#not an every day thing like it used to be but still a few times a week

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You’ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

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[clockwork-hearted]

This was the first queer movie I watched in high school. I remember finally having good, strong WiFi and exploring YouTube one night. Was using my refurbished MacBook that I begged my dad to get me so I can have something to use for school.

I don’t remember how exactly I came across this movie (honestly was probably going through some YouTube rabbit hole of “movies where guys make out” or the classic “two men kissing” search), but it was the full length movie. And it was free.

I was so excited to watch it and see what kind of guy on guy action I would get to see. But being forced to stay in the closet growing up, I couldn’t just outright watch this movie while my parents were home.

So I bookmarked it. Made sure I even saved the link somewhere. And had to wait until my parents weren’t home.

Thankfully, I ended up realizing that I was a teen that was allowed to stay up late on the weekends. So I stayed up, waited until both my parents were in their rooms, fast asleep, and then I went into my room, closed the door (couldn’t lock it though. Locking bedroom doors was an offense that would cause a scene every time for absolutely no reason), plugged my headphones in, and snuggled up and watched it.

I remember sitting upright to start it then getting tired and deciding to lay down. Ended up laying the laptop on its side just so I could keep watching haha

And I remember going through the rollercoaster of emotions seeing these two characters having a connection but being so twisted up about it. Regardless of everything they went through, I still wanted that. I still wanted someone I could kiss passionately. Someone I could go to bed with and wake up next to in our own little world. Someone I could go to the beach with and spend all day with. Someone who wanted to push me for my abilities (don’t have any but it played into my fantasies lol) and strive to be the best I could be at them.

And then reaching the end of the movie and being so happy with it. I remember crying. Crying so much that I thought I wasn’t going to be able to stop. I remember shoving my face in my pillows to try and muffle my crying.

Oh, I learned to cry silently so very quick in my home. How I learned what it meant to be even more suppressed than I already was. How I had to learn to hold back all the choking sounds my throat would utter and just let the tears flow. Silently blowing my nose into tissues so I wouldn’t wake my parents and cause a scene.

“Why are you crying? What’s happening? What did you watch? What’s going on? Etc. etc. etc.” - yeah, like I was going to come clean about my emotions and be able to talk these things out. Pht. How I wished and how I dreamed that I could. Would’ve made growing up easier. But I didn’t have those kinds of parents.

So the first night I watched this movie, it meant a lot in such little time. Movies like this really saved me as a teen.

I started doing a deep dive into any and all other queer movies I could find online for free (but that’s a story for a different time).

Tbh, I had forgotten about this gem of a movie. Made me feel a little guilty for forgetting, mostly because it really helped me continue pretending, and knowing that one day I would find someone to experience beautiful moments with. It allowed me to realize that queer media (that wasn’t porn) was out there, that I didn’t have to feel alone, and that it was only a few key strokes and google searches away.

For anyone who read through this whole thing (I know I blabbed, but I really needed to get this off my chest and my mind), thank you.

And I also hope that even though the world can feel so against you, even in spaces that are supposed to be safe, that there are people out there that know and understand you and can relate to how you feel.

I know it’s always easier said than done, but hang in there. And if it all gets to be too suffocating, please remember there are resources out there to help. But please, please, please, don’t get snuffed out. Let yourself burn as bright as you can. Because at the end of the day, you will always find Shelter- whether it’s with family members, friends, teachers, chosen/adoptive families, online communities, etc. you will find it. And you will be safe. And you will be loved.

I wish you all the very best. May this movie and many others bring you as much joy as it did to me. <3

Shelter (2007) dir. Jonah Markowitz

[cjlouwho]

This got a little long winded, so it gets its own post. The story you are about to read is based off of this poll. These are your choices.

Tommy was pretty sure he'd never felt a headache like this before. He wasn't prone to migraines, but he'd seen his mother suffer with them and this... well, this might be worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as a wave of nausea fell over him.

It wasn't just his head that hurt. It was his whole body.

Damn, he hadn't been this sick in... well, ever.

His body shook with chills. There was a heaviness in his chest that had him turning his head to the side and choking out a hard cough.

Once he finally settled, that heaviness still there, he slowly let out a raspy breath.

Pudding.

He wanted pudding.

That was odd. He used to crave pudding as a child. Every time he got sick, he would request a pudding cup. And that's what he wanted right now.

Maybe he still had one in the fridge. He'd kept a few things there for Jee back when- Well, he had some kid foods that had been sitting in his fridge for a couple months now. Surely, the pudding would still be fine.

If only he could get out of bed.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress. This one had lasted him quite a few years, but he was definitely feeling the lumps today. It was hard and painful and poked into his back.

“God, this sucks,” he breathed out, blinking his bleary eyes open and... oh.

This wasn't right.

He wasn't at home. Wasn't in his bed.

And the heaviness in his chest was actually on his chest.

That's when the memories came flooding back to him. Going for a flight on his day off. Wanting to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

He couldn't panic. He needed to maintain focus.

That was hard to do when his brain was all jumbled.

He remembered his phone was... somewhere.

Shirt pocket! That was it!

Carefully, and painfully, he reached up and pulled out the phone.

Miraculously, it was still in one piece. Besides a few cracks to the screen, it seemed to be working fine.

He stared at the screen. The default background that was once a picture of him and Evan.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. He knew he probably didn't have that much time. Not with the way this heavy piece of metal pressed against his body.

So, with fuzzy eyes, Tommy went to his contacts, hovering his finger over the name before pressing down.

“Hello?”

“H- Hey. Long time, n- no talk.”

“Tommy? What's up? Are you okay?”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I... Well, that's a loaded question.”

“You sound weird. What's wrong?”

“I wanted to a- apologize to you.” With a grimace, he swallowed down what was definitely blood.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

There was a pause, then, “Did you do something stupid?”

“Not intentionally,” he deadpanned. “Listen, I- I kinda got into an accident and I...” his voice trailed off as he went into a coughing fit. The movement sent a pain shooting from his leg to his back. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Tommy! Tommy, talk to me. What do you mean you got in an accident?”

“No, it- it doesn't matter. I just wanted t- to apologize for the way I left you.”

“You apologized for that years ago, Tommy. Tell me what happened so I-”

“Abby!” he exclaimed, the hunk of metal over him creaked as it lowered slightly. “I don't... I just need to apologize. I- you loved me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did. Car crash, or were you flying?”

“F- Flying. I loved you too. Not... Not the same though. Sorry.”

He could hear her mumbling something to someone else, then she was back on the line. “I'm calling 911 with Sam's phone. Stay on the line with me, Tommy. Are you in LA?”

“Mhm. Do- Don't think I made it far. Abby, listen, I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I was so s- scared of- of everything.”

“Do you see anything around you? Any indicators for where you are? They're working on pinging your phone.”

When Tommy turned his head to the side, all he could see was trees. “Woods. I think. Can't see much. I was dating th- this guy.”

“Can you tell me where you're hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Oh, for sure. But A- Abby, I didn't m- mean to hurt you.”

“Focus, please. Where are you bleeding?”

“Head. Leg. Mouth. Kinda e- everywhere. I was dating th- this guy,” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, a rattling in his lungs. “Your guy, actually. O- Our guy?”

“Tommy, I think you're getting confused. I-”

“No, no. Evan. Buckley, Ev- Buck. Him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“No, I'm here. I- You're dating Buck?”

“Was dating Buck. I- I ended it. I'm c- cold.”

“Help is on the way, Tommy, just stay with me. You broke up with Buck. Why?”

“Remember wh- when we went to karaoke nights? Th- That was fun, wasn't it?”

Abby sighed. “It was, but that's not what we're talking about.”

“Wh- What was the song we us- used to sing?”

“You were a big Queen fan. I Want to Break Free. Shoulda known,” she mumbled.

Tommy laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, where blood bubbled up in his mouth.

“Tommy! Tommy, stay calm, okay. Turn your head a little so you don't choke.”

Tommy listened, spitting out the blood before he continued. “We should karaoke again.”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. Tell me about Buck.”

“Evan.” Tears filled in Tommy's eyes and he tried his hardest to blink them away. “We were t- together six months and it all f- fell apart.”

“Why?”

“He wanted... wanted me to move in. Can you b- believe that?”

“Yeah, actually, I can,” she answered. “Buck likes to attach and you're, well, attachable.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

“You haven't changed much, Tommy. You didn't seem to think you were worthy when we were together either.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. Down his back he could feel the sensation of more blood dripping from his neck. “What d- do you mean?”

“The whole time we were together it felt like you were waiting for a bomb to drop.”

“That probably had to do with the whole being gay thing.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe. Don't think so though. Hang on a second.”

He looked up at the hunk of metal trapping him in place. “Nowhere to go.”

Tommy closed his eyes while he waited. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he remembered, Abby was yelling in his ear. “-mmy! Tommy, talk to me!”

“Wha- I'm here, I'm here. God, you're l- loud.”

“And you're an ass. If I was there I'd smack you on the back of the head.”

“That would hurt,” he replied. “With the gaping wound an- and all the blood.”

“Back to Buck. Why'd you say no to moving in?”

“I own a home.”

“And?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I- I wasn't enough for you, Abby. Couldn't be.”

“Mhm.”

“I hurt you. Didn't m- mean to, but I did. I saw- I saw it in your eyes, when I left, I... You loved me, and I couldn't... I'm sorry.”

“Is that why you left?” Abby asked. “You were afraid Buck would do the same thing to you?”

“I really...” he couldn't stop the tears now. His chest heaved in the little space it had left. “I really loved him, Abby, and I- I saw what I did to you and I couldn't. I just co- co- couldn't-”

“Okay, okay, Tommy, I need you to stay calm, okay? Listen, the dispatcher is telling me that the 118 is close to you. So you stay calm and you talk to me!”

“O- Okay.” He tried to calm his breathing the best he could, but the rattle persisted. He knew that didn't mean anything good. Each breath got a little harder, the blood continued to flow down his neck, and he was pretty sure something was sticking through his leg.

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He didn't... He never said it. That he loved me.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe he was waiting on you. Did you think of that?”

“I think...” He just wanted to close his eyes. Nothing made sense, the cold feeling was fading, he was going numb. “I think I- I'm dying, Abby.”

“No! Listen to me, Tommy! They're close to you! I need you to make a noise. Let them know where you are. You hear me?! Call for help, Tommy.”

“Abb-”

“Call for help!”

Tommy groaned, more blood coming up in his throat. He managed to move one arm just enough for his hand to knock on the door of the chopper. “H- Here!” he yelled, banging on the door as hard as he could manage. “I- I'm here!”

Abby listened over the phone as the 118 arrived on scene. She could only make out bits and pieces.

“Tommy, can.... me? Talk to... There ya go! We got a...”

“What about the...”

“Hey. Hey, we're here, Tommy. Just focus on... and we'll get ya out, okay?”

“He's losing too... gotta get that off now!”

“Tommy, you look at me! We will... you just gotta promise me you'll... Promise?”

She waited, holding her breath until she heard his voice, just a touch above a whisper. “Promise.”

Things got quieter for a bit, then she heard voices again, so she yelled, “Hey! Hey, pick up the phone! Someone pick it up!”

“H- Hello?”

“Buck, is that you?”

“Yeah, Abby, it- it's me,” he answered, his voice practically shaking. “Maddie said y- you were on the line with him.”

“Is he...?”

“He's alive. We're following the ambulance to the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She could hear Buck sniffling through the line. “I don't know how he's alive, Abby,” he admitted, lip trembling. “It looks like this thing has been through a compactor.”

“And Tommy?”

"Has a gash on the back of the head, concussion, broken ribs, a pretty big piece of glass through his leg, definitely some internal bleeding. He... Chim says he should make it, but we- we barely got here in time. He might've... if he wasn't talking to you he probably...” He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

“Hey, don't think about that now. He's gonna be fine. That's what matters.”

“Yeah.” Buck ran a hand over his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“I'll let you go, Buck, but let me know when he's stable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course. Oh, and Buck!” she quickly added before he could hangup.

“Yeah?”

“I know the guy pretty well. He loves you. He's just not great at being loved.”

“A- Abby-”

“Don't give up on him. He's worth it.” Before Buck could get in another word, she hung up.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed.

Evan was beside him, staring down at an empty cup in his hands. Tommy figured he must've sensed the staring, because soon enough Buck was meeting his eyes. “You're awake,” he said, eyebrows rising.

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “I think so, yeah.”

“There's been a couple wake ups that didn't quite stick,” Buck explained, standing to grab cup of water. He put the straw to Tommy's mouth and had him take a sip. “Slowly,” he instructed. “Don't want you choking.”

Tommy took a few sips, then settled back in the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost four days.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “You.. You haven't been here the whole time?” he asked. “Have you?”

Buck nodded. “Three nurses have tried to drag me out of here. All have failed.”

Tommy hoped the monitor didn't show how fast his heart felt like it was beating. “Wh- Why? Why'd you stay?”

Buck smiled, wrapping his shaky hand around Tommy's. “A mutual friend of ours told me you were worth it,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I just so happen to agree.”

[toovaeloe]

curse biologist!reader x assistant!gojo hc’s

content: gojo pining off his ass . little flirty lab partners . tw for sliiighhtest mention of an autopsy and related tools . warning for gojo poppin’ a stiff one in the lab cause he’s a freak like that (ur a freak like that), so mildly suggestive

mdni

curse biologist!reader— the higher ups want you dead and gone, that’s for sure. You, who has a cursed technique that turns cursed energy into something tangible. After applying your technique to a cursed spirit, it becomes visible to a naked human eye, and instead of disintegrating, leaves a corpse behind. You’re dangerous. Crazy. And well…too weird. But they just hate progress, don’t they?

Not Gojo. He really doesn’t think you’re doing any harm to be honest (and he’ll do just about anything if it creases another wrinkle into Gakuganji’s ugly mug)

I mean, who else has been able to make waves in the integration of curses into science like you have? You’ve uncovered an exponential amount about the inner workings of curses in a few years when the rest of Jujutsu society’s had centuries, only to scratch the surface. It’s really admirable how you deep dive into the nitty gritty, as he calls it.

assistant!gojo— who loves being your little go-getter. Your own personal cursed spirit Fetch-Fido— maybe if you squint hard enough you’ll be able to see floppy ears perked to attention in his snowy hair or an eager tail whipping up a hurricane behind him as he brings you back his latest catch: a detained grade 2 curse manifested by the fear of monsters under the bed. Yeah, he knew you’d like something like that.

assistant!gojo— loves witnessing the way your eyes light up and it’s as if he can see the cogs immediately gearing to life in your smart little brain. He’s saluting exaggeratedly with a puffed out chest when you give him the go ahead to kill the thing after you’ve had your hand at it. It’s all he can do not to ask for a pat on the head and praise of how well he did. Getting a “Good boy,” out of you is on his mental vision board.

assistant!gojo— sticks around for the autopsies. Likes watching you poke around inside the creatures and is waiting on your hand and foot through the entire process. Scalpel? Bone saw? Enterotomy scissors? The bread knife??? He’s even starting to become attuned to your whims, tool already in hand before you extend your palm.

If you murmured an awed, “look at thaaat,” he’s quick to huddle in close under the pretense of observing whatever oddity that’s intrigued you. Only to squish his cheek against yours with a feigned, “hmm…mhmm…” nodding stiltedly, and not so discreetly nuzzling his face closer to yours with an impish glint in those azure eyes as he casts a sidelong glance to your skeptical neutrality.

assistant!gojo— staring at you with the widest puppy dog eyes as you discard your gloves and begin sketching diagrams of the latest brain you’ve picked apart, comparing it to the contradicting one of another curse, and contrasting from the drastically different human model you have. He can listen to you babble for hours, if only absorbing every other word of your theories on why a curse’s blood runs violet or how you’re so excited to get these samples to the lab. He’ll still chip in with his own question or hypothesis from time to time, because he’s curious too, but more than that he loves the way you answer.

assistant!gojo— purposely uses candy and sweets as a metaphor whenever you plead with him to explain how he views the electromagnetic spectrum through those eyes of his, just because he thinks it’s funny how desperate you are to know. To this day you can’t decode however the fuck that analogy about laffy taffy and rock candy was supposed to relate to infrared waves.

assistant!gojo— Satoru can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that he can’t get you out of his head or the fact that you want inside of his head

This whole situation is basically him giving you googoo eyes and kissy faces as you scribble down something on your clipboard and try to stick him with a needle

assistant!gojo— who’s willing to be a bit of a lab rat for you. He’s all giggles as he prances up to your vertical operation table, huffing lightly when you strap him against the cool steel. “Don’t be shy now, y’could go tighter than that. You know I like it when you tie me up,,” he encourages oh so unhelpfully.

assistant!gojo— chiding you to be careful when you begin application of the biosensors across his chest, cause he’ll get “a little too excited.” You don’t pay mind to his little quip until you see his already irregularly R-R intervals spike impossibly short on the electrocardiogram readings. And then again as you finish hooking him up to the machine.

assistant!gojo— thinks you might be overthinking what environmental stimuli might have caused that anomaly, or maybe judging by that poorly veiled smile and half-hearted “My mistake,” you’ve purposefully placed that one sensor node a little too low on his pelvis this time. Now that he’s thinkin’ about— yeah—there definitely wasn’t any need for you crouch so low until your nose was practically level with the apex of his thigh. Or for you to look up at him in a way that had him failing to suppress a shiver and his breath hitching when you smoothly rubbed the padding of the damn thing into his hip with your thumb. Aaaand fuck, he’s bricked in the lab. (again.)

He’d kill to know what’s going on in your noggin. And frankly he’s dying to get the pants off his fave smartypants.

a/n: as soon as I got this idea i was like ooo biting my lip and bigbig smile,, onto something? am I onto something??? would anybody maybemaybe read a one shot with this concept 👀? okay I love you byyyee

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Devout

Guardian Angel alternative POV, or Jason Todd is the Arkham Knight, and he can't stop himself from watching you, from clawing his way into the cracks of your life in a twisted, mangled mirror of what he used to be ~3.5k words

CW: Jason commits a few murders, some gore, stalking, some religious imagery for fun

Jason Todd shouldn't be watching you. He knows it's wrong, knows he shouldn't be perched on the shadowy rooftop across from your apartment building, staring intently into your windows.

He knows. He knows. But he's doing it anyway– been doing it for weeks.

You haven't noticed once, so wrapped up in your own life, your peace of mind that no one would break the sanctity of your own home that you don't even consider closing your blinds.

He thinks you should know better. Gotham is tainted– he is tainted– yet you never spare a glance over your shoulder when he follows you down the street, never linger on that sixth sense that screams that you're being watched.

You pick up on his presence on the rare occasion, he thinks. The days you walk home quicker or the nights you actually slam your blinds shut makes him wonder if you do know you're being watched. But then you go back to normal, brush off every sign and every lingering feeling that something isn't right.

It almost makes him angry, sometimes, that you'd be so careless with your safety. But everything makes him angry now. It's a constant, tight grasp in his chest, the righteous fury he has against the world, against the city and its filth, against Batman.

The anger makes him reckless, or maybe he's just cocky. Maybe he wants you to know he's there. Jason doesn't let himself wonder why he does it. He might just be a masochist. He might just miss you. But he opens the faulty window to your living room that he knows squeaks and never quite locks right.

The first time he breaks into– visits your apartment while you're asleep, he doesn't touch a thing. He just takes in everything that's you, cleanses his fractured soul in the space he used to know like the back of his hand. The trinkets that sit on your counters. The paintings on the wall. The color of the blankets thrown over your couch.

He doesn't touch anything the second time, either. Or the third. The fourth time, though, he picks over the photos you keep on your shelves, the books you leave lying around. He moves them, just slightly. Just to see if you'll notice.

You don't. Not really. Not until the eighth time. He doesn't know why he does this either. He just does. He picks up your keys from where you usually keep them and moves them. It's something you can't deny. Something tangible and real and clear, an unyielding truth. He was here. He exists, and he can affect your life, change it with his hands.

(It's the first time he feels like he's truly alive since the asylum, the first time there's more than just revenge and watching you from afar, even if he feels like he's corrupting something that's only meant to be seen and not touched by impure, broken hands)

If your keys being displaced affects you, well, you don't show it for more than a few moments. And that bothers him. You might not know he's here– alive– and maybe he's not ready for you to, but he's still a part of your life, isn't he?

So he gets bolder. He doesn't want to scare you, not really. But he can't help but dig his nails into the parts of your life he can change. It starts simple, innocent. You were annoyed when you left your kitchen, out of sugar, just another thing on top of everything else you have to deal with.

And he wanted to help. Like he used to. It was easy to get a bag of sugar, even easier to sneak into your kitchen. He leaves just enough for a few days, just enough to get you through the week, enough that you'll think you misremembered how much was left.

And he should have left it at that. But he's never been good at doing things halfway, especially when it comes to you. So he fixes your apartment up while you're at work. Makes sure your window doesn't squeak, your shower doesn't rattle, your oven actually heats up. All things he's heard you try to get your landlord to fix.

He makes a note to give your landlord a visit as he's looping the footage in your cameras over, effectively erasing any evidence of who he is.

Honestly, he's proud of you for finally doing something about him, it's just a shame he has the skills to outmatch your attempts to figure out his identity. Not that any pictures of him would do any good. He's still nameless in Gotham as the Arkham Knight, and if he's not wearing a mask while he's easily picking the new lock on your apartment window, his hood and ballcap do the job of hiding his face just as well.

He thinks he could let it go on like this forever, just doing things for you in the shadows, never revealing himself. At least until he's routinely following you home from work one night, and he sees you get tugged into a dark, lonely alley. He recognizes the man that hauls you off the faux safety of the streets, the one that's lifting a shaky hand and a gun to wave it, demanding your possessions.

Murphy is a nobody in Gotham, just another gambling addicted alcoholic that takes work from whatever rouge is paying the most that week. Jason more or less only recognizes him because he lives on the third floor of your apartment building, but it's clear you don't know who the man snatching your things is.

The Arkham Knight resigns himself to stealing your wallet and phone back after you've gotten home, to keep himself out of your sights for as long as he can. That was the plan.

But there's a flicker in Murphy's eyes, a consideration– a passing thought that Jason can't ignore, one he's seen a million times. Maybe it's the idea that he could get more from you, or maybe he's realizing you've seen his face and wants to get rid of any witnesses, whatever it is, Jason isn't going to let it happen.

The Arkham Knight doesn't hesitate to drop himself between you and the gun. He breaks Murphy's arm without even thinking about it, effectively disarming him as he kicks the gun away from him. The sound of his bones breaking is loud, but Jason doesn't register it as something to be sickened by until he turns and sees the nausea and horror written plainly on your face.

Honestly, maybe he should be more disgusted with himself. He's just sent a man into shock, revealed himself to you in a way that's not at all comforting. But he doesn't care. No one was going to save you. No one but him. He protected you, and it's not like Bruce Batman– it's not like broken bones are uncommon in Gotham.

You take a step back. He steps towards you, drawn to you. He can't help it. He shouldn't. But his head is spinning, and he hasn't been this close to you since before the asylum. You look tired, older, but no less beautiful than he remembers.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap at him.

Jason wants to praise you for your bravery, as fake as it is. It's a good tactic, to try and get him talking. He doesn't understand why you look so uneasy of him, though. He got you out of a bad situation, even if he's wearing military-grade armor and a mask that glows in the darkness of the alley, shouldn't you feel grateful? Safe? Happy?

He tilts his head, trying to read you. Would you feel better if he offered to walk you home? "I saved you," he tries, the modulator making his voice sound flatter than he intends to. The Arkham Knight silently curses himself. He should just leave. Should have shot your attacker from the roof without you ever seeing him. He's being emotional now, irrational under your gaze.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," you accuse, eyes darting like you're trying to find an escape in the dead end alley.

He stiffens. Huh. Clever thing. You've always been too smart for your own good. A part of him wants to deny it, pretend he's just some passing good doer in a mask, pretend that he's some kind of knight, an angel here to shield you from harm.

The notion almost makes him laugh, "Have I," he prompts instead with all the air nonchalance. He wonders if you'll drop it then, actually thank him for stepping in and helping you. You don't.

"Yes," You say instead, voice low like it's a secret– a confession, "You have."

Jason finds himself impressed at your stubbornness, if not a little unnerved by your recklessness in confronting the supposed stranger you believe is breaking into your home alone. He has to give you credit for piecing it together, but who else, if not a freak in body armor, would be letting themselves into your apartment without a word just to fix what's broken?

He nods, unsure of what to do. You weren't supposed to figure it out, but you have. And now there's consequences.

The Arkham Knight turns his back to you, making a show of gathering your phone and wallet before standing and facing you again. He walks closer to you, each step measured and calculated. He holds your belongings out to you, a twisted, mirrored version of some kind of sacred offering.

He studies you as you grab at them, trying to tug them from his unyielding grip. There's bags under your eyes. He can practically see your pulse jumping under your skin.

You're less than a foot away, and Jason basks in that distance, how light he feels now that you're only an arm's reach away. He could brush his knuckles over your cheek, dip his head to take in the scent of your hair, kiss the hollow of your throat the same way he used to.

He does none of those things. Because you don't see Jason Todd. You only see a threat, a monster, some kind of demon that clawed their way out of the shadows and cracks that litter Gothams hallowed corners.

He cocks his head, letting go of your wallet and phone while greedily drinking down the color of your eyes in the dim light of the alley, "And if I have?"

"I'll go to the police," You tell him, defensive, and he wants to laugh as you shove your wallet and phone back into your pocket.

"They can't help you," he grits out, and it's the truth. No one knows who he is yet, what his plans are. Even if you told someone, whatever description you give won't be enough to find him.

"They can contact Batman," you bite out, and that does earn you a laugh. You really think Bruce can do anything? That Batman has any chance of standing between him and you? Batman couldn't even find– couldn't even save–

"He can't help you either," The Arkham Knight tells you. He gives into his desire to touch you then, partly in anger that you still believe in Batman and partly because he just misses you. He pats your cheek, but doesn't let himself linger. "Get home," is all he says before he grapples into the night.

He follows you back to your apartment from the rooftops and notes how you avoid getting too close to any more alleys. But, it's not until you're safe in your bed that he goes looking for Murphy– that he goes to finish the job.

The creep's nursing his broken arm in his dingy apartment when The Arkham Knight gets to him. He doesn't make it quick, but it is quiet. (It's difficult to scream when you're choking on your own severed tongue, after all) He brings down fire and fury and vengeance for daring to lay a hand on you and leaves nothing behind but a corpse.

Murphy's brutal death is swept under the rug by the GCPD, which Jason shouldn't be surprised by. Just another mob death, the tiny obituary in the paper reports. You don't even register the death in your apartment building. He doesn't blame you for that. Not when he knows he's scaring you.

He's getting careless, sloppy. He wants you to catch glimpses of him now, he wants you to know he's watching. It's sick. He knows that, knows it so well that it claws in the back of his throat when he breaks into your apartment to fix your fan.

He's guilty about it, sometimes. It's a pressing weight on his shoulder even when he's trying to help. So, he redoubles his efforts.

He sneaks into your room and stuffs six hundred dollars into the emergency fund you keep under your bed. He sends you flowers, fills your gas tank, finally visits your landlord, and pays off your rent for the next six months. (He's already bought you a better, newer apartment, he just hasn't figured out how to tell you that)

He knows it's all wrong, but sometimes, he doesn't feel guilty at all. He wants to do things for you, that's not a lie. He wants to do everything and anything you could ever want or ask for.

He starts letting you catch flashes of him outside your window, moves your things around just out of the sheer curiosity of what you'll do. He can't justify that, because it does nothing to protect you. But he does it anyway. The Arkham Knight needs you to know he holds a spot in your life, even if it's not as Jason Todd anymore.

He's getting bolder, much too comfortable. There's times you almost walk into your apartment as he's leaving gifts on your counter, times when you wake up and walk into your kitchen just seconds after he forces himself out your window.

He's going to get caught if it keeps going on like this. But he can't bring himself to worry or care. His plans are coming together, and while he doesn't exactly know where you fit into them yet, he knows he doesn't trust anything or anyone enough to leave you to your own devices once he unleashes his legions upon Gotham and her failure of a saviour.

He never seems to do the right thing when it comes to you, at least not since he came back. But saving you– guarding you against the vile filth of the world– that can't be wrong. He'd do anything to keep you as you are, untouched by all the cruelties Gotham has to offer. It's an unwavering, righteous mission he has commanded unto himself.

It's why he reacts the way he does when three men break into your apartment.

He was late. He always seems to be late when you're involved. He had just finished overseeing the arrival of tanks and men into Miagani Tunnel, just dragged himself halfway across the city for the slightest chance to catch a glimpse of you in your apartment, when he catches sight of it.

Your window– open. You never keep it open. Dread washes down his spine, and when he gets close enough to see the man pointing a gun towards the floor– towards you– he just reacts.

He shuts down, becomes nothing but instinct, and he brings hell on to Earth in your name.

He's clinical. He doesn't hesitate to shoot the man aiming a gun to your head through his temple. If the man were alone, he would have shot the gun out of his hand, but there's two other targets, and he needs to eliminate any threats to your life first.

He climbs through your window with the ease of a man who's done it hundreds– thousands of times. You haven't moved to get up. It concerns him, but he's angry right now, so, so angry he doesn't even consider ending this quickly.

Everyone tries to take something from him. He keeps losing. If he didn't come to watch– see you tonight, he would have lost you too. The very thought makes his vision blur red, his ears ring.

It's not a fight, what happens next. It's a death penalty. The Arkham Knight is a weapon, and he proves it with each hit. He's efficient, brutal, and purposeful with each movement. He doesn't flinch at the blood that splatters on his armor, doesn't stop even when fluids and flesh start to stick to the knuckles of his gloves.

He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, until the only hearts left beating in your desecrated apartment are his and yours.

Then, and only then, does the blood pounding through his veins start to cool. It's only then, does he turn to look at you. He expects to meet your terrified gaze, but you haven't moved, still laying on the floor. It makes his heart clench. What's wrong with him? He just– while you–

He shakes his head, slowly tugging his gloves off and stuffing them into his belt. He walks over to you, kneels carefully to your side, and watches you breathe. He matches the slow rhythm of your shoulders rising and falling, and then he helps you sit up.

You're responsive to that, at least. The Arkham Knight presses his hands to your face, waiting for something. He doesn't know what, just anything. Some kind of sign. A message of what he's supposed to do. How he can make this all better.

When you finally open your eyes, they're hazy, not quite reactive. It makes him angry all over again. You got hurt. He wasn't here.

"Saved me again," you murmur, and his throat tightens. He failed you. Yet here you are, spouting words that make it sound like he's done something good.

He runs his thumb over your cheek, savoring the feel of your skin, soothing himself and you as he reassures himself that you're still here– still alive. But you aren't safe.

It's all he can think about. He saved you, but how long until you're in danger again? What if he's not quick enough this time? What if he's not there? What if– what if– haunts him. It weighs heavier than the nightmares that plague him when he finally has to succumb to sleep.

He makes the decision then and there to take you away from here, away from the rot and the fester to some place where it can never touch you again.

He picks you up, cradles you to his chest like you're made of shattered, stained glass and tarnishing silver, but nonetheless precious. You're talking, and he's answering, but he hardly registers what either of you are saying. His mind is working over plans, where he's going to take you, the guards he'll need to recruit to watch over you when he can't, which ones he trusts the most.

Jason only tunes back in when you point out that he could hurt you. It's funny, in a way. After everything he used to be to you, after everything he's done for you, he could still hurt you. He tips his head down to really look at you, the cloudy, exhausted look on your face, the heaviness of your eyes as you struggle to keep watching him.

He can't find it in himself to lie, so, he tells you, maybe he could hurt you. He tells you that he wouldn't like it. (And it's the truth)

Maybe you recognize that, because you drop your head to his shoulder and let your eyes fall shut. The Arkham Knight never wavers in his steps, mapping the path to the apartment he'd purchased in your name in his head. It's not perfect, not filled with everything you deserve quite yet, but it'll do the job for now.

Something in him simultaneously softens and hardens when your breathing goes even and slow against him, and he curls his fingers tighter into your skin. You're weak. Weaker than him. Too naive and too soft for what's going to come.

There's no other fate for you than this now. He'll have to take care of you, protect you from it all, from all the evil that festers in Gotham, even if that includes him.

He lets the mission engrave itself into his heart– into the fabric of his very soul and right next to his revenge. You're going to be safe. He is going to keep you safe, and he'll throw himself into fire to see it done.

[vampire-connoisseur]

this has actually been pretty helpful in making me realize where the disconnect is.

it is true that introducing pasteurization significantly cut down on infant mortality, and that not all pathogens can be eliminated without pasteurization (which is just heating the milk up but not enough to boil it), AND that claims that pasteurization reduces the nutritional value of milk are, at best, exaggerated, but I still like raw milk. at least in the summer, it tastes a bit nicer. that's the only real benefit of it.

so the risk associated with drinking something kind of tasty has to be pretty low for it to be worth it.

a pretty anti-raw milk article here: https://www.popsci.com/health/is-raw-milk-safe/

explains that out of the 3.3 million Americans drinking raw milk (a number from 2022), an estimated 730 of them get sick (a number from 2017). that is a 1 in 4,520 chance. according to this: https://www.ddlawtampa.com/resources/car-accident-statistics-you-need-to-know-in-2021, out of the 243.35 million licensed drivers in the US, 6 million get into car accidents per year on average. That is a 1 in 40 chance. That includes minor accidents though. There are an average of 38,000 fatalities in accidents per year, a 6,400th of the number of drivers-- but this includes passengers, so this is harder to directly compare. additionally, I suspect people with drivers licenses average more time driving than raw milk drinkers spend drinking raw milk, and this is comparing an injury to a disease. this should give a general sense of the rate of actual sickness from drinking raw milk. it isn't a super-present part of life, constantly killing raw milk cultists, but it does occur.

still, car crashes are the leading cause of death to Americans, so if drinking raw milk is equally dangerous, that's still really bad. But it isn't, because as the same earlier source explains, healthy adults will probably just have a bad time for a few days and make a full recovery from milk-borne diseases, and most of the danger is to vulnerable populations such as immunocompromised people, pregnant people, children, the elderly, and so on. I am not in any of these categories, so I feel reasonably safe drinking raw milk.

...I mentioned before that research has not clearly supported any health benefits to drinking raw milk, so this is purely anecdotal, but people in my family who are mildly lactose intolerant say they are able to drink raw milk without pain, and switching to raw milk from regular milk seems to reduce eczema for some children- again, in my family, and not under conditions appropriate to draw any real conclusions from.

that aside, raw milk is definitely not viable on a large scale. industrial agriculture involves animals very close together getting minimal attention and investment. you CANNOT operate a CAFO (concentrated animal feeding operation) without introducing a serious load of antibiotics into animals-- so if you're avoiding raw milk to avoid these antibiotics, I would avoid grocery store milk altogether, even though it's pasteurized. animals in more spacious, sanitary (-ish.it's still a farm, there are limits) conditions with more monitoring and veterinary attention available have a lower need for antibiotics. Another fear regarding CAFOs is that the overuse of antibiotics in such an otherwise pathogenically sketchy environment will lead to antibiotic resistance among potentially very dangerous bacteria. plus, even with all the antibiotics they use, I would absolutely not drink raw milk from a place like this.

when I wondered why raw milk discourse was a thing, I was wondering why raw milk specifically has become this battleground issue when it's really just a slightly risky food item. I can't find statistics on how many people eat raw shellfish, but the CDC estimates that 80,000 people get sick every year from vibriosis alone, which is just one of the pathogens found in raw and undercooked shellfish such as oysters, and 100 people die from it: https://www.foodsafety.gov/blog/oysters-and-vibriosis

but for some reason raw milk specifically is seen as irrationally hazardous to consume. I personally as a healthy adult am comfortable eating raw milk, raw shellfish, and raw eggs depending on their sources, but a lot of people, including healthy adults, are not comfortable with one or more of these things.

to me it feels like a personal choice regarding the amount of risk you want to take just to have a tasty meal, keeping in mind your own health and history. I figured it was because of its association with science skepticism because Pasteur, the father of modern microbiology, invented it and it sounds scary enough that someone who also doesn't want to be vaccinated could start avoiding it, but the discourse around it isn't even educating anyone because it's just as full of misinformation-- albeit less dangerous misinformation-- as that of the Pasteur-fearing camp.

BY THE WAY, I might have gotten some of this information wrong because I'm not about to research and write a whole essay about milk. Also, I haven't had raw milk in years because it's pricier and sours if you look at it too hard, but I like it and still would if given the chance. It's a bit like oat milk actually.

[seiwas]

new year superstitions (or some shit) | bakugo katsuki

wc: 1.4k

summary: bakugo's never believed in timing things for luck (or: affection is hard, but bakugo thinks it's about damn time he tries harder)

contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, aged up!pro-hero bakugo (mid-twenties), reader is described as pretty, vaguely alludes to reader's quirk, established relationship, fluff.

you slip into bakugo's space just a few minutes shy of touching the new year.

everywhere around you is loud, lively in the way new year's eve parties go; a group of people down the street stand outside of a bar, waving their streamers and blowing on small trumpets to welcome the next hour. from a distance, fireworks are shooting up to the sky, right above some luxury hotel having its annual countdown.

it's neither bakugo's thing nor yours to be up this late, partaking in celebrations like this, but he supposes some things are worth experiencing at least once—

the scent of your perfume hits him before he sees you, the space around him tightening in that familiar way the air around you shifts when you hold your breath. you smile, a small, gentle lift of your lips that falls into pace with your blink. pretty.

warmth pools in his stomach, building slowly to crawl its way up his neck and over his ears, overflowing to dust his cheeks.

"thought you looked a little lonely over here," you mumble, stifling your giggle as you watch him turn pink.

he furrows his brows, a soft "tsk," escaping his lips out of habit as his head turns to you. you always tease him like this; he should be getting used to it by now.

a gust of wind picks up from your spot on the balcony, pushing the glass door shut. the noise from inside muffles to dull chatter, the beat of tonight's music recognizable only by the subtle vibrations on the metal railing resting against his back.

the winter breeze seems to have tapped you, too, as you tuck your chin deeper into the red scarf around your neck.

"y'should've stayed inside," he nods to you then to the balcony door, crossing his arms, "s'cold here."

you frown, inching closer, just enough that you could loop your arm with his if you wanted, "sometimes, i can't tell if you're bad at taking hints or just really good at ignoring them."

he eyes you from the side, red vermillion the shade of your scarf—the one he gifted you just a few days ago for christmas. you pout, loosening the fabric around your neck so he can hear you clearly.

"you know," you take in a shaky breath, "this is the f-first time we're at s-something like this as y-y'know…” you pause, glancing at him to gauge his reaction, “t-together."

his nose turns a shade of pink darker; it's true, and he can hear you clearly—every tremor, every shiver. he sees you pretty clearly too, the softest hint of red on your lips. this relationship with you is new, just a little over a couple of months, and it makes him think—

"k-katsuki, are you e-even—"

it's reflex when he does it―his hand shooting out to grip your elbow, pulling you closer into his parka. right where you were standing lands a small clump of snow, fallen from the balcony of the unit above.

you look up almost immediately, a little flustered.

"s-sorry―"

bakugo feels warm despite the cold, heat blazing across his entire face as little puffs of air tickle his neck when you speak. like he said, this relationship with you is new, and though he's held you a few times already, affection, in any capacity is still something he's getting used to.

and you're aware of that too; of course you are. but when you push yourself away to create some space―

"told you s'fuckin cold."

―he keeps his other hand on your back, holding you into place.

bakugo is intense in most aspects; he meets things headfirst with no hesitation, but being this close to you makes him feel weird, a kind of unusual he thinks he should approach with caution―as if to keep himself from ruining the moment.

so his eyes wander. down the street, on the view behind you; they focus on the wisps of your hair ruffled from the earlier breeze, the tips of your eyelashes, blinking. then slowly and carefully, they land on you.

and you―

you beam, eyes widening momentarily before flashing him the brightest smile. it stills him so much that he doesn't notice your hands loosening the scarf around your neck even more, unwinding the fabric until the lengthened ends sit on your palms.

it's when you say "okay," gently and so... so... sweetly, that he feels the softness of wool hit the tips of his ears and down his neck. an ache spreads throughout his chest as he locks eyes with yours, tongue pushing against the roof of his mouth for another tsk―but you beat him to it, your finger coming up to press against his lips.

"s'cold," you giggle, a hint of teasing.

he narrows his gaze, about to retort when you both hear muffled shouts from inside the party, "ten... nine... eight..."

the group of friends down the street seem to be in on it too, echoes in unison, shouting, "seven... six... five... four..."

and from afar, right where the hotel is situated, are the numbers "three... two... one..." lit up on the sky.

you tug on bakugo's parka to draw his attention; the expression on your face is something he can't quite decipher―winter on your cheeks and your lower lip pulled between your teeth. the air around him tightens again, evidenced by the way you suck in a breath.

then, it happens all too fast―the way you tiptoe up just that little bit; your fingertips stamping chills down the edges of his scarred cheek. you kiss bakugo right as the new year strikes and the moment happens too quickly for him to notice.

"happy new year, katsuki," you whisper, close enough that it tickles his chin. it must have been a small peck, it must have been. he can only assume as he blinks it back to memory.

you've kissed before―three times to be exact, four counting this one. and he's not opposed to it (what kind of idiot would be?); in full truth, he fucking loves it.

but, affection is hard, and fuck, it's always been you initiating it―

"sorry, too much?" you mumble sheepishly, pressing your lips together, "just figured since it's the new year and all..."

―which is even more fucked by the fact that you feel the need to apologize for it.

he stares at you, bewildered out of his fucking mind that he still hasn't grown the damn balls to kiss you himself.

so, to hell with new year superstitions, he thinks; bakugo's never believed in playing to luck and chance in the first place. he'll kiss you right now because he wants to―

because it's what he's been wanting to do since the start of tonight, since yesterday, since a week ago; since you kissed him the very first time and all he could do was stand there, trying to act like the very feel of his lips pressed against yours didn't make his mind howitzer impact right in that moment.

―it just so happens that it's the new year, and it's about damn time he grows the balls to initiate it for once.

his hand reaches for your cheek before you can take a step back, fingers slotting themselves by your ear and resting against the edge of your jaw. your eyebrows shoot up, the look in your eyes something between confused and surprised. his thumb slides itself across your cheek before swiping down to touch the edge of your lips, feeling.

there's a dull warmth beneath the pads of his fingertips, heating up when he leans in. the air tightens; breath on hold as his nose bumps into your skin, and it's faint, the slightest touch of your lips against his. your eyes fall shut before his do, and he shivers, a slight tremble as he deepens the kiss.

he starts out slowly, uncertain, moving his lips tentatively. it's a push and pull―soft, quick pecks sandwiched between longer, drawn out touching. it almost feels like this moment's been suspended amidst all the noise, lips locked and gliding, lingering; he swears he can feel you grinning.

your fingers grip the fabric of his parka and tug, and he sees it as a signal to be rougher, taking your bottom lip between his and slightly biting. you squeak the tiniest bit, but it's enough to make him pull away completely, eyes wide as his thumb presses against your chin.

"fuck," he whispers, catching his breath as he tugs just enough that he can see the inside of your lower lip, "did i hurt you?"

he's squinting, brows furrowed while looking for any sign of blood when you shake your head, stopping him. his gaze shifts to take you in―your glossy lips, slick with spit; your eyes, completely blown but somehow still twinkling, and when you giggle, he almost finds it cruel you have to look so fucking pretty.

"it's just your canines," you smile, "i like them."

fuck, he really should've done this sooner.

a/n: this ended up way longer than i planned woops! haven't written bakugo in a while but i miss the guy!! and i wanted to write him so terribly flustered and bad at affection but being so frustrated because he wants to try!!! and he should be better than this!! anyway! i had this idea around christmas time but couldn't write it in time for the new year because i got sick. so it's a little late, but i hope you enjoy!

i'm not sure if you remember my dear willow @willossom, but you sent me a request a good while back for one of my events with the prompt: saying "i love you" in all the ways you aren't used to for bakugo, and this reminded me loads of it!! 🥺 though this isn't the written request for that one yet (i have something else planned for it), i just wanted to let you know that i thought of you while writing this!!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one || part two || this is part three || part four

Simon was not used to being a 'gentleman'. In the coffee shop, he fumbled around trying to slickly pull out your chair for you, just to pull a little too hard and spring backwards with along with the chair. You couldn't stop yourself from laughing... you could tell how unfamiliar this was to him, but the nerves made him seem silly in more ways than one.

Once finally safely seated, Simon glances around, slightly fidgety. "I'll um... I'll order us some drinks. What would you like?" He says, his deep voice clear. "Just a tea if that's okay," You respond, noticing how he looks relieved at hearing your answer.

Thank fuck she doesn't want one of those long-arse coffee orders with all of those sauces. Ghost thinks to himself, as he stands up and nods at you, although he wouldn't mind remembering a long order for you, after all he was pretty damn smitten with 'window lassie'.

"Right," He walks towards the counter, ordering tea for the both of you. It was stupid really- Simon hated tea with a passion, always had, always will- he found it sour and very unpleasant to drink but he just wanted to impress you that much.

The soldier pays quickly, deftly carrying the tray over and placing it onto the table before sitting back down. "Thank you," You smile, reaching for the pot but withdrawing your hand as your date grabs it first, pouring it out and sliding the steaming mug over to you.

Wrapping your hands around the mug, you blow on it before taking a sip. Just as you notice Ghost staring at you, eyes practically in a heart shape, he darts his gaze away to be staring out of the window, which was a stupid thing to do since he was still pouring his own mug of tea.

"Bugger!" He yelps, yanking back his hand after spilling the boiling liquid on it. Your eyes widen and you grab a napkin before leaning across the table and taking his large, rough hand in yours, dabbing at it with the tissue. "Are you okay?" You inquire, brows furrowed.

Simon nods, rubbing his hand once you release it. "Thanks," He murmurs, cheeks hot with embarrassment under the mask. "Just imagine that didn't happen," He groans, imagining Johnny's smug cackles as he peels the balaclava to just above his mouth and lifts his half-full mug to his lips, trying not to grimace as he swallows the tea before swiftly pulling the fabric back down.

After a minute of awkward silence, you tell the man your name after realising he didn't even know it yet. You feel heat on your cheeks as he smiles through the mask at hearing your name. "That's pretty," Simon scratches his neck for a moment before speaking again. "You're also pretty, y'know... thought it since I saw you in your kitchen," Ghost grins, looking down. You feel warmth plaster your face at this, your eyes shining slightly as you take another sip from your mug. "Not that I'm a perv-" He adds, looking up at you quickly as you laugh.

Simon was definitely not used to this whole 'subtle flirting' business He would usually just get shit-face drunk and wake up the next day next to a random woman. Sure, he'd gone on dates before, but every time before now he would have been counting down the minutes before he could leave.

"I would say the same for you, but..." You gesture at his mask and raise your eyebrows.

"Oh.. yeah, that's- it's an army thing," He replies, eyes shimmering with pride. It was a slight lie; yeah quite a few military lads concealed their faces on the battle fields but this was more of a trust thing. All he really cared about was making a good impression, so gushing to you about trauma trust issues would probably be a bad idea.

Besides, Ghost could sort of picture being maskless in front of you. This made him feel a bit fuzzy inside, that butterflies feeling yet again.

Simon Riley, the same man who had practically skipped through life without any of these feelings, had fallen for you.

His only experience with love interests in the past was with fleeting hook-ups; he had never had the chance to build those feelings, so the fact his feelings for you were instant? A very alien experience.

"I'm a Lieutenant," He continues, quickly lifting the mask again to gulp down more tea. You nod, running your fingers through your hair. "Wow... You must be brave." You acknowledged.

No shit sherlock. You think, a bit self conscious. "Not in a patronising way, you kno-" Simon takes your hand in his, nodding. "I know," He murmurs. You couldn't ignore how his hands were shaking slightly, but to be honest, so were yours as the two of you locked eyes.

You look away and pull back your hands, obviously a bit flustered. Simon seems to notice this scratches his neck again, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"What do you do for work?" He asks, using the first date advice Soap had given him earlier as a prompt for conversation. He seems fully invested as you explain your job to him, his eye contact so firm it was kind of starting to freak you out. Obviously Simon didn't notice.

In the moment, the only thing he really cared about was you.

hope you enjoyed part 3!

I'm so sorry it's not as good as the others I'm so tired lmao

anyways, should I do a part 4?!

@jajouska @unclearblur @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kissesfromjulia

[goldsainz]

# JB9 — NUMBER ONE GIRL !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ on a rainy night, you reflect on the growing distance between you and joe, wondering if it’s time to let go.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ angst, emotional distance, talks of self-worth.

003. NOTE !

✯ i loved rosé’s album, and i feel like i haven’t seen enough people praising it??? idk i thought it was spectacular and so beautiful… this is my first written fic for joe so let me know how it is/or leave any feedback!

word count : 1,4k

The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windows of your apartment. You stared out at the streets below, hands clutching a lukewarm cup of tea that you hadn’t taken a sip from in over an hour. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of sirens and car horns echoed, but your mind was locked on a single, unshakable thought—Joe.

The last time you saw him was two weeks ago, when he’d kissed you goodbye on his way to another game. You remembered the way his fingers lingered on your cheek, the way he’d promised to call as soon as he landed. And he did. At first. But as the days passed, the calls became shorter, less frequent. Now, you found yourself checking your phone obsessively, the growing silence between you heavy and suffocating.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to shake the chill that had settled in your chest. It wasn’t just the distance; it was the feeling that you were slipping further from his world with every passing day. His life was so big, so public, and yours felt so small in comparison. It wasn’t jealousy—at least that’s what you told yourself. It was the gnawing fear that he didn’t need you the way you needed him.

You thought back to when you first met. It wasn’t under the glittering lights of his fame, but in the quiet hum of a coffee shop on a rainy afternoon. He wasn’t the Joe Burrow everyone knew then; he was just Joe, a boy with an easy smile and a laugh that felt like home. You fell in love with his humility, his quiet confidence, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. Back then, his world didn’t feel so far out of reach.

But as his stardom rose, the cracks began to show. The late-night calls where he’d vent about the pressures of the game turned into hurried messages about flights and schedules. The weekends you spent tangled up together in your tiny apartment became rare, replaced by distant conversations and fleeting visits. You’d watch him on TV, surrounded by adoring fans, and wonder if he still saw you the way he used to.

You remembered the fight that changed everything. It was a few months ago, after he missed your birthday. You’d tried to be understanding, telling yourself that his career demanded sacrifices. But when he called that night, his voice distant and distracted, something inside you snapped. You’d told him that you felt like an afterthought, like you were holding onto something that was already slipping away. He’d gone quiet, his silence cutting deeper than any words. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but firm. “You know how much this means to me. I thought you understood that.”

You’d cried yourself to sleep that night, the weight of his words pressing heavily on your chest. Since then, things had been different. The love was still there, but it felt frayed, like a thread stretched too thin. You wanted to believe that you could find your way back to each other, but the distance—both physical and emotional—felt overbearing.

Now, as you stared out at the rain-soaked streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if he even realized it.

The faint buzz of your phone jolted you out of your thoughts. His name flashed on the screen, and for a brief moment, your heart soared. But as you answered, the noise of a busy room greeted you before his voice did.

“Hey,” he said, his tone warm but rushed. “How’s it going?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile he couldn’t see. “Good. Just the usual. How about you?”

“Busy,” he replied, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses in the background. “We just finished a team dinner. I wanted to check in before it got too late.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said softly, but the words felt hollow. The call already felt like an afterthought, something he’d done out of obligation rather than desire.

“How’s work?” he asked after a pause.

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Same old, same old. Nothing exciting happening here.”

“I’m sure you’re still killing it,” he said, his voice softening a little. “You always do.”

You smiled faintly at the compliment, even though it felt distant, like he was saying it out of habit. “Thanks. How’s the team? Everyone holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Everyone’s been putting in the work. I think we’ve got a real shot.”

“That’s great,” you said, genuinely meaning it, but the words still carried a tinge of sadness. You wanted to be more excited, to share in his joy, but it was hard when you felt so far removed from his world.

There was another pause, longer this time. It felt like he was debating whether to say something. “Listen,” he started, “I might not make it back this weekend. Coach wants us to stay focused, and there’s some extra training we’re doing.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly, like he knew it wasn’t.

“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a lightness into your tone. “I get it. You’re busy.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, but the words felt like they were on autopilot. How many times had he said that now? And how many times had you let it slide, convincing yourself that next time would be different?

“Okay,” you whispered, unable to muster anything more.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening further. “I mean it. I hate being away this much. It’s not fair to you.”

Your throat tightened at the sincerity in his tone, but it only made the ache worse. “I know you’re doing what you have to do, Joe. I just… I miss you.”

There was a beat of silence on his end. “I miss you too,” he said finally, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it. “As soon as I get a break, we’ll do something. Just us. Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, even though you weren’t sure you believed him.

After the call ended, you stared at the phone, the screen dark and reflective. In it, you could see the faint outline of your face, tired and drawn. You thought back to the early days, when Joe’s attention felt like sunlight—warm and consuming, leaving no room for doubt. But now, the shadows had crept in, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were fighting for a space in a life that had outgrown you.

The rain outside grew heavier, the droplets cascading down the glass like tears you refused to shed. You wanted to call him back, to tell him everything—how lonely you felt, how much you missed the way things used to be. But what would that change? He was Joe Burrow, star quarterback, the golden boy of a city that adored him. And you? You were just the girl waiting for him to come home.

With a sigh, you set the phone down and turned away from the window. Maybe it was time to stop waiting. Maybe it was time to figure out who you were without him. But as you curled up on the couch, the thought of letting go felt like the hardest thing in the world.

The ache in your chest deepened, and a single tear slipped down your cheek. Maybe it wasn’t just time to figure out who you were without him. Maybe it was time to let him figure out what life was like without you. And maybe—just maybe—he’d realize what he’d lost.

You glanced back at your phone one last time, half expecting another call, a message, something—but the screen remained blank. In the silence of your apartment, you allowed yourself to wonder: if you walked away now, would he even notice? Would he fight for you the way you had always fought for him?

As the night stretched on, the doubt lingered, and the loneliness settled in like an old friend. Because deep down, you feared the answer more than the silence.

[moki-dokie]

there's been a bit of a Hot Topic going around bsky (and twt too i guess) about why my age group (particularly in the US) doesn't cook at home much anymore

and there's been a whole lot of takes ranging from dogshit to good and intelligent to total confusion from folks in other countries. neat stuff right. decided to throw my 2 cents in from my own perspective as part of the demographic.

the tldr of it being: there are *several* factors that make it not worth it nor cost efficient anymore where it once was. obviously that isn't gonna be the case for everyone, but it is the case for an overwhelming majority, me included. and this isn't even including, you know, a whole population of disabled people who are physically unable to cook for themselves but I sort of figured that was a given. but maybe not, considering...

then this absolute genius comes in

thank you buddy for having no reading comprehension and missing quite literally every single point i made that it isn't strictly about the dollar amount of the meal itself. like. okay??? good for you i guess.

sure, there will be some meals where that is very true. I could make a bigass pot of ham and beans that'll last me a whole week for about $10. hence why i added there will always be some meals cheaper to make at home. but that completely disregards every. other. point.

it is not, and has never been, about the direct cost of the meal itself. that's just one of a handful of reasons that factor into the whole conversation. there are going to be times that eating out will be more expensive price-wise, but when it checks off like 5 different boxes i couldn't fulfill myself for whatever reason, that price balances out. and we really are in an age where we're having to negotiate the worth of every action we take and every minute we spend on something. i don't know why thats such a hard concept for people to grasp.

legit nobody is arguing it *should* be this way. it shouldn't. we all recognize this. in the ideal world it would be both worth it and affordable to make every meal at home and leave eating out for special occasions, as was the case when i was growing up. and i totally get it that our parents, many of whom raised us by their lonesome, managed to do it fine so in theory we should be able to as well. sometimes, yeah, it really is a matter of sucking it up and doing it no matter how exhausted you might be. that's true for all facets of life tbh. but it shouldn't be that way all the time every time.

and, i don't know about the rest of you, but for us? it really was a whole fucking To Do to clip coupons and plan Shopping Day. I'd spend a couple hours clipping from a few different newspapers and the mail fliers we collected. then we organized them by store. then mom would plan out which stores we would go to for which items,the route we'd take since sometimes it meant going outside of town, the timeframe for everything since it was typically an all-day event. like, a whole day of planning and a whole day of executing JUST to grocery shop, and that was back in the 90s/00s. Inconvenient, yes, but still actually worth the trouble. couponing saved SO much money back then, especially if you knew the stores that would double them. coupons like those don't exist anymore. period. now the ones that do are like, pennies off or bogo deals and otherwise it's app this and app that for any sort of savings - which even then might only be like a meager 10% off the purchase. in no way is it worth my time and effort today to do the same thing we did when i was young.

anyway. so yeah. for a hell of a lot of us, sometimes going out to eat or ordering in is in fact the most worthwhile way, and sometimes even the most cost efficient way, to feed ourselves anymore.

[soup0ftheseus]

I want to add that I have a few friends in wheelchairs, and one of them is high support needs. A friend of mine was dating him and was trying to help him get out to where she was living (he grew up there but lived in another state) and didn't understand why he couldn't travel. Although I am not a wheelchair user, I am disabled and familiar with how difficult travel is.

She is my best friend (and a wonderful, incredible human, who will always try to find a way when something isn't working) and kept being like "but what about this" and I kept explaining why it won't work. I walked her through why he can't get a on a plane. One, he needed regular catheter changes (which is another piece of things, the cost of regularly having to replace an item that gets used frequently). There is no way he was gonna be able to do that. Two, airlines break chairs regularly. He could not afford the cost of a new chair if it was replaced. Three, it's invasive and it hurts. Air travel is bad for most of us, particularly if you're disabled. He was likely going to face invasive security measures. Many wheelchair users have had their body inappropriately groped by security, in addition to random people "helping" by moving you etc. I'm a non wheelchair user, but when I fly I use wheelchair assistance. At one point, sitting in the airport wheelchair, I was anxious and struggling to get my sweater out from under me and back onto my body. A woman CAME OVER AND GRABBED THE SWEATER AND TRIED TO PUT IT ON ME. I was angry and horrified. If necessary though, I could have grabbed my cane and hopped up. He is a paraplegic. He has no control over that. Which is another factor. Someone would have had to move him from his seat to a chair. That's often a vulnerable and embarrassing experience when done by strangers. And to top it off, air travel hurts. For those of us with chronic pain/illness, air travel can be one of the most painful experiences we have to deal with. I often need a few days to fully recover from a flight.

She completely understood after I explained this stuff (and ultimately drove out to him) but she was just like "how is it possible a whole demographic of people can't travel because it's inaccessible??" Because they hate us lol. This whole system hates us.

And my "low support needs" friend? Still needs their partner to be a full time carer. Still can't reach the laundry. Still can't always get places even if disabled parking spots are available. Like literally every single piece of daily life has numerous obstacles that walking folks don't think about that create huge challenges for wheelchair users.

It sucks. It fucking sucks.

people way underestimate the needs of wheelchair users.

there's a lot of what I'll call walkism (bias towards pedestrians and against wheelchair users) among disabled pedestrians (people who primarily walk, assisted or not, as their means of mobility)

diminishing our needs is walkism.

people within the community see us as ableds minus legs. they see our disabilities as simple- just can't walk, it's that easy. they see us as having low accommodation needs and as having the accommodations that we do need met. they see our access barriers as being as simple as ramps and curb cuts.

we are frequently compared to low support needs (LSN) non-physically disabled people by ablebodied disabled people and physically disabled people alike. we are compared to people who walk through life (literally) with little to no support, who make it through school with minimal accommodations, who have access to the whole world.

people are so incredibly out of touch with what wheelchair use actually looks like. people don't personally know wheelchair users, often don't even follow them on social media. people assume they can understand our entire lives by looking at our wheels and imagining. that doesn't work.

this belief that our disabilities are simple especially goes for paraplegic wheelchair users who are so often used as the "closest to abled" examples. they don't consider how many paraplegic wheelchair users experience things like spasms, chronic pain, bladder spasms specifically, both urinary and fecal incontinence, among much else that I'm sure I'm not aware of as I am not paraplegic. they especially don't consider that fact that wheelchair use is absolutely not close to abled.

they don't consider the extent of needs that full time and near full time wheelchair users experience. have you ever had to wait in the grocery store parking lot for 30+ minutes so an accessible spot with an access aisle could open up? how deep is the washing machine in your apartment? how large is the room it's in? is your sink too tall? what about the cabinets? how high is your bed? how low is your dining table? how easy would it be to fit a wheelchair in your car? how reliable is your bus? how reliable are the people on it to not put their groceries in the wheelchair spot? does your workplace have a ramp?

when people become wheelchair users they often have to uproot their entire lives to rebuild in a way that allows them to access things as vital as their home and workplace. when people already are wheelchair users they experience shortages of everything- jobs with accessible buildings, apartments they can get into and use, cars they can put their wheelchairs in easily.

this isn't even getting into things like access to businesses and other locations wheelchair users may want to go.

wheelchair users always have significant disabilities. yes, always. yes, even that disability you think is mild. people don't end up as wheelchair users because they have mild chronic pain or lose balance occasionally. people end up as wheelchair users because they have significant mobility disabilities. significant mobility disabilities rarely act alone. I cannot name a wheelchair user who only experiences mobility disability. everything, yes, everything comes with other effects.

while I've spent a lot of time talking about the comparatively low support needs wheelchair users there are high support needs wheelchair users as well. people only look at those of us who have ability to do all or most ADLs with our wheelchairs, this is not the case for every wheelchair user. there are wheelchair users who use group 3 powerchairs. there are wheelchair users who transfer via hoist. there are wheelchair users who need to control their wheelchair with their breath. there are wheelchair users who can't move their wheelchair independently at all and rely on someone else to push them. there are wheelchair users whose disabilities cause significant disability in areas other than mobility meaning they have feeding tubes, ostomies, suprapubic catheters, and ventilators. these presentations of disability are not even uncommon.

true high support needs wheelchair users are so often erased from every conversation (including conversations among wheelchair users) but I have not once seen a pedestrian mention quadriplegia & tetraplegia or muscular dystrophy or spinal muscular atrophy or any other number of conditions that leave someone needing both a wheelchair and very high support. I never see mentions of intellectually disabled people who use wheelchairs for conditions connected to their intellectual disability and I never see mentions of conditions like sanfilippo syndrome.

ultimately though, wheelchair users are just not a monolith. I will stand by the fact that, while some wheelchair users may have low support needs compared to other wheelchair users and high support needs neurodevelopmentally disabled people, none of our support needs are so low that they are at all comparable to those of low support needs non-physically disabled people. it's erasure of our disability to suggest there is no difference in support required between a low support needs autistic person and a wheelchair user on the low support needs end of the wheelchair support needs spectrum.

it is especially erasure to collapse all wheelchair users down to the lowest level of support needs a wheelchair user can have. it pretends that our higher support needs siblings don't exist.

the community does not understand us or our struggles. it won't understand us or our struggles until we are included, until people stop seeing us as the most privileged part of the community and until people stop minimizing our struggles. walkism is the reason wheelchair users have built our own communities separate from the rest of the disabled community. it is made clear time and time again that we are not welcome and we will not be understood.

A note: by wheelchair user I am specifically referring to people who use a wheelchair on a regular basis for day-to-day tasks. for the sake of this post I am not including people who only use wheelchairs at the mall/Disney/theme parks/other long distances.

[all dividers are described in alt text]

[tthoroughfare]

garden daisy (part 2) // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: ellie makes a new friend, and you feel all weird about it.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.6k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

okay so i feel like the way i've organized this series is kind of confusing as it started as a random blurb... technically part one is this blurb however the real story starts in the xmas fic! the blurb just kind of exists floating around somewhere before the events of that and sets up the dynamic. call it part 0.5 i guess. also i'm so sorry if ur name is haley it was genuinely the first name i thought of hahaha

after christmas, once you’re all settled back into life at college, ellie gets a new job. it’s just a few shifts a week at a music store, but she seems to be enjoying it. you’re happy for her; it’s nice to see her getting out of the apartment more, doing something that allows her to be in her element.

but then she starts mentioning a girl she works with. like, a lot.

“dude, look at what haley sent me today, i was dying.”

“haley had, like, the coolest shirt on at work.”

“oh my god, so i found out haley likes comics, too.”

at first, it doesn’t really bother you. then, it’s a case of you trying not to let it bother you. why even should it? she’s allowed to make new friends; her life doesn’t revolve around you.

still, you don’t like the way your chest starts to twist every time she gets mentioned, every time you see ellie smiling at her phone. you can hear them on facetime frequently through the thin walls of your apartment, and you more often than not end up shoving your headphones in to drown it out.

they start spending time together outside of work, too. she mentions that they’re going to see an exhibit together on a shared day off, and it takes everything for you to look up from your laptop, give her a tight smile and utter, “cool.”

you can tell she’s a bit dispirited by your reaction, like she’s debating saying something. she leaves it, though, just nodding once and pursing her lips before walking away. you kick yourself for it immediately — wishing you’d tried harder to appear enthusiastic for her. you’re worried it could be the seed of a wedge being driven.

it’s not like she’s completely neglected your friendship. you live together. you see her every day. she still gently knocks at your ajar door, poking her head around and asking if you want to watch a movie with her. you make dinner together on friday nights, something you’d done since you moved out of the dorms and got a semi-decent place.

you’re just so used to it being the two of you. sure, you both have other friends, but you’re best friends. you can’t help but feel a little uneasy all of a sudden someone new is making their way up the ladder, ellie not having quite as much time for you anymore.

at least, that’s what you tell yourself the reason is. you know the real one.

you eventually meet the esteemed haley when she comes over to hang out, and to your petty dismay she well and truly lives up to the boasting. you’ve seen pictures of her (as in, you found her on instagram and stalked her at two in the morning), but she’s even prettier in person. she’s sweet, too, giving you a hug and saying how great it is to finally meet you. ellie talks about you all the time, apparently.

the evening’s spent with the tv on, a few drinks sipped. you’re on one side of the couch, ellie on the other, new friend in the middle. you hate how genuinely likeable she is; she goes out of her way to speak to you, asking you questions about yourself and chatting jovially when you find common ground. she’s cool, smart, witty — it’s impossible not to compare yourself, and feel subpar. like old news.

and you wish you weren’t, but you’re reading into every little thing. the way the two of them easily bounce off of each other’s jokes, the way you can see even where you’re from how ellie’s eyes light up when she looks at her. deciding three’s a crowd and you’re just hurting your own feelings, you call it pretty early.

when you stand after finishing your drink and announce that you’re going to bed, you note the way that ellie’s face drops. “oh… really?”

you scrunch your nose, trying to sound untroubled. “yeah, i’m kinda tired, so…”

“m’kay,” she replies, chewing slightly at the inside of her cheek. she knows you better than that. since you first met, you’ve never been ‘kinda tired’ by nine.

after a pause and a quick look back and forth between the two of you, haley gives you a smile, reiterating her earlier statement. “well, it was so nice to meet you, anyway.”

you return it, nodding. your eyes flit to ellie for a split-second. “yeah, you too. see you both later.”

with that, you place your glass in the sink across the room and head off down the hall.

you change and get ready for bed, although the plan was never to sleep. you’re nestled under a blanket, lights dim and a candle burning as you keep your eyes trained on the bullshit stream of youtube videos you’d put on. you’re not really paying attention, mind well and truly elsewhere; simultaneously feeling sorry for yourself, and like the most petty, mean person in the world.

you feel pathetic for wishing ellie’s new friend wasn’t so easy to get along with. she came off as a nice person, and not in a sickly, fabricated way. you could understand how she’d easily tugged ellie out of her shell. a part of yourself had been secretly hoping she was irritating, or bitchy, or weird towards you — you just wanted something to latch onto, something to validate all the uncomfortable emotions that had been swirling ever since she became prominent.

but there was nothing. now all you’re left with is a weird bitterness towards a perfectly normal, sweet girl, her only crime being fetching up a childish possessiveness within you.

you don’t even understand why you’re like this over her in particular; ellie was always an introvert, but it wasn’t like she was a complete recluse. she’d had a serious girlfriend in high school, seen a couple of girls your first year of college, and you don’t remember feeling anywhere near how you are right now. you just guessed you didn’t have as much understanding of how you looked at her back then, combined with the domesticity of now having your own real place luring you into a warped way of thinking.

you hear haley leave around an hour and a half after you’d taken yourself to bed, followed by ellie shuffling around the kitchen space. the tap runs and there are a few clinks as she washes then places the three glasses to dry, hitting the lights off. her room’s further down the hall from yours, and she hesitates as she’s making her way there.

a few light taps sound from the other side of the door. “you asleep?”

“… no,” you call out softly, watching as it cracks open and ellie picks her way in. wordlessly, she plops herself onto the bed next to you, arm behind her head. you shift away a little, offering her more room.

“what’re you watching?”

“uh…” grabbing the remote, you pause the video for a beat so the title shows. you’re not even sure; you’d just selected the first you saw, then let the rest autoplay. “… ‘six most disturbing forest encounters caught on camera’.”

she chuckles. “spooky.”

“eh… they’re all fake.” you look up at her, smiling a little.

“could’ve fooled me.”

“i’m sure,” you laugh lightly, feeling the need to turn away when she goes to meet your eyes.

it’s quiet for a while, but you can sense she wants to say something. it’s not like one of the times she waltzes into your room simply to hang out, sit at the side of one another peacefully.

“you okay?” she eventually asks gently, turning her head to regard you. you don’t meet it.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

“you sure? ‘cause… i don’t know. you seem a little…”

“i’m all good.” glancing up, you offer an unconvincing, flickery smile. “don’t worry.”

“… okay.”

you can tell it offers no comfort, but she doesn’t push it. just settles further into the bed, scratching at her chin.

her eyes dart from the tv screen to the wall, then back to you. “haley’s cool, right? guessed you guys would get along.”

“yeah, she seems nice.”

she’s really not being subtle; but then again, neither are you. you’d been perfectly friendly while you were all together, but the way you’d disappeared coupled with your increasingly half-hearted responses whenever she was brought up pointed elsewhere.

“seriously, what’s up?” she turns onto her side to face you, resting her head on her arm. “i don’t like this.”

you roll your eyes, sighing as you turn, mirroring her. “it’s stupid.”

“what’s stupid?”

your mind flashes with a million ways you can get an overview of your feelings out, without having to tell her the root cause. “i don’t know, i’m just… like, used to it being… y’know, me and you.”

she pulls a face, letting out a fond scoff and furrowing her brow. “what do you mean?”

a tiny groan sounds from your throat, fingertips rubbing at your eye. “i’m just being stupid. fuckin’ embarrassing.”

laughing quietly again, she narrows her eyes a little. “what, are you, like… jealous?”

“no, i just… i don’t know. ignore me.” you’re trying to ignore the way you can feel your cheeks heat up when she says that word. you’d known all along that’s what you were, but being confronted with it is a whole other sensation entirely.

she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps a small smirk on her face and looks down. “that is stupid.”

“right. thanks.”

“no, like…” subconsciously shuffling closer, her leg brushes yours. she quickly moves it. “dude, i can have other friends, but no-one’s gonna be you.”

you blink, thrown by her sincerity. you’d half-expected her to poke a little fun, call you a dumbass. she continues, your eyes meeting hers as she settles her head into the palm of her hand. “you’re always gonna be my best friend.”

yeah, i know, you think. that’s the problem.

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

One… or a few more dates.

warnings: none, just Jake being a sweetheart.

summary: the first three dates

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE, so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

First Date:

I was sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck. We had just left the Italian restaurant where he took me for dinner. I couldn’t deny I was having a great time; the blonde was a total gentleman and incredibly handsome—and hot. We were listening to his country music playlist while he told me about his life before Top Gun.

“See? Letting me take you to dinner wasn’t such a bad idea,” he said, glancing over at me with a smile.

“I have to admit, you’re not the fool I thought you were,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m a lot more than what Chicken ‘Silly Mustache’ Bradshaw can tell you,” he added with a laugh. “Totally worth promising to cover his tab for the week in exchange for your number.”

We both laughed, and I shook my head.

“Oh, he’ll pay for it, trust me,” I said, grinning. “Bradley’s like the brother I never had. I’m glad he’s back. When we were kids, we’d spend summers together. His mom used to take us to the bay to teach us how to swim.”

“Good thing you like the beach because that’s where I’m planning to take you next time,” Jake said, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms.

“You didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, sweetheart. I’ve already got several plans for us.”

“Let me guess, taking me to the beach is part of your perfect plan to get into my pants?”

“Come on, I think I’ve already proven I’m more than that,” he said, faking offense. “Though, if it happens, I wouldn’t complain.”

I burst out laughing and playfully hit his chest.

“And what exactly are we going to do at the beach?” I asked.

“We could have a nice picnic, get some sun, and watch the sunset.”

“Who would’ve thought Hangman was a romantic?”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, darlin’. And I’d love to know everything about you,” he said, flashing that damn gorgeous smile.

Second Date:

A few days after our dinner, Jake picked me up, fully prepared for our beach picnic. The day was perfect, and who would’ve thought the pilot could plan such a flawless picnic? He brought an umbrella, a blanket, burgers, fries, beers, and sodas.

We talked while we ate. Jake told me about his high school football games, and I shared stories about constantly changing schools because of my dad’s reassignments. Every time his hand brushed against mine, it felt like a jolt of electricity. It even seemed like he was hesitant to touch me, but through his sunglasses, I could catch him sneaking glances at my chest more than once.

After swimming for a while and competing to see who could find the most seashells, the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange. It was breathtaking.

“So, what’s next?” I asked, taking a sip of my beer.

“Next what?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. His abs were even more defined, and I had to try hard not to stare.

“You said you had several plans for me,” I said, crossing my legs. “What’s next?”

“So, you do enjoy spending time with me,” he laughed, opening his beer. “Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you.”

“Even if I want you to take me up in your plane?” I teased.

“I think your dad would kill me,” he said, laughing and sitting up straight. “But I could take you somewhere similar.”

“Similar? Now I’m curious.”

The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully. We kept talking and getting to know each other. I could see him glancing at my lips, as if he wanted to kiss me—which, for the record, wouldn’t have been a bad idea.

“Thanks for everything, Jake. I really had a great time,” I said when we arrived at my house.

“The pleasure’s all mine, darlin’,” he replied, smiling. God, this man was charming. “Is it too soon to ask for a goodnight kiss?”

I smiled playfully, leaned in—he was standing a step below me—and kissed the corner of his lips, teasing him.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

Third Date:

“So, this is your idea of something similar to flying?” I asked as he opened the door of his truck. We were at the pier fair, surrounded by the smell of popcorn and cotton candy, mixed with the music and the screams of people on the rides.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like amusement rides. The adrenaline, the screams, the laughs—it’s the best,” Jake said, gently placing a hand on my back as he guided me to the ticket booth. He bought two tickets before I could even pull out some cash.

“Seriously? You’re not going to let me pay for anything?” I asked as he handed the cashier his money.

“Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me,” he said, grinning.

The day at the fair was a blast. We went on almost every ride, played bumper cars, marbles, and paintball, and stuffed ourselves with popcorn, hot dogs, and cotton candy.

“Hold still, you’ve got…” Jake said, leaning in to wipe something off the corner of my lips with his thumb. “There. All set.”

God, this man was starting to get to me. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time he touched me.

“Thanks again for everything, Jake,” I said as we walked toward the exit, my shoulder brushing against his arm. He even had the perfect height. “I’ve had so much fun with you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, opening the truck door and helping me climb in.

The drive home was quiet but comforting. We listened to his country playlist until a Taylor Swift song came on.

“No way,” I said, laughing. “You like Taylor Swift?”

“I don’t know how that got in there,” he said, shaking his head and reaching for the console to change it.

“Don’t. Leave it,” I said, stopping his hand. “I like that song.”

Instead of pulling away, he took my hand and kissed my knuckles. And there were the butterflies again…

I could feel my cheeks heating up, and Jake seemed to notice too.

“Well, would you look at that? You’re blushing,” he teased.

“Stop,” I whispered, rolling my eyes and looking out the window.

“You’re really something, Y/N,” Jake added, placing his hand gently on my thigh and rubbing it affectionately before turning his eyes back to the road. Without thinking, I placed my hand over his, mirroring his gesture.

When we arrived at my house, he asked for a goodnight kiss again, and I repeated the same thing as the last time—kissing the corner of his lips.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

[hees-mine]

L. Heeseung - Wrong One

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: mentions of smut, cursing, reader slaps heeseung, friends with benefits, alcohol, angst.

Genre: friends with benefits.

WC: 4,582k

-

“Are you staying the night?” You asked heeseung, the guy you’ve been friends with benefits with for four months, as he rolled over on the opposite side of the bed, breathing heavily.

You two had just finished your weekly routine. By routine, you meant the both of you fucking every last ounce of energy out of each other.

He wipes his palm over his face, wiping away the sweat that gathered at his hairline. “Nah,” he says and sighs shortly after. “I never stay, you know that.” he sits up on the bed once he’s regained enough stamina.

“Yeah…. I do know that” you reply disappointedly and pulled the blankets up to your chest while he stands up, searching for all his discarded clothes.

“So….” He starts out rolling the used condom down his shaft and tying it off before tossing it in your trash bin. “I was thinking we could do it at my place next week. My parents are out of town on vacation.” he pulls his boxers around his waist and then grabs his shirt that was thrown off in a corner, slipping it over his head. “That way, we can go for as long as we want and be as loud as we want to.” he turns to you and gives you a flirty wink, to which you only respond with an airy laugh and a forced half smile. “So, what do you think? Will you be coming over?” He questions once he’s fully dressed.

“Y-yeah, I will be.” You try your best to sound convincing like the idea of meeting him just for sex the next week was just as exciting as it was four months ago when this whole friends-with-benefits thing started.

“Okay, I’ll see you next week, don’t be late.” he heads to the door to your bedroom, slipping on his shoes.

“I won’t” you smile half heartedly and without so much as a bye he opens the door leaving you to clean up all by yourself.

“I know,” he smirks. “You can’t resist me.”

-

You on your way? It’s fifteen past ten.

You barely even noticed the alert tone go off on your phone if it wasn’t for the music in the club changing tracks you wouldn’t have.

Rolling your eyes at the screen, you dryly reply.

That was tonight? I totally forgot

You send to him.

How could you forget about me? We’ve been doing this for the past four months without fail.

He sits up on his bed, squinting slightly at his phone screen.

Must’ve slipped my mind once I had a few drinks.

It didn’t, but you couldn’t see him, not because of how you were feeling tonight. You needed some drinks to get your mind off of him, and you’re so glad your friend decided to accompany you as well.

Drinks? How many did you have? And where did you get them from?

He chews on his index fingernail softly while waiting for a reply.

I’m too drunk to answer all that, but I’m out with some friends.

You reply and down another shot, not caring about your missed date with heeseung.

I can come pick you up, give you some water, and we can finish where we left off if you want

That’s okay. I got a ride.

Oh

From who?

His name is Jake, but I really have to go now. I’ll talk to you sometime later.

Text me when you get home.

Heeseung sighed putting his phone aside and sighing. “Just great now what am I gonna do?” He looked down at the tent in his lap and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed you couldn’t make it he literally changed his sheets and took a shower and got his room ready for the occasion only for you to cancel on him.

Oh well, his parents would still be on vacation for another six days, and you and him could make up for lost time, but for now, he was gonna go to bed and try to forget about the bulge in his underwear.

-

Next week arrived, and you still hadn’t gotten together with heeseung at his place nor at school. Even though he texted you every day, you still hadn’t found time to fit him into your schedule at school. You’d always be running “late” or “not feeling well,” and you left all his text on seen, leaving him to believe you were avoiding him.

Especially after it had been two weeks since you hadn’t bothered to get in touch with him, could you really be that busy for two whole weeks?

Luckily he was able to flag you down today before you left school. “Y/n wait up!” He calls and you immediately stop in your tracks and turn around to face him for the first time in weeks you couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Hey,” you smile softly at him.

“Hey,” he says, sorta out of breath from running to catch up to you. “Just wanted to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in quite a while.”

“Yeah, about that, sorry.” You lowered your head, unable to make eye contact with him. “I’ve just been busy.”

“I see” he starts to walk beside you. “How about now? Do you got any free time for me?” He turns his head to the side to look at you.

“Sure,” you say, feeling unsure you wanted to be with him. You really did, but you wanted more than just sex, and he couldn’t give that to you. Sadly, he made it obvious, so distancing yourself from him felt like the best decision.

“Good, it’s only been two weeks, but I feel like I’m going crazy without feeling you.” he goes behind your back, hugging you as you both waddle down the street to his home. “Hmm, come to my place,” he whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck as he holds you by your torso. “Please?”

“Okay, hee.” You could feel his lips curling into a smile against your skin.

“Hmm, thank goodness I need to feel you so fucking bad” he nibbles your ear rubbing his cheek against yours as he walks you to his house.

Once you enter his house you trudge upstairs after him the sinking feeling making it’s way to your stomach as much as you wanted him the feeling of knowing you would never be with him fully was making you feel down and you barely even wanted to have this friends with benefits relationship with him anymore.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his backpack to the side. “Come here baby” he sat down on the bed and patted his lap calling you over to him.

Read full story HERE!

-

[thisisjustfanfic]

~ Some drabbles of the LADS Men and Hair~

(Done as a writing warmup) ===LADS x Reader===

Xavier:

The least particular about his hair, he couldn't care less how it looks. The only time he even thinks about it is when its starts to get in his eyes. It only happens every few decades, as his hair grows at the same rate that he ages....which is slow.

Like most people he likes ot have his hair played with, but there's something about that just really soothes him. A few gentle pets and he's off to sleep.

Your hair might be different in this life, but he still loves it. He remembers how you used to do it back on Philos, and always gets a little flustered when you do it similarly now.

One of his favorite activities is the little beauty rituals you do, and he's always quietly eager for you to ask him to join him. Quiet evenings after a long day where you put your and his hair up and slather your faces in some new mud mask that smells like roses or lemon. The little bunny headband that shows up next to yours in the bathroom drawer is there inescplicably. And the new set of hair clips. And the under eyes masks.

During those nights, he'll comb through your hair. Taking his time to meticulously untangle each and ever knot, working so slowly you never even feel a tug. It's ritualistic. It's worship.

Zayne:

He's not too picky about his hair, but he likes to keep it groomed. A haircut every three months is mandatory, and he's been seeing the same barber since he was young. There's no fuss or frill to it, just practicality. He can't have crazyu hair products or unruly hair while in the OR.

While he's not vain, he does take some pride in his appearance, and messing up his hair can sometimes irk him a bit. Not enough to remark back, but enough to cup your fac in his hands and give your cheeks a soft pinch. A low warning about ruffling your hair too if need be. He'd never actually do it, but its fun to him to see the little pout on your face.

Your hair is a different story to him. Like other parts of you, its an integral perfect part fo you. The color of it sticking so firmling in his mind that a flash of it out the corner of his eye will have his heart skipping a beat. Constantly in search of you.

When you're together, he likes when its down. He understand that hunters need their hair up most of the time, so it's nice to see you in this way. Like a special treat, just for him.

He'll softly run his hands through it. Tender, tiny touches, never rustling more than a few strands at a time. Whether you're watching a movie, or sitting and working near each other, he'll find some way to fiddle with it. Tucking some out of your face. Adjusting an errant strand. Something.

Rafayel:

The most particular about his hair than the rest of the boys, but by no means fussy. Though compared to others he can be. His hair is used to water, and so can dry out easily. He struggled for a long time to maintain it-- inexplicable frizz and split ends arising enough to make him want to just cut it.

But if looked different...if he cut it, how would you recognize him? A bitter part of him hissed that you weren't here. That this life was one to live without you. But that hopeful part of him....that yearning ember that burned with the vow he made, held onto the hope too tightly.

So he kept his hair as close as he could to what it had been before. To the other times he'd been luck enough to meet you.

Once he's gotten a reputation as a painter and has a public persona, Thomas helps him. Sends him to a stylist who regularly douses him in deep conditioner and oil treatments.

It's a pain, but tolerable. Like most things.

When you come back to him, you take over his haircare. He insists. You set up in his oversized bathroom and help him figure out the deep conditioner. MAssaging his scalp and doting on him.

He's melting sugar in your palm, too spoiled to find anything to complain when you've got your fingers in his hair. It becomes a vice of his. A little ruffle or a pet and his breathing stutters.

He finds hair care for your hair too. A conditioner or clarifying treatment, insisting you take part in the ritual he's subjected to. Only he won't let you put it on yourself- even though you can.

He lingers. Running his fingers through your hair far longer than necessary.

After waiting for so long, any touch is too short. Every moment of contact is prolonged to its absolute length.

Sylus:

He's a man of particular tastes, but has a hard time trusting people. So he can't exactly go to a barber. Letting someone near his neck with scissors or worse a razor? No thanks.

He cuts his own hair, with the help of his evol and a few mirrors. It's taken him a while to figure it out, but it'll do.

He's the one who likes his hair being played with the lost, will go so far as to ask for it. At first its a taunt, a playful jab at you to see if you get flustered at the request.

You're surprised by how quickly he melts when you start touching him. Runing your fingers through his soft silver hair until he's practically purring.

Its a dangerous activity for him, because more often than not he ends with his head in your lap and on the brink of sleep. Unable to stop himself from sinking into the delicious feeling of your warm touch, and the reassuring hum from the linkage.

Since he's one to spoil you, anything you want for your hair is yours to have. A new haircare regimine? Ordered. New hair appliance? 1-Day Shipping. A personal stylist? Done.

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝒮𝓊𝒷!𝒞𝒽𝑜 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝑔 𝒲𝑜𝑜 𝓍 𝐹!𝒟𝑜𝓂!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝓂𝓊𝓉

𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒷𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎. 𝒰𝓃𝒷𝑒𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮: 𝑀𝒟𝒩𝐼!!! 𝒞𝒽𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔/𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎, 𝒹𝑜𝓂/𝓈𝓊𝒷 𝒹𝓎𝓃𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒸, 𝒶𝒹𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉, 𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝑔 𝒲𝑜𝑜 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝒜𝑅𝐸 𝒪𝐹 𝐿𝐸𝒢𝒜𝐿 𝒜𝒢𝐸

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You sighed kicking your shoes off after entering the front door. Between listening to those fake bitches at work pretending to like each other and rude customers in your face all day, you had just about had it.

You checked the time. 4:30. About a half an hour before Sang Woo comes home from work. You can’t wait to see him, feel him, touch him, taste his lips. Rant to him about your day and receive that oh so familiar princess treatment you get every second of every day.

You got in the shower and as soon as the warm water hit your skin you felt all of your worries melt away. The smell of your favorite soap added to the relaxation of it all.

You stepped out of the shower and dried off and put your fluffy robe on.

Sang Woo’s footsteps thudded up the stairs and your heart skipped a beat. You’re so in love with him that he still makes you as nervous as the day you went on your first date together.

“Princess. I’m home. Are you up here?” He called out, his deep voice echoing through the upstairs hallway.

“In here baby! I just got a shower.”

Sang Woo enters the humid bathroom and sees you brushing your hair in front of the mirror. You turn around and crane your neck up to give the tall man a kiss on the lips.

The feeling of his soft lips on yours sends a shock of electricity to your heart and well….your pussy. God he’s so fucking handsome. The smell of his cologne mixed with cigarettes drove you wild.

“I missed you so much today.” You purred, looking up at him.

“I missed you too, my love.” He replies, looking down at you. You felt his eyes wandering and your cheeks burn. He smirked. His eyes began to develop that hungry look he gets when he’s excited.

His large hand strokes your cheek, then trails down your neck, to your chest.

“May I, princess?”

“Go ahead baby.”

He carcasses your breasts with one hand inside your robe, the other tugging at the sash.

His lips meet yours once more, kissing you deeply. His tongue pokes at your bottom lip and you let him in. You savor the head rush of kissing the man you love more than anything. The man who makes your insides burn with passion and desire. The man who makes you drip down your thighs and think about the most filthy obscene things a human mind can think of.

After kissing him deeply for a few minutes you let go. You tug at his crisp white shirt collar. Suddenly an idea fills your mind. Your lips curl into a smile. A wide smile.

“Take this off for me, whore.”

Sang Woo freezes. His eyes widen.

“Whore?”

“I said what I said. Take it off.”

Sang Woo had never ever submit to you. Or anyone. Ever. But alas, there is a first time for everything. You dreamed of dominating him and using him as your own personal fucktoy. The evenings that he would work overtime, you would desparately cram your fingers into yourself on the bed, thinking about him coming undone underneath you like some sort of whore.

You want to see that calm, cold demeanor crack. You want to make this way older man your bitch. This tall, strong, stoic, prestigious businessman, a moaning, whimpering bitch underneath you.

Sang Woo grows painfully hard at the crude nickname. He wants this too.

“Y-yes Y/N.” He stammers, taking off his shirt.

You both move to the bed and you push him down. Climbing on top of him, you grind yourself down on his nice dress pants, your wetness seeping into the fabric.

His breath hitches and he watches you through half hooded eyes.

“You gonna be a good boy for me, Sang Woo?”

Still speechless, he nods as you grind down harder on the huge bulge through his pants.

“Use your words, bitch.” Your hand reaches up to his throat, wrapping your fingers around it and squeezing gently.

“P-Please Y/N, a-ah let me…fuck you.” He’s blinded by the pressure of your wet hot pussy on him. The layers of clothing providing the worst most inconvenient barrier ever.

You stop grinding. You look him deep in the eyes. “What did I say? I asked you a question. Now answer it.” You command through gritted teeth.

“Y-yes I’ll be good for you Y/N. Just please do something please.” He whined.

If you were strong enough to rip his pants off, you would have. However you undid his belt, slid it out of the loops and folded it twice over and kept it in your hand. That doe eyed look dawned on Sang Woo’s face once more.

You slid his pants down , then his underwear, and finally his dick could be free. Swollen and red, absolutely gushing clear pre cum.

You barely, just barely graze the folded belt up and down his hard cock. His expression of fear made your pussy ache.

“What does my dirty little slut want me to do to him first hm?”

“S-Suck it please. Please Y/N I need it so bad. I need you so bad I’ve been—“ he begins to babble.

“Shut the fuck up.” You replied coldly.

You bring the belt down onto his thighs. You hit him, but not hard enough to break skin. He gasps. More pre cum oozes from the tip of his dick.

He fucking loves this. For some reason in the deep dark depths of his mind, he always wanted to be treated like property. It was his sickest most fucked up fantasy that he would never ever tell a soul.

His chest is rising and falling rapidly and his cheeks are flushed pink. He needs something, anything. You bring the belt down again, the soft flesh of his thigh ripping under the blow.

“You look like you’re gonna fucking cum just from me beating the shit out of you. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Not even Sang Woo can answer that question. And yes, he felt his orgasm building already. What the fuck is wrong with him?

You lean down and lick a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. His whole entire body shivers. He moans for the first time ever in front of you. And it’s loud.

You gently take just the tip of it in your mouth and he forcefully grabs your hair, shoving you down onto his dick and gagging you. Immediately you shut that shit down. Your head snaps up. You bring your face to his and grab a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.”What the fuck was that? Keep your fucking hands off of me brat.”

He nods obediently.

“Because of that little stunt I’m not even going to suck your cock. Too bad.”

Instead you slam yourself down on his cock as hard as you possibly can without breaking it.

Another deliciously loud moan from Sang Woo’s mouth fills the room. You start bouncing up and down on it, the slapping of skin and the squelching of your juices mixing with his fills the room.

You grab his hair again, pulling his head back and looking in his eyes again as you slam all your weight down on him and his cock. “You like this you little bitch? If only you could see yourself right now. What would your friends think of you being fucked like a bitch at home?” You bring your hand down on his beautiful face, lightly slapping him.

“T-they’d think I’m a filthy whore. I’m yours Y/N. I-I’m your filthy fucking whore.” He barely gets the sentence out in between moans.

You wrap the belt around his neck and pound him some more. His dick is hitting all the right places inside you. You can literally feel him in your stomach.

“Sang Woo…cum for me…cum for me right now.” You demand. Your moans are growing louder as well.

His eyes roll back and every muscle in his body tightens immediately.

You feel yourself clench around him, pleasure ripping through your whole entire body as you cum all over his dick. You feel the comforting warmth of his huge load shooting inside of you too. He came so much it was dribbling out of you onto his own balls.

Sang Woo is visibly trembling after his orgasm. That was the biggest one he’s ever had in his whole entire 46 years of life. Panting filled the room. You didn’t want to get off of him but he was softening inside you quickly. He looked up at you gently, a sheen of sweat coating his perfect features and his jet black hair clinging to his forehead. You lean down and kiss your husband deeply on his lips.

“That was fucking amazing.” He mumbles between breaths. “Thank you Y/N. I’ve always wanted you to take control like that. That was the hottest experience ever.”

You chuckled. “You’re welcome my angel.” He looked so dopey and fucked out. He was drunk on you and you ate that up. You love him with all of your heart as he does you.

“Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up and I’ll get you fed.” You say to him sweetly. He smiles his signature shy smile. “I Love You Y/N. I really, really do.”

He says those three words very rarely, but when he does, you know he means it sincerely.

“I Love You too Sang Woo.”