#then if there are a lot of names but you can't put faces on it you can read the manga

[multipleoccupancy]

Violet, a fourteen year old, casually confessing that a full sized helicopter might be a challenge for her to build was both amusing and a little sweet. Theo knew she was capable of very great things and supposed he should count himself lucky she was not trying to build a helicopter on the block's roof! ...Maybe he should double check in the morning just to be sure.

He understood why the other Theo had been so pleased to have those drawings and how it was they were likely put in his room. Somewhere he could see them and hope that the orderlies or another patient would not damage or take them from him. His smile faltered, thinking of this other Theo and his struggles.

"I have a drawing too," he explained, "just one though and there's one or two other things. I would show you but I don't want to wake Rea up in looking for them." Another time perhaps. "I don't... I can't really remember a lot of the ward," he explained gesturing to his head a little absently as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "I can't remember faces, or names, a lot of the time blurs into one as it was as you've seen very set in a routine. Get up, go to the common room, have breakfast, back to the common room, have lunch, back, dinner and return to the cell." He drew in a shaky breath and then shrugged, "but I clearly befriended someone."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet blushed a little bit for the praise. "I just really liked buildin' things." Now that she thought about it, her parents had almost immediately encouraged her mechanically-minded spirit, even when she was only two years old. She supposed it was part of the reason she had been so prolific so young. It didn't occur to her that it was perhaps a little bit unusual, to give a 7-year-old girl a toolbox. But she had always attributed that to her being very responsible (and not reckless at all).

"I hope they did," she chuckled, "building a full-sized helicopter is still too much of a challenge for me, so it's only going to be toys for a while." Maybe she could build a small toy helicopter for Ben and Lou. It would be a fun project to focus on to get her mind off of the ward.

Very aware that she had just avoided a parachute-related lecture, Violet smiled. "He was mighty glad," she assured her dad, "he put it in his room, with the other drawing I made for him." Though the other drawing in question was purely decorative.

Her smile got a little bit sadder. "What did you bring from the ward?" If his cell was anything like Theo's, then it had been very empty and demoralizing. Maybe he had made a friend, too. Surely not all patients were dangerous.... right? Violet thought about the woman who had given her a hairpin and was reconsidering her statement. That woman might not have been violent, but she was unpleasant.

[karaeilishh]

TAKE ME BACK : smut

summary: you're going to a party with your cool girlfriend. When she stops paying you proper attention, you switch to a random guy in a bar. and she won't like it at all...

warnings: dom!billie, sub!brat!reader, jealousy, strap (r receiving), degradation, oral (r/billie receiving), r called a slut many times

w/c: 3,4k

a/n: eng is not my first language! enjoy this dirty shit <33

requests open!

“Hey babygirl. You look upset. Can I please you with a cocktail?”

You roll your eyes once again, sitting on an uncomfortable couch in the corner of some club that Billie brought you to because her friends really wanted to see her. You were on the other side of town and you knew that you wouldn't be home until morning, because it was well past midnight, and your girlfriend didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. Billie was drunk enough and this evening you regretted not drinking alcohol. At least you wouldn't be so bored and lonely.

You've been hanging around your girlfriend for the last two hours so that she would pay attention to you, but her attention was only on her friends, whom she hadn't seen for a whole week. You didn't know why everything turned out this way today, because usually Billie can't take her eyes off you; You put your head on her shoulder, pressed your bare thigh against her thigh, you whispered in her ear, but you only got: “Babe, later.” Later? Fine. Your patience has run out.

You step onto the dance floor; hungry glances at your beautiful curves. Billie told you to wear that fucking mini dress that hugs every muscle on your stomach, your chest and parts of your thighs. Who can blame other people for their looks when you look like a damn angel? You don't even start dancing; you walk away to someone's brazen whistle; what do these men allow themselves? It's always like with a piece of meat. You want to go to Billie, but the thought of her telling you to just sit in silence again is maddening; you go to the bar. There are a lot of men, but you carefully walk past them and sit on the bar stool. 

“What?” You woke up in a few seconds. There's a guy in front of your face now, no, more like a man. He has an atypical neat outfit for a place like this. The club stinks of other people's sweat and drunk people, but it has a nice perfume. You don't know why you noticed it. His perfume? You can definitely feel it, he leaned closer, repeating his question.

“I asked if I could buy you a drink?” You heard him this time, but you couldn't answer him right away. You can't agree because you're here with your girlfriend, you're taken. But does she even care about you now? After all, nothing will happen if you just talk with someone at the club while your lover is not paying any attention to you. “Please don't tell me you don't drink. I'm not creative for another reason to get to know each other” Actually, you don't drink, but you can agree, right?

“Um, could you get a mojito for me? I don't like strong drinks.” The man nods knowingly and smiles. “Everything for a sweet girl in a bar” He signals to the bartender, apparently they are familiar. 

“Did you hear what the lady said? Mojito. And pour less rum” He turns to you, saying that your mojito will be done in a minute. You nod and thank him, trying to fight the strange feeling in your chest. It's like you're going to be punished for talking to him.

“You're very beautiful, but you're not talkative. I bet you don't go to places like this often?” He tilts his head slightly, as if trying to figure out what and who you're thinking about right now. You adjust your dress and look up at his face. “Yeah, I don't like noisy places.” His gaze darted to your hands resting on your hips.

“I get it. Well, tell me, what's your name?” His voice echoes in your head. You want to tell him that your acquaintance shouldn't go that far, you're going to say “No” when you hear a familiar voice behind you. “No.”The smell of her perfume hits your nose, her tired face with bruises under her eyes is in front of your eyes, her hair is scattered on your bed. Her voice is usually gentle, but not now.

“I'm sorry?” He's not looking at you. He's looking at someone behind you and you know exactly who it is. Her hands are on your waist, on your hips. She's only been here for a few seconds, but she's already been able to claim you. You can't see her face, but you know damn well she's giving your new friend a murderous stare right now. “Apology accepted” The next moment, she drags you through a crowd of drunk and stoned people right to the exit of the club. She's a little shaky because of the amount she's drunk. It's cool outside, but your body is burning because of her. Billie drags you on until you're around the corner where no one will bother you. Your body hit a cold brick wall, her voice cut through the tense air between you, you shuddered. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

Your fingertips touch the wall behind you, her drunken breath on your face. You didn't like it when she drank, but the smell of alcohol was never annoying. “I was just talking to him.” You sound quieter and more insecure than you thought you'd be. Your eyes are directed straight to her eyes, hungry and greedy, you are breathing heavily. “Is that why he's ordering you a drink and trying to find out your name? Have you even seen the way he looks at you? If he offered to fuck you, would you be so responsive?”Her voice is loud and a little hysterical. Her hands are in the pockets of her shorts, but you can feel how much she wants to touch you.

“You're exaggerating, Billie.” You look at her, your voice is cold, but everything inside you is burning. You know that she always turns you on like that, even though you hide it. “Am I exaggerating? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” She grins, her hand on your wrist, until she interlaces your fingers randomly. She takes you to the car and you try to tell her that she can't drive, but she shuts you up. “If you act like a slut, I'll treat you like a slut.” Billie pushes you into the car and buckles your seat belt. She's so damn angry, the veins in her arms are bulging, but she still cares about you, and this one makes your hips clench harder. It makes you wet. The air in the car heats up when she slams the door and sits in the driver's seat. Her gaze is focused on the road, but her mind has turned into your home.

The long drive home is accompanied by her rapid breathing. You can literally hear her heartbeat. You can see the different scenarios of that night unfolding in her head. All of them are ended by your face pressed against the mattress while she fucks you. Her hand squeezes her hip, she bites her lip and you feel what's happening to her. You know for sure. You gently take her hand and put it between your legs. She swallows hard, her fingers squeeze your skin and you melt under her touch. “You're fucking driving me crazy, you know that?” She parks the car in the garage of your house, and the next thing you remember is her all over your body, when you crash into the bedroom door, Billie, dragging you inside. Your body falls onto the mattress, your breathing is knocked out, and your hair is already slightly disheveled.

“You're going to have to apologize properly, angel.” You're breathing heavily, looking into her eyes with obvious desire. You feel completely naked under her gaze, which screams at you that you are a fucking slut. For her. Billie's movements are feverish as she pulls off her shorts, reaches for your favorite drawer in your bedroom. Your eyes widen when she picks up your favorite strap. His curves were perfect for you, hitting the right spots. You're looking at it greedily. And Billie saw it.

"Such a greedy girl for a dick, don’t you?" She grins as she puts the toy down on the bed next to you. Her body hovers over yours as she devours you with her gaze. Her hand flies to your neck, squeezing tighter than usual. "I wanna destroy, babe. I wanna fucking destroy you so that you learn your lesson." Your mind is drifting because of her words, you want to push her to do it.

"It was your fault." You look into her eyes, clearly seeing something snap inside her. Her grip on your neck tightens and you feel like you're getting less air. "What?" Her voice was so threatening that you were almost sure your underwear was already soaked. You knew that no matter how mean she was, she would never hurt you more than you asked for.

"I said it was your fault. You ignored me all night! What are you-" Your words get caught in your throat when you feel a painful blow on your thigh. You swallow hard, looking into your girlfriend's eyes. You've seen her lose control when you act like this. But how can she blame you when you're so desperately begging her to destroy you?

"You dare accuse me of acting like a slut, craving my attention? Well, you'll get it." Billie's voice drips with arrogance. She knew she should have given you some attention, but she's always been too much of a bitch to admit she was wrong.

She pulls you to your feet, forcing you to stand in front of her as she attaches the strap on her hips and sits on the edge of the bed. "You wanna be a brat, babe? Then I'll have to shut you up." She looks up at you, then leans down and whispers, "Knees."

Right now, you want nothing more than to drop to your knees and take her strap so deep that tears run down your cheeks and your knees are red. "I'm not being a brat." You hiss, looking into her eyes. You know this won't turn out well.

"Didn't you hear me?" She raises an eyebrow and pushes you down, causing your knees to hit the floor hard. You whine, clutching her knees for support. “Angel, don’t make me move your head on my own. I know you want this.”

You gasp at her words, tucking your loose hair behind your ears. You lean down slowly, running your tongue along the length of her cock. Your eyes lock onto her face as you slowly push the strap into your mouth. Maybe your slowness was on purpose. “Come on babygirl, I know you can do better.”

She rolls her eyes, grabbing your hair. Your head moves at an unusually fast pace. You grip her hips tighter, trying to slow her down and suppress your gag reflex. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to keep up the pace and not choke on the silicone in your mouth. You try to moan her name, but Billie just smirks.

“Good sluts don’t complain, huh, babe?” She pulls your head away from her cock, holding your hair. Your lips are smeared with your spit, your cheeks are wet with tears. You breathe heavily. “You are my good slut, aren’t you? Use your words.”

“Yes, yes I am…” You swallow hard, looking at your girlfriend with undisguised desire. You knew this night would be long, very long. “Very good….”

Billie takes your hands and lays you down on the bed, her eyes wandering over your body, your mess. “Such a beautiful angel for me. Too bad I have to ruin you.” She chuckles and you whine, squeezing your thighs together tighter. She reaches for your legs, lifting your dress up to your waist. Billie smiled at the beautiful underwear you’re wearing . “For me?” She smiles, spreading your legs and pressing two fingers into your soaked panties. “Fuck, baby, you’re dripping!”

You gasp when you finally feel her hands on you. You bite your bottom lip, watching her tease you. “Did you get wet kneeling in front of me? Or was it when I called you a slut at the club, hm?” Her eyes are playful as she looks into yours. You both know the answer, you both know that she doesn’t have to do anything to you to get you wet. “At the club…” You answer quietly and Billie bites her lip. God, she looked so sexy doing that.

"And who are you so wet for, huh?" She takes off your dress over the top, her mouth flies to your breasts. She bites it through the fabric of a lace bra. You moan, throwing your head back. "You, you, Billie… Please!" Your despair causes sincere satisfaction in your girlfriend. She knows that you will never want to leave her for someone else. She will make you squirm under her touch while you repeat that she is the only one for you.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me,” Billie praises, kissing and biting down your beautiful body. She adored your body. Such a divine and only hers. You could feel the marks on your skin under her touch. “Bils, I need you. I really need you...” You're whimpering, making her smile.

“Do you think you can handle it?” She bites her lower lip, tilting her head to the side. Her gaze makes your body weaken even more. She had no idea what kind of influence she had on you. “Yes, yes I can, I promise!” You get up on your elbows to get a better look at her face.

“What a dirty girl,” Billie giggles, bending down to pick up the edge of your underwear with her teeth. Oh, you were crazy when she did that. Her every action, her every breath and look made you lose yourself in love with her. Even if she was going to destroy you right now. Your woman.

“Baby, you're so wet. Is my girl ready for me yet?” She smiles, easily sliding two fingers into you. Her palm pressed against your clitoris, adding extra friction. Her fingers slid inside you so easily that you were ashamed of how wet you were because of her. “Just shut up...”You exhaled heavily, covering your face with your hands. She laughed.

“Oh, my little slut wants to shut me up? I don't think it's going to work, baby.” Billie abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips. She greedily licks each phalanx of her fingers, moaning contentedly. You looked at her from under your eyelashes, still feeling the aching emptiness without her fingers inside you. As soon as Billie cleaned her fingers, she licked her lips, bending over your body. “You need to learn to watch your tongue, angel.”

These words sounded more harsh than anything else. Billie grabbed your hips and turned you over on your stomach. Your face was buried in the mattress and your ass was hanging in the air when Billie left a few ringing slaps on your delicate skin. “Hey!” You're whimpering, looking at her over your shoulder. “Oh, spare me those pathetic sounds.” She presses your head against the mattress, burying her hand in your hair. The tip of her strap teases your entrance, making you gasp with desire.

“Please, Bils...”You close your eyes, praying that she will give you what you want. “Not a brat anymore? It seems you just need a dick to shut that beautiful mouth.” She grins and you feel her cock slamming into you. Silicone slides easily inside you, making you grab the sheets and whimper into the it. After making a few slow thrusts, you feel Billies's hips against yours. She entered completely. “That's it, baby. You take me so well...”

You let loud moans fly from your lips when Billie finds the perfect angle, driving into all the right points. There are new tears in your eyes. A new pleasure. Your hair is disheveled and tangled because of your girlfriend's tight grip, and there is no trace of evening makeup left. She's always made you like this. She destroyed you with her presence, her voice, her gaze, her dick. “Faster...”

Billie grins at your plea, but obediently complied with your request, pushing into you with a new speed. You grab the sheets, looking at her over your shoulder. How sexy she looked. “Where's my sweet angel, huh? You're such a mess, baby.” You whimper when you see how she looks at you.

“Billie... I'm so close...”You're mumbling to yourself, praying that she'll hear. Of course she did. But she was such a bitch tonight. “What? Angel, I don't understand a word...”She was teasing and playing with you. You both knew what she was waiting for.

You want to sigh, but only moans come out of you. On trembling and weak hands, you get up on your elbows and try to talk to her the way she wants. Politely. “Billie, I wanna cum... Please, can I?” You immediately fall back, burying your face in the sheets, when pornographic moans come out of your mouth.

“Mm, such a polite girl... Cum for me” You laugh hysterically, feeling your walls squeeze her strap. It was the best feeling in the world. Your eyes are tightly closed, you literally bite the sheets, arching your back as you cum on her dick. You can't see her face, but you can tell for sure that she's smiling, watching what she's did to you. Not that guy from the bar, not anyone else. She. Only she could do it.

“Jesus, Bils...”You're breathing heavily, lifting your head from the wet sheets. Her strap is still moving inside you, helping you overcome a hard orgasm. “That's it, baby, you did so well...”She praises you by stroking your hair. It's one step from tenderness to rudeness, huh? Her grip tightens abruptly, forcing you to look at her through tears. “God, my poor baby. What a pity that I'm not finished with you yet” You're breathing hard, your mouth is dry, and you're sticking your tongue out like a fucking puppy after her games. Billie leans closer, her face inches from yours, and you already know what she's going to do. You always know what's behind that look. She collects saliva in her mouth for a few seconds and spits on your fucking tongue. As if you didn't ask for it yourself. Her warmth spreads over your tongue and you close your mouth. “Swallow” You obey and she gently kisses your cheekbone. The only thing she did gently this evening.

Billie turns you over on your back, laying your head on the pillows. She settles between your legs, devouring your body with her gaze. “Open wide for me, love” She purrs and you obediently spread your weak legs. Billie runs his fingers through your folds, collecting moisture. She brings her fingers to your mouth. “Suck” You swallow hard and take two of her fingers in your mouth, circling each with your tongue.

While you're engrossed in her fingers, Billie bends down to your pussy and runs her tongue over it, making you sigh and bite her. She hums into your flesh, looking up at you with adoring eyes. “No teeth, baby.” She grins and continues to devour you like a hungry animal.

Your sensitivity made itself felt and you tried to pull out her fingers to tell her, but she just pressed them against your tongue, depriving you of any opportunity to speak. You instinctively raised your hips, warning her. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and pain from over-stimulation. Your heels were crumpling the fabric of her shirt. You almost choked her with your hips. But she was just getting turned on.

Billie tapped your hips, giving you tacit permission to cum again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, showing you the stars of pleasure. You can't help but bite her fingers again, but this time she lets you, seeing your condition. She helps you get through your orgasm and gets up to put her head on your chest.

“I'm so proud of you, dove... But we'll have to change the sheets.” She starts laughing, and you can't help but pick up on her laughter, even though you're a little embarrassed. You gently run your hand through her hair, removing the hair band that has almost come off her hair. You put the band on your wrist and hug her tightly.

“You know you're my only one, right?”

“I know, angel.”

[cowboybeepboop]

Kiss the chef 

 "Oh God...keep doing that..." 

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: Clark is your best friend, who you suspect of being Superman. 

a/n: Guys I’ve been like obsessed with writing but I have zero time 😔 it’s torture and I’m also running out of ideas for the names of each oneshot they’re getting crazy 😭 Also yes, I’m aware I shift perspectives a lot, thats a stylistic choice 👍

Clark hums softly as he moves around the kitchen area, his hands working diligently as he prepares dinner for the two of you. 

He glances over his shoulder, his eyes catching a sight of you lounging on the couch, completely engrossed in your phone, a smile forms on his lips as a gasp escapes yours.

"Almost done in here," he says, his voice laced with a hint of contentment. "You find anything interesting on there?"

He turns his attention back to the meal, stirring something in a pan on the stove while sneaking glances your way, curious to know what's capturing your focus.

“Actually, yes.” You reply, hopping up and joining him in the kitchen. “There’s new photos of Superman that were just released.” You gushed, he knows about your crush on the hero, yet doesn't know that you’re imagining him as Superman.

Clark quirks an eyebrow, a slight amused smile on his face as he pretends to be surprised at the news. 

"Really?" he says, feigning intrigue, not that he would need to fake it. "New photos, huh?"

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you join him in the kitchen, the mention of Superman stirring something within him.

You lean against the counter, your eyes locked on the screen. “Mm, it smells good.” you murmur, setting your phone down and looking at the food he’s prepared, your mouth nearly watering at the sight.

"Thanks." Clark replies, a proud smile spreading across his face as he watches you eye the dish with appreciation. He glances in the direction of the screen, seeing a glimpse of the photos of Superman before returning his focus to you.

"Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells." He teases, scooping up a spoonful of the food from the pan and offering it for you to taste.

You eagerly open your mouth, holding onto his wrist as you taste the flavor, you let out a satisfied noise. “It’s really good, like really good.”

Clark can't help but chuckle at the sound you make while tasting the food, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you hold onto his wrist. 

"I'm glad you like it." He says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I put a little extra love into it just for you."

He scoops up some more food and offers it again, watching your reaction intently.

You step closer, taking the spoon into your mouth again, enjoying the way he’s feeding you small bites. “I should hire you as my private chef.” You sigh, licking your lips as you look at the pot.

"Careful, I might take you up on that offer." Clark replies, his eyes following the movement of your tongue as it licks your lips. 

He sets the spoon down, then leans against the counter next to you, his arm casually resting next to yours. "Just imagine me cooking for you every night." He muses, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“Sounds like heaven to me.” You grin at him, reaching for your phone as the screen lights up.

"Heaven, huh?" Clark muses, he glances at the lit-up screen, the photo of Superman once again catching his eye. He clears his throat, trying to keep his composure. "So, uh, what's so special about these new photos anyway?"

“You can see all of his muscles..” you murmur, eyes fixated on the photos. “I mean they’re such high quality, just look.” You show him the screen, your cheeks flushed a slight pink.

Clark swallows the words and the photos you show him causing a stirring within him. He struggles to keep his expression neutral as his eyes flick between the screen and you.

"Yeah, they're really uh, really high quality." He clears his throat, his eyes lingering on the image, specifically the muscles you mentioned. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

You nod, turning your phone off and slipping it into your back pocket. “I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to meet him..” you shiver at the thought.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, a mix of guilt and amusement playing within him. He can't help but wonder what your reaction would be if you knew the truth.

"Meet him, huh?" He remarks, his voice low and a touch hesitant. "What would you even do if you ever met him?"

“I can think of a couple things,” you reply suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows for further effect.

Clark blushes slightly at your suggestive reply, a mix of flustered surprise and amusement on his face. He glances away for a moment, trying to regain his composure. 

"A couple things, huh?" he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I doubt the Man of Steel has time for...whatever it is you're thinking."

“Every man has time for..” you grin, “What I’m thinking of.” Clark's blush deepens at your response, his heart skipping a beat. 

He scratches the back of his head, trying to remain cool and collected, though he can't entirely hide the effect your words have on him.

"Uh, yeah, well," he stammers, a bit of nervous energy in his voice. "I'm sure the Man of Steel has much bigger priorities than...meeting fans and fulfilling...fantasies."

“Maybe.. Or maybe he has all the time for his eager fangirls.” You pull your hair into a ponytail, slyly exposing your nape to him as you notice how flustered he's becoming.

A wave of heat washes over Clark as you expose your nape to him, and he struggles to keep his composure. His eyes linger on the exposed skin for a moment, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of desire and restraint.

"Eager fangirls, huh?" he teases, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. "You certainly seem eager enough."

You giggle, watching as he turns off the stove. “I do, don’t I?”

Clark tries to ignore the way your giggle sends a shiver down his spine, turning his attention back to the stove instead. He swallows hard, desperately trying to keep his mind from wandering.

"You certainly do," he replies, his voice slightly strained. "And I have a feeling you're pretty relentless too."

“You know it.” Your grin grows as he plates the food, grabbing both in his hands as he leads you back to the living room. Clark balances the plates as he moves, he places them on the coffee table, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the way your grin makes his heart race.

"Should we watch something? A movie perhaps?” he clears his throat as he changes the topic.

“Mm.. yeah, you pick what we watch.” You settle on the floor in front of the couch, your back pressing against his knee.

Clark can't help but savor the feeling of your back against his knee, a mix of contentment and desire swirling within him. He grabs the remote, flipping through possible options but not really paying attention, his mind too preoccupied with the proximity of you and your intoxicating scent.

"How about, uh..." He struggles to think of a suitable movie as he glances down at you, his heart rate increasing. "How about that one?" he points to a movie at random.

“Sounds good.” You agree, focused on the food in front of you.

Clark tries to focus on the movie as it plays, but his attention is constantly drawn to you, the way you sit, the way you eat, the way your scent fills the air. Every little detail seems to distract him.

As the movie progresses, he finds himself inching closer to you, his knee pressing more firmly against your back. He tries to act nonchalant, hoping you don't notice his increasing closeness.

As you finish your food, you lean back against his leg further, playing on your phone. “You know, I’ve been thinking..”

Clark stiffens slightly as you lean back further against his leg, the feeling sending a thrill through him. He tries to remain nonchalant as he responds.

"Thinking? About what?" He glances down at you, his eyes flicking to your phone before meeting the back of your head again.

“You’re a reporter.” You begin, turning to look at him. “If you ever met Superman, would you tell him about me? Put in a good word..” you’re hoping that prompting him might reveal his secret.

A pang of guilt hits Clark at your question, but he forces a smile, trying to maintain composure. He knows the truth, that he *is* Superman, but hearing you talk about him like that, asking him to put in a good word...it's both endearing and painful. 

"I...uh, yeah, sure." he says, his voice a bit strained. "If I ever met him...I'd definitely mention you."

“You’re such a good friend.” You smile, turning your attention back toward the tv though your mind is obscured with disappointment.

As you turn your focus back to the TV, Clark lets out a shaky exhale, the words "good friend" stinging a little more than he expected. He remains silent for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He glances down at you, the mixture of guilt and affection swirling inside him. He can't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out the truth.

You reach for your wine glass, taking a small drink of the crimson liquid. Clark watches as you take a sip, the way your lips touch the glass making his heart skip a beat. He clenches his fists, fighting the urge to reach out and touch your face, your hair, anything.

"You, uh, like the wine?" he asks, trying to keep his mind from wandering.

“It’s actually really good, I usually hate wine.” You reply, “Where did you get it?”

Clark watches you take another sip, a hint of surprise on his face at your admission. He glances over at the half-empty bottle on the coffee table.

"Oh, it's from a small vineyard in Italy.” he answers, trying to keep his voice casual. "A friend gave it to me, said it was a special blend. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, actually.”

His eyes linger on you once more, the sight of you drinking the wine stirring something within him.

“Then why did you waste it?” Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to look at him, confusion painted on your face.

Clark’s heart flutters slightly at your question, a mix of surprise and affection coursing through him. He tries to maintain his composure as he speaks.

“W-waste it?” he repeats, his voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t think sharing it with a...a friend is a waste.” His eyes meet yours, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze as he wonders if you can see through his facade.

“But it’s not particularly a *special* occasion, is it?” You cock your head to the side, shifting your body to face him.

Clark swallows, feeling your gaze on him as you turn to face him fully. He can see the curiosity in your eyes, the subtle hint in your question.

“I...I suppose not.” he admits, his voice soft. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway.” He studies your face, his heart racing as he wonders if you suspect something.

You narrow your eyes at him, scanning his features. “Clark..”

Clark feels a hint of alarm as you narrow your eyes, your gaze intense as you seem to be studying him. He can sense your suspicion, and it makes his heart race even faster.

“Y-yes?” he replies, his voice slightly shaky. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he can’t quite hide the nervousness that’s beginning to show.

“You look..” you lean closer, eyes glued to his every movement. “You really do look a lot like him.” biting down on your lip as you rest your hands on his knees. 

Clark’s heart stutters at your words, his breath catching in his throat. He tries desperately to maintain eye contact, but he can feel his resolve slipping away under your intense gaze.

“Like who?” he stutters, knowing full well you’re talking about Superman.

“You know who,” you roll your eyes at his response, leaning closer to peel his glasses off his face, your fingers brush over his cheekbones. Warmth pools in your stomach as you consider the consequences of pushing him any further. 

Clark's eyes widen as you reach for his glasses, he swallows hard, feeling a mix of panic and anticipation. He knows he should stop you, but he can't bring himself to move as you draw closer.

You fold them up and set them on the coffee table behind you. “You’re really handsome.” You murmur under your breath as you gaze up at him from your position on the floor, hands itching to touch his skin once again.

Clark's breath hitches at your compliment, his heart fluttering as he takes in your words and your proximity. He can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks as you look up at him, the mix of nervousness and desire swirling within him like a tempest.

He can't help but respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "You..you think so?" He reaches out, catching a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it around his forefinger. 

“Of course.” You smile, leaning your elbows on his knees. “Clark, we don’t have any secrets between us do we?” your breath seems to get caught in your throat, dropping hints isn’t working anymore, you’ll have to be more direct with him. 

Clark tries desperately to push down the panic that rises in his chest at your question. He knows he should say something, anything, but the words get stuck in his throat.

His gaze flicks around the room, trying to find anything other than your eyes to focus on, but it's no use. He can feel your expectation, the way you're searching for the truth. He glances down at you again, the sight of you leaning on his knees making his heart flutter,

"N-no," he stutters, his voice strained. "No secrets."

You can tell he’s not being truthful, your expression faltering. “You’re lying.”

Clark swallows hard, the wave of guilt that washes over him nearly overwhelming. He can see the disappointment in your face, the way your expression falters, and it guts him.

He can't keep lying to you, not like this. He looks away, unable to meet your gaze, his voice small.

"I...I am." he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What is it you’re hiding?” You murmur, eyes locked on his beautiful blue ones.

Clark can feel his facade collapsing with each passing second. His heart pounds in his chest as he looks back at you, your gaze intense and searching. He can almost feel the truth on the tip of his tongue, threatening to burst out.

“You can tell me anything.. Clark, we’re friends.” You move to sit next to him on the couch.

Clark takes a deep breath as you move closer, sitting next to him on the couch. The feeling of your proximity, the warmth of your body next to him, it's both a comfort and a source of anxiety.

He gazes at you, his eyes betraying the mixture of emotions raging inside him. He wants to tell you, to share this secret, but he's also terrified of how you'll react when you find out you’ve been crushing on him. You place your palm on his leg, offering some comfort.

Clark feels your hand on his leg, the touch sending a wave of warmth through him, calming his nerves slightly, but not enough to quiet his worries.

"I..." he begins, his heart pounding in his chest. "I don't know how to say this, but..." He takes another deep breath, his voice soft, low, and filled with trepidation. "I'm Superman."

“I knew it!” You gasp, eyes widened as you straighten up next to him.

Clark's eyes widen at your exclamation, the suddenness and volume of your voice taking him aback. He hadn't expected such an immediate reaction, let alone you to believe him so readily. He watches as you straighten up next to him, a mix of surprise and relief washing over him. 

"Y-you did?" he stutters, his heart still racing.

“I mean of course, I’ve had my suspicions. Every time I speak of Superman it makes you turn pink.” You tease him lightly.

Clark feels his cheeks flush with color at your statement, the truth of your words hitting him hard. He blushes even more red as a result, the heat in his face growing in intensity.

He glances at you, a mix of embarrassment and relief in his expression. "I, uh, I didn't think it was that obvious," he mutters, his voice sheepish.

“Only because I know you so well.” You grin proudly. “But, I have another question for you.”

Clark can't help but feel a pang of affection as you grin at him, your confidence and familiarity with him making his heart flutter. He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Ask me anything," he says, his voice slightly more relaxed now that the secret is out.

“Does the man of steel really not have time for one of his fans?” You bite down on your lip.

Clark's heart stutters at your words, the change in your tone sending a wave of desire through him. He can feel his own heart rate spike as you bite down on your lip, your eyes filled with a mixture of teasing and want.

He sucks in a breath, his voice slightly hoarse as he manages a response.

"The man of steel has plenty of time for his...biggest fan."

“Biggest fan hm?” You question, sliding onto his lap and straddling his hips.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as you slide onto his lap, your body settling on top of him. He swallows hard, his heart racing as he looks up at you, your face so close to his he can almost taste your breath.

He places his hands tentatively on your hips, his fingers gently gripping the fabric of your clothes as he responds, his voice thick with desire. "The biggest. And the most beautiful."

“Clark..” you lean down, nose brushing against his. “Can I kiss you?”

Clark can feel your breath on his skin as you lean down, your nose brushing against his. His heart hammers in his chest, the sound of your voice sending a wave of anticipation through him. He gazes up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and adoration. 

"Please," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "Please...kiss me."

You cup his face, fingers dancing over his skin as you connect your lips softly.

Clark's eyes flutter shut as you cup his face, your fingers tracing gentle paths on his skin. The softness of your touch ignites a fire within him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that's both gentle and passionate.

He lets out a soft moan, his hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

The kiss quickly turns hungry, your lips part to let his tongue in. Your body is pressed flush against him, hands tangling in his hair as you tug on the roots gently.

Clark's tongue explores your mouth with a hunger that takes him by surprise. He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer against him, his body reacting to every move you make.

He lets out a low moan as you tug on his hair, the feeling sending a wave of pleasure through him. He responds by biting your lip gently, his hands slowly caressing the skin of your back.

You pull away for a breath, Clark's chest heaves as you pull away, his eyes opening slowly to take in the sight of you. Your lips, swollen and glistening from the kiss, make his heart stutter, the need to kiss you again almost overpowering.

He gazes at you in awe for a moment, his breathing ragged, before speaking, his voice slightly hoarse.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his hands still holding you close.

“I think I have some idea,” You tease, glancing down at the tent growing in his slacks. “I can feel it, you know.”

Clark follows your gaze, his heart skipping a beat as he sees the effect your presence has on him. He swallows hard, his eyes darting back up to meet yours, a mixture of embarrassment and desire playing across his face.

He responds, his voice low, his fingers gently caressing your hip.

"That's...that's all your fault," he says, his words laced with a hint of accusation and appreciation.

“My fault?” Your hand begins to trail down his chest. “Then I guess I should take responsibility, take care of it.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss his neck.

Clark's breath hitches as your hand trails down his chest, his heart rate quickening in anticipation. Your touch is fire on his skin, igniting every nerve.

He groans softly as you lean forward to kiss his neck, his head tilting to give you better access. Your words and the feeling of your lips on his skin send a wave of desire through him, his body reacting to your touch.

"Responsibility, huh?" he manages to reply, his voice strained. "I like the sound of that."

“I can finally do what I’ve been dreaming of doing to you..” you whisper into his ear, your hand finally making contact with his erection.

Clark's breath hitches at your words, the sound of your voice in his ear sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel the heat of your body as you lean in closer, your hand finally making contact with his hardness.

He lets out a low moan, his body responding to your touch with an intensity he's never felt before. "Oh fuck..." He looks at you with hooded eyes, his voice thick with need. 

You reach for his shirt, pulling it off of him. “Holy shit, Clark.” Your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you stare.

Clark feels a wave of heat as you pull his shirt off, the air cool against his skin. He watches as your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, the look of desire in your eyes making his heart race.

He knows how strong he is, how powerful his body is. But hearing your reaction, seeing the effect he has on you, it's something else entirely.

"You like what you see?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice, his muscles flexing under your gaze.

You lean forward, kissing his chest. “You have no idea.” You mutter, fingers trailing over each muscle as your other hand continues to massage his clothed hardness.

Clark's breath catches in his throat, his body reacting to your touch, your kisses on his chest sending waves of pleasure through him. He can't help but arch into your touch, his muscles responding to your caress.

He lets out a low moan, his voice strained as he speaks, "Oh God...keep doing that..." He's lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as your kisses move lower and lower down his stomach, each touch sending a wave of pleasure through him. He gasps as your tongue teases over his abs, his eyes watching your every move.

His hands grip the edge of the couch as you work on his belt, his desire for you growing with each second. He lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants, the feeling of your hands on him almost too much to bear.

Once his pants and boxers are removed, he's left naked in front of you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread apart. He gazes at you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

He's completely under your spell, his entire being focused on you and only you. "Come here." He reaches for you, his voice soft and needy. 

You bring your lips to his once again, the kiss passionate and hungry. Clark responds to your passionate kiss with a fervor of his own, pulling you closer against his body, his hands roaming over your back, your hips, everywhere he can reach. He's lost in the kiss, in the feeling of your body against his.

He can't get enough of you, his need for you growing with every passing second. He moans softly into your mouth, his body reacting to your touch, his hard length pressed against your thigh.

You reach to grasp his erection, his thick cock barely fitting in your grasp. You begin to move your hand, slowly jerking him off as the kiss becomes more intense.

You pull away from his lips to catch your breath, your eyes hooded in desire. “You’re huge..”

Clark's breath catches at your words, the praise sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel your hand on him, stroking him slowly, the feeling overwhelming yet perfect.

“It’s perfect.. you’re perfect.” You slip off of his lap, settling between his muscular thighs.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, affection washing over him. He watches you move down between his thighs, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you so close to his cock. He reaches down, gently running his fingers through your hair, his voice soft but filled with need.

"I could say the same about you," he says, his eyes meeting yours, his body alive with anticipation. "You're...you're incredible."

You lean in closer, wrapping your soft lips around the head of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as you taste the salty sweetness of his precum. The room is filled with the sounds of your gentle slurps and Clark's moans of pleasure. 

Your hand grips the base firmly, stroking in sync with your mouth as you take more and more of him in, inch by glorious inch. You feel him swell in your grip, the veins pulsing with his excitement. 

You moan around him, the vibration sending shockwaves through his body. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your pace as your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head. 

You look up at him through hooded eyes, watching his reaction as you deepthroat him, his face a mask of pure ecstasy. The intimacy of the moment is intoxicating, both of you lost in the sensual dance of your mouth and his cock, the tension building as the pleasure crescendos.

With every bob of your head, Clark's moans become louder, his eyes never leaving yours. The connection between you is palpable, the intimacy of the moment amplifying every sensation. 

His cock grows in your mouth, the taste of him driving you wild. You savor the feeling of his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, the power of his grip speaking to your desire. His eyes, filled with lust and admiration, bore into yours, creating a silent conversation of pleasure that needs no words. 

Your tongue laps at his shaft, tracing the veins that stand out against his skin, your mouth creating a warm, wet heaven around his length. Each stroke, each suck, each flick of your tongue is a declaration of your adoration, a silent promise to bring him to the brink of ecstasy and back again. 

The room feels like it's spinning around you, the air thick with passion as you both give into the carnality of the act. Your cheeks hollow with the effort of taking him so deep, but it's a challenge you eagerly accept, the thrill of his pleasure reflected in every whimper that passes your lips.

You continue to worship him with your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. The way his hips buck slightly with each deep throat, the way his abs tighten as he holds back, it's all driving you crazy. The sound of his breath hitching and his fingers tightening in your hair sends a thrill through you, making your pussy throb with need. 

You moan around him, the vibrations echoing along his length, and he can't help but thrust a little deeper into your welcoming heat. The taste of him, the feel of him, it's all you can focus on as you give him the blowjob of his life, eager to show him just how much he means to you, to show him the depth of your desire. 

You feel the tension in his body building, the way his thighs tense around you, and you know he's close. The air in the room crackles with energy, the heat from both your bodies blending into an intoxicating cloud of lust. 

You don't stop, you can't stop, you want him to remember this moment, to feel the intensity of your passion every time he thinks of you. 

You continue to devour him with your mouth, your eyes locked onto his, which are filled with a mix of disbelief and pure bliss. The connection between you is electric, your every movement a silent testament to the desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. 

Each time your lips meet the base of his cock, you can feel his thighs tense against your cheeks, and the soft groan that escapes from his lips sends shivers down your spine. You're both drowning in the intensity of the moment, your hearts pounding in time with the rhythm of your mouth and his hips. 

You can feel him swelling even more, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to this peak sends a thrill through you. You suck harder, faster, each motion a silent plea for him to let go. And when he does, with a final, desperate thrust into your throat, the salty warmth of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow eagerly, relishing the proof of his pleasure. 

You pull back slowly, licking your lips, watching as he comes down from the high with a sigh of satisfaction. The air is thick with the scent of sex and love, and it's all you can do to not climb onto him and feel him deep inside you, to complete this perfect moment.

Clark pulls you to him, his lip moving to your neck as he gently slides his hand under your skirt. The fabric whispers against your skin as he reaches for the waistband of your panties, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. His fingertips graze over the soft fabric before he hooks it with his thumbs, pulling them down slowly. 

His eyes never leave yours, filled with love and a desperate need to feel all of you. As the last of your barriers fall away, his erection pressed against your bare thigh, hot and demanding. His hands caress your skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world, his kisses trailing down to your collarbone, each one a promise of the passion to come. 

The air is charged with anticipation, your hearts beating in sync as you both give in to the intensity of your desires. He lifts you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight as if he never wants to let you go. You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your wet entrance, begging for more, but he takes his time, kissing you deeply and savoring the moment. 

His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in time with the rhythm of your kisses, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The room is a whirlwind of passion and love as you both succumb to the depth of your feelings, the promise of ultimate intimacy just a breath away.

Clark's hands hold your hips as he guides you down onto his cock, the thickness of him stretching you open as you moan with pleasure. He's gentle, so gentle, as he makes love to you, each thrust coming slow and steady, as if he's savoring every moment. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down in a firm but tender rhythm that sends electric jolts through your body. 

You lean back, gripping onto the couch cushions as he fills you completely, the sensation of his warmth and size overwhelming your senses. His eyes never leave yours, the connection between you growing stronger with each shared breath. Each stroke of his thumb sends you spiraling closer to the edge, and your moans become more desperate, your body begging for release. 

His own breathing becomes more ragged, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you come apart in his arms. The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the perfect harmony of love and passion.

Clark’s eyes bore into you as he carefully guides his cock inside you, his movements tender and deliberate. The way you straddle him, the way your pussy clenches around him, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. His thumb continues its delicate dance on your clit, his touch a masterpiece of passion. 

Your eyes are glazed with lust, your breath coming in short, needy gasps as he takes you higher and higher. Each stroke is a declaration of his love, a promise of the intensity to come. Your moans become louder, your body moving with his in a rhythm that feels like it's been written in the stars. 

His thumb presses harder, his hips moving faster, and you feel the first tremors of your orgasm beginning to build. The tension in the room is palpable, each touch a spark that ignites the bonfire of desire within you both. You lean into him, your breasts brushing against his chest, your body craving the closeness that only he can provide. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the air, a testament to the love you share. You're both lost in the moment, in the symphony of your bodies, and the crescendo is just within reach. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you get closer, your breathing shallow and erratic. 

And when the climax hits, it's like a supernova, explosive and all-consuming, leaving you both gasping for air. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a balm to your soul as the waves of pleasure wash over you.

[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

Found-Family headcanons for a³'s coven of chaos, part 1: (because they all deserved more time with each other)

(part 2, here.)

(part 3, here.)

Agatha learned spanish for Rio, obviously—and spices up her dialogue with Spanish phrases out of habit. I assume she also knows other languages, being alive for as long as she has.

But I'd also like to think that language-learning gradually becomes something they all surprise each other with. And this is definitely super self-indulgent, because I'm always ecstatic when my native English-speaker friends are interested in learning my language.

For example, I definitely think Billy would ask Alice to teach him korean—and she'd be really excited for that. Not to mention, I feel like Billy just has the vibe of someone who'd be interested in learning different languages. (and korean in particular I think he'd definitely find interesting.)

I also definitely think Jen would try learning Sicilian for Lilia, considering the effort she makes to understand her and keep her comfortable towards the end. Lilia would be so moved, because she probably hasn't spoken to anyone in her mother-tongue in centuries. Like, it's literally considered an endanged language. (“Currently considered a “vulnerable” language by UNESCO, Sicilian faces increasing pressure from standard Italian, though it remains stronger than nearly all other Italian language varieties.”)

Mrs. Davis loves making food for all of them, always trying to diversify her cooking to suit their appetites, their cultures, the things each of them can eat, etc. It's a lot, but she doesn't mind!! She's a grandma!! She loves feeding people—and she missed having someone to cook for.

She grows her greens all by herself, too. Rio occasionally helps her with weeding and stuff. Mrs. Davis is freaked out by her rancid vibes at first, but ends up saying she's a “very sweet girl,” to which everyone responds by staring at her horrified.

Mrs. Davis would also definitely make a chore chart for everyone, but it never works out for a NUMBER of reasons.

First or all, Agatha always skips her turn with cleaning, saying that “she forgot.” She knows that either Billy or Sharon will just take care of it anyways. (Jen refuses to do any of Agatha's chores. “She can either do it by herself or drown in her own garbage-”)

Lilia always gets distracted and leaves her chores unfinished. She can only ever remember laundry, for some reason—she does everyone's laundry. But other than that, jeez. My girl is messy and that's okay. She has her very own unique way of finding where she puts her stuff, but others would merely call it chaos. Jen always picks up after her—and Lilia always huffs and puffs about how, “well now I can't find anything!”

Alice is the sort of person who accidentally creates messes everywhere, then stuffs everything wherever she finds. In drawers, under beds, you name it. Very, “out of sight, out of mind.” Like, she probably has “a chair” where she throws all her clothes.

Billy is very responsible, always abiding to the chore chart and oftentimes doing Agatha's chores too.

Jen is a total neat freak. She wants everything to be organised and under control—and she needs everything to smell nice.

She always makes the others scented candles. Agatha claims they're “useless garbage,” but uses them anyways.

Jen is also the one who usually keeps track of the bills and expenses, since she earns the most through her, “real job.”

Lilia is the sort of person to get lost in the mall, or even just the super-market. Alice has needed to look for her more than once.

Agatha loves crushing Jen's videos by appearing in the background and doing whatever bullshit she feels like.

Alice and Billy are everyone's mediators. Whenever someone gets in an argument, they're the ones who force them to work it out.

Alice is very protective of Sharon and Lilia, because she has mommy issues. Agatha has the opposite short of mommy issues—but Sharon and Lilia treat them both like they're their kids.

The first time Billy brought Eddie to meet his coven, they literally put him through trials to decide whether he's worthy to date their son. Eddie is surprised he's been coven-approved.

“These women are insane, Billy—but then again, so am I for sticking around anyways.”

Eddie is very tired. His favourite coven members are Jen and Alice, who he considers the most normal. I REALLY think he'd fuck with Jen, because they're both so done with everyone else.

[doublejango]

I am already seeing virtue signaling posts from people saying "I don't care what you believe or how you voted..."

That's great. I care. I care a lot. The outcome of this election effects me, but so much more than me. I care. It matters. And if it really doesn't matter to you? Good for you. If you are privileged enough, safe enough, and entitled enough to truly not care about how the election will impact other people... I can't even imagine what that must be like. Nice, I guess?

I spent most of last night and this morning crying.

I'm done with tears now, and have moved on to rage.

And you know what? I promise not to let it burn out. Because smiles and positivity may work for many of us, and I'm not going to lose mine either, I promise not to lose my queer joy--they can rip it from my cold dead hands, not to get too damn dramatic here--but I'm also not in the mood to start forgiving and smiling and welcoming Nazis into the bar.

So. I will hold onto anger. I've been tolerant and accepting long enough in life... and have learned something important about what causes the worst harm.

I have been gay bashed before. Violently. Blood. Broken bones. Lost teeth. And you know what the worst part of the recovery of all of that was, the part that did the most psychological and emotional damage? It wasn't the actual bashing itself. It wasn't even the memory of exactly what it felt like to have something swung full force into my face with extremely violent intent. It was the denial from my "friends" and family afterwards. The people who wanted to deny that it was a hate crime. The people who wanted me to shrug it off and not be upset about it. The people who loved to say oh well it wasn't that bad. You know what helped? Letting myself feel fury. Letting myself name the attack as hate. "It wasn't that bad," though, they said, asif it was their judgment to make--endless hours of dental procedures, pain, wounds that never fully healed, the trauma, the lost work, the new experience of vomiting blood with broken jaws and knocked out teeth. Because it wasn't that bad. And there was so much self-reproach, because I could have avoided it. I wasn't the intended target. He was swinging for a lesbian with me. When the attacker burst out of hiding he was swinging for the side of her head, her temple. I jumped in between them. Didn't think. It was an impulse. Protect the people you care about. So I took it to the face. And I grabbed him. I threw him, and fell doing it. I remember being on my knees in the mud. Seeing my teeth in the mud. Seeing my blood just. Everywhere. And knowing I needed to push back to my feet immediately because it might not be over.

We were lucky. It was over. He hadn't expected anyone to fight back. He ran.

But the people who claimed to love me didn't want to deal with the idea that it was a hate crime. They wanted it to be random and meaningless. That made their world a little safer, I guess. And their denial made my world colder. And my recovery lonelier. Harder. They put me down for "bringing it on myself." As if it would have been more virtuous to let this woman take that attack to her temple, as if I would have been more valid for standing by and watching it happen.

There are so many more stories I can tell you, but the lesson is almost invariably the same: the ugliest hurt is often the one caused by the people who just turn away when you identify what happened to you. The hurts that cut the deepest and last the longest often come from the people we thought we could trust, because they want you to just get over it, don't talk about it, admit it could have been worse, don't call it That.

The betrayal from people who are supposed to have your back? That deepens wounds, deepens trauma.

I won't be that person. I won't tell you to smile and turn the other cheek when someone shows you they hate you. Do whatever you need to do to survive--physically, emotionally, psychologically. Just don't give up, and don't let the cowards force you into feeling shame for not giving up and letting the world break you.

Never be ashamed to refuse to break.

Never let someone shame you for choosing strength. For drawing your line in the sand.

I wanted the "exciting" times of my life to be behind me. But they're not--so be it. I'm not going to tone myself down to be safer. I don't care about my own safety anymore. Any self-preservation drive broke a long time ago when it comes to homophobia. I promise to always be ready to fight. To be a queer menace to "polite" society. I promise to be out and loud and gay, to be a shield however I can for those who can't be out, who can't fight back, who can't even speak up because it wouldn't be safe for them to do so. They are valid, too. And I love them. And I will have their fucking backs. I promise to, in my real off-the-internet life, be someone who will always jump in and speak up if I see queer people being harassed or shamed--especially if they're young. I am older. I will fight for my baby gays. I will love them.

And I will never, never put anyone down for refusing to welcome Nazis into the bar. We don't look the other way and quietly tolerate them. Not here.

I may not be around much for the next few days. I need to handle my own shit. My own fury. My own grief. Because right now, there is so much grief.

But I won't be going anywhere.

I will fight to stay.

Whatever it takes.

I'm not giving up.

If I end up on my knees in the mud again, staring at my own blood and teeth, metaphorically or in fucking reality, so be it. I will get back up. And I will keep getting back up. I won't let go of the anger. The spite. And I definitely won't let go of my love for every queer person, the ones I know and the ones I don't, because that love is what will give me strength to get through this. Whatever comes next.

I may not have much sense of self-preservation. But goddamn, I will fight for you.

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese/GoldenSpice Playlist

Ok, time to stop being a bitch and post the ship playlist I keep harping on about already.

Gonna mark each song with an emoji to signify if it's meant to either be Burning Spice's POV (🔺) or Golden Cheese's (🧀). It's also going to be band/singer name first, song name second, for ease of understanding

Thank you to everyone who's reached out to me, both on here and on AO3, with song suggestions! A good chunk of these came from me myself, but a lot of people introduced me to plenty more songs that I loved and agreed suited these two perfectly. It's been fun putting a playlist together with this help, it feels like a fun group project now lol. (Hell, you guys are actually helping me think of new writing material. Music is a huge source of inspiration and creativity for me, as I'm sure you've noticed. In a way, you're all indirectly making fic requests lol)

You're all still more than welcome to keep shooting me song ideas to add, the playlist is ever-expanding! I'll just come back to this post and edit any new additions in. (This playlist is 3x longer than my PitayaFire one. I need you all to understand how big of a deal that is for me personally. I never thought I'd be this down bad for a ship besides that one. It's fucking surreal)

Some of it is meant to sound one-sided, others like it's a mutual love/relationship. I'll let you guess which is which lol. Now rock out to Evil Spice Man x Pretty Cheese Lady with me 🤘🤘🤘

Mindless Self Indulgence - Shut Me Up🔺

Fall Out Boy - I Don't Care🔺(with the Wild Spice crew as the backup singers!!!)

Mariah Carey - Obsessed 🧀

Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You🔺🧀

Lady Gaga - Bad Romance🔺🧀

Dead or Alive - You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)🔺

Mindless Self Indulgence - What Do They Know?🔺

Britney Spears - Toxic 🧀

Fish in a Birdcage - Rule #34🔺(this is also a great PureShadow song ngl. It's how it was first introduced to me, even lol)

Shayfer James - Filthy Habit🔺

King Gnu - SPECIALZ🔺🧀 (look up the English version of the lyrics. Very BurningCheese-core imo)

Mindless Self Indulgence - This Hurts🔺

Jack Black - Peaches🔺(shout out to the anon in my inbox who suggested this. Joke's on them, I had this on the playlist right from the start lolololololol)

Arctic Monkeys - R U Mine?🔺

Lady Gaga - Poker Face 🧀

Olly Murs (feat. Flo Rida) - Troublemaker 🧀

Rihanna - Where Have You Been🔺(fun fact: I had this playing on a loop as I wrote "Our Little Dance" to get into the Yandere Spice mindset lol)

Lady Gaga - Judas 🧀

Miike Snow - Genghis Khan🔺

The Orion Experience - Obsessed With You🔺(this song is just really funny. You can probably apply it to all Beast x Ancient ships tbh)

Nine Inch Nails - Closer🔺

Mindless Self Indulgence - 5TR82HE11🔺

Air Traffic Controller - This Is Love🔺

Bad Omens - THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND🔺🧀

Isabel LaRosa - favorite 🧀

Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch🔺(listen I imagined Spice singing this to Golden and just started howling with laughter, it's fucking hysterical ok)

ENHYPEN - Bite Me🔺

Scissor Sisters - I Can't Decide🔺(GC would sing a few parts tho)

5 Seconds of Summer - Teeth🔺🧀 (mostly Spice though)

Buerak - Культ Тела 🔺(look up English lyrics, very Yandere Spice coded. Thank you to the anon who suggested it)

Tom Lehrer - The Masochism Tango🔺

Lady Gaga - Disease 🧀

G-Eazy (with Halsey) - Him & I🔺🧀

Britney Spears - ...Baby One More Time🔺(imagine Spice singing this while stuck in prison. Please. He's singing and the other Beasts want to off themselves because it's so annoying and he won't stop. Please it is so funny. I have so much fun imagining this freak acting stupid-)

[rina-teatia]

Stockings, panties, skirt and heels (18+)

Summary: Everything that Gojo put on exited Getou. As usual, two idiots can't get laid in any way, but smart women save them (they are really idiots but thats funny).

Characters: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Ieiri Shoko

Tags: Past Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru Being an Idiot, Foot Fetish, Stockings, Student Getou Suguru, Ieiri Shoko is a Good Friend, Student Ieiri Shoko, Fluff and Humor, Blow Jobs, Foot Jobs

Notes: hi guys! my name is Rina Tea-Tia and English is not my native language. However, I really want to make friends with you and I have a lot of work on jujutsu kaisen so I hope we get along 🥺 pleeeeeeease i just want friends in fandom 😭😭😭

Words: 2934

“Holy shit! How do you wear this?!” Gojo stood on the balcony of the student dormitory of the magic college and concentrated on stretching thin tiny women's panties in different directions.

“It's fine, you idiot!”

“Ouch!!!”

Shoko threw a comb at his head, causing the panties to fall out of his crooked hands. Gojo rubbed the back of his head, nonetheless looking at her with a smile as he fixed his glasses that had slipped down on the tip of his nose.

“We don't need to put stupid gyoniku sausage! That's why they're so small. Give it here.”

Shoko was laying out her clothes after drying, and Gojo came into her room to get under her skin. However, he obediently picked up the underwear and returned them to Shoko. Probably, another girl would have been ashamed to sort through underwear in front of a friend of the opposite sex, but Shoko didn't care at all. She had already taken away some bras from Gojo, which that jerk was trying on instead of his glasses. Asshole. “You'd better go to Getou. You have nothing to do.”

“To Getou?” Gojo repeated, idly searching for gold in his ear with his little finger. “I see him every day anyway. It's more interesting here. Oh, and what is this? Tights?”

Shoko turned to look sourly at Gojo. He had pulled off the nylon stockings from the clothesline and was now stretching them in all directions.

“Fuck, Satoru, these are stockings! Give them give back! You'll tear them up!” This time the white-haired boy was hit with deodorant. Gojo didn't let himself get caught off guard again, using his technique just in time, and the deodorant froze in mid-air a few centimeters away from him before falling.

“Haha, I'm sorry. So, these are stockings? They’re so… tight. Don’t your legs hurt in them? It must be very tight.” Gojo innocently fluttered his eyelashes and returned the stockings. Shoko rolled her eyes, took her piece of clothing away from him and began to fold it carefully.

“They don't hurt me at all. Nylon stretches well and is barely felt on the skin. These are not compression stockings.” The girl herself went out on the balcony and collected the rest of her things from there so that Gojo's playful hands would not get to them. He sat down on a chair in her room with his legs spread and his arms outstretched.

“Really? Come on! How is this possible?! Is nylon some kind of material for shamans? Is it using the territory expansion technique?!”

Shoko made a face that looked like a statue from Easter Island. Sometimes Gojo amazed her with his natural idiocy beyond measure, and being in the same room with him for more than fifteen minutes became a torture. And how did Getou tolerate him on a regular basis?! Moreover, how did Gojo manage to be one of the best college students if he had brains like a shrimp?!

“Oh Gods… Well, if you want, put them on yourself. Then tell me what's so tight about them.” Shoko rubbed the bridge of her nose. These words were not an invitation, but rather another mockery, but Gojo suddenly found himself near her underwear organizer.

“Really? Thanks!” He pulled out the stockings with lightning speed and returned to the chair. Shoko only saw him begin to unbutton his pants before she turned away.

“Fuck, Gojo! It wasn't an offer! You’re a complete idiot!

“Look, have I’ve already put on one… stocking? Is it the right word?

“Are you with your pants down?!”

“Of course! They're stockings. How do I put them on with my pants?!”

“I don't want to see your underwear!”

“But if I put on my pants, you won't see the stockings on me!”

“Satoru, for fuck's sake, Gojo, darn you,” Shoko sidled over to her closet and groped for one of the skirts. The soft cloth flew to the side where Gojo was supposedly sitting, and he deftly caught it.

“Thank you!” He rustled his clothes for a couple of minutes. “It's done! That's it, you can take a look.”

Shoko turned around and immediately doubled over with laughter. Gojo looked surprisingly natural — they wore the same uniform, and in general, the combination of a women's skirt and a men's Gojo's blouse looked as if it had been intended. The stockings were black, they gracefully darkened Gojo's legs, making them even thinner and longer than they already were. By the way, his legs were extraordinary long, not crooked, almost not hairy, with a chiseled curve of the calves and fragile ankles. What a model indeed.

“What's so funny?” Gojo was grinning stupidly, his hands on his hips. “You know, you're right! In general, nothing is tight. Only a little bit in the hips, but these are stockings, not tights, so it's kinds fine. If it were tights, I think I would have died when they squeezed my balls!

“Ha-ha-ha, what the hell, Gojo!” Shoko continued to laugh. “You should try heels with these on! You look like a balding Mei Mei!”

“Really?” Gojo laughed as well. He opened the door of Shoko's closet to admire himself in the mirror. “I think we have the same foot size”

Shoko, choking with laughter, pointed to the corner of the room. There stood really beautiful high-heeled shoes. Gojo put them on and tried to walk amid both’s laughter, but almost fell right on Shoko, and she caught him by the arms.

“What's going on here? Your roaring is heard from... — Getou knocked on the door and entered the room. He froze in mid-sentence when he saw this picture: Shoko on the bed holding Gojo standing on high-heels, wearing stockings and a skirt. Both of the merrymakers burst out laughing again, while Getou looked at them in complete awe.

“Getou... fuck, Getou...” Shoko moaned between fits of laughter and waved her hands “This is not what you thought!”

“Does it suit me, Suguru?!” Gojo somehow straightened up, trying to get into a sexy pose, but he looked like a locust.

Getou looked at them both for a couple of minutes with an unreadable expression on his face. Gojo giggled, and Shoko narrowed her eyes: Getou was clearly embarrassed, his light, slightly yellowish face became a couple of shades closer to red.

“Idiots,” Getou finally told them, quickly leaving the room and slamming the door.

“Suguru! Stop!” Gojo howled, falling off his heels in another burst of laughter.

Shoko narrowed her eyes again, but didn't say anything. She thought about something, but decided not to voice her suspicions yet.

***

A little over a week has passed since that incident. Shoko smoked slowly, listlessly twirling a short strand of hair on her finger. She watched her two friends practice. She had some small suspicions about Getou, and she was still thinking about how to confirm them.

The guys had been more than just friends for a long time. They both understood that. They even confessed to each other to some extent, but it was still as if something was missing, they were shy about it and preferred to behave as usual. Or maybe it was only Getou who thought so, and Gojo was just being stupid. This six-eyed dummy was capable of intelligent thoughts only during combat, but not in interpersonal relationships. It was partly true. Shoko knew Gojo well and he sometimes cried to her about Getou's cold attitude. Gojo was sure that he was the victim of unrequited sympathy. In general, everything was difficult. Shoko hated to get involved in this, but if it wasn't for her powers of observation, they would have continued to wallow helplessly in their pile of emotional shit like blind kittens. But they had eight eyes for two!

After lunch, she stole Gojo for a conversation. Getou went to take a shower, and it was a great opportunity to talk privately.

“Suguru likes legs. Legs in stockings.” Shoko said from the doorway, lighting another cigarette. She and Gojo were walking around the college grounds.

“What?” He bowed his head in a disbelief.” What kind of legs?!

“Ordinary fucking legs. Human legs.” Shoko rolled her eyes.

“Well… good for him. And where did that information come from?” Gojo grimaced.

“He has a second Twitter profile that he thinks no one knows about. He likes all kinds of foot fetish shit from it.” She chuckled. “He didn't even close the account. And only the main Getou profile is subscribed to it.”

“Shoko... why do I need to know that?” Gojo clearly became more gloomy, he kicked one of the stones on the road. “No one wants to know what his friends are jerking off to!”

Shoko rolled her eyes even more actively.

“He's jerking off on you, Gojo. On your legs, you stupid crustacean.”

“What makes you think that?!”

“Satoru, he liked it when you put on my stockings, skirt and heels!”

“Did he?!”

“Of course not, he was just looking at you for three minutes and blushing for nothing!”

“You're lying!”

“Like I have nothing else to do! Check it yourself, if you don't believe me! “Shoko threw her skirt at him, which she didn't have time to change into after training, and then left.”

***

Getou just wanted simple peace of mind, maybe life in the forest, so that no one would touch him. However, this wasn’t possible when your friend was Gojo Satoru. Getou made himself a cup of tea and sat on the floor in a traditional pose to relax a little when the door to his room was abruptly pushed open. Gojo was standing in the doorway. In a skirt. In stockings. And, damn, on heels.

“Ha, Suguru-kun! It's me, Shoko-chan! I think my stockings are torn from behind… Can you take a look?” Gojo howled in a squeaky voice, and then walked over to Getou, who was just stunned. He was staring up at Satoru, dumbfounded. His face was flushed.

”The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Suguru—kun, come on, help me!” Gojo continued to whine. He arched gracefully at the waist, slightly lifting the skirt so that Getou got a full view of what was under, not that he wanted to, though. There was indeed a small tear on one of the stockings, extending downwards with pulled-out nylon fibers. Getou grimaced and pushed his friend's ass away from him.

“Listen, I do not know how to help you. I advise you to start with a psychiatrist.” He had to continue pushing Gojo’s ass away as he immediately tried to shove it back in Getou’s face, threatening to sit on it.

“Wa-a-a! Suguru-kun baka!” Gojo finished his attack and eventually turned around, looking at Getou with displeasure from under his glasses. He spoke normally.” Actually… I just want to check something out. Relax.”

“What? …” Getou blushed even more, awkwardly crawling back until he was stopped by the toe of a delicate shoe pressing on his groin. From this, Suguru choked on air and gasped hoarsely.

“Really?! You’re hard already…” Gojo looked genuinely surprised.

“Wh-what?! No! Satoru!” Getou felt like he was drowning in a swamp, with every jerk he got more and more bogged down and could not do anything, he fell deeper into the very essence of his preferences, secret desires and fetishes, which Gojo somehow mysteriously revealed.

Meanwhile, he took off his glasses and put them on the table. Now big blue eyes full of tenderness were looking at Getou, glowing in the semi-darkness of the room.

“Suguru...” He moved closer and pressed Getou's head against his thigh, covered with a skirt’s fabric. “Just relax. I can do anything for you. That's why I'm here... looking like this.”

“How the hell did you even know ...” Getou felt a terrible mixture of seething feelings. It was difficult for him to resist Gojo. In this form.

“I know a lot of things.” Gojo chuckled. He brazenly lied, deciding to keep silent about Shoko's role in this study.

Getou carefully hugged his slender legs with both hands, stroking their curves, slightly pulling off the nylon with his fingers. Gojo was warm, and Getou's breathing was getting faster and faster. Gojo's legs were just... something. Luxurious, perfect. He lowered his head lower to bury his nose between the guy's thighs, which he immediately pushed together like a shy girl.

“I didn't want to tell you. I was afraid to scare you,” Getou admitted, lightly squeezing the soft part of Gojo's thighs before lowering his hands down. With a careful movement, he took off the shoe that was pressing on his groin. God… Gojo's legs were indeed perfection itself. The stockings clung tightly to a neat foot, emphasizing the protruding bones and the smooth curve of the ankle. A thicker black cloth hid the toes. Getou bit his lip, his pupils dilated with delight.

“You... you really don't mind what's going to happen? This is... not quite typical. But I can try to make it nice for you as well.” Getou raised his head to look adoringly at Gojo. He nodded quickly.

“Don't ask, Suguru! I've already said that I want this!” To be honest, he got turned on himself. Getou was sitting with his head right next to his groin, looking up at him… Gojo couldn't believe what was happening.

“Then… Let's take off the heels first. They look great on you, but I bet you're already tired of standing on them.” Getou chuckled, helping to get rid of the second shoe as well. Then he unzipped his fly and lowered his underwear. Gojo's foot went back to his groin, this time the toes gently caressed the erect length. Geto groaned, clutching at the guy's hips. “Damn, you... how did you know that…”

“You want me to jerk you off with my feet?” Gojo smiled. He understood. And once again he ran his foot down Getou’s penis, slightly squeezing it with his toes, as far as the nylon fabric would allow.

“I am!.. Fuck, Satoru... don't say it like that!” Getou groaned again, his fingers gripping the edges of Gojo's skirt. “I mean… Please…”

“I'll do it for you.” He nodded. He gently wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders, playing with his dick with his feet. He alternated between them, making the guy below shudder and squirm. Getoг did not remain in debt for long, he indecently lifted Gojo's skirt and quickly pulled off his underwear.

“Kya-ya, Suguru-kun!” He screamed again like an anime girl. Getou's eyes widened.

“You… Are you also wearing women's underwear?!” He looked up at Gojo with a dumbfounded look.

“Please don't tell Shoko...” he giggled. “She only allowed me to take a skirt.… The rest… I had to get it. She's going to kill me!

“You're just... something.” Getou exhaled. Thin girlish panties didn't cover Gojo's erection in the slightest, and he tried to shove his cock upward, but it was obvious how uncomfortable it was. His scrotum dangled to one side and without support it didn't feel secure either. Getou felt like the dirtiest pervert in the world as he pulled Gojo's woman's panties down over his stockinged thighs and got under his skirt like in a tent. He began sucking, paying particular attention to his balls. Gojo twitched and moved closer. He was trying hard too, kneading and pressing lightly on Getou's cock, from which the pre-ejaculate was flowing generously. The socks of his stockings caught the drops and rubbed them higher, the stiff nylon was getting wet and painful, especially when Gojo started to play with the head. Getou kept up with him and took the other man's cock in his mouth, choking on it every time Gojo got particularly rough with it. His mouth was filling with saliva all too quickly. Getou thrust himself more roughly, tears of pleasure running down his cheeks and saliva from the corners of his lips, the tight fabric of the skirt and Gojo's gorgeous thighs were surrounding him, he felt like the happiest man in the world, not thinking about anything.

Gojo could barely keep from cumming, the blowjob from Getou was wet, he already felt saliva on his thighs, and soon on his feet — Getou came first right on them, unable to hold on any longer. Gojo rubbed his cum over his stockings and went over the entire length of the other’s penis again. They both puffed and moaned, clinging to each other: Getou grabbed Gojo by the hips and skirt edges, and Gojo grabbed his shoulders and hair. Satoru's orgasm was also approaching, he pulled Getou away from his groin, but, not calculating the speed of his discharge, accidentally poured out on his face.

“Ah... damn it… I'm sorry...” Gojo widened his eyes in surprise. He didn't expect it, but the sight of Getou wiping his cum off his face was mesmerizing.

“Don't apologize...” Geto was clearly delighted. “To take a cumshot on my face when you look like this… It's something.” He pulled Gojo by the hand and sat him down beside himself. “You're amazing.”

They kissed, reaching for that kiss at the same time.

Shoko was sitting in her room smoking. There were aahs, oohs, sighs, juicy wet slaps and the creaking of the bed from behind the wall.

«Having fun, these perverts… God, it's hard to work as a matchmaker. They'll keep me up all night after stealing half of my closet.» — she thought, sighing and throwing the cigarette into the ashtray. «Satoru, you're going to buy me new clothes. I won’t wear panties, skirt and stockings that both of you have finished off on.»

[sillyhahasilly]

FREAKY CALDRE YURI HCS!!!

this is MY SHIT yall. (i have such a crush on fem andre im sorry sm of these are abt her.) also im going to hell for this. this is the freakiest shit ive written.

they practiced kissing when they were young. an innocent peck on the lips. as they grew they would make out sometimes bc they both wanted to do it. it was "casual" but had lots of feelings behind it. (known for andrea but cal's a little repressed)

the first time they had sex was set off when they were both smoking one night. cal (callie still uses the nickname) was complaining abt how awkward doing anything w the male vers of rachel is (anyone have any name ideas for him?) and how she could never get into it. andrea was like "I could do better." they started making out and it got really hot and cal found herself SO into it. she would of kept going if andrea didnt stop bc they were high and she wanted to make sure cal really wanted it. few hours later when they sobered up (while taking lots of kissing breaks) they had sex. just fingering and touching clits and shit. andrea was right.

andrea is more of a service top, but not a stone cold butch yk. (google it) she loves pleasuring cal and making her feel good so fucking much.

andrea loves eating pussy send tweet. she has made cal come from it multiple times in a row before. she eats cal out and then kisses her and asks if she can taste herself.

andrea likes fucking cal w a toy and sitting over her a soaking up all the little reactions she has to it. also IK that strap is big.

people w vaginas can go longer so these bitches GO AT IT. they fuck almost every sleepover. they fuck where they shouldnt.

(im projecting) a lot of body worship adjacent stuff on both sides. they have very handsy sex, touching all over their bodies and kissing everywhere.

tw sh and bloodplay!! andrea cuts cal and praises her for being such a good girl and taking it. she gets her hands all up in the wounds and prods at them and says "look im finger fucking you." (NOT her joke btw. cal once said its like ur fingerfucking me there and andrea reuses it everytime). and then after that she uses those same fingers covered in blood to finger cal and then eat her out!! with the blood on there!!

seeing andrea w her hair down turns cal on so much. she pulls tight on to her long strands while they fuck. she loves when they fall down onto her face and body when andrea is over her.

andrea has big tits. cal cups them and hold them all the fucking time. that joke abt walking up to ur gf and squeezing the air where their boobs are is smth that cal basically invited. both sexually and non-sexually. ermm tit sucking/nipple play and cal putting her face in them.

cal likes being tied up so andrea can have her way w her. either that or being told that she can't move.

andrea makes it her goal to make cal squirt.

speaking of that, the second time they fucked andrea ate cal out for the first time right after fingering her and playing w her clit to the point of orgasm. cal squirted. lowkey scared them both, esp andrea who got it all over her face. cal was like " i did not know I could do that." same w andrea tbh. (poor female sex ed :/)

them dry humping each other's thighs. yeah.

andrea fucking cal and when cal is abt to come andrea says "m!rachel couldnt make u feel this could, could he?" and makes cal agree w it before she can come.

cal teasing andrea when they kiss by js roughly grabbing her vagina thru her clothes and groping it. andrea loves it.

ok so. once they were planning zd. and there were guns. and cal was like "I want you to point it at my head" (we all know the drill) and before u know it the tip of a gun (unloaded dw) is in her pussy! andre rubbing her clit with it and then putting the tip in her own mouth after. they keep pulling the trigger for the thrill of it and they both act like its loaded cause they are FREAKS.

cal fingering andrea in her lap and andrea biting her shoulder and neck to the point of drawing blood. better yet andrea riding the strap in cals lap.

both would really be into making the other suck the strap esp after someones js been fucked w it. cal likes to order it as a "look how much youll do for me thing" and andrea likes cal to suck it getting cal fucked out and overstimulated thing.

they would both be into period sex. cause the blood. cal likes getting it all over her sm. cal js loves blood and andrea loves getting cal going. (andrea also likes the blood). one of them will be having bad cramps and the other will say "yk what helps w that??' like they didnt have the same exact convo last month.

cal. nipple. piercings. andrea biting and pulling on them.

andrea biting and sucking on cal's inner thighs when she eats her out.

andrea calling cal a whore and a slut. cal calling HERSELF a whore and a slut.

tw sh! they both craved their initials into their bodies once during sex.

[edelgarfield]

wait actually. I know I've been harsh on the Raven Queen (still am, I think she's extremely interesting and the most sympathetic of the gods, but still suffers from a lot of the same flaws & tbh I think she'd agree with me) but it just hit me that she herself is an example of how the gods have abused mortals.

we don't know the exact circumstances behind her relationship with the previous god of death, but imo hearing her tell the story gave me all kinds of ick. She was his follower, then his lover, then his successor & now she has to carry the burden that he himself didn't want. forever.

like I'm generally of the opinion that it's impossible for a god & a mortal to ever have a relationship as equals. i'm sure there are exceptions & I still think it's a cool dynamic to explore with lots of tragic romance vibes, but just as a general rule i question how valid a mortal's consent is when their partner holds that much power. and the fact that the Raven Queen seemingly was his follower first makes it even MORE questionable.

like I could probably write an essay about this but just thinking of it from the previous god of death's perspective. He's tired, he doesn't want the burden of divinity anymore, he wants to experience the peace that he's granted so many others. completely understandable. and so his solution is to ask the woman he supposedly loves to take on that burden? the burden that's so immense & heavy that he can't bear it anymore? a burden that he, as a god, is far better suited to bearing than a mortal woman? he asks the woman he loves to literally abandon who she is, her name, face, identity, & become the concept of death? forever?

who knows what really happened & what the circumstances were but just on the surface that seems like such a horrendously awful thing to do to someone you supposedly love. (which again makes me question how the gods actually understand love as a concept.)

like sure it's super tragically romantic but idk. I could probably put this into better words if I had the time but for me romantic love is agreeing to journey through life together, it's wanting my partner to be happy & healthy, & not wanting them to sacrifice that happiness for my sake. it's supporting & encouraging them to be the best version of themselves they can be.

i just can't imagine not only asking someone I love to take up this mantle in my stead, but leaving them to do it alone. just. abandoning them to a fate that was too much for me. how could i ever find eternal rest knowing i was leaving them behind?

like the previous god of death had the matron's love & support despite the burden of his position, but then he passed that burden onto her & left her with nothing.

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[skylarbee]

you can poke your head behind the mountain peak, don't have to mean that you've gone into hiding

[pgranateseeds]

I know a lot of people want it, but I don't think we'll ever get a conversation between Sandra Lynn and any of the bad kids about what Bobby Dawn did to her.

A. It's just unnecessary. We already know the gist, we can already see the ramifications of that action, and a conversation would just be retreading already discovered ground

B. Sandra's relationship with Fig is nearly always in turmoil. Ever since seeing her offer a shoulder to Adaine when she drank heavily when it was her, Fig has been avoiding Sandra when she could. She said in the fight when Baxter arrived, "I'm not trying to see my mom right now," and they didn't talk At All when she took them to the temple ruins. If Sandra Lynn was going to talk to anyone about Bobby, it would be to Fig just bc of closeness, and that's just not happening, at least not for a while. Also i see people define Bobby's short and disastrous relationship with Sandra as sexual grooming, and i find it hard to believe that if she was groomed, she'd tell her daughter, especially not to then say "Fig You Were Groomed Too" or "Fig, Don't Trust Random Men." I think people put way too much emphasis on Fig's bits where she kissed adults in earlier seasons and said "would i know if i had sex? What if I've accidentally had sex?", like those were just jokes, the latter being a joke abt how Fig didnt understand what sex was as a 14 year old, and i don't believe it would be fun for the table if those jokes were treated with the solumn seriousness of fig then being a grooming victim. Also Fig already distrusts men, she was right about Porter and she was stalking Ruben and literally every man outside of her family that she's come in contact with, she's either bullied or investigated, she doesn't need to be told a tale about how men ain't shit

C. Bobby is just much less of an antagonistic player in this conflict than previously expected. Yeah he was involved with The Big Bad, but after the reveal, a majority of the focus shifted onto Porter, Jace, and the Rat Grinders. I don't see the next two episodes having a moment where they sit down and talk about Bobby in depth, beyond "he was/is an asshole"

[solradguy]

Whenever I see someone being transphobic on twt in a bridget thread i reply with three pictures of my mains: ky kiske from ac+r, ky kiske from rev 2, and ky kiske from strive.

it self selects for people who actually play the game. it’s canon that he’ll fight off transphobes with the blade. and if they actually played guilty gear they’d get the underlining messages

While it can be really funny to bully these guys back, please keep in mind that nothing you can say or do to these people will hurt them or waste as much of their time as what they say will stick with you or waste your time. It might be funny to send them a bunch of Ky pictures, but what they're doing is laughing that the only response the people they hate can give them is sending a bunch of pictures of anime boys.

The only thing that works is blocking them. They've turned being an asshole into a recreational sport and getting any sort of response in return is a victory for them.

[randomnameless]

I'm curious about jugdral's story but really don't want to play those games. Is watching a playthrough worth it?

Mmh...

FE4's PT are long as fuck, because FE4 is a very long game with long long long chapters!

Back in my days, people wrote playthroughs instead of doing videos about them, and reading is always way less time consuming than watching a video - but the video has the OST which is really good, and you can get more attached to the characters than with a screenshot PT!

(if you're interested, I sort of posted my own FE4 PT under the tag FE4 run! I think I tried to screencap all the plot moments !)

You have scripts available on Serenes Forest, and you have the FE4 Oosawa manga, that takes, uh, some liberties with the canon, but if you want to get a feeling of the characters, it's here (with pretty 90s art!)

And once the FE4 run is over, you must absolutely watch/read a FE5 run because FE5 is imo the best part of the duology and then SF has some supplementary materials like Kaga's notes or notes that can be found in artbooks (FE Treasure!).

But if you're a bit overwhelmed, I'll happily answer to your asks about some plot points, if you want!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

gold ring

words: 1.3k

warnings: brief suspicion of cheating, established relationship, soft!rafe, proposal, fluffy

“rafe!” you groan out, tired of hearing his phone constantly dinging for the past ten minutes. 

when rafe doesn't answer, you slap your laptop closed, frown on your face as you head up the stairs, muttering to yourself about him interrupting your work that he KNOWS is important.

“rafe!” you shout, entering his bedroom. you can finally hear the spray of the shower, explaining why he was letting his phone go off.

you grab it from his bedside table, yanking the charger free as you go to silence it, but upon trying to stop the dinging, you skim over the notifications.

you don't believe it at first. it must be some kind of mistake, you're sure.

you click on the name of rafes ex girlfriend, opening up the text message thread.

rafe: when can we meet?

ex: whenever works for you 🥺

ex: i miss you a lot btw

ex: this friday at 6pm? we can meet at the country club like we always used to. maybe get dinner? can't wait to see you xxx

you frown at the messages, quickly locking the phone and setting it down when you hear the shower turn off.

rafe steps out with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“hey princess.” he smiles. “how's the essay going?”

“fine.” your tone is cold, surprising rafe. “your phone was ringing so i silenced it.”

you walk out of the room without another word, needing to return to your homework, but when you sit back down at what has become your desk, you can't concentrate on the words on the screen, your anger bubbling over.

you want to confront rafe, but you need time to breathe otherwise the entire conversation will be unintelligible as you simply sob.

you head upstairs, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder as rafe emerges from the closet, fully dressed.

“where you going babe? got study group?” he questions, glancing at the clock on the wall, realizing there's no way study group would be meeting this late.

“going home.” you mumble, making sure everything you usually leave at rafes is stuffed in your bag.

“you are home?” rafe questions, his expression turning sad when he sees you're not joking.

“no, im not rafe.” you sigh. “i want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

truth is, you've practically moved into tanneyhill since you started dating rafe, but technically you still live at your parents house, only a few doors down from rafes.

“is everything alright?” rafe asks, trying to reach out for you. “what did i do wrong?”

you can't help it anymore, his obvious disrespect for your relationship, something you put years of work into only for him to go back to his ex girlfriend.

“how about you ask your ex?” you question, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“my ex? what are you talking about?” rafe asks, again trying to hold you by your shoulders, but you take a step back before his palms can land on you.

rafe: ive asked you a million times to give that ring back. you never should have taken it in the first place. it was my grandmother's and now it belongs to y/n, not you.

“i saw your texts, rafe. when can we meet? are you fucking kidding me!?” you shout the last sentence.

“baby, wait.” he says softly, grabbing his phone. he opens up the messages, scrolling up so you can see the full context.

ex: i don't know where it is 

rafe: bullshit. give it back or ill call the cops

ex: fine. 

rafe: when can we meet?

“see, baby?” rafe places a soft hand on your shoulder. “i was just trying to get my shit back. i have no interest in my ex at all. i love you.”

“oh, rafe!” you coo out, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “im so sorry i doubted you.”

“it's okay, id also be pissed if you were texting your ex. i didn't tell you just because i wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“keep what a surprise?” you furrow your brows together.

“what do you?- ohhh.” rafe finally catches on, letting out a chuckle. “i see what you're doing.”

you giggle, rising to your tiptoes to press a kiss to rafes soft lips. 

“now let's get back to work on that essay, yeah?” rafe says. “i can help you.”

“and what do you know about microbiology that could possibly help me?” you snicker.

rafe rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, but i can at least be there for moral support.”

--

you've been expecting it for months now, wondering when rafe will pop the question. you know he got the ring back, and while he's taken you on romantic dates and moonlit walks on the beach, you're not sure when he will actually drop to one knee.

“what are you thinking for your nails this week?” your girlfriend asks.

originally, you were doing all white and plain, but recently for summer you've been branching out to bright colors again.

“why, is there a certain color i should get?” you raise your eyebrow at her. 

“well i was gonna get a sparkly white, maybe we could match.” she shrugs. it's no discredit to your friend, but her acting isn't good enough to fool you, and you're sure that rafe asked her to make sure you get something appropriate and properly bridal.

you of course get simple nails that you hope will compliment a silver ring on your finger.

you look at the calendar hanging on the wall, reading through your events for the upcoming week, trying to figure out when rafe may ask the question.

you ultimately give up on trying to figure it out as you head further into the house, calling out for rafe. 

“baby? where are you?” you shout, surprised when you don't get a response. you head up to your bedroom, figuring he must be in the shower, but the bathroom door is wide open when you enter.

you almost miss it, so set on finding rafe, but the dress laying on the edge of the bed ends up catching your attention.

put this on and meet me outside.

you recognize rafes handwriting instantly. you set the paper to the side and look at the dress. its a soft light pink material, nearly white.

you are quick to undress and put on the flowy dress, admiring yourself in the mirror before touching up your hair and makeup next. rafe knows how you like to prepare for big events in your life.

your steps are slow, or at least you attempt to keep them slow, as you want to cherish this moment. your eyes light up with the glow of the backyard, string lights hanging from every tree, and on the edge of the sand, is rafe.

“oh.” you cover your mouth, feeling tears well up in your eyes. this has to be the moment. you run to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he spins you.

“baby, i haven’t even asked yet.” rafe chuckles, setting you down.

“and i’m already saying yes.” you giggle, although it’s no secret to rafe what your answer would be.

“still-” rafe places his hands on your hips, stilling you before he drops down onto one knee, pulling a box out of his pocket. he flips open the lid to reveal the most stunning ring you’ve ever seen, it’s exactly what you envisioned and somehow so much more.

“you’ve made me happier than i ever thought possible. you fixed all my broken pieces and made me whole again. there’s no one else i’d rather spend forever with.”

rafe looks up at you, tears brimming in his eyes, overwhelmed with the emotion of the moment. “will you marry me?”

“yes!” you squeal, falling to your knees alongside rafe and pressing your lips against his. “yes, yes. a million times yes.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[running-with-kn1ves]

Fitness Trainer

A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)

Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.

TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content

And up... and down, just like that."

The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out. 

"One more, you can do one more for me."

"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache. 

"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."

He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own. 

“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”

The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.

You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out. 

You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you. 

You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse. 

Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do. 

“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.” 

You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath. 

Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back. 

His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble. 

He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”

You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.

“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.” 

“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.” 

You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin. 

“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”

Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight. 

“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.” 

“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.” 

He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades. 

“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.

“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.” 

It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing. 

Antoine shook your shoulders. 

“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”

“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.

“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh. 

“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers. 

“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”

The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back. 

“O-okay.. I guess..” 

He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best? 

He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh. 

“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks. 

You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides. 

“Yeah… feels a lot better..” 

“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.

The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual. 

“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.

With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of. 

But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished. 

“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.” 

You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again. 

“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.

Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client. 

“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while. 

Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did. 

“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--” 

“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!” 

You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!

Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though. 

Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door. 

His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out? 

He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere. 

Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got. 

His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear. 

 No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally? 

Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower. 

Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you.