what he was going to say so that the script the amortentia had planned for him wouldn't take over, “no, i haven't. sorry.”

your brows furrowed, being caught completely off-guard by his response. sure, enzo had his moments every once in a while, but this was too blunt, even for his worst days. as you pondered why he would be acting so strange, you noticed how flushed his face was.

getting up from where you sat and making your way over to him (much to his dismay), you said, “are you okay? you look a little red,” to which enzo just hummed, not trusting his mouth to say anything more.

‘it’s fine,’ he thought to himself, ‘as long as she doesn’t get any closer or say anything more, i should be fine.’

you put the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to feel his temperature, “are you sure you're okay?” you mumbled under your breath, concerned about how hot he felt.

enzo reached his breaking point, and the words came spilling out of him, “no, i'm not okay. how could i be okay when i’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now and haven’t been able to do anything about it? i tried everything! i watched those stupid muggle movies you like to see how they’d confess, i went to that love café in hogsmeade and asked the lady there how she thinks i should do it, i wrote fifteen failed love letters, fifteen! and none of it worked, so i just decided not to do anything about my feelings, but it was killing me, y/n, watching those other guys flirt with you, do all the things i wish i could do but couldn’t! and then today in potions, mattheo spilt amortentia all over me and now all i can think about is you, it physically hurt to keep this all inside of me, even now that i’ve said it all and ruined everything!”

the room was silent, save for draco who whispered, “who knew he could be such a sap?” to pansy.

meanwhile, your head was reeling, trying to absorb everything that had just happened. enzo had been just as in love with you as you had been with him this entire time, and you’d been nearly killing yourselves staying silent and hoping the other would say something.

while you were trying to process enzo’s unintentional confession, he was praying to anyone that would listen for you to just say something, even if it meant breaking his heart, at least then he'd finally know for sure how you felt. anything would've been better than the silence you faced him with now.

what broke you out of your trance was enzo storming off after realising he'd messed everything up, both his friendship with you and any chance he may have had with you as a boyfriend. quickly realising what you had done, you grabbed his hand, “enzo, wait.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just... in shock! i mean, wow, i’ve never been confessed to at all, let alone like this,” you felt your face getting warmer, still in complete disbelief at how this was your real life, “i like you too, enzo, as more than friends, and i think all that stuff you did is really sweet, even though i can tell you’re a little embarrassed about having to admit it.”

as soon as those words left your mouth, enzo’s mood did a complete 180 - he had never smiled a smile this wide in his entire life, he didn’t even know smiles could get as big as the one he had on right now, “really?” he asked, taking your other hand in his so he was now holding both. you nodded.

“okay then, let's rewind. y/n, would you like to go on a date to hogsmeade with me this saturday?” he asked, making a show of being perfectly chivalrous which had you stifling giggles.

letting one slip, you replied, “yeah, enzo, i’d love to. but can you just do me a quick favour first?”

“anything for you,” was his immediate reply, shortening the distance between the two of you as he cradled your head in his hands.

trying to ignore your racing heartbeat, you said, “send me those fifteen letters. i wanna read all of them.”

[differenteagletragedy]

Part three of the one where Price is your neighbor and he falls in love with you but you already have an awful boyfriend :(

Here is PART ONE and here is PART TWO, thank yooou <3

John can't hold back his smile as he sits across from you in the little coffee shop where you brought him -- a quaint, cozy little place, with cute wicker chairs he'd half-worried he'd snap in half when he sat down.

"What?" you ask him, your own smile brightening your pretty features.

"Nothing," he replies, still grinning softly. Of course it's not nothing -- it's everything, seeing you smile just for him. He imagines laying all his cards out for you, telling you to leave the worthless man living with you and to be with him instead, but the timing isn't right, so instead he points a finger at your drink, saying, "Just never seen a coffee look quite like that."

You look down at your drink, an iced coffee that's more white than black, with flavored syrup along the side and whipped cream on top, and John swears he sees a little bit of red pop up on your cheeks as you shrug.

"I just like it sweet," you tell him. "Aiden makes fun of me for it too."

His jaw clenches at the mention of the boyfriend, and he leans in just a little bit closer over the small table, careful not to make the moment too intense while still making sure you hear him.

"Not making fun of you, sweetheart," he says quietly. "I think it's ... cute."

Your eyes light up at the tiny compliment, and you giggle, a beautiful sound that John is sure he could become addicted to.

"'Cute'?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow playfully. There's a bit of teasing in your tone, and if he didn't know better, he'd think you were flirting. "I never thought I'd hear you describe something as 'cute.'"

"And why not?" he asks, pretending to be indignant. "What's wrong with me finding it cute?"

"No problem with you finding it cute, it's just ... " she trails off, gesturing at him, then says, "Big tough strong army man, you know? You've just never struck me as, I don't know. A connoisseur of cute."

God, you're adorable. So much that John can't help but lean in a little further, his hands coming to circle his own cup of coffee.

"Lot of things you don't know about me, love."

If John had it bad for you before, he's completely gone after that coffee date -- because that's precisely what it felt like, a date. The boyfriend topic didn't come up again, and instead you talked everything else. You told him all about your job, and he told you a little about his. You shared little tidbits of your life, the people in it and the things you filled it with, and he mentally took note of everything, cataloging it all away.

Slowly and surely, he's building a little secret chamber in his mind, or maybe his heart, all full of you.

Unfortunately, there's only so long a friendly neighbor coffee run can last, and all too soon, he's opening the door of the shop for you and following behind you as you lead the way back to your car. He opens the car door for you as well, but on impulse, just before you climb in, he stops you with a gentle hand on your elbow.

"I'd like to show you something," he says softly. "Can I?"

Soon, he's the one behind the wheel of your car, with you seated next to him, looking out the window curiously as he passes the town limits.

"You promise you're not kidnapping me?" you ask, looking over to him with a playful smirk that has his hand flexing where it rests on the gear shift, fighting the urge to reach out and rest it on your thigh instead.

He forces a tight smile, glancing at you once more before focusing back on the road, and replies, "If I were kidnapping you, pet, you'd bloody well know it."

There's that giggle again, music to his ears, and he feels a rush of pride at knowing you trust him enough not to be scared of him. He knows he's an imposing man, but he'd sooner die than hurt you, and he's pleased to know that, at least on some level, you recognize that.

It doesn't take long for John to reach his destination, and when he parks by the road, you look out the window for a moment, then back to him, a puzzled expression on your face.

He smiles softly and nods to the door, gesturing for you to get out. When you do, he meets you in front of the car, offering his arm out to you, which you take. Feeling your delicate hand holding onto him, he guides you to the small hillside by the road where he'd pulled off.

"You wanted to show me ... grass," you said. "I gotta tell you, John, this isn't really inspiring me to want to hang out with you more."

He chuckles, starting up the little hill, and tells you, "The thing about hills is that there's something on the other side, yeah? Something you can't see, but if you just have a little bit of faith ..."

He trails off, watching your face as you get to the top of the hill. He sees you positively beam when you see the field of wildflowers below, hidden from the road by the higher ground of the hill.

"John!" you exclaim, finally looking up at him. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Well, love, I may not be a ... what did you call it? A 'connoisseur of cute.' But I do know a thing or two about appreciating something beautiful."

It's a line, and he knows it. This whole thing, driving you out to this field full of pretty flowers -- a place he'd found by accident one difficult night when he'd gone for a long walk because he couldn't sit still in his apartment without going mad -- is a move, pure and simple. But when your smile softens and you shift your body to face his, it feels like it's working.

Just for a moment, he lets his eyes fall down to your lips, full and smooth and positively biteable, and in that moment, your hand falls from his arm, only to tentatively slide up to his shoulder. His own hands come to your waist, high enough to be polite but firm enough that his intentions are clear.

He wants you. Desperately, completely. And now, he can see that at least part of you wants him too, boyfriend or not.

"John, I ..." you sigh, your gaze dropping down to his chest, and he feels your hand gently fisting the fabric of his jacket. "I can't."

"You can," he argues softly, his voice a low murmur. "You only have to do it."

You meet his eyes again, and he can see the turmoil there. He's in deep enough with you now that if he thought it was best for you, he'd drop it, but he knows, from the things you've told him and from his own instincts, that you're scared. And he wants you to be brave.

John waits, his grip on you steady. There's a pull between you, one he feels so strongly he'd almost swear he could reach out and grab it. He tries to let you begin to get used to being with him like this, the feel of his strong, solid hands and the weight of his gaze. He wants you to know how good it could feel, with him.

And you're almost there, he can see it. The pull ropes you in, makes you take a small step forward so that there's just a little bit of space between your bodies and you have to tilt your head back just to keep looking at him. A cold breeze blows by, and the sweet smell from the flowers circles around you.

A perfect moment that's interrupted by the sharp sound of your phone ringing in your pocket.

Just like that, you step back, your hands dropping to your sides, and before John knows it, you're on the phone with your boyfriend, telling him you'll be home soon, that everything is fine, that you're sorry you were gone for so long.

Without a word, he offers you his arm again when you hang up the phone, and you take it, but the earlier warmth is gone. Your touch is hesitant again, and it's almost enough to make him wish he'd never brought you here in the first place.

It might have been easier, to continue on without knowing for a fact that something in you, some part, however small, feels for him what he feels for you. But as soon as the notion crosses his mind, it's out again -- it may be harder now, feeling you pull back after being so close, but now he knows he has something to fight for.

The ride back to your shared apartment building is silent, for the most part. As he pulls your car into your parking space, you say something so faint he barely hears it.

"I'm sorry."

It's a wild thing to say, because he knows you have nothing to be sorry about. His mind races with possible responses, everything from pulling you into his lap and kissing you, slow and deep, just how he was about to by that picturesque field before the phone call ruined it all to explaining to you in detail just how perfect he thinks you are, just how impossible it is for him to think that you've done anything wrong.

But he knows that, in just a moment, you're going to be walking back into your apartment -- the home you share with another man. A man who gets to kiss you like that, no matter how little he deserves it. It's an infuriating thought. A poisonous one.

So instead, he taps the wheel and says, "Steering's off."

".... huh?"

He flashes you a tight-lipped smile, turning off the ignition.

"Pulls to the left a bit. You don't notice it?"

"Oh ... yeah, I've noticed it. But I just ... I don't know, I just deal with it," you tell him.

Of course you do.

"We'll have a look at it soon, all right?" he says. "I don't like the thought of you on the road with it like that. Need to keep that pretty little head of yours safe, don't we now?"

"John ..." you begin, and he knows by your tone, along with a brief flash of pain in your eyes, that you're about to touch on more than just his protective streak.

But again, your phone rings, and whatever dregs of magic that were left from the moment out there in the flowers vanish completely.

"Best not keep him waiting, love," he says softly, before getting out of your car and walking around to open your door for you.

When he does, your phone is still ringing in your hand, and you step out of the car, brows furrowed and frowning as you gaze up at him.

"In you get," he murmurs, nodding towards the building.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Not quite yet," he answers, feeling the tension in his shoulders coil with every ring of your phone. "You go on, and I'll see you around, yeah?"

You nod, taking your keys as he holds them out for you, and as you turn to walk towards the entrance, he hears you answer the phone with more apologies for being gone so long.

John, meanwhile, turns and starts walking. A quick walk, purposeful in that it helps him to think and to calm him down, not in that he has any particular place to go.

It's been so long since someone has gotten under his skin the way you have, and after today, he knows that you've burrowed deep, taking root in him. It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking and infuriating, and it tests him. He's nothing if not controlled, but you, and the situation, are wearing at him in the sweetest, most excruciating way.

Falling for you like this, with you wrapped up in a man you feel like you can't get away from, is a torturous kind of bliss.

A vibration in his pocket pulls him from his thoughts, and he ignores it, his mind too full of the memory of you by the flowers, the feeling of your waist under his hands. When it vibrates again, he sighs, pulling his phone out.

There, he sees two texts from you. The first reads "wanna do laundry tomorrow?", and the second is just a series of emojis going through the events of the day: a tire, a coffee cup, several flowers and a car, ending with a heart.

It's ... so goofy. But it's endearing too, and he can't help but smile.

"Tomorrow is good," he types back in response, then he hesitates with his thumb over the "send" button. He takes a breath, then fiddles with his phone for a moment until he finds the emojis so he can add a heart to his as well.

He knows he's acting like a lovesick boy, but as he turns and walks back home, an extra spring in his step and the smile still on his face, he can't bring himself to care. So much of his life is about being strong and in charge, fearless and powerful. It feels good to allow himself this small indulgence in the privacy of his own mind.

John also knows that you're not quite there with him yet. You're on a precipice, it seems, and while he knows without a doubt that he'll catch you when you jump, you're still too scared to make the leap.

A moment ago, he may have almost considered giving up. But now, with plans for tomorrow and the faint feel of your body imprinted on his hands, he's ready to keep fighting.

[wordsofelie]

🔭Saturn

part of my observatory event, requested by @stellar-haikyuu <3

kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

summary: you’ve finally found a rival who meets your standards. too bad the man is the most infuriating, stupid and annoying person on earth.

content warnings: high school setting, hurt/comfort, sports / academic rivals, swearing, reader kinda has an inferiority complex

words count: 1.4k

It started as a game. A silly, stupid, little game.

At least, that’s what you told yourself at first.

You’ve always been rather—competitive. Ever since you were a kid, you chased after every first place, every gold medal, every record waiting to be broken. Higher grades, longer races in PE, and everything else that would make you better. And then, you found volleyball—a sport that only fed that hunger, made the desire to win burn even brighter.

But before, no one had ever truly met your standards.

That is, until you met him.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

You became classmates in your first year of high school. You didn’t pay much attention to him on your first day (he seemed like the perfect depiction of a teenage boy—messy-haired, slouched over his desk, probably more interested in making dirty jokes than studying). But when the first chemistry grades came, your jaw dropped—that bastard had a better score than you. Maybe it was chance, you tried to tell yourself at first, but the semester passed, and his grades only improved.

“Need something?” is the first thing he ever asked you.

You didn’t realise you were staring at the paper in his hands until his voice reached your ears.

“I don’t,” you quickly regained your composure, clearing your throat and lifting up your chin.

His mouth turned into a side smirk. Infuriating. “Cause I can tutor you if you want.”

That motherfucker, is the only way you could describe Kuroo at this moment. You gripped your pen like it was his throat. Your hands clenched so hard your nails dug into your palms.

Still, you forced a smile in return, “I’ll pass thanks.”

“Too bad. I’ve got the annals from last year’s exam at home. I could’ve lent them to you. Or maybe they’d be too hard for you to understand.” He rested his chin in his palm calmy, looking almost bored.

Oh, you were going to kill him.

“Don’t bother, I fear I might smash your face with the book.”

His eyes widened in surprise, but his laid-back attitude came back just as fast.

“You can try, but I don’t think you can reach me. I’ve seen you play, I jump higher than you, you know.”

“Wow. Real mature-”

You were convinced the game could have gone on for hours, but unfortunately—or fortunately—the bell rang, and the class got dismissed.

You remember watching him getting up. If you didn’t just get belittled by him maybe you could have given credit to his looks. Tall, athletic, confident. That’s what Kuroo was like in your eyes. If he didn’t have a shitty personality and a stupid hairstyle you think that maybe he could have been less unbearable. But as you got out of the classroom, you only wanted to prove him wrong and dethrone him.

Your first-ever interaction transformed into a declaration of war. And the war lasted all high school.  Because, obviously, Kuroo wasn’t just good in chemistry—maths, physics, PE. Teachers loved him, praised him, classmates laughed with him. He was perfect in everything. And what made your blood boil in your veins was how effortless he made everything look. You sacrificed so much to be where you were, gave so much passion and time into school that you couldn’t stand the sight of him acting like it was easy.

And he played volleyball, which gave you even more reason to compare yourself to him.

It got worse when you both became captains of your team. You started comparing scores and blocks and victories.

At first, you liked the unspoken rule between you—the constant back and forth, the rivalry that kept you both on edge whether it was for school or volleyball.

Then, it became an obsession.

You started waking up earlier to go for a run, going to bed later to study for exams. You did everything you could and still—he was better.

You remember seeing Kuroo once on the sidelines at one of your practice matches, grinning at you with hands on his hips. “You’re looking a little slow today, Captain.”

You shot him a glare.

“Why are you even here Kuroo?” You spat once the game was over. “You’re not gonna get any girls with that haircut, you know.”

“Making fun of my hair again? You’re getting a little repetitive these days.” He chuckled. Gosh, you hated this laugh. “Besides, there’s only one girl I want attention from.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away, but deep down, your heart was pounding fast. You hated how good he was. You hated that he pushed you to be better. And more than anything—you hated how much he could control your emotions, making you sad and angry and frustrated just by being close to you.

The Inter-High qualifications arrived too fast, but you were ready.

Your team had trained relentlessly. You’d pushed yourself harder than ever, and now, it was time to prove that you could do this. That you could win.

You made it to the semi-finals. You were so close.

And then—you lost.

You didn't even make it to the finals, let alone Nationals. Your dream shattered in front of you, a cruel joke the universe had played at your expense.

You shook hands with the winning team, congratulated them like a good athlete should. Then you headed to the locker room, collapsing onto the bench; your throat was tight and your eyes burnt.

You didn't hear the door opening.

And a few seconds later, you knew he was here.

You hated him. Kuroo Tetsurou.

You hated him from the bottom of your heart.

And that hatred only grew bigger now that he was standing there, hands in his pockets, ready to make fun of your loss.

“I’m not in the mood for your teasing, Kuroo.”

Silence.

Then, softly: “I’m not here to tease.”

You finally looked up. His usual smirk was nowhere to be found, you almost missed it. Your eyes immediately stared at the floor again. “I just-” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t deserve this.”

You scoffed, bitter. “Yeah? Tell that to the scoreboard.”

Kuroo took a step closer. “I know how much this meant to you.”

Your jaw tightened. You couldn't look at him. If you did, you’d break. And you didn't want to break in front of him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of always winning?”

Kuroo blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You’re always ahead. Always. You beat me in volleyball. You beat me in grades. You beat me at everything. It’s exhausting.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it. “I’ve spent years trying to keep up with you. And now-” You laughed, but it was humourless. “Now, you get to go to Nationals while I sit at home and watch.”

Kuroo frowned. He opened his mouth—you saw it from the corner of your eyes. “I never—”

“You never what?” you snapped. “Never tried to one-up me? Never enjoyed being better than me? Cause I’m way behind you, aren’t I?”

“That’s not-” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I never wanted to beat you.”

“Bullshit. Every time we got a grade, you asked to see mine. You came to every practice game, telling me I could do more. You stayed late after school just to show me how your receives were better than mine. At tournament, you came in the frontline just to see me lose and-”

Kuroo shook his head. “It’s not that-” He hesitated. “You inspire me.”

Your heart stopped beating for a second, or two. “What?”

“You’re the best opponent I’ve ever had,” he admitted. “And yeah, I like pushing you, but not because I want to humiliate you. I just-” He rubbed the back of his neck. For the first time in the three years you had known him, he looked nervous. “I like seeing you play. I like watching you get better.”

You stared at him. This—this wasn't how your conversations usually went. Kuroo was supposed to be smug, sarcastic, insufferable. Not… this.

Not kind.

“I don’t need your pity,” you finally muttered as you looked away.

Kuroo stepped closer again and knelt down in front of you. “It’s not pity.”

“Then what is it?” The words quieted one after the other.

He seemed to be looking for the right words. But then—

“I’m going to miss you.”

You froze and your heart stuttered, and you hated that it did. (Or maybe the feeling wasn’t so bad, maybe you didn’t hate it, maybe you could get used to it.)

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked. You tried to sound annoyed instead of breathless, but your voice betrayed you.

Kuroo grinned—soft, for once. “It means I don’t want this to be the end of our game. Even in uni, even when we’re old and can’t play volleyball anymore, I want you to remain my best opponent.”

You stared at him. He was serious.

“You’re an idiot.”

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

A few seconds passed before he spoke again. With his usual smirk and his stupid bed hair, he asked: “Need something?”

And then—because you were exhausted, because you’d lost everything that day, because you didn't have the energy to fight anymore—you let yourself leaned into him, just a little.

His arms were warm as they wrapped around you.

Tears started falling from your eyes, your muscles eased. Everything hurt and softened at the same time.

He was right. Maybe this wasn't the end of the game.

Maybe it was just a new round.

a/n: i had so much fun writing this <33

thank you so so much to @keishuii for beta-reading it, you’re the best!!

[yanoverload]

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖! 𝕊𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕤

This time, the portrait is at the end of the post, and you will see why!

The story is based on a magic fictional world, much like those in villainess isekai manhwas. 

I promise I don't hate any church ok. I only used words related to real life as a way to make it understandable.

Also you thought Dae-Ho was cuckoo? HAH THIS GUY IS SO MUCH WORSE.

Also I'll post a drawing of "Anneliese" later for you guys to imagine her.

ℍ𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕝 "𝔸𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤𝕖" 𝕊𝕔𝕙ä𝕗𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟜 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝟙𝟟𝟟 𝕔𝕞 (𝕠𝕣 𝟝’𝟠 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕥)

🌟 As much as it likes to deny, the high church knew they had enemies. 

🌟 They were far and between, but they refused to leave until the current administration of said holy empire was destroyed.

🌟 That was at least, the current plan of the biggest assassination guild known on the six empires, also known as Tartaros. 

🌟 And they had the perfect guy for the job. 

🌟 Codename Carnelian, actually named Himmel, was the orphaned son of two well known alchemists at older times.

🌟 Said alchemists were killed by the church in the hunt for what they were currently called: defectives.

🌟 To seem merciful and holy, the children of the holy criminals were spared, but kept in church facilities that the unfortunate that live there call "detention center".

🌟 Alchemists aren't hard to identify, for their eyes look like that of the most refined jewels, said to be able to see the nature and essence of all elements on earth.

🌟 That was why, the only way Himmel managed to escape was learning glamour magic, disguising as a common nun.

🌟 Now, not only with that card in his hands, as well as years of studying the ins and outs of the institution, he was picked for the master plan.

🌟 Infiltrate the church, steal the love the worshippers have for it, and kill the high priest.

And oh, how Himmel drooled thinking about the day. 

🌟 Oh right, he's not Himmel for the time being. He's "Anneliese" the beloved and revered saintess.

🌟 It took a while to get the recognition, he admits, but how easy it is to fool everyone with a sweet and fragile looking persona.

🌟 What he didn't anticipate at the time however, was the plan the high priest had for him.

🌟 How genius it would be, to make the saintess betrothed to the ruler of the second biggest empire in their world.

🌟 The emperor/empress was the biggest stone in the church's shoes, as one of the only that didn't impose their religion on their people.

🌟 So their political move was to throw the saintess as a pawn and a spy in said empire.

🌟 That put a bit of a slow down to the Tartaros' plan.

🌟 What also slowed down their plan was Himmel's feelings.

🌟 He was taught to love no one. But even when he showed up in your own palace, you treated the saintess, someone you should hate and wish to throw to the wolves, with utmost respect and care, like a fragile doll.

🌟 And how was he supposed to not care for you when you hated the church just as much as he did?

🌟 Maybe being an empress wasn't so bad! He just had to seduce you, and after the downfall of the church, you would keep him by your side.

🌟 He didn't expect you to come back from your hunting trip so soon though.

🌟 So now, as you enter the meeting room expecting to meet certain higher ups and some kissasses of the high priest, you instead find a blonde shirtless man, covered in blood, corpses littered at his feet.

🌟 Not being the empress/emperor for nothing, you reach for your sword, but your keen eyes notice something.

🌟 A burn scar that looks like the Callisto star, the brightest in the sky, right at the back of the man's throat.

🌟 The same Saintess Anneliese has.

🌟 Burn marks being the one impossible thing to remove with spells.

🌟 The man looks at you with euphoria and obsession in his eyes.

"My love, you're back earlier than I expected. Did you know these bastards were secretly planning a coup? But don't worry, I took care of them."

🌟 In the state of shock at your discovery, you barely notice his arms slinging at your shoulders, close to you like one would to a lover.

🌟 But Anneliese or whatever this freak decides to go by, is not a lover in your eyes. They are like a Venus flytrap, seductive persona trying to swallow you whole.

🌟 He whispers in your ear.

"Let me be your executioner, and I shall turn you into god."

[dearmisshoney]

books and deep throat thoughts

synopsis. one afternoon at your uni, mattheo — the bane of your existence — snoops through your book (he can read?) and finds out you’re not the innocent goodie-two-shoes everyone thought you were. fixated on humiliating you as much as possible, he discovers books are somewhat useful and indeed pleasurable to ride read.

pairing. toxic! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, nerd!reader, not-so-inexperienced!reader, allusions to virginity (nothing confirmed 😈) bully!mattheo (he is cruel), toxic! mattheo, possessive!mattheo, jealous!mattheo, slight mention of harry potter x reader (but nothing serious! NO CHEATING!), inappropriate use of books, humping/book-riding, face-slapping (with his cóck), enemies-to-lovers tension, degradation & teasing, slight praise, clit stimulation, deepthroat/facefucking (is there a difference? lmk), dirty talk, name-calling (whore, sweetheart, princess, baby, but also 2 instances of brains), overstimulation & slight dumbification, messy, no p in v this time folks

word count. 3.6k

a/n. had a dream about this one. mostly self-indulged, but i hope you enjoy it! likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶

“well, well, well, what do we have here?”

mattheo said condescendingly from behind you, making you jump in your seat from the sudden intrusion. he swiftly snatched the book you were reading with the tips of his fingers, gripping it with such delicacy as if it were the most precious jewel. sadly, that was just the impression he was leaving, actually holding the book as far as possible as if it were trash.

you should be used to it by now — the way he always comes in the afternoons in this empty club room to shoo you away for him and his friends to smoke and gamble all they want. unfortunately for them, you were allowed (and even begged) to occupy the room so that delinquents like mattheo won’t do dangerous stuff inside the university.

“brains reading her stupid books again?” he squinted his eyes at the opened pages, pursing his lips together in a mocking way at the black text on the pages. he twisted and turned the book in all directions, feigning interest, only to snicker at you after his examination. slightly closing the book— still keeping track of your page number with one of his fingers as a bookmark — he tilted the object towards your head and let it tap the top of your head.

“there’s still space left up here?”

oh, how he loved making fun of you and your bookworm attics. you didn’t do anything to him to deserve this, really. it’s just that your mere existence irks something in him.

mattheo riddle is a notorious bully at your uni, especially to solitary souls like you. but no one brings him joy like you do; maybe it’s the way you always make yourself small when you see him around, maybe it’s the way you scrunch your nose and avert your eyes every time he even breaths in the same room as you. maybe it’s the way you get quieter than usual, mumbling sometimes under your breath a half-assed retort to his jabs, or the way you look up at him with your puppy eyes in an attempt to soften his attacks.

bad news, sweetheart. it only makes him bully you even more.

“i read for pleasure.”

“and what do you know about pleasure, brains?” he scoffed in an instant at you, almost laughing out loud at your words. pff, reading for pleasure? yeah, and he gets into fights to bring peace among students. likely story.

cracking the book open on top of your head, he used you as a stand to skim through the text to tease you more.

“this shit putting you to sleep is– ” mattheo was ready to confirm that, yes, maybe books making you go to sleep could count as pleasure, but the end of his sentence got stuck in his throat right as his eyes fell on one of the words on the page. 

“dick? DICK?”

and he burst into a hideous laugh, menace and surprise so clear in his voice. this was a such a great discovery for him… his favourite nerdy girl was enjoying porn at university. in plain sight. with no worry.

what a shameless little whore.

“mattheo, no! stop that!” he hear you protesting, trying your best to grab at the book and push it away from his hands. but he was faster, stronger, more determined than you to discover more of your depravity. so, removing the book from your head, he replaced it with his hand and pushed you down right back into your seat.

“you’re reading porn? at school? oh my god!” he went on to taunt you, continuing to keep you seated as he resumed his reading of the paragraph. if at the beginning of your meeting he was keeping the book as far away as possible from his face, now he was practically buried between the pages, devouring all the description and the dialogue of the sex scene.

“ugh– this is so embarrassing.”

you puffed out loud, slapping your palms against your face and scrunching every muscle into them. you were such a dumbass, making such a mistake around mattheo like you didn’t already know what kind of person he is. he will never let you get away with it. he won’t snitch, he likes to keep blackmail material to himself, but he will remind you about this every. single. day.

“of course it is! the goodie-two-shoe virgin reads this at university.” he said between laughs, still flabbergasted by the entire incident.

“she pulled his pants and boxers down in an instant. his dick sprung free of its confinements and slapped against his tensed torso, the messy precum already stain–”

“stop, please stop! i can’t listen anymore.” you felt blood boil up into your cheeks, the embarrassment getting the better of you. him reading a few sentences from the book was what tipped you over and made you want the earth to split and shallow you in that instant.

putting your hands on your ears and closing your eyes — in an attempt to completely block any input from mattheo — you smashed your forehead onto the table before you.

you were so done.

“now i understand why you said pleasure!” you faintly heard him say from behind you, probably still continuing to scan the pages. at this point, you hoped and prayed he will just leave the room and never come back.

a small thud resonated in the empty room, then some footsteps. and then silence. did he left? was the universe actually listening to your pleas? was it–

“were you touching yourself, princess?”

a deep seductive whisper sneaked between your fingers, hitting your right ear and making your entire body shiver. his voice, soaked with the most seductive tone you’ve ever heard, went down your spine, generating goosebumps all over your skin. something also did a backflip in your tummy at his lustful words, arousal pooling in your stomach and making your thighs clamp together.

“you are such a pervert, mattheo!” you snapped at him with anger, raising your head fast from the table to glare right at him.

“but were you?”

he was so close to you. so so close. and with his second question he reduced the distance between the two of you even more, now his nose almost touching yours, his eyes staring right into your orbs, trying to figure out your nasty secrets.

“no.”

“so if i check right now, i won’t find you allll wet and sticky?” he purred at you, lowering his gaze to your lower half. one of his hands wandered down there, sliding like a snake down your leg riiiiight above your knee.

your leg twitched underneath his palm, the heaviness of it making you needier.

“what does that have to do with me masturbating?”

the pads of his fingers made their way lower and lower towards your inner thigh, only stopping when they made contact with the material of your panties. the drenched material of your panties.

“i–it’s a biological reaction, even without me doing anything.”

a devilish, elongated oh, reaaaally? was whispered into your ear the moment mattheo dipped his fingers further down your clothed crotch. tapping you twice when he made contact with your sensitive clit, he signaled the beginning of slow circular motions.

“mattheo…” a sharp intake of your breath resonated in the room, joined afterwards by a breathy moan of his name. that made his shit-eating grin grow bigger, now smiling at you like a cheshire cat.

“see, it feels good!”

slow but hard figure eights were drawn against your hardened nub, making your legs all twitchy. if it weren’t for the big distance between you and the table, you would have surely knocked your knees against it a few times.

“doesn’t it, princess? how could you not­–”

“n­–no.”

“no?”

be it a cheeky retort or not, mattheo was actually angered by your little remark. gripping your right knee with his spare hand, mattheo forcefully opened your legs wider. your skirt was pushed away from your crotch, nicely folding around your stomach. now he had a clear view of your soaked panties sticking to your cunt, molded around your puffy folds and your clit.

“why are you lying to me, baby?” throwing your right leg over his lap, he continued his ministration on your pussy, right now with more precision. his thumb remained on your clit, pushing and prodding against it, while his other fingers were agonizingly tracing up and down your clothed slit.

“your pussy juices are all over my hand and you’re telling me it doesn’t feel good?”

oh, he was mad. really fucking mad.

his middle finger found your desperate little hole, needly clenching around nothing every couple of seconds. adding a bit of pressure with the pad of his finger, mattheo pressed the material of your panties in, creating a little valley for his curious digits.

“oh, i get it.” he said all of a sudden, abruptly ceasing all movement.

your tiny gasps of pleasure were interrupted by a long whine of dissatisfaction, but he paid it no mind.

“that’s not what’s happening in the book! right. riiiight.”

removing his hands from you, he stood up from his seat and moved away from the table altogether. you tried to turn your head towards him, to register his next moved, but did not have time. mattheo, with his muscular arms, managed to spin the school chair around and have you face him.

“you don’t want to be pleasured.”

he said through gritted teeth, somehow a bit offended, somehow a bit excited. keeping his eyes glued to yours, he slowly started to unbuckle his leather belt.

“you want to give pleasure!”

letting his pants drop to the floor with a small clanck, mattheo then opened the buttons of his shirt to give you that sexy manly torso you had been reading about in your stupid porn book. you were also graced with a nice view of his happy trail, fine patches of brown hair disappearing underneath his garments. his boxers were still on and, even though the blackness of the material did not offer much to the eye, your hungry gaze saw the stain of pre-cum.

and, of course, the outline of his hard cock.

“c’mon, sweetheart. you’ve read the beginning of the scene.” mattheo beckoned you to raise from your seat and kneel like a good girl before him.

“come suck me off.”

lust definitely possessed you. there was no other explanation as to why you, one of the most non-problematic students, was actually kneeling in front of mattheo, the top problematic student at your university.

“fuck, you look so good down there!” he groaned at the sight before him, his cock twitching in his briefs at the mere fact that he had you in such a position.

and when you did reach for his undergarments, pulling them down by the hem all the way to his ankles, his shaft slapped against his abs, smearing wetness all over his skin; but unlike the book, his cock then dipped downwards because of its weight, sitting now at eye-level with you.

“touch it, baby! it’s all yours to play.”

your embarrassment was beyond the roof, but so was your arousal. with delicate fingers, you grabbed the base of his cock and tugged it forward, closer to your lips. his red tip was so close to your warm mouth — he could feel your breath on it.

were you scared to take him in? maybe, after all you were a virg­–

“oh, fuckfuck, shiiit.”

his soul almost left him when he felt your lips around him, a few inches already inside your wet mouth. your gooey tongue was tasting every single part of his cock, going flat along his sides and engulfing as much of his shaft as possible.

mattheo had to stabilize himself not to fall from the sudden pleasure, and thank god for an additional chair right by his side. gripping the edge of the wooden back, he continued to groan under his breath from your ministration.

“h–hollow your chee– oh my lord!”

there was no point in giving you instructions. it seems like you were connected telepathically with mattheo, already sucking in your cheeks and taking more and more of him in your mouth. a tear fell from your inner corner down towards your puckered lips, and that’s when you took him out of your mouth, short of breath.

your lips, wet from saliva and his precum, were still connected to his cock by a thick rope of wetness. you looked so pornographic before him, there’s no way he will not use this view in his future jerk-off sessions. and that lewd pop when the wet string broke… fucking sexy.

before letting you go back to business, he grasped the side of your head with his hand, palm sliding against your scalp and gripping at the roots of your hair. your eyes, sparkling with the desire to suck him dry, shot him the nastiest glare he has ever seen.

but he was curious of something.

“you’ve sucked cock before, sweetheart?”

he was sure you were a virgin. the whole university knew no one had a chance of getting in your panties. heck, he’s heard about people betting that you’d finish your studies still a virgin. yet, all this does not align with your exceptional head skills. surely porn books like that one weren’t that good of a manual, right?

your tiny nod of approval solved all the mystery.

your tiny nod of approval also ignited something in mattheo. and, this time, it wasn’t desire. something burned in his chest, something tugged at his heart the very moment you confirmed the fact that you did such a thing with another guy.

clutching your hair tighter, he tilted your face towards his. his brown eyes, still blown wide, were now piercing you with possessiveness and jealousy. his brows furrowed, his nose scrunched up, as he spat his next question right in your face.

“who was it? you better not lie to me, whore!”

keeping your face still, he shooed your hands away from his cock, grasping it with his own free hand. you cracked your mouth open, assuming he was going to ram his dick inside, but were only met with a wet slap. on your cheek. of his mushroomy tip.

 “you don’t even talk to guys, so you must be– no.”

slap. your other cheek got the same treatment, your skin now stained with his arousal and your spit.

he remembered right in that moment that you have been paired with a guy for a project last week. but there was no way he­–

“was it that four-eyed weirdo? potter?”

your eyes widened at his question, and he knew he got it right.

“you’ve sucked–”

slap.

“that nerd’s–”

slap.

“shrimp dick?”

slap.

“and here i thought you are a good girl.” his last slap landed on your lips, still slightly parted from before. nestling his tip between them, mattheo slowly pushed back into your mouth, this time not stopping at a few inches.

“open up, baby! i am gonna fuck that throat raw.” and he was going to keep his promise by the looks of it. not even stopping when you began to slightly choke around him, he stuffed you full of his cock. up to his very base.

your nose was now mere millimeters away from his happy trail; his shaft — a couple inches down your pulsing throat.

“i bet potter never reached that deep spot, huh?”

he was so mean, taunting you with your past experience with potter, while he swiftly started to thrust into your mouth. lips nicely enclosing around his girthy cock, they moved rhythmically and made mattheo feel like he was in heaven.

maybe, just maybe, he will forgive you if you let him cum down your throat.

“breath for me, sweetheart!” it sounded like advice, but, truly, it was a signal that he was going to increase his pace. placing both hands in your hair, mattheo now had full control of your head — bobbing you up and down his length, matching his own hips stuttering inside your mouth.

“atta, girl! fuck, you feel amazing!”

the sloshing sounds of your wet cavity, combined with his stickiness, echoed in the entire room. it was great that the room itself was more secluded, otherwise people passing by would surely realize what was going down in there.

and despite the deafening sounds of his thrusts, mattheo picked up the ruffling of your lower body and the failed attempts of your hands trying to give yourself relief.

“you’re such a pathetic girl!” he laughed out loud, amused by your needy behaviour.

“here, baby, use this.”

knocking around with his foot the book he has dropped — pages down — a while ago on the floor, he slid his shoe between the open pages and moved it in front of you.

“hump the spine like the whore that you are.”

at your visible hesitation, his voice hardened, and a command was issued.

“rub that cunt on it! now!”

moving closer to his foot, you plopped your pussy right on top of the book. the hard cover of the backbone pressed deliciously against your sensitive clit and, without waiting for an invitation, you started rocking your hips against it.

“see? you can listen.”

now, with you chasing your high like a whore with your porn book, he was more enthusiastic about fucking your mouth. hitting the back of your throat without any shame, he lost himself in the feeling of your sticky tongue and tight airpipe.

and, shiiiit, your expressions were doing something to him: your teary eyes, staring at him like a dumb whore, your lips, so deliciously abused by his aggressiveness, going all the way down to his navel with every move.

“don’t ever let potter fuck this mouth again, you heard me?” your eyes were more and more teary and so unfocused, all glossy and blown out; you definitely did not hear him. but he will remind you later. “this is my mouth now.”

dropping his hands from your scalp to the sides of your head, he grasped you tightly, even encapsulating your mistreated cheeks, and dragged you all the way to his torso for the finale.

“take all my cum, sweetheart! all of it.”

you had no other choice but to do as he says, your head practically caged by his hands into his abs. rutting your clit faster against the book, you tried achieving orgasm at the same time as mattheo. the solid material of the cover was a great bonus, and you thank past-you for spending a few extra bucks for a hard cover edition.

the feeling of his thick cum shooting down your throat, together with his moans, did it for you, making your whole body convulse and release all your arousal around the book. completely ruining it with your cum. the book could definitely not be used after this little rendezvous.

but it was all worth it.

 “swallow it all, baby!” mattheo groaned loudly while emptying the last of his load in your mouth, creaming you for good.

he set you free after his high passed completely, allowing you to take a biiiig gulp of air. the sudden volume of air knocked you up literally; you fell backwards on your butt, detaching yourself unwillingly from the book.

“messy girl! my messy girl!”

mattheo groaned, towering above you as he was carefully tucking himself in. he was taking in the image of your wrecked body, proud of himself that he ruined you so well.

by the looks of it, you were still a bit out of it; muscles still spasming, eyes still foggy. that was none of his business, however. you brought this all upon yourself the moment you decided to challenge him with that nasty attitude.

kneeling in front of you, he gazed right at your lips – you seemed to have caught your breath. good. so, without a warning, he gripped the side of your cheek, stretched his fingers across it up to your mouth, and hooked one digit under your lips to open you up for an examination.

“tongue out, sweetheart!”

the pain of him stretching your mouth made you conform to his order fast, cracking open your lips and sticking out your tongue for him.

“you actually swallowed it all? nasty fucking whore.”

“you said to, so–”

there was something about mattheo loving to interrupt you at every moment. this time, he didn’t speak over you, choosing to push down his thumb on your sticky tongue to silence you.

“let potter touch you one more time and i will make sure he won’t walk for weeks. understood?”

his thumb was pressing down against your wet muscle with more force; all you could do was nod. you knew what mattheo was capable of. you saw how his victims look after a fight — poor potter would be hospitalized for months...

mattheo seemed pleased with your answer, humming approvingly at you. swiftly removing his hand from your face, you though he was done with you for today. but he had one more thing to say before completely vanishing from the room.

“i will also make sure you won’t walk for weeks either.”

he dipped his head closer to your ear, hissing condescendingly the repercussion you will face. he won’t beat you up — god forbid. and he made it abundantly clear by the way his palm sneaked all the way down to your overstimulated cunt. with a small slap on top of your wet panties, your legs jumping at his touch, mattheo ingrained his little threat in your body.

“see you tomorrow, princess!”

a/n. had a different ending in mind, but mattheo was too nice so i changed it :)

tags: @downbad4reid, @nottsangel

[reignpage]

Dear Haibara,

I have good news and bad news. Both pertains to the success of many late nights spent at the library, lunches filled not with sustenance but rather with the 'ass-kissing,' as you call it, of professors and previous researchers alike, and, of course, the many hours embarrassingly passed by play-acting with me as a presenter and you as the unfortunate audience to my madness.

The latter is sad terrible news. Devastating, in fact.

You will have to find someone else whose homework you can copy, someone who will take you to your astral chess matches, and will begrudgingly bear witness to your attempts to find a partner soulmate among the female half living on St. E's hallowed grounds. Please hold your tears. Really. Spare me.

Do reply to my letter as soon as you're possible, I'd like to see you in person before I leave on Monday. I know you love to stay at home for as long as you can because of your mother's terrific cooking, and of course, also because of the shocking level of pampering you receive at your age, but I'd like to treat you to lunch. Consider it a small token of my appreciation for all your help.

Truly, I could not have achieved this without you.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Yours,

P.s be careful of the owls. They do not seem overly fond of students for reasons beyond me. One such owl, grey and rather hideous looking, bit me. I shall read as many books as I can before leaving to find a way to communicate my regretfulness at whatever I may have done to offend it so.

[satocidal]

Hi Rome! New follower here, and I love the way you write Geto ❤️ He doesn't get the love he deserves!!

Saw your requests were open, and I had an idea for headcanons: what kind of music do you think the JJK guys would be into (Nanami, Suguru, Satoru and Toji in particular) ?

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ *.What Sort of Music They Listen to...?

a/n: firstly, hi baby<333 🙈thank you for saying that and secondly, sorry for taking so long with this - school stuff just had my head</3 and lastly, this is purely based on MY music taste (unfortunately) so i mean, if you don't know some of this artists or expected different ones then<///3(i also shift a lot from hindi to english music so japanese music was anyways a no-go lol)

also majot sorry for no Toji (he just stumped me so bad)

warnings: not proof-read, just rambling

Satoru Gojo:

Satoru i think, does a little bit of everything - nor is he shy to try new music. He's the kind of guy who recognises every song that plays - wherever it be, radio, malls, restaurants, he een knows the elevator music so...yes. At the same time, i think he'd also just...put everything in his 'liked' playlist💀and call it a day. In particular i feel Satoru is Kendrick guy? and also Doechii? but when in feels, i think he also pulls out some Sufjan Stevens and Finneas as well lmao (i think teen! Satoru would also have Cavetown and Arctic Monkeys in his playlists) although i don't think he'd play their songs on his head but unironically knows every lyric and bobs his head to all hot girl music (nikki and britney and megan, the entire bunch lol) Definitely an ABBA guy<3

Suguru Geto:

As i've stated many times on my blog lmao, Suguru would probably be a Hozier and Lord Huron guy - it's the arsonist vibe that makes me say this? and the slight rebellion but that's just me. A huge 70s-90s sucker actually, and Nirvana - he is the guy who won't ask you to name 5 songs but looks at you and judges you with the assumption that you don't. Teen Suguru would get down to fight you if you said you were a bigger MCR fan. I think he also is a vibe to Florence and the machine or Mitski (just again, his vibe - idk if he'd listen or whatever) I think Suguru would fw indie bands too - GROUPLOVE and Peach pit being major artists there, maybe some drifting Yot Club or Cleffy too Also again, a Kendrick guy - i just think Suguru is the kind who enjoys the lyricism that goes in the art yk? be it whatever genre. Unironically began to listen to Mother Mother after leaving and just...never...stopped. He is the kind to have 50+ playlists (listen to the same 5 on repeat though) i also think he majorly judges lana listeners

Kento Nanami:

Hmmmmmmm, i feel like - i don't want to stereotype - but he stays away from the new music? idk how to explain (hates ice spice if you catch my drift), he definitely doesn't mind rap music but again, wouldn't play it on his own. As it is a fanon thing anyways that Kento was emo so i mean, you've got MCR (you know he never refused to jam to Teen Spirits with Suguru<3) - fall out boy, maybe paramore? on his playlist. but i do believe older him would have shifted to elvis maybe? not a major jazz guy but enough to prove a point lol. Teen Kento would in fact ask you to name 5 name songs and would be proud of listening to under-rated artists (and roll his eyes when Satoru would do the same but, for some overly-hyped artist of the time). I think Nanami isn't huge on music anyways though - i do see Satoru listening to music 24/7 (don't ask why but smn to do with his infinity) and Suguru too plays it a decent amount but for Nanami, his music app opens 2 times a week lmao <3

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[mrcrawly]

House MD main cast headcanons

is most of this Wilson and House? yeah. do i feel bad about that? no.

House:

the biggest fucking music snob you have ever met in your entire life

collects CDs, vinyls, cassettes. has a really cool shelf/case for them too

says he hates animals but there is most definitely a stray cat in the alley by the hospital that he's always feeding

i get the feeling he was a kleptomaniac as a teenager

he's a huge asshole but sometimes he isn't actually trying to be one and will just say whatever comes to mind and forget that people can get offended

autistic and probably knows it

definitely makes the grandpa groaning noise every time he gets up from a sitting position

definitely pretends to sword fight with his cane

legitimately cannot stand to be touched 95% of the time. like it viscerally disgusts him or makes him physically uncomfortable like he's in pain (again: autism)

if he ever were to have a child he would be the world's biggest girl dad. im talking playing ponies and dress up with her and showing up to work with little smudges of nail polish on because she wanted to give him a makeover

would also be one of those fathers who is constantly showing off things their child did. his kid made him an ugly clay sculpture of an indeterminate animal? oh it's going on his desk. his kid made him a mug? he drinks out of it every day (or at the very least holding all his pens and pencils). his kid drew him a picture? it's getting framed in his office.

actually not bad with babies and infants. does he like them? no, but they like him. it's just not mutual

likes to sleep on people (Wilson)

his favorite movie is Rocky Horror Picture Show or some cheesy 80s film but definitely lies and pretends to be some fancy snot-nosed film critic

scared of clowns (don't question this one)

was an extremely sickly child but a very healthy and athletic adult which is why he was so adamant not to amputate his leg

got super drunk in his last year of med school and got a stupid tattoo on his ass. only Wilson knows about it

empathy doesn't come very naturally to him clearly but he hates it when Wilson is upset and even if he can't help he'll sit with him until he feels better

sugar fiend

Wilson:

listens mostly to 70s folk and soft rock but will listen to whatever House shows him too

also collects but it's something so stupid and insane and niche that no one understands what he's talking about when he brings it up

would be super ultra dedicated to it too. im talking he would go to conventions about his interests multiple times a year

has had multiple dogs, cats, and one or two reptiles

got the hyper-empathy autism instead of whatever the fuck House has going on

House tries to tell him all the time that he's autistic and he's unfortunately one of those people that's like "but i can't possibly be autistic im perfectly functional!"

is definitely one of those people that's like "my hip hurts...... storm's coming in" and House just stares at him like this 😐

is always the one that House is playing sword fighting

loves to be held as long as it's someone he's close to like im talking fully and entirely consumed with someone else's body

definitely finds relief from deep pressure (again: autism)

would also be a fantastic girl dad. there would be dozens of pictures of him passed out on the sofa with makeup smeared all over his face bc someone gave him a makeover when he was napping

actually very much wanted children and still wishes he had one

HORRIBLE hypochondriac. he understands it's irrational and won't speak about it out of embarrassment but he's especially like that about cancer. working in oncology does that to you unfortunately

loves babies and toddlers. im talking he does the stupid cooing baby voice and bounces and kisses them. babies also very much like Wilson

he has multiple siblings who all have multiple children so family reunions typically have a giant cuddle pile which is him being smothered half to death by his nieces and nephews

scared of heights

was a pretty sick child but spent like 60% of his time in college with a cold or some kind of bug

would love those stupid roadside tourist trap attractions. the biggest rubber band ball in the United States? oh he'd eat that shit up

has probably fished at least once in his life

whenever house tries to show him something on his phone he pulls out a pair of reading glasses and moves his head back and squints at the screen like a middle aged dad

cries about things a lot and gets a little embarrassed over it, usually goes to House if he's upset

would ask House if he would still be his friend if Wilson was a worm and gets very sad and pouty when House says no

Cameron:

dated a few women in college definitely

immune system of steel. has gone multiple years with literally nothing more than a little cough

carries around those little strawberry hard candies and chewy Werther's original caramels in her purse and offers them all the time

definitely kept a lot of her childhood stuffies

hates really bright lights because they give her bad headaches

would definitely fall victim to the "morning shed" trend but to a less extreme extent. like she buy a silk bonnet and mask and starts using a bunch of products before bed

wears rings because she likes to fidget with them

has super dry insanely frizzy hair so she oils it constantly

had super curly hair until she went to med school and it inexplicably became straight

fear of bugs

has a very extensive before-bed routine

has a cat but the cat has some weird stupid name that doesn't make any sense like Faucet or Pantaloons or something insane

has a really great metabolism but eats like a bird for lack of appetite

Chase:

in contrast has the weakest Victorian child immune system. he gets the flu or strep every year without fail and is incapacitated for at least a week

likes old American folk but likes pop and rap artists like Tyler the Creator and Frank Ocean, things like that

really sensitive skin so trying out any new product breaks him out sooooo bad

Mama's boy as a child (if there's something sad and heartbreaking about this in the show that i haven't seen yet REFRAIN!!!!!)

has a really extensive and exhausting hair routine but it gets oily anyway and is sooo pissed that Cameron has better hair than him

i have an inkling that he would be vegetarian or pescatarian (is that how you spell that i don't know) not for any health or environmental reason he just genuinely hates most meat except for fish and chicken

Foreman:

was a really big fat baby and didn't grow out of it until he was like 13

played some kind of sport in school but not like a mainstream one. like he swam or did lacrosse or something

became a neurologist because he's watched multiple aunts and uncles die of neurological conditions or stop functioning from loss of memory and cognition

VERY strict diet and takes lots of supplements that help carefully tracks his intake of

very hairy but was made fun of for it in high school so he shakes his entire body basically bald all the time

smells absolutely fucking fantastic. like coconut and sugar and vanilla and it lasts all day long

loves working with children and sometimes wishes he went into pediatrics

when House isn't in the room sometimes he cheers up the younger patients by doing dumb stuff, like blowing up a latex glove into a balloon or letting them write on his arm or something silly

hated needles as a kid and still has to turn his head away when he gets shots even though they don't make him that nervous anymore

also a sugar fiend so sometimes he bakes for the rest of the staff when there's a get together or some kind of function at the hospital

[nekohime19]

JTTW Six-eared Macaque

Alright, so I wanted to make this post for a while. I am aware that not everyone in the LMK fandom have read JTTW and so not everyone knows exactly how the character of the six-eared macaque appear in the novel and how he is treated. I'm mainly making this post to introduce JTTW Macaque to those in the Fandom that are curious about him and weren't able to read the novel yet! 😊

I'm also a bit frustrated by people who spread misinformation on JTTW Macaque to fit their own narrative. It's absolutely fine if you have your own headcanons, but I don't like when some people act as if their headcanons are canon when there is nothing of the sort in the novel.

In this post, I'll present Macaque appearances in the novel, how he came to be, and everything he did. I will also talk about some common interpretations of his character and the symbolism behind his appearances. Some of the interpretations I will present, however, will be my own, and remember that I am not a specialist of JTTW no matter how much I love the novel. I want you to form your own interpretation of the character if possible.

This post is based on Anthony. C. Yu translation of JTTW.

First of all, the six-eared macaque is not one of the JTTW main cast. In fact, he appears in only two chapters out of the 100 that makes JTTW. Precisely, he appears in chapter 57 titled "True Pilgrim lay bares his woes at Mount Potalaka ; False Monkey King translates text at Water-curtain Cave." (Yes JTTW chapters title are a mouthful 😭) and in chapter 58 titled : "Two Minds cause disorder in the great cosmos; it's hard for one body to realize true Nirvana."

The six-eared macaque dies at the end of chapter 58 and is never seen again after that.

JTTW, passed the first 10 chapters that present Wukong's birth and how he pissed off the entirety of Heaven, is very much a villain-of-the-week type of novel. Every three chapters or so, the pilgrims will encounter a new villain, so to speak, and fight against them. The six-eared macaque, in this sense, is nothing more but one more villain that troubles the pilgrims.

I) Chap 56 : context before Macaque's appearances

Before studying chapters 57 and 58 we need to go back to chapter 56 and understand the situation the pilgrims are in.

As usual, the pilgrims are traveling together when they encounter troubles. A shocker, I know, who could have predicted this? To be short, they encounter bandits and Wukong kill their leaders, he's a lil murderous fella alright. Tripitaka is furious but, after Wukong pleads his cause with his best puppy dog eyes 🥺, he let it go. The pilgrims then find a nice house and ask the old couple living there to shelter them for the night. The nice old couple accepts. The pilgrims and the old couple talks about this and that, and lo and behold we learn that the couple's son was one of the bandit from earlier! Wukong wants to go fight this rebellious son, how unfilial of him to be a bandit! But Tripitaka stop him. No violence!

Unfortunately, the son of the couple comes back the same night, and he led his entire bandit troop with him at his parent's house! Damn, talk about bad luck. When the son learn that the pilgrims are staying in his parent's house for the night, him and his troop decides to avenge their leaders earlier on killed by Wukong. The son's father hear his son plots against the pilgrims and warn the pilgrims, telling them to go. Tripitaka kowtow, grateful, and the pilgrims escape the troop of bandits. The bandits notice them and ran after them.

Wukong wants to go fight the bandits, Tripitaka tells him to not kill them but only frighten them a little. Wukong go and... kill them... He behead the rebellious son and brings back the severed head to Tripitaka. 😬 He's a feral one that's for sure.

Tripitaka is furious, once more, and use the circlet against Wukong. Then he banish Wukong from the Pilgrims.

Here is how chapter 56 ends :

For information, Pilgrim is Wukong nickname.

II) Chap 57 : The fake Wukong

A) Wukong sob story

So after leaving the pilgrims, Wukong doesn't know where to go. He's too ashamed to go back to his mountain, and he knows he's not going to be welcomed in Heaven. And so he goes back to Tripitaka to plead his cause and begs to be taken back. But Tripitaka refuse to listen and use the circlet. Ouch. That's not nice. Angry, Wukong decides that he's going to complain about his Master to Guanyin! Ah! When you have troubles with someone you bring it to the manager. A true Karen move, Wukong.

Wukong fly to Mount Potalaka, Guaying's place, and sobs about how unfair his Master is. Guanyin tries to explain right and wrong, and why Tripitaka used the circlet, but Wukong thinks he, at the very least, deserved a second chance. Wukong is over it pretty quickly, he's an adaptable fellow, and asks Guanyin to remove the circlet, but Guanyin is incapable of that.

Wukong was about to leave but Guanyin holds him back, she reads Tripitaka's fortune and tells Wukong that his Master will soon meet a powerful foe and he'll need Wukong's help. If Wukong help Tripitaka, Guanyin will tell the monk to take Wukong back.

Imagine a puppy eyed dog Wukong sobbing 🥺 and Guanyin as a tired mom. That's the vibe of this scene.

But who is this powerful foe Guanyin mention? 🤔

Well, that's our boy!

B) Wukong is... back ?

The pilgrims are on their way, they decides to take a breather and scatter to search for food/water. Tripitaka is left alone at the camp. Never a good idea to leave the easily snatchable monk alone 👀.

While Tripitaka is alone, Wukong appears with a bowl of water. Now, for the readers this is a bit odd, because we knows for a fact that Wukong is with Guanyin. But the narrative treats this Wukong as if it's the real one, so at first read you wonder if Wukong truly came back 🤔.

I'll let you read how this encounter go 😬:

For information, the elder here is referring to Tripitaka, which is also called elder Tang sometimes. Pilgrim Sun is one of Wukong's nicknames.

The rest of the pilgrims comes bask to check on Tripitaka and let me tell you, their flabber are gasted! They take Tripitaka to a nearby house and realize that Wukong is the one who hit their Master and stole their luggages. Gasp. THE AUDACITY!

Sha Wujing (that you know as Sandy) decides to go to Flower Fruit Mountain and confront Wukong!

At Flower Fruit Mountain, Wujing meet with "Wukong" ( I puts him in what I call the parenthesis jail because mmmm.... Is this really Wukong?). So "Wukong" is in his cave, reciting the journey's rescript to his monkeys. The monkeys are chilling.

Wujing is ANGRY and yell at "Wukong". How dare he hit Master and steal their luggages!? "Wukong" order the monkeys to seize him and that's when Wujing realize that going against a troop of angry monkeys is, in fact, not a good idea. He try to plea. Telling "Wukong" that they can go back and apologize, prehaps Master will take "Wukong" back.

"Wukong" goes nuh huh. Tripitaka banished him, so he doesn't need Tripitaka. He got the luggage and the rescript, he's going to the West before Buddha alone, like a full-fledged adult. He needs no one! No one!

Wujing : ... Mm, the pilgrims are charged with this journey. You can't go alone.

"Wukong" : Well, good thing I have my very own set of pilgrims then!

Lo and behold, "Wukong" show Wujing perfect copies of the pilgrims carrying the luggages. Gasp #2. How dare he copy the pilgrims!

Wujing is furious, he lunge forward and kill his copy. He realize too late that the copy was a disguised lil monkey, and so the lil monkey is killed 😭. Poor fella.

"Wukong" : You dare bitch!?

So "Wukong", angry monkey mode, charge at Wujing. Wujing decides that he's not going to fight an angry monkey, and flee to Guanyin's place.

Because in this world, when you have a problem, a foe you can't defeat, you go to Guanyin. She's like your fix-it-all deus ex machina! This tired mom need a raise.

Here is the scene of Wujing killing the monkey, then afterward "Wukong" cooking the dead lil guy 😬 :

For information, Sha Monk is one of Wujign's nickname, and specious means fake/odd. Bodhisattva refer to Guanyin.

In terms of interpretation, "Wukong" (or shall I say MACAQUE! You are not sleek 🔍my boy) is very different from others villain because, contrary to them, he do not want to eat or have sex with Tripitaka. In fact, his wish is glory. He wants the glory of the journey. That's why, when Tripitaka refuse to take him back, he decides to create his own set of pilgrims. This desire to complete the journey alone show that he's not after enlightenment, which should be the goal of this journey, but only the fame and glory that comes from it. It shows that Macaque's desire is not in lign with Buddhist principles, and thus is in the wrong. His bouts of cannibalism is, I think, also very symbolical. Eating meat is strictly forbidden by Buddhist teachings, the fact that Macaque is here eating a monkey's corpse show that he doesn't care about Buddhism. It also drives a wedge between the fake Wukong and the real one, because we know for a fact that Wukong generally doesn't eat meat and has what is called a "pure breath".

Cannibalism in JTTW is the sign of monstrosity. Demons are cannibals. It is the sign of "evil" so to speak. Here, Macaque being a cannibal show us that he's a fiend. A villain. There is also a corruption argument to be made, because he drags the other monkeys in his cannibalism. Now, I also wants to say that cannibalism is not specific to Macaque character, in fact Sha Wujing was a cannibal before joining the pilgrims. Every demons are more or less cannibals in this novel.

So let's go back to Wujing. He goes to Guanyin to complain and, surprise surpise, find Wukong there.

They both look at each other with shocked pikachu faces.

Wujing accuse Wukong of hitting Tripitaka and stealing their luggages, Wukong is shocked at his audacity, but Guanyin intervene before it goes out of hand and vouch for Wukong's sincerity. She then tell Wujing to take Wukong to Flower Fruit Mountain and see false from truth.

Here is how the chapter ends :

III) Chap 58 : Monkeys are fighting

Previously in JTTW :

Wukong : I will talk to your manager abt your awful behavior Master!

Wukong is back? Or is he? Who is this??

Tripitaka being bonked in the head.

Sha "I'm gonna kill a monkey today" Wujing

Macaque : I'm totally the real Wukong. Hehe. Now brings me MEAT!

Monkeys : huh not the wrost thing Wukong did, he could be real.

Wukong : someone is impersonating me!? The nerve!

A) Monkeys catfight

So Wukong follow Wujing to Flower Fruit Mountain and see "Wukong".

Both Wukongs look at each other. Think the Spiderman meme where they point at each other shocked.

"Wukong" (Macaque👀) was casually sitting on Wukong's throne drinking wine with the monkeys. He was really living the monkey life out there.

This how the confrontation ended up :

Wukong is NOT a patient monkey.

I think it's really interesting how much the narrative emphasize that they are equal. At this point, the readers are still wondering who the hell is "Wukong". We also got a description of Wukong's appearances. He's a wild fella.

Both Wukongs fight and no one is able to distinguish who is the real and who is the fake. Both monkeys go everywhere, while still fighting, in hope that someone could recognize the truth. And when I say everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE.

They go to Tripitaka, he use the circlet and both Wukongs cries in pain.

They go to Guanyin, she can't see the truth.

They go in hell, a dog say he knows the truth but is too scared of the fake Wukong and refuse to speak.

They go to Heaven, a revealing mirror is used, but the mirror reflect both Wukongs and not the true nature of the fiend.

And so they go to the thunderclap monastery, where Buddha Tathagathe is lecturing his disciples. Mind you, the thunderclap monastery is supposed to be the end of the journey. But those two casually barge in there.

Just imagine a monkey tornado barging everywhere. That's the vibe of the chapter.

An interesting poem about the symbolical meaning of this fight :

In terms of interpretation, this poem, and all those shenanigans, adds a symbolical layer to this monkey catfight which is the battle of the True Mind and the Illusionary Mind. It is a Buddhist principle. In short, Buddhism seeks to detach themselves of the Illusionary Mind (desires/attachements) and seek the True Mind. Macaque and Wukong, here, symbolically represents this internal strife. Both an allegory of Buddhist principles. You have to understand that JTTW is highly metaphorical. And that, in a sense, every fights that happens in the novel can be seen as a metaphor of the fights inside one's mind to reach enlgihtement.

Here, as the poem said, this fight show us how a divided mind cannot reach peace and is constantly at war. So in a metaphorical lense, Macaque and Wukong can, here, be seen as two side of the same coin. A divided mind that is unable to reach peace because it is torn in two different indivuals. That's why a lot of JTTW interpretations consider Macaque as one of Wukong's clone, or a part of Wukong himself. But we also have to remind ourselves that this is metaphorical, and story-wise there is no clear indication of any relation (blood or other) between the two monkeys. In fact, as we'll see, they're considered as two very different species of monkeys.

So let's go back to the story. The monkeys fights and barge in Buddha's monastery.

Everyone : wtf is this?

Buddha : another day, another monkey shenanigan.

The monkeys plead for Buddha to reveal the truth and that's how Buddha casually drops the lore of the four celestial monkeys. No one was prepared I tell you!

That's how we also learn "Wukong" true identity as the six eared macaque.

Here is the lore :

Mind you, this page is the only piece of lore we have about the four celestial monkeys. They will never be mentioned in the novel again, and we'll never meet the two others. So for you all monkeys fan, keep this page preciously tucked!

This also means that this is all the informations we have about Macaque's origins. Except this single page, we know nothing of his birth, of his life, of his powers (outside prehaps the power to perfectly imitate others?). So, mark my words, every informations said about Macaque's lore outside of this page is nothing but theories, speculations or headcanons. If you see someone tell you "Well actually JTTW Macaque was born like this...🤓" go back to this page and checks out. If it's not on this page, it's either a headcanon/theory, or it comes from a very specific adaptation of JTTW and thus they are not talking about JTTW Macaque specifically.

So after Buddha reveal Macaque's name, Macaque PANICK. He realize he fucked up. He try to flee but Buddha capture him. Wukong looks at the six eared macaque in his true forms and kills him on sight. The species of the six eared macaque is said to remain extinct after this.

We don't have any description of our boy.

For information, Tathagata (which I call strawberry tagada in my mind) is the name of the Buddha. There are numerous Buddhas in JTTW.

To justify his killing, Wukong say that the crime of impersonating is punished by death. Brutal. Macaque is also a fiend, which is not the same as killing a human.

And so here is the end of our boy.

Brings out your tissues 🤧!

B) Symbolism of Macaque's death

Macaque's death has a lot of symbolism, especially regarding Wukong character developpement.

First, as I already said, Macaque can represent the Illusionary Mind, as such his death can be seen as the metaphorical victory of the True Mind over the Illusionary Mind. Wukong vanquishing the personification of his desires. This can be seen in Wukong's character, after this fight, he argues a lots less with Tripitaka and seems more agreeable to Buddhist teachings.

I personally think that Macaque's death can also represent how, in Buddhism, true teaching will always win over "fake" teaching. For this theory I have to talk about chapter 2 of JTTW. There is a theory on how the six-eared macaque was forshadowed in chapter 2 when Wukong tells subbodhi that he can reveal all his teachings because there is no "sixth ears here". It comes from a Buddhist saying, which is most likely the birth of the name six eared macaque.

Here is what Anthony. C. Yu says about it in his notes :

As such, Wukong could embody true teachings (as in he learned from a master) while Macaque embody fake teachings (he eavesdrop on secrets without grasping their true meaning because he wasn't guided by a master).

C) the sworn brother theory

Now I would like to talk about one of the theories made about the character of the six eared macaque which is directly linked to how LMK decided to present this character.

There is a common theory about Macaque that said he is the Macaque King seen at the beginning of the novel.

So who is the Macaque King? The Macaque King is one of Sun Wukong's sworn brothers briefly seen at the beginning of the novel. In short, the ruling demons neighboring Flower Fruit Mountain saw how powerful Wukong was and decided to becomes his allies, thus creating the "brotherhood" (the word brotherhood was never used in the novel, and Azure, Peng and Yellow Tusk aren't orginally parts of this, they are villains of the week that appear later on in the novel. LMK took liberties with this. In contrast, DBK was truly part of this brotherhood, as was the Macaque King). Now, be careful, in some translations of JTTW the Macaque King becomes the Monkey Queen. But, after further research, I can say that this difference of translation is born form a confusion on the term "Mihou". The word Mihou can means "Macaque" in general but also "female monkey". Yet Mihou only started to mean "female monkey" years after JTTW was published. So it's safe to say that the author of JTTW truly meant a Macaque King and not a Monkey Queen.

If you're watching OSP videos summary of JTTW (that I recommend), you'll see that they talk about a Monkey Queen in one of the first videos when talking about who is part of the brotherhood. This Monkey Queen is the Macaque King (and our boy Macaque in this theory).

But it's also funny to think that Macaque could have orginally been a Monkey Queen and that he's trans.

So why people believe that the Six-eared Macaque and the Macaque King could be the same person? Well, it's because both have Mihou in their titles. They are the only demons, out of all the demons in JTTW, to be named Mihou.

The theme of Wukong fighting against his old sworn brother is also a recurrent theme of JTTW, as we see with Wukong frequent battles with DBK.

This theory state that Macaque was Wukong's old sworn brother, but that he was assuming another appearances at the time and that's why Wukong didn't recognize him and killed him when Macaque revealed his true form after being capture by Tathagata.

Now, this is merely a theory. There is no actual proof of that. But it is a well liked theory and it's not rare to come across depictions of the six eared macaque as Wukong's sworn brother. It adds a little bit of drama you know.

If we follow that theory, Wukong's victory against Macaque can also symbolize how Wukong is overcoming who he was and becoming a new person by killing a reminder of his greedy past, so to speak.

Alright, I said all I wanted to say about Macaque! Hope you liked it. Before leaving I want to drop a funny theory that I've seen about the four celestial monkeys :

The four celestial monkeys, in this theory, would be four different facets of the same person. And if you reunite all the monkeys and fuse them (Steven Universe style) you'll get the one true celestial monkey. I think it's a funny theory.

[zoloft3]

the man i assume to be god

☆彡hitoshi shinso x gn! reader

tags—> weed use, nickname use (sweetheart), no use of y/n, first person pov (i'm sorry this is unlike me), childhood friends to weird ass situationship to lovers, it's sappy :| don't be mad,

a/n : this is technically a cross post, since i originally posted this on ao3 years ago, but i wanted to rewrite it for a character i like better and relate to more now. i also changed a bunch of the writing to what's more my style nowadays. so if you've seen this before... no you haven't. This is also the start of me officially beginning my tumblr writing career :] so if you like this lmk and i might do more

-------༚☆༚-------

We made a bad habit of falling asleep in the car.

Hitoshi was always calling me late at night to go for a drive. He'd pick me up in the car he spent too much money on and make some mean comment about my sweatpants and 1 AM eye bags, all before smiling like it hadn't been weeks since he texted. I would get in the car, let the scent of him envelope me, and immediately forgive him. He’d been dealing with the weight of a quarter life crisis, and apparently needed me and some weed to take a load off. Being best friends and head over heels in love since high school made it difficult to say no to him.

We’d fallen into a bit of a routine, unfortunately. Driving out till we found a good place to stop, and then rolling down the windows to watch the few stars that were out. By the time I had shot-gunned him a few times, per his request, my eyelids would droop and there'd be that stomach settling feeling. The kind that makes it so easy to sit perfectly still and never move a muscle. Being so close to him was dreamy, and the buzzing smoke inhalation never failed to take it out of me.

The weed didn't do much to curb my mind though. Whatever we were, whatever racing thoughts I would think all day about him, didn't stop at the car door. The whole thing was messy and so fucking complicated. I tried not to think too hard about it. Most of the time I’d just focus on how pretty he was and how lucky I am to be able to love him.

When he says my name, I swear-

I don’t even know what it does, it kills me so badly.

This one saturday night in particular, Hitoshi didn’t seem as interested in lazy, open mouthed kisses. He seemed fixated on looking at me.

“Hey, you okay?” I nudged his shoulder, attempting to stir awake the Hitoshi I knew. The man only I got to see.

He was a famous work of art, but only I got to hang the framed canvas on my wall. Only I could stand close enough to see each and every brush stroke. No post card or photo could ever compare to the real thing. He was mine, even if he wasn't my boyfriend, he was mine.

“Sorry,” He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was under, “Just doing too much thinking lately.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” I smirked, tilting my head to get a better angle of his moonlit face.

“You think we could, just, I dunno,” He looked out the open window, lost in the open air and pine trees, “Maybe talk? About this? Us?”

My heart did a 180 in my chest, so, as per usual, I relied on attempted comedy and a smile to take the anxiety away, “Talk about us? I was beginning to think you’d never ask.”

“I’m serious, you know." The look on he gave me dropped the smile off my face. He was serious. This was officially bad. My brain wracked itself for every possible negative outcome.

Until he spoke again.

"I’ve been thinking we should try something.” He shifted his hands off the steering wheel to take another hit, then tap the ash out the window. The whole scene was far more attractive than I’d ever admit. The way he put his lips together as he exhaled the smoke in my direction. It was fantastical. Sweet, sappy memories I’d lick off the floor of this car to remember.

I’d do anything to keep him on my mind.

“Try… what?” I asked, genuinely curious and anxious for his answer.

This seemed to bring him all the way back to himself, there was a sly smirk on his lips, “I dunno, sweetheart, what do you think?”

There was that sinking feeling again and my back was glued to the seat, eyes stuck on his face. My mind knew what was coming, but my heart couldn't accept that the thing I'd been dreaming about since I was fourteen, was really coming true. In this very moment. Oh, lord.

He turned to face me fully, and the spell broke. This definitely wasn't a dream. Both our arms resting on the center console brought our faces incredibly close.

We’ve always been this way, together and apart, near, yet so far.

Noses almost grazing each other, I pushed myself to speak in the presence of the man I assume to be god.

“You want me to guess?” I raised an eyebrow despite my aching, heavy heart, “Or will you just kiss me already.”

One thing I loved about Hitoshi, is one way or another, he always did what I told him to do.

He kissed differently than I expected, not so commanding or competitive but slow and compassionate. I knew only then, that everything would be fine. We were together, finally, as one.

We didn’t fall asleep in the car that night.

-------☆-------

a/n : if it was terrible, don't tell me.

i will walk into the ocean and never come back.

thanks to @saemeret for being such a good little beta (annoying baby talk voice) smooch <3

[aspd-culture]

Hi! Hope it’s ok to ask this, I’m a person with aspd’s exception they are also my partner whom I love dearly I wanted to know from you all if there’s any advice you all have or anything. They’re genuinely the best person I know and it took a lot of trust to get to where we are now and it was worth every second I care for them a lot and I want to be the best boyfriend I can to them

(Due to the amount of links and to avoid formatting issues, I'm going to keep this post in plain text only. I apologize for the length of it, and the length of all the posts I'll be linking here)

Hi, it's definitely okay to ask and I really appreciate you coming to someone with ASPD because damn the google searches for this suck. I've got a couple posts on this that go into better detail than I could in one post, so I'm gonna put some links in here and if you need any clarification or have any other questions, feel free as always to ask them./gen

Links & more advice below the cut:

Firstly, one of my posts where I've described what an Exception is (always a good idea to know this so that you're aware of what that means from our side):

How to support a pwASPD:

Urges/possible replacement behaviors:

What "Transactional Relationships" Means for pwASPD (useful to understand how to avoid making someone with ASPD feel unsafe around you:

This one is short but it's something I personally wish more Exceptions realized (how high a value it means we put on you). I don't show you this in any way to put pressure on you but instead to help remind you in the moments where it might not feel like the pwASPD in your life cares (because sometimes it just doesn't come across properly) that they very, very much do:

Tips for dealing with ASPD symptoms from the side of the prosocial person:

Things that can cause ASPD Flares:

And that is probably already a novella's worth of information. But some specific advice I don't know if I've gone into before:

Do yourself and the person in question two huge favors in this and learn about flat affect if they experience that & try to learn to be comfortable with it, and get used to checking in with both of your emotions vs making assumptions on them. That goes both ways, because low/no empathy is a big part of most people's ASPD so they will very likely struggle to notice your emotions, and also because pwASPD have an emotional state that is VERY much misread by prosocial empathy. A lot of pwASPD (and no prosocial I've ever met) have this true neutral emotional state that is kind of the default, and I and many other pwASPD have learned the hard way that this true neutral (not content, just not feeling any emotion at all) reads to empathy as livid. Like truly pissed the hell off. This leads to something that can cause extreme friction between a prosocial and someone with ASPD: this persistent "I feel like you're mad at me" or "I can tell something is wrong" when in fact we are not feeling anything at the moment. Ask this enough times in a row though, or try to tell us what we're feeling, and suddenly the majority of us would sure be feeling VERY ticked off. I'm not saying don't ask at all - like I said open communication of emotions is huge between a prosocial and a pwASPD - but if they say they aren't mad but your empathy (if you have typical empathy) is certain they are, believe them at face value. On the low chance they're lying (most of us won't hesitate to tell you that you've ticked us off), it's probably because it is not something they feel able to discuss at the moment, and because most of us have low/no empathy, we don't expect you to guess how we're feeling anyways. If we don't tell you, we usually get that you don't know and won't like pin that on you in the way prosocials might.

Also, obviously pwASPD are not all the same so the biggest thing is to communicate in general. Don't assume everything I've said in these posts are universal because with a personality disorder, the spectrum of symptoms is wide - that's just kind of how it is when you're dealing with a disorder that affects every aspect of someone's life, actions, emotions, and thoughts.

[ilikekidsshows]

Hi! I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you okay with discussing spoilers for the latest *Miraculous Ladybug* episodes? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. No pressure though, just curious about your opinion.

---

I’ve mentioned before and it's still true that I don't mind spoilers for shows I’m not liveblogging and there's no way to get me to liveblog Miraculous again. In addition, sneak previews aren’t spoilers, they’re previews/teasers, so for future reference, all trailers and screenshot previews are fair game.

Okay, first thoughts, based on the images alone, this looks pretty bad. I hope that this is a nightmare, imagine spot or a brainwashing Akuma, because mob violence is a big deal in real life and that kind of topic has no place in Miraculous of all shows considering the writing team’s track record. However, the images don't look like an exaggerated imagine spot outside of the graffiti using a similar art style to Marinette's imagine spots so I do fear this is actually going to be the “plot” of an episode.

If I had any faith in this show or the writers I’d consider the option that this is supposed to be an overblown take on the “celebrity's fandom doesn't like he's off the market / think no one is good enough for him and hate on his girlfriend” scenario.  It has the potential for an interesting story so, of course, the writers would never pick that approach. Of course, considering this show’s track record, even if they did surprise me and go with that, the episode would come with with the unfortunate implications that Adrien having entitled fans is only a bad thing now that it negatively impacts Marinette, because god forbid Marinette face any of the downsides of dating a celebrity while trying to become a celebrity.

The worst case scenario is that the crew has been working at lightspeed since the S5 finale caused an uptick in Marinette hate, or, even worse, this is going to be Astruc going off with his long-standing grudge against people asking for Adrien to have some screen time. In this case the hate mob will be intended to be a meta representation of the actual, real world haters/critics, but, since no one in universe knows about Marinette’s abuse apologia or other failures, they’ll be mad at Marinette for something really stupid that Astruc is willing to depict as the actual gripe so that he can present the criticism as something stupid and easy to reject.

Considering the witch artwork of Marinette, I’m pretty sure this is just going to be a bunch of strawmen hating Marinette for nonsense reasons and the episode will just be about the writers victimizing Marinette instead of actually addressing any criticisms or the reality of how double-edged it can be to be/date a celebrity. Maybe, considering one of those screenshots seems to have only boys in it, they’ll be all “ew girls are icky” to represent misogyny because Astruc thinks the only conceivable reason anyone would have for not liking his perfect little pretend daughter is that they just hate girls on principle. 

Regardless of other details, considering this show's tone problem, I expect Marinette will still have a pity party thrown for her instead of this kind of mob being played for the horror it would be in any other show. I mean, they're graffiting her house. In the real world that's an actual crime. It's the exact kind of tone deaf writing I’d expect from this crew and I hate that we’re at the point that it’s believable that criticizing Marinette Astruc could be represented as cyberbullying and vandalism. The irony of depicting Marinette's critics as a hate mob when it's her apologists actually mobbing and cyberbullying people would be lost on both the writers and Maripologists.

Unless the “Lila is ruining Marinette’s reputation” take is going to be correct, but only for, like a single episode. In that case it'll probably be caused by an Akuma and be easily fixed. Or, I just realized that the screenshot with Alya has a picture/video of someone other than Marinette, like it's being compared to the Marinette images/videos. That makes it so that there is also a chance that the outcry against Marinette will happen because she gets deepfaked saying something terrible, most likely by Lila or an Akuma created by her.

Final thoughts added after I wrote the other stuff: the groupchat found the teaser trailer this is from. An Akuma is most likely going to deepfake Marinette saying something awful in a video that goes viral. Good news is that the likelihood of this actually referencing the real life hatedom has gone down. Bad news, Marinette is still going to be victimized by Parisians for something she didn't do, making this episode be solely about how victimized she is and how upsette she is, considering how much time was spent on her lip wobbling in the trailer.

Honestly, if Marinette hadn't gotten the whole world erased and recreated in Gabriel Agreste’s image, I would feel bad for her. This is an awful thing to go through that no person deserves. But, as things are, she's a fictional character and the world has a right to hate her for getting them all rebooted, and this is most likely the closest we’ll ever get to that.