#...also...verbal ticks.

[annasofthe11thdimension]

Pictured: Loop being extremely normal as they lay in their shallow (homemade) grave as they meditate on existence and also if they have annoyed the Researcher enough THIS time for her to murder them and bury them alive.

(Spoilers - they did not annoy her even CLOSE to that much.)

And there is the required reverse image of Odile arriving - she's had a LONG day (i.e. previous loop), and due to this it will take ten minutes before she even acknowledges the shallow grave Loop is laying in, as she was distracted complaining about what Siffrin just did to annoy her.

----

I'd say there's context for all of that, because like...there IS context? Here's the link to the series of fics that HAS that context even! But also...even with context...can't say that it's going to make any of this less weird.

Mostly Odile is looping because due to Loop's wish the universe got rewritten to make Siffrin's repression and emotional issues (the ones bad enough to get him stuck in a time loop in the game) 'someone else's' problem...or at least that's Loop's best theory atm!

Regardless, context or not, I'm quite happy with how the pics came out, and figured I might as well post them here too.

[mipmoth]

The brotherrrrrs

[dontmeanyoudontmissit]

.

[c1trvswurld]

Whenever I'm sad or angry I love just saying "I'll kill you" to no one in particular in an empty room. Genuinely helpful.

[superhoeva]

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 – 𝐦. 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 (𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭; +𝟏𝟖) | what a fucking delight it was to write this, as someone who has a big fat crush on this ^ man right here and as someone who is also a lifelong steeler fan. this one goes out to @ovaryacted (who pretty much beta-ed the first handful of pages for this), @heavenbarnes (who maybe might have been bitten by the robby bug?? no pressure to read babes), @jackabbotsfakeleg (who is the first fellow steelers fan i found on tumblr; this team is my doom but i love them!), plus all the robby fiends

warning(s) include language, inappropriate relations (?),age gap (reader is 25ish/2nd year med student, while robby is pushing 50), he fell first and harder, sexual tension, reader is a steelers fan and from pittsburgh, (american) football talk, baltimore ravens trashing, injury (mentioned), smut, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), handjob, nipple play, bodily fluids, big dick/down bad!robby, special appearance at the end; she's thick, guys... sitting at 5.2k words!

Medical school lecture halls are just as chilly as Robby remembers.

The air feels a little less clean, a little more human, but still. There’s a nip to the air that takes him back to his Monday-Wednesday-Friday EMED 851 lecture. Part of him wishes he had worn one of his hoodies, though that would look a little weird with the button-up and slacks he has on. The light blue–cornflower, the tag reads–top and black bottoms feel odd, tugging at Robby’s skin in a way that his scrubs and cargos don’t.

There’s a wide array of students scattered across the seats of the room. To his surprise, most of them listen to him ramble about airways with attentive eyes and scribble down whatever they can catch. Good. That means that they’re maybe halfway serious about this shit, which earns them 2% of the qualification needed to work in emergency medicine.

Other than a lull of awkward silence at the very beginning plus a few verbal stumbles in the form of curses that cause the class to giggle while he apologizes and gathers himself, the doctor is pretty solid. 

There’s only one other time he flounders, if he should even call it that. It was more of an unforeseen pause. Nothing more than the tick of a few seconds when his eyes lock with yours for the first time today.

You’re already staring in his direction, waiting for him to finish the word that collapses surprisingly easy on his lips at the sight of you. He blinks, a strange flush ricocheting across the skin of his face when you blink at him, even throwing in a little grin just as he snatches back his composure with a distracted um.

The shirt you’re wearing is nice. Simple and fitted. Cap sleeves stop right below your shoulder and reveal intricate lines of ink that swirl back under the fabric in loops that make Robby wonder more than he should. You’re wearing shorts, too. Huh. He’d have half a mind to question how your exposed legs bear the nippy air of the hall, but it doesn’t matter. You make it work–and well–the material cutting off just a little higher than he initially realized.

Zipping his eyes back up to yours, he warms at how you’re picking at your bottom lip; your other hand now using your pen to write down something you remember him saying a few moments earlier.

Covering his gulp with a fast wipe at his beard, Robby somehow finds a way to push out the words that have been stuck in his throat for what feels like longer than the brisk five seconds that have passed since he spoke last.

His head tilts, barely, and his lips twitch into a small smile, dragging his stare from you to the carpet beneath him so he can speak again. Robby plays off the mistake as him thinking–about the question itself and not how you are unmistakably the prettiest thing in this room.

Eleven. That’s how many times he glances at you between then and the end of his lecture. The first three times were a genuine accident, and boy, did they feel like one. Goosebumps flutter across the back of his neck, which he’s rubbed enough times that some of the students probably think there’s something wrong with the tendons there. Robby almost agrees, with the way they keep allowing him to swivel and study you.

The more it happens, the oops of peeking at you, the longer it takes for him to look away. By the end of his knowledge-packed but run-on sentence answers, Robby’s stare cements to you. You’re nodding, legs crossed, and unintentionally drawing patterns with the pad of your finger across the skin of your thigh. For some reason, he’s fairly confident in the fact that you probably don’t even realize you’re doing it.

“Any more questions for Dr. Robinavitch?”

Dr. Robinavitch. Professors, man.

Robby doesn’t try to stop himself from glimpsing in your vicinity. Not right at you but close, so his peripheral can catch any possible movement of your hand raising. His eyes burn with an unsettling eagerness while he waits for something to happen. What the fuck is wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with you for wearing shorts that fit that well even while you’re sitting?

Your hand stays where it is, arm propped against the side of your seat, fingers fiddling with the pen he can tell you’re trying not to click. The small pang of disappointment that rises inside him squashes away in seconds, and he prays that his ears don’t start to hue red after you hold his stare the longest you have for the entire class.

Looking at him through your lashes, you wait. And wait… and wait. A smirk barely ghosts across your mouth, and Robby rips away his stare. Throat bobbing while he swallows, blinking faster than he means to, he looks to the professor.

“Think they’re ready to kick me out, Dr. Hummel. I’ve probably rambled for long enough, yeah?” Robby shrugs. A sheepish smile warms his face when the room echoes with a healthy applause, and Robby almost recoils at the sound. There’s no way Hummel didn’t tell them to do that. And all he can do is stand and take it, hands tucked into his pockets, his thanks an awkward nod and embarrassed grimace-flavored grin.

Robby tries not to blush when he spots you clapping along with everyone else. He tucks his chin, feeling a little silly with how satisfying it feels to know he’s spoken well enough for you to show some appreciation. Or maybe you’re just doing it to be nice. Either way, you’re making the attending pinker than usual.

Class wraps in a daze.

Dr. Hummel leaves Robby lingering to the side, a wave of shuffling backpacks and zippers echoes throughout the hall. There’s a reminder announcement about a research paper due two weeks from today… or is it a presentation? Robby doesn’t listen hard enough to verify.

A sprinkle of pupils, glowing with a luster that only presents itself after their final class of the week concludes, come up to formally greet Robby. All with names he’ll try to remember but won’t. Bright-eyed and buzzing more than he thinks one would be after an hour and a half long lecture on airways, but hey. He appreciates the eagerness, even if it’s a little much.

Doing his best to be polite, Robby tries to seem as if he’s actively listening–nodding, humming, and throwing in a smile for good measure. He catches a few of the words being smattered his way, but he’s already forgotten them by the time the students leave him be. A sigh of relief sinks out of his nose when he turns his head to find you still in the room, only just now standing from your chair and sliding a thick notebook into your bag.

A line of spit gets caught in his throat when he sees you adjust your shorts, subtly tugging at where they’ve ridden up in between the warmth of your thighs–warmth of your thighs? Fuck, Michael, get it the hell together.

Robby coughs loudly into the crook of his elbow before pivoting to find you gliding his way. His heart jumps as you head right for the man, and his mind races to search for something to say. Hi? Nice to meet you? I really like those shorts?

His mouth opens to speak, though he quickly settles it into a kind grin as you scoot past him with a smile of your own.

“S’cuse me,” you pronounce gently, and Robby’s throat bobs.

“Of course,” he nods, voice huskier than he means for it to be as he takes a polite step to the side. You gift him one last breath-snatching smile before floating out of the hall without a second look. A long hum seeps from Robby, his fingers reaching to scrape at the nape of his neck.

Fuck, he needs to change out of these clothes… and maybe receive a beating of some kind for how long he let himself gawk at your ass just now.

Unfortunately, Robby doesn’t find the courage to ask anyone to smack him across the face the entire walk to his car. He does, however, have enough sense to unfasten the button that’s been digging into his skin since he threw on the shirt.

The man could cry happy tears when he pulls into the Panera Bread parking lot to find it close to empty. Surprising, considering that it’s the middle of the day on the UPMC campus but hey. He’s not complaining. The less college students in line between him and his overpriced iced green tea and tomato basil BLT, the better. In fact, he might splurge and go for a brownie, too… maybe that’ll clear the fog you’ve spelled him under.

His mind wandered for the whole ride over–swirling with blurry images of you and tingling with unanswered questions. Robby even stumbles through his order a few times, though the embarrassment over that is briskly wiped away when he turns his head to find you sitting at one of the tables.

Of course, you’re here.

Of course, you’re here and snacking on chocolate croissants and sipping coffee while reading off the screen of your laptop with the most delightful expression of intrigue he’s ever seen.

You aren’t real… you can’t be because only dreams are this coincidental.

Teeth grinding, Robby scans the area around you. Empty, other than an older man stirring his tomato soup and a mother and daughter sharing a frosted cookie with a pair of soft smiles. Robby’s eyes crinkle at the sight, shifting in his place at the counter in deep thought.

He guesses it’ll be a short wait for his food, as it always is. Then all he needs to do is fill his cup at the machine, wait for his number to be called and he’s home free… no matter how tempting it would be to tip over your way and say a quick hello. There’s a voice in the back of his head chanting for him to swallow the nerves and fucking do it, yet he still isn’t sure what’d he start with. What do you say to a young woman you’re certain will haunt you for the rest of you life–

“Dr. Robinavitch? Hi…”

It takes Robby a second to look at you. Even without, an odd feeling tightens Robby’s chest. He finally turns, swallowing through a tickle in his throat, just barely blinking away how his eyes try to water as you approach him carefully. Dear lord, someone please help him–your voice. All you’ve said is his name and a simple, normal hello yet he’s already turning into a puddle of nothing.

“Oh, please. Everyone just calls me Robby,” he holds his hand out for you to shake but regrets it immediately at the spark that ignites when your palms touch. Clenching his teeth at the feeling, Robby masks his tight jaw with a warm smile. “You were just in my lecture, if I remember correctly.”

Robby feels dumb when he tags on the question at the end. There’s no doubt surrounding whether he’s remembering correctly, as he’ll never forget you or those shorts even if he were to try.

“Yeah, for Hummel’s class. I’m actually glad I ran into you again. I really enjoyed you coming to talk to us today. And I’m sorry, I feel like I should’ve said something before leaving class but I couldn’t think of any cool questions to ask you afterwards but, uh, yeah. Having an actual attending from an ED come to talk to you about using a mac versus a miller is much more pleasing than reading about it in some textbook at three in the morning.”

A small chuckle lightens his face. “That’s very kind of you, ‘m glad you liked it. Is ED your main interest?”

“One-hundred percent. I mean, I won’t even start my rotations for another year but that’s definitely the end goal.” 

“Well, good. That’s good, um… sorry, one sec,” Robby’s cut off by the calling of his number, but raises a gentle hand with a pleasant smile in hopes that you’ll stay put. He mumbles a small thank you to the worker that slides him his bag, turning back to you with a lick to his lips. “Like I was saying, that’s great. We could always use more people like you in the ED.”

Wait. Shit. People like you? The man hasn’t even known you for that long and has talked to you for even less. He finds himself lucky when you decide not to think about the statement as hard as he does, accepting the compliment with a small grin.

“I appreciate that, Robby. Hopefully at least one of my clinicals ends up being in The Pitt. I can’t even imagine all the things I’d learn as your MS considering that all it took was a class of you speaking for me to fill up two pages of notes.”

Is he as red as he feels?

“Ah, hearing that, I’m sure you’d fit right in wherever you end up. Secretly kinda hoping it is in my ED at some point, though.” And not just because you’re a knockout and a half. “Just over the short time I’ve talked to you, you seem stellar. Good listener, pretty, cares about the details.”

Wait. Shit, that second one is a slip and much too obvious to just glaze over like his last one. You’re blinking at him in a way that itches his insides, and he exhales a rough breath. Shaking his head, he dips his nose in an embarrassed hang of his head.

“‘M sorry,” he starts with a breathy laugh because it’s all he can do. “That wasn’t appropriate of me, I’m sorry. Your good looks have nothin’ to do with your abilities.”

Suddenly, it feels like karma is having its way with Robby. Was there a door he should’ve held but didn’t? A thank you he forgot to tell someone? There must be because he’s usually quicker to control himself around someone that’s piqued his interests as much as you have.

When he tilts his gaze back to you, there’s something in your face hinting at something he doesn’t let himself attempt to decrypt.

“Jeez, I’m really eatin’ it today, aren’t I,” Robby squirms with a sheepish smile. “And that feels like my cue to leave you to you’re studying before I am forced to have you gag me.”

“Oh, I’m not studying. I mean, I should be but your answer to that one question Jeremiah asked has me knee deep in an article about the history of clinical airway management. Also, I didn’t take you to be into that kinda stuff, but I’ll make sure to be gentle if you really want me to.” 

Brow line raising in a flutter of rousing excitement, Robby allows himself a full grin. You match the toothy-smile, leaning with something that looks like anticipation with another wring of your hands.

What a well-dressed, witty, gorgeous geek you’re proving yourself to be.

“I, uh, I actually know of a few other studies you might be interested in,” Robby suggests, a wave of poise centering his thoughts and reprioritizing his intentions. “...if you've got the time?”

The next sixty-ish minutes pass devastatingly fast. A few more people have populated the Panera dining room but Robby’s too high on your presence and one and a half cups of iced green tea to care.

“You’re making this up, you gotta be.”

“I swear, Robby,” you hold up your hands. “I will admit, losing to the ratbirds–at home, in OT–does tend to cloud one's judegment, but enough to think they have the upperhand against a metal lightpost? All Dad saw was red and I ended up waiting in the ER with him while he waited to get his fingers re-set. We we’re at chairs for a while and then brought to the back, and the thing I remember the most was this hum hanging in the air the entire time. Even though I was only around five, that shit was… addicting. Not as electric as a Steelers home game but pretty close. The nurse and my dad kept having to tell me to stay behind the curtain but, of course, I didn’t. ‘Cause, you know. Children. But watching all those people come in broken just to have people like you give their everything to try and fix them… that’s when I knew I wanted to be an emergency physician.”

The corner of Robby’s lips quirks up as he watches you. You stare back at him with held breath before ripping your eyes away to the half-eaten piece of brownie he’d offered you. A little dry but completely worth it with how your hands brushed when he passed you the sweet.

“So basically what I’m hearing is that the Baltimore Ravens are the reason you were able to find your purpose in life so early on…” Robby eases out, rubbing a hand across his beard in anticipation of the response he’s fishing for. He gets it and more when your face wrinkles into a cute grimace and you flinch with a shudder.

“You put it that way, and it almost makes me think I should drop outta med school to move to Canada.”

Your words pull a deep chuckle from Robby, who’s feeling warm at how the two of you are leaning and talking. Bodies relaxed and bellies content with sandwiches and baked goods, the dance you’re both performing is becoming more difficult by the second.

He’s starting to feel less and less sorry about how the side of his shoe keeps knocking against yours, even doing it once on purpose as a thanks for when you notify him of a loose crumb in his beard. The tips of your fingers keep creeping towards each other but Robby blames that on the smaller scale of the table he’s joined you at. You got up, once, for napkins and the man had to take in a deep breath at the swing of your hips. He’s not  sure he looked away fast enough either. At least, that’s what the smirk that dashes across your face reveals to him.

“So,” Robby starts after a comfortable lull in the conversation, pausing to clear his throat. “Are all of Hummel’s students this awesome or did I just get lucky runnin’ into you again?”

Flattery. The age old tactic and Robby makes sure not to lay it on too thick. In all of his bumbling and slip ups from earlier, he’s maganed to regain some of his bravado. It returns to him slowly but surely as he starts to unravel you. Not by much but enough to finger out what makes you tick; which jokes to draw out, what subjects (medical or otherwise) gets you going, which throw of his timbre embellishes the shine in your eyes.

“Mm, most of them are pretty cool. Some are also the biggest assholes you’ll ever meet but what’s any place without a few of those?”

“Heaven,” Robby answers with an unbothered shrug of his shoulders and you bob your head in agreement.

“Preach,” you grin, popping a corner of brownie into your mouth. “They were on their best behavior today with you being there but trust me, they’re incapable of going twenty four hours without creaming their pants over making other people feel like shit.”

Wow. “Oh, yeah?”

“For sure. Dr. Hummel should have you come around more often, though. Maybe next time you can snap a few egos in check.”

You’re into whatever this is, Robby can feel it. It’s in your eyes, that don’t notice their lingering on the hair that’s peeking out at the top of his exposed chest. In your voice, that’s lilting in a manner that’s ringing through the thick fog he entered the building with to guide his ship closer to your sweet taunt.

Robby’s quicker than the hesitation his words want to bite back on, tilting his head to give you a quick once over before flicking them away with a grin that’s smugger than he means for it to be.

“Oh, that’s definitely something I’d consider as long as you're still sittin’ front row.”

Your lips curl upwards and Robby is buzzing at the win. It makes his chest puff a little, too, and his head starts to feel a little funny when he catches you staring again.

“Hey, uh,” just do it, Rob, “why don’t we exhancge numbers? You know, in case you ever feel like conversing more over slightly-stale bread and the best passion papaya iced green tea on this side of the Mississippi.”

Taking a second to think, you sniff.

“While I have had better passion… papaya iced green tea–” you recite the words with a subtle unsureness, laughing a little at the nod Robby encourages you with.

“You got it,” he reassures you, voice rasping with obvious amusement before letting you continue.

“–I’d love to keep picking your brain. I will warn you, though, since the age of eleven, I have somehow managed to, uh, shift every conversation I’ve been a part of to the topic of the Pittsburgh Steelers at some point, so if that’s not your thing, then…”

Your words melt into a stronger laugh than you expected to leave you, and it wraps arround the high-pitched giggle trickles out of Robby.

“Oh, I’ve dealt with worse, sweetheart,” he winks, pulling out his phone from his back pocket and opening it before sliding it your way. He holds his breath the entire time you add your contact, eyes flicking to his screen where he sees your name along with a simple :). He huffs at the sight, plucking the device back into his grip. “Much, much worse.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

You add a smirk and tip of your head with the question. Robby’s soaring.

The following hours prove to be just as indelible as your shorts, and it’s all because of you.

You’re more than special, and Robby sits undisputed in that fact as he commences the third round of the night. The slide into you is just as good as the first and the second. You’re on top this time, your hands clutching his face to rub at the thick of his beard while you sink down onto him.

Robby holds your waist, hands light but still there as he splits you open. A noise breaks from his throat when you sit fully, and he rests his forehead against yours. While you take a second to adjust, Robby peeks down past the pudge of his belly to where the two of you meet, groaning at the sight of you stretcehed around him.

Eyes flicking to yours, Robby tightens the arm he has around your waist to tug you until your breasts are flush against his chest. You cling to him at the shift, hips barely lifting before collapsing back down onto him with a shuggering grunt.

Your body keeps the same languid speed, Robby helping you just barely with a hand splayed just above your ass.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” you pant out against his mouth. “And fucking huge. I should’ve known considering how you walked into class earlier, though.”

“Shit,” Robby moans. “Really?”

You bob your head, hand reaching to grab at Robby’s shoulder. The muscle holds strong under your squeeze, you answer him during another rock of your hips.

“Mmhm. You just… oh, fuck, you walk like it’s big. Which it totally is, by the way.”

“So you’ve said,” Robby ribs, adding a few bucks of his hips that yanks a squeak out of you. “Actually screamed it a few times, too.”

“Well, can you blame me–”

You’re interrupted by Robby, who surprises you with a steep roll to the side. Now hanging over you, Robby pants through a groan. He’s gonna feel that tomorrow but the chance of a strained back isn’t gonna stop him from trying to get you to keep making those sounds that have him seeing stars.

He takes the miracle of his cock remaining inside you even after the change of position, hitching both of your legs back as far as they’ll let him and jerking you with a thrust. It’s deep and driving, intentional enough to make you feel every inch and vein of his swollen member. You wail out right next to his ear and he smiles against the tattoo on your shoulder in victory. He still doesn’t know what it is. You won’t tell him and he got tired of guessing.

“No, I can’t,” Robby throws back, hips falling into a pattern of sharp thrusts. You feel bottomless and it makes his stomach clench. “Eyes on me, baby. Right here, okay?

Robby meets your stare as soon as you crack open your lids. He tightens the snap of his hips, allowing himself to indulge. Call it a habit but he likes to look… observe the way your mouth parts as you puff out air every time your clit hits his pelvis… how your brows pinch together and eyes water as he pounds into the spot it only took him a total of seven thrusts to find… how your hands reach for his neck, squeezing when you hear him flutter your name out on a gruttal moan.

You especially like him loud, he’s found. Not bold enough to ask for it, Robby had the pleasure of figuring the phenomenon out on his own. It didn’t take long, thankfully, as he got embarrassingly close to blowing a vocal cord when you tongued at his nipples and skillfully jerked out his cum onto your stomach. Afterwards, his taste buds found your slit a sopping mess of slick and cream, which he slurped away at until you tugged him up by the hair and kissed your juices from his mouth.

The first time he’d fucked you, it was slow. A loitering exploration of every indent and ripple inside your hole, every mole and freckle of your skin. You’d already come once against his tongue after he’d convinced you that no, you were not going to die if he didn’t kiss you right then.

(‘What about her, hm?’ He’d asked with a finger ghosting across your clit. ‘Nothin’ wrong with being a little greedy but I gotta show her some love, too, alright? She’s much too pretty to ignore, even with you givin’ me those eyes…’)

However, it’s the first time you peak around him that the sky parts. Heaven calls, singing songs of eternal delights but Robby declines the offer. His soul finds the symphony of you falling apart much more satisfying. Ever more gratifying, as it’s his name flooding from your lips. Not God’s or some boy in one of your classes in those cold ass rooms–his.

The second time you’d come around him hits both of you like a train. He’d gotten you trapped on your side, leg hanging in the air helplessly. Neck stretching, you’d bit at his tongue a few times when he’d upped the speed of his hips, warning Robby that you were gonna come again. After you added on a whine that you did not want him pulling out when he came, he flipped you into a rough prone bone, pounding you until your pussy creamed with his cum and your ears heard nothing but dial tones.

This time–the third time–Robby lets himself get lost in it. Uses his mind and body for the sole purpose of calling forth and tying your euphoria to his. A perfect ache is throbbing a pulse through his cock, and the man can only plunge himself in and out of you with mindless, hoarse grunts.

Robby executes it flawlessly, the seaming of the end of your climax grazing just over the start of his. You cry out unintelligible words, grabbing at him like he’ll disappear if you don’t and trembling as he works to milk out your release for as long as he can.

“That’s my–fuck… yeah, that’s my sweet girl,” Robby pants, still rocking you as his thrusts melt into a sloppy chasing of his own end. His sweet girl. That’s exactly what you are now, regardless of what happens after this. “Gonna fill you up again. Make you nice and full’a me.”

The only warning Robby’s able to give is a long, choked swear before he starts to spasm, sack twitching as he surges out rope after rope of a plentiful load. He uses a few more thrusts to fuck the cum deeper before joining your lips in a tired kiss. When you run your hands up his back to rake your nails through his hair, Robby groans.

Hips still, his softening cock remains a welcome intrusion. His eyes flicker shut at your appreciated touch across his scalp, the man melts completely into you, hoping it takes a long while for your breaths to return.

Robby’s mind is completely still. Numb, even, and there are only figures of you. Clenching his eyes, he sighs before mumbling something so muffled that he has to repeat it.

“I said,” he begins with a kiss to your jaw, “the Ravens might be my new favorite team.”

Robby feels your inhale pause and lifts his head to look in your eyes. A short laugh wheezes out of him when he finds you already staring back, your face a cross of complete and utter confusion and a little bit of hurt.

“What on earth could have possibly compelled you to say that to me?”

Your question starts strong but falls apart with giggles at how Robby keeps laughing. The two of you shake with stupid giggles, and Robby has to take a second to remember where he was going with this.

“Only ‘cause they led you to me. No Ravens, no angry dad. No angry dad, no ER visit. No ER visit, no grand revelation of wanting to become a doctor in emergency medicine. It’s simple, I’m a little surprised I had to explain it.”

“...you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“Oh, baby, I know I am.”

“Hello?”

Robby blinks, and wants to glower at the fingers Jack snaps in front of his face until he remembers he’s supposed to be answering something. A question. He’s supposed to be answering a question.

Which question?

Fuck if he knows.

Who asked it?

Fuck if he knows.

It takes every part of Robby’s being to not look to the right because that’s where you’re sitting with a wide smile just barely hidden beneath your palm. Eyes boring into him, you stretch your crossed legs and reposition.

“E-even though that might have looked like a stroke, guys, it was not… I don’t think,” Jack picks up for Robby with a pat to the later man’s shoulder. “It’s actually something we in our profession call getting old, but please don’t worry. I’m going through it, too. Apparently, not as fast as this guy, though.”

The rest of the room lightens with a chuckle so Robby’s laughs along with them. It’s fake and ugly but the pause gives him a chance to zip his eyes your way and back.

And, of course, Jack catches him. Hell, he knows Robby well enough to have already seen the way that his hand clenches into a fist every time you move so much as an inch.

As Dr. Hummel attempts to return order to the slightly distracted class, Jack gives Robby a silent not bad, Rob. At all, though a little more decorum wouldn’t hurt.

Robby bites at his tongue, completely pink.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[ramp-it-up]

Captain. My Captain.

Mood

Summary: Steve has a kink. And you have the key.

Word count: 3.3 K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

A/N: This is a fic related to Call Me Captain When I... and comes right after Mood. It is also for @avengers-assemble-bingo. #KinkyBingo. This fulfills the square: Sir/Daddy Kink This is also part of @yenzys-lucky-charm Cranky, Grabby, Stabby, Oh My Challenge. Prompt: “just the tip I promise" *holds me down and fucks me full of cum.*” I'm deep in love with Steve and Libby. Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! This Steve curses, and he is also grumpy. Steve is weak for you but a bit of a control freak. Dominate Steve, Semi-public sex act, fingering, lots of dirty talk and verbal edging, literal edging, orgasm denial, Captain and Sir kink, size kink, praise oral (m receiving), raw p in v, creampie, aftercare, soft Steve after he cums. 😜

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

It started at the briefing.

Steve sat at the head of the table, full Captain mode. The stealth suit fit him like a second skin and you’d had to will your eyes forward more than once. His jaw was set, his focus sharp. Everyone else, Sam and a few others, listened while he laid out the plan to hunt the organization behind the ambush on your training op.

The bastards who hit you were already “neutralized,” though you had yet to learn what Steve meant by that. This mission was about the ones who’d sent them. 

The ones who thought they could touch you.

It was the first time you’d worked directly with him in the field.

You were paying attention. To the plan. To him. To the way his fingers curled tight around the table’s edge. The sharp crease between his brows. The way he looked at everyone else like their Captain, and looked at you like a man who’d memorized the sound you made when you broke.

Steve’s reactions to you had always been inconvenient, but they were especially volatile now, on a mission, in uniform, with your professionalism at risk. Hundreds of people called him Captain and Sir every day, but when you said them, it short-circuited something primal inside him.

You weren’t supposed to be under his command outside of the bedroom. But this time, you were. And he was doing everything in his power to keep his shit together.

That meant no time alone. No slipping. No touching. No relief. He even insisted that you get yourself off every night to counter the maddening effects of no contact between you, but you defied him.

“Respectfully, Sir, I don’t want to.”

He’d nearly broken then, but understood. Nothing felt better than you two together. He’d decided the same. Two weeks of self-control would be hell. But he’d endured worse.

You weren’t so sure you would last.

When he asked the room, “Any questions before we move?” his gaze locked on you, unflinching.

You tilted your head innocently.

“No, Sir.”

His breath hitched. Just enough that you noticed.

Sam started talking, but you didn’t hear a word. You were too busy watching Steve’s knuckles strain, his jaw tick, and the storm brewing behind his ice-blue eyes.

He was daring you to say it again.

You straightened, hands folded neatly, waiting for him to look away.

He didn’t.

After the briefing, you didn’t even make it three steps down the hall before his hand circled your arm, pulling you into the breakroom. Not rough, but firm enough that your heart stuttered.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, voice low.

You blinked up at him, all wide-eyed sweetness.

“What was what?”

“You know damn well.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Sir.” You leaned in, breath warm against his ear. 

“Didn’t mean to distract you, Captain.”

The growl that rumbled from his chest was the sound of a man fraying at the seams.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll bend you over the nearest tactical table.”

Your pulse fluttered. “Is that a threat or a promise, Sir?”

His hand drifted, barely brushing the curve of your ass and it was subtle, calculated, and electric enough to buckle your knees.

“You’re walking the line, Lieutenant.”

You lowered your gaze, fighting for control you didn’t want. 

“Apologies…”

He nodded, sharp and curt. Turned to go and you watched America’s Ass. You waited just long enough, then let the last word fall like a stone in water.

“…Captain.”

He froze. Just for a second. Shook his head and walked away.

But it didn’t end there.

On the jet, the tension only sharpened. You sat across from him, knees brushing, the hum of the engines a thin veil over the silence between you. The rest of the team prepped and chatted, oblivious.

Steve didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just watched you watch him. Your eyes dropped to his lap, tracing the outline of his cock beneath the suit. You licked your lips deliberately, remembering the weight and stretch of him.

You leaned forward, passing him a file, fingers brushing his on purpose.

“Here you go, Sir.”

Your voice was husky and he knew you were wet, and probably desperate for any contact with him. So he didn’t take the file from you.

Didn’t move.

Just stared at you, like he was one slip away from throwing you over his knee in front of God, country, and S.H.I.E.L.D.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice dark and tight.

You smiled, all sugar. “Yes, Sir.”

Steve’s jaw flexed as he turned to Sam, locking the need away with brutal discipline. You swallowed, steadying yourself. The mission came first.

It always did.

The mission’s success only sharpened the edge. By the time the gala rolled around, neither of you had cooled off, not even close. You’d basically begged him before the event. Your hands tangled in his shirt, your lips bruising his, your body pressed tight against his in the darkened corner of your quarters.

“Please,” you whispered. “Just the tip.”

Steve laughed against your mouth, but he’d pulled back, steady even with his pulse racing wild beneath your fingers. His hands cupped your face, thumbs sweeping over your swollen lips.

“We both know that just the tip would end up with me holding you down and fucking you full of cum, Libby.”

Your eyes rolled. “Please…”

Your wanton moan had him a hair’s breath from giving in. But you both still had a job to do.

“I want to take my time with you.” His voice was all gravel, thick with promise. “You’ll get all of me. But not now. Not like this.”

So you dressed for the gala, the ache between your thighs a constant reminder that Captain Rogers was still calling the shots. And you let him think he’d won right up until the Senator asked that question.

The man had the nerve to sidle up to you, drink in hand, charm dripping off him like oil, and ask what it was like to serve under Captain Rogers.

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, I always follow orders,” you said, slow and sweet. “Isn’t that right, Sir?”

You saw it, the way Steve’s glass froze halfway to his lips, the flicker of fire in his eyes, the sharp clench of his jaw as he forced down a cough to cover the sound of his own restraint breaking.

Five minutes later, he excused himself. You followed.

The hallway was empty. His hand caught your wrist the second you were close enough, pulling you flush against him, pressing your back to the wall. You were so wet.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

You blinked up at him, lashes fluttering. 

“Whatever do you mean, Sir?”

His breath ghosted your lips. 

“You think it’s funny? Teasing me like that. In front of him.”

You smiled angelically. 

“I think it’s hot. Watching you try to keep control when all you want to do is take me apart.”

His hands tightened against the wall.

“You know what happens when I lose control, Libby.”

You smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

His hand slid down your arm, fingers curling tight around your wrist as he dragged you into the nearest supply closet. The door clicked shut, the air was charged, and you could barely breathe.

“You wanted this,” he growled pinning you back against the shelves. His hands roamed, hiking your dress higher and higher until his fingers brushed bare skin. 

“You’ve been begging for it since the damn briefing.”

Your breath hitched, but your voice stayed steady. 

“Still am.”

The second the word Captain left your mouth, his control shattered and he was on you.

His hand covered your mouth to muffle the sounds, the other sliding between your thighs, fingers slipping deep, parting your folds roughly, desperate to feel you. He swallowed every broken noise you couldn’t hold back, his mouth finding your neck, your shoulder, your breast. His teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, and his lips branding you.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, voice cracking open at the edges.

You moaned, helpless against the waves of pleasure.

His fingers pumped harder, faster. His control slipping with every stroke. His fingers worked you harder, faster, until your legs trembled and your world seemed to bend around you.

Then, right before you came, he stopped.

“You wanna play games, Sweetheart?” His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “You better be ready for the consequences.”

When he pulled back, he held you steady, smoothing your dress back down with those same hands that had almost wrecked you. His lips ghosted over your temple, while what he did still vibrated through both of you.

“You okay?” 

You swallowed. You couldn’t even be mad at him because you knew how much you’d teased him.

“Yeah, I….you. That was…” your voice trailed off. “...Are you?”

His smirk was pure sin. “Nope.”

You laughed, breathless and wrecked. 

“You know it would help if you didn’t look so damn smug.”

“Oh, Sweetheart, you haven’t seen smug yet. Wait until I give you at least three orgasms.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

“So you keep telling me.”

—----

The second the gala ended, you’d expected him to break. To drag you into the nearest car, or corner you in some dark hallway before the flashbulbs had even cooled.

But no.

Steve kept his distance.  

All night, you’d felt his eyes track you across the room, the heat of it searing through the silk of your dress, the weight of his control stretched so tight it was a wonder he hadn’t snapped.

But he never touched you again. Never slipped. Not once.

He even sent you home in a separate car. Your heart couldn’t take it, but you knew there was more to come. And it was long past midnight when the knock came. You opened your door, heart already pounding, and there he stood.

His shirt sleeves were rolled, the tie hanging loose around his neck, his jacket nowhere to be seen. His restraint had finally cracked, written all over his face. But his voice stayed low, even.

“Pack your bag,” he said. “Now.”

You didn’t ask where. You didn’t need to. You just obeyed.

Ten minutes later, you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, your thighs pressed tightly together. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at you, hands flexing on the wheel like he was holding himself together by the thinnest thread.

By the time the car stopped,  a quiet, private safehouse on the edge of the city, your skin was flushed, your pulse wild.

The door had barely shut behind you when you felt it.

His hands.

One gripping your jaw, tilting your face up, the other on your waist.

“You think you can tease me like that,” he murmured, voice like gravel, “and I’ll just sit back and let it slide?”

Your breath hitched. “I wasn’t teasing, Sir.”

His eyes darkened, and the corner of his mouth lifted. not a smile, more like a warning.

“You don’t get to play innocent. Not after two weeks of ‘Yes, Sir’ and that sweet little tilt of your head. You’ve been testing me since the briefing.” 

His thumb brushed your bottom lip.

“And you knew exactly what you were doing.”

You felt the heat pool low in your belly, your legs weak beneath the weight of his words, the sharpness of his stare.

“On your knees.”

The order sent a shiver through you and you dropped without hesitation, hands resting on your thighs, head tilted back to look at him, waiting.

Wanting.

He watched you for a long, heavy moment, jaw tight, chest rising slowly.

“Look at you,” he muttered, shaking his head, more to himself than to you. 

“So damn pretty when you’re obedient.”

When he undid his belt, his fly, and freed his cock, you swallowed hard. The size of him, the sheer weight and length, was always a shock to your system no matter how many times you’d seen him.

You glanced up through your lashes, the shape of a question lingering in your throat.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. 

“You’ve been begging for this with every word you’ve said for the last two weeks. Work for it.”

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat, the heft, the impossible stretch of him. Your lips parted, and when you took him in, his breath hissed through his teeth, one hand threading to your scalp.

“Good girl,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek, the barest encouragement as you started to bob on his cock, lips stretched wide and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

“Look at you. Captain’s perfect little mouth.”

You worked him slow at first, savoring the low growl of his approval, the way his hips flexed, controlled even now. But when you hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, wide-eyed, his control cracked.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His hand tightened on your head, hips pressing forward until you took him deeper, until tears dropped from your eyes. But you didn’t pull back. You wanted this, you wanted to watch him fall apart.

When he finally eased out of your mouth, his thumb wiped your lips, tracing the slick curve.

“Up,” he ordered softly, and you obeyed, rising to your feet. His hands were on you the second you stood, spinning you, pressing you against the nearest wall, his large body caging you in completely.

“You like making me lose control, don’t you?” he rasped against your ear, his hard length grinding against your ass through the thin fabric of your panties. 

“You like knowing no one else gets to see me like this.”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, Sir.”

His hand slid between your thighs, fingers finding you soaked and ready.

“Of course you do. You’ve been dripping for me all damn night.” 

His mouth brushed the shell of your ear, voice dark and ragged. 

“And I’ve been thinking about bending you over every flat surface I could find. About splitting you open on my cock until you forget your own name.”

You whimpered, grinding back against him, desperate.

“You wanted me to break, sweetheart?” 

His hand gripped your hip, his other one sliding between your legs again, fingers skating through your slick. 

“You’ve got me. But you’re going to pay for every second you spent torturing me.”

He didn’t take you to bed. Not yet.

Instead, he lifted you, like you weighed nothing at all,  and carried you to the couch, settling you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his hips, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You did, your gaze locking with his as he guided you down onto him, slowly, filling you inch by impossible inch until you were gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he groaned, holding you still once you’d taken all of him. 

“You feel so fucking tight. So goddamn perfect around me.”

You clung to him, barely able to breathe, stretched to the limit. It hurt so good.

“You wanted your Captain,” he whispered against your lips. “Now you’ve got him.”

And then he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts that pushed you to the edge of madness, his mouth capturing every moan, every broken plea you couldn’t hold back. And you knew, right then, there’d be no walking straight tomorrow.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—---

You lost track of how many times he made you cum. His mouth, his hands, the punishing rhythm of his hips. Every part of him wrecked you with single-minded precision.

But it wasn’t until long after your voice was hoarse from moaning his name, long after your body trembled from overstimulation, that Steve softened.

He shifted beneath you, easing out of your body with care, murmuring something low and tender against your skin. You couldn’t make out the words because your brain was a fog of pleasure and endorphins. But the gentle tone was enough to settle you.

Strong arms gathered you close, one hand cradling the back of your head as he carried you to the bed like you were precious. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the salt of his skin, the faintest scent of sweat and his cologne.

He laid you down carefully and climbed in beside you. His big hands smoothed over your hips, your thighs, his thumbs catching on the marks he’d left behind.

You didn’t mind them. You liked that you’d wear the shape of him tomorrow. On your skin. Between your legs. In the slight limp no one would question, but he would know.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, still dazed, sated and warm. “Yes, Sir.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled the blanket up over both of you.  

“Didn’t mean to go so hard,” he murmured, brushing your curls back from your forehead. 

“Just… you get under my skin, Libby. Make me forget how to think.”

“You didn’t forget how to think,” you whispered, tracing the curve of his bicep, the hard line of his chest. “You planned that.”

His answering grin pressed against your shoulder. 

“Maybe a little.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he asked, “And you knew what you were doing at the gala.”

You smirked against his throat. 

“You liked it.”

Steve groaned and pulled you tighter. 

“Liked it too much. Nearly lost it when you said Sir like that in front of the Senator.”

You laughed softly. 

“You like it when I say it in private more?”

His hand slid to the base of your spine. His grip was warm. 

“I like it when you say it when you're wrecked. When you’re trying not to come and you whisper it like a prayer. That’s when it ruins me.”

The silence that followed was full of heat, but not urgency. The hunger had been sated. What remained was the closeness. The wanting still there, but quiet now. Like embers under ash.

You moved and winced, the soreness sparking up.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s just that you’re huge,” the words tumbled out unfiltered.

Steve stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “No. Not even close. Just… I’m still adjusting. In my soul.”

He laughed then, head falling back, the sound full and rich and happy. It shook the bed, and you smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could look at you. 

“Who knew you were this much of a brat?”

You gave him a sleepy, satisfied smile.

“Only for you, Captain. My Captain.”

His expression softened completely. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and for a second, there was something deeper than heat in the space between you.

Something like devotion.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Every time. Before, during, after. I love you Libby.”

You leaned into the touch. 

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know, Steve. I love you too.”

And with that, he kissed you, slow and lingering, nothing like the bruising hunger from earlier. This was patient. Tender. The kind of kiss that promised more.

Not just in bed, but in the quiet spaces between missions and chaos. In the in-between moments where your heartbeat slowed and the world finally held still.

Eventually, you drifted off, curled against him, your leg thrown over his thigh, his hand resting on the curve of your hip.

And even in sleep, you felt it, his presence wrapped around you like a shield. Steady. Unshakable. Yours.

Captain. Sir. Steve.

All of him.

——

Read Payback

[northopalshore]

Venus in the

Union persona chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

:¨ ·.· ¨: Other posts : Union Masterlist | Main Masterlist 🍪

`· . ୨୧ Venus here tells you how you show your affection to your future spouse when you first met. How you flirt with them, how you show them appreciation, your first date etc.

୨୧ Please do not repost without consent ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔฅ🔉

Aries (°1,°13,°25) | 1st House

Perhaps you will be "brave" for them, like being rebellious or insisting that they are the one you want to see. If your parents don't agree with you then you'd be backing them up for example. You could also be doing things by yourself to see them; trips or travelling especially if aspected with Sagittarius or pisces. You also flirt by complimenting them one second and taking it back the next. Teasing them, playing with them, tempting them. Don't tell me you've forgotten how horny Aries is (though sometimes it can come off as all bark & no bite). You love getting a reaction from your person, keeping them on edge. There is a part of you that is ecstatic every time you meet them. You might feel like a teenager all over again.

Taurus (°2,°14,°26) | 2nd house

You will be very generous with gifts & trinkets. Perhaps you will love to buy things for your significant other when you first meet or get to know each other. Paying for trips, meals, gifts. Giving them verbal affirmations as simple as "you look wonderful today" or "this suits you a lot". You will be very attentive to what they like to wear and what they eat; if they favour certain brands or desserts, you will keep a mental note of that to surprise them with in the future. In the second house, you are a big gifter, the only thing that would beat you is if Venus was in Capricorn & in the 2nd house lmao. You will also adopt a very relaxed approach, taking your time to really get to know your partner.

Gemini (°3,°15,°27) | 3rd house

You flirt by taking, connecting through mental foreplay, wanting to see their reactions, know their likes and dislikes and understand just what it is that makes them tick. You compliment generously, but there is always a somewhat teasing tone that comes with it. You could spend your nights talking with each other. You enjoy making your partner laugh and feel comfortable. Although you love to compliment them unlike Libra you are more realistic; complimenting them on certain skills or talents they may show you. There may be a fast paced rhythm between you as well, feeling excited when you meet them or every time you get together.

Cancer (°4,°16,°28) | 4th house

When you first start dating, a lot of your dates may be indoors or at your house, somewhere comfortable to the both of you. You could cook for them, or make things for them. Recommend your favorite food or hobbies, go on long walks or out for dinner. You enjoy just being engulfed in your partner's presence. You flirt by subtle caressing or handholding, touching. Nothing too abrupt. You may find yourself clinging to your partner often, laughing at almost all the jokes that they do, really getting in your feelings. You baby them, but at the same time you like being treated like one too. This is the "my man, my man, my man" placement lmaoo. You could be more.. submissive around them at first. Embodying the traditional aspects of a woman or the feminine counterpart in the relationship.

Ex: Beyoncé has Venus in Capricorn (°28 cancer) in her Union persona chart. She has always given much credit to her husband saying "he taught her how to be a woman" in past interviews. Lana del Rey has Venus in Virgo (°28 cancer) in her Union persona chart... Nobody is surprised. Just check her catalog.

Leo (°5,°17,°29) | 5th house

This is the placement that will make you want to go to every movie, every musical and every party with your lover. You flirt by telling them that they are the shining star, the ensemble cast. Perhaps you may often tell your partner how gorgeous they look, and how they alone light a passionate fire in your heart. You are very playful and flirtatious with them. You may borderline worship them, and expect the same treatment as well. Physical attraction is also undeniable. Dates will be very fun and entertaining, often involves going to touristic places or something "classic" i.e movie dates, dinner dates, bowling with friends. No matter how mundane, there is still this playful spark between you. This is also the placement that fills your dates with friends, where you'll be playing games or something together.

Virgo (°6,°18) | 6th house

You will be very invested in their routine, love asking how their day went and whether they are doing well or not. Paying attention to the smallest details about them, slightly nagging them lmao. You flirt by taking care of them, thinking of them, doing things for them you know means the most. You'll make them playlists to listen to, and ask for their opinion; that's right! A Virgo asking for someone else's perspective seems like such a foreign concept doesn't it? But here, you actually take the time to listen or apply their opinions. You could think of "servicing" them in a way, being useful to them, wanting them to see you as someone they see as valuable. I find that people with this placement are always with their partner whether on the phone or going out somewhere. Spending almost everyday together in some way.

Ex: Priscilla Presley has Venus in Virgo (°6 Virgo) in the 4th house. Most of their meetings (dates) were at his place when they were in West Germany." After their first meeting, Elvis invited Priscilla to his house on multiple occasions." - Harper's Bazaar

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Libra (°7,°19) |7th house

You are extremely romantic. You flirt like you're the main protagonist in a French romance film, hitting all the clichés. You adopt this calm persona, wanting to woo your partner with special dates just for the two of you. Ah, I can hear the distant clinking of wine glasses. The light from the candles you lit waved for a moment as the glasses hit each other. See, you've got me in the mood too. A lot of kisses, a lot of touching, caressing, and smooth talking. A true lover. If you're a man, you'll do everything gentleman like, and if you're a woman then you adopt the essence of feminine energy. Suddenly, you're all fancy and demure hoho. This is also a "gifter" placement, but not like Taurus or Capricorn. You give a gift according to the moment or as an "etiquette" like flowers on every romantic date or when you're coming over.

Scorpio (°8,°20) | 8th house

"Oh they fuckin". I'm kidding, but not really. On one hand you may be very cautious with your partner, keeping somewhat of a distance between them and yourself. On the other hand, you can't keep your hands to yourself. You get closer by sharing things about yourself that you wouldn't normally share with other people. You flirt by locking eyes, exchanging how you feel through body language. Soul bonding, whether you bone or not is out of the question as what's certain is that intimacy that you share. Feeling as close as possible to your partner in whatever way that you yourself are most comfortable with. You flirt by asking them more about themselves, their greatest desires, fears and pivotal moments that have happened in their life prior to getting to know you & finding reliable common ground. Sharing the things you don't normally share with others, almost right off the bat. They could help you conquer some sort of fear as well or vice versa.

Ex: Zendaya has Venus in Scorpio (°15 Gemini) in the 2nd house in the union personal chart. She seems to have a very chill but at the same time very trusting relationship with Tom Holland. Their chemistry was evident from very early on (have you seen those spiderman interviews? Lmaoo)

Sagittarius (°9,°21) | 9th house

You adopt a very friendly way of flirting, cracking jokes and making your partner laugh. Pushing them to do new things or open their mind to different forms of dates. You could act as their personal therapist in some scenarios. Perhaps you will be teaching them to have more fun or to let loose and not focus too much on the little things, calming their nerves. You'll teach them to be laid back and truthful with how they express themselves. Supporting them and making dumb grand gestures to make them happy. You could also travel for them i.e .meet them at their country, town or house. You could act quite dorky as well. What's important to you is the understanding that you share with your partner. Learning about them, similar to Gemini & Scorpio, but you're at your own pace and it doesn't really come off too intensely.

Capricorn (°10,°22) | 10th house

You will be a strong support system for your partner. You show them affection by making room for them in your schedule, helping them solve problems and giving them full encouragement. That being said, you're not going to be supportive of them doing something irrational. You also enjoy buying things for them, providing the things that they need, buying things that they like. You'll like to act as the "man" or "provider" in your relationship early on, even if you are a woman. You show affection by keeping your word, showing up and acting on your plans and promises.

Ex: My friend has Venus in the 10th house in her Union persona chart. She always had a habit of spoiling her FS, spending money to go visit him at his state, paying for his meals. However, her FS also has Venus in Capricorn so.. they end up transferring each other the money insisting that it's fine lmao. Both have the mindset of a provider.

Aquarius (°11,°23) | 11th house

You will treat them like a true friend, a partner in crime, someone you can trust and do things with. You flirt by taking your partner out to do fun, wild, experimental things together, going out of your comfort zone. Similar to Aries, but more relaxed. It could also mean taking a more casual approach to your relationship, not being completely attached at first, allowing each other to be independent. It could be a slow burn type of relationship, where you don't really realize you are in love with them until later i.e natural progression. You might not do too many romantic activities, as what's important to you is spending time with them how you want or what's most compatible with you and your partner's wishes.

Ex: My parents both have Venus in Aquarius in a Leo degree (°29 & °19), they told me their dates were pretty ordinary (their words not mine lol) went out with friends, went to dinner, and watched movies together.

Ex 2: Jennie has Venus in Scorpio (°15 Gemini) in the 11th house. I'm not sure if Taehyung is end game for her, but from what I heard they seem to have a very chill relationship, granted very private and intimate which tracks with these placements.

Pisces (°12,°24) | 12th house

You are going to be head over heels for them lmao. Picturing marriage and your life far into the future even on the first date. Feeling incredibly romantic and drawn to your person. You get very sentimental around them too. It seems everything you do will revolve around your partner even if you didn't mean it to happen that way. All the songs you listen to, all the clouds in the sky resemble them now. You are also very forgiving and compassionate about your person, putting them on a pedestal and believing that they are unlike anyone you've ever been with before. You will flirt by opening up and listening to them, talking all day & all night, just enjoying the feeling that their presence brings to you. Some people with this placement will dedicate songs to their partner as well. There could be a tendency to get caught up in your own feelings however.

Ex: Ariana Grande has Venus in Cancer (°28 cancer) in the 12th house. Just listen to "Positions" you'll get the gist of it.

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Hey Nana..."

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

@northopalshore union persona chart 2024 all rights reserved. Disclaimer

[lovelylittlegrim]

Headcanon that Eddie isnt the kind of guy to say I love you first. He’d had it rough growing up. Dead beat parents and very little affection until he moved in with Wayne.

And Wayne is a quiet man. More action than words so I think Eddie would learn how to love from him. With actions. A new mug here, a pat there, a plate of breakfast after a rough shift. Acts of service as their love language.

Steve Harrington though… He also grew up with very little affection but he didn’t have an uncle Wayne. So, love for him is different. Steve falls hard and fast and he is always quick to say it, always the first one to say ‘I love you’. And he means it everytime and is devastated when it isn’t reciprocated.

When steddie happens, Steve would try to play it cautious. He’s been burnt so many times that he holds the words to his chest for weeks, maybe even months before they finally come spilling out. And, Eddie would be stunned. He could probably count on his hands the times he’s been verbally told he’s loved. And, of course he loves steve too. How could anyone not love steve? But Eddie can’t get the words out.

And Steve, he gets it. He knows Eddie. Knows that even though Eddie can’t say it, that the way he leans into Steve and kisses him all soft and sweet and deep says it for him. It’s in Eddie’s big expressive eyes the way it’s never been in anyone else’s before. Steve wants to hear the words, but he doesn’t need them from Eddie because he can see it. It’s mutual. It’s reciprocated and that’s enough for Steve.

I do think Eddie will say it. Later. Maybe a few months down the line and I think it’ll be such a random and seemingly unremarkable moment. That Steve is probably just sitting there, all focused and squinty eyed as he’s working on something and Eddie is watching him. And Eddie loves him. Loves him so so fucking much and the words don’t seem all that scary or hard to say anymore.

“Steve?”

“Hmm,” Steve hums, not looking up from the bracelets he promised to make for Max and El.

And Eddie can’t stop the grin on his face, the relief as the words roll so easily off his tongue. So earnest and honest and heartfelt, “I love you.”

Steves head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks over at Eddie.

Eddie feels warm beneath that gaze, hair tickling his cheek as he tugs it over his mouth. It’s out of habit more than embarrassment, or vulnerability.

He watches Steves throat bob when he swallows, the way his mouth ticks up at the corners, how it grows into a wide smile. He doesn’t make it a big deal, doesn’t even comment on it other than to say, “Love you too.”

[gotaksboyfie]

Hi, could you please do something about a reader who had a toxic relationship in the past and is now dating Gotak, but she still has some trauma. If you feel comfortable, I loved your writing and I love Gotak!

undoing scars

gif creds @slytherinshua

paring go hyuntak x female reader

summary after a toxic ex, you struggle when hyuntak keeps coming to dates late because it reminds you of unpleasant memories. but through his love and actions, you learn to heal from your past.

word count 2.1k

warnings/tags past verbal + physical abuse, hurt/comfort, insecurities, angst

a/n the toxic ex is just a male oc, not a character or intended to be anyone

hyuntak🩷: will be late 15 minutes. wait for me!!

you read hyuntak’s message with a heavy sigh. you guys were supposed to go eat at a restaurant, but it seems like hyuntak was running late.

a small tendril of fear started to bloom in your heart. this was how it started with minseok. he gradually started coming later and later to dates, eventually just canceling them last minute.

that was just the beginning of your horrible relationship. you shuddered slightly at the memories, burying them deep down again. hyuntak was different, you knew that. do you really?

staring at the tablecloth, a waiter stopped by your table.

“miss? are you dining alone today?” he asked, preparing to take your order.

“ah no,” you grimaced slightly, “i’m just waiting for my date. he’s running late, you see”

the waiter widened his eyes in surprise and apologized. “i’ll come back when he’s here,”

you checked your phone again anxiously. what was hyuntak doing that was taking him so long? you bounced your leg up and down, hoping to will all thoughts of minseok away.

hyuntak is different. he will always better miles better than that piece of shit. he'd never treat you like that. you reaffirmed yourself repeatedly in your head, watching the minutes on your phone tick by.

"reader! i'm so sorry," hyuntak panted, slightly out of breath. he looked down at where you sat, with a concerned glance.

you were frozen with an unreadable expression on your face. your eyes held some fear, and hyuntak hoped it was just because he was late.

"i brought you these flowers as an apology," he nervously held out a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you blinked and your expression did a total 180. you beamed brightly, and took the bouquet while complimenting it.

"hyuntak this is so pretty! thank you so much! also, it's really okay if you're late a couple minutes. i can handle it," you rambled on, complimenting the flowers.

hyuntak sighed, "reader, i promise this won't happen again. i'm really sorry about being late,"

you shook your head at his apology, "i already told you it's okay, stop apologizing,"

taking a sear across from you, hyuntak watched as you flagged down the same waiter from before and began ordering. he smiled softly, admiring you. you continued the date as if nothing happened, but there was a small pit growing in your stomach—unknown to hyuntak.

the next time it happens, you can't help but shed a tear or two. hyuntak was supposed to be at your house 30 minutes ago, but he said he was running late. again.

sure, the last time it happened was a few weeks ago, and hyuntak's allowed to be late sometimes. but it doesn't stop the anxiety from creeping in. you've been through this before, you know what's going to happen.

arguments, screaming matches, a few slaps here and there, and then suddenly hyuntak will show up with a new girl and you're tossed aside the second you become "boring"—

you breathe in and out, nice and slow, to stop yourself from hyperventilating. nothing good will happen if you work yourself into a panic. your doorbell ringing knocks you out of your spiral.

you rush to the door, opening it to see hyuntak slightly bruised up—but other wise fine.

"hyuntak! are you okay? oh my god, come in," you panic slightly, dragging him to sit on your couch. "what happened?"

hyuntak exhales softly as he sits down, "some people tried to pick on juntae, and he called me for help. i'm sorry for being late,"

you chastise yourself for being so stupid. of course hyuntak was busy doing something else, you're not the only person in the world.

"is he okay? i hope he's not hurt." you pull out some ointment and a few bandaids, carefully applying them to his face. "are you hurt anywhere?"

"not really, just a little sore. nothing some rest won't fix."

the second you finish, hyuntak bear hugs you and tackles you down to the couch to cuddle. "put a movie or whatever you'd like on, i'm gonna take a nap,"

you inhale sharply at the sudden movement and you find yourself frozen for a moment before you remember that this is hyuntak. he wouldn't hurt you. you recollect yourself quickly before hyuntak can notice.

you bring a hand to his scalp and start lightly scratching, before reaching for the remote to turn on a show. "goodnight baby," you mutter, and hyuntak's out like a light.

the next 2 months pass without anymore incidents, and you've managed to quell that nagging feeling in your head. but it happens a third time.

once was fine, twice is just coincidence, but a third time has to mean something's up. right? it's been nearly an hour of you waiting on a bench near a night market. unshed tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you look at your phone screen.

hyuntak🩷: baby i'm so sorry i was working on a project with juntae and sieun and it completely slipped my mind i'll be there soon - 6:44

hyuntak🩷: i think i'm gonna have to stay a little longer because our progress is really slow right now - 7:02

hyuntak🩷: just 10 more minutes and i'll be omw!!get yourself something to snack on in the meantime 😋 - 7:25

hyuntak was supposed to meet you at 6:30. it was 7:26 now. was it that easy for him to forget about you? what if he's not even with juntae and sieun—and he's really just with some other girl and they're laughing about how oblivious you are to everything.

the tears cascade down your cheeks like a waterfall, attracting the attention of some people near you. you sniffle and wipe them, but it does little to stop you from crying silently.

you can't stay here any longer, you have to leave. you pick up your things and start speed walking home. the tears don't stop, not even for a moment.

why would hyuntak do that to you? he was supposed to be different than.. than him. the painful reminder makes you choke on a sob. you fumble for your phone and hurriedly dial juntae, noticing that the time was well past the 10 minutes hyuntak said he'd by done by.

"oh! reader, why are you calling?" juntae asks. he's clearly shocked to see you calling, and he makes a noise of concern when he hears you sob.

"wh- where's hyuntak?" your voice is shaky and small as you barely gasp out your words.

juntae swallows and tries to put a comforting voice on. "ah, he just left right now in a hurry. don't worry, he's on h-" you hang up the call before juntae can finish his sentence.

why are you crying? why did you automatically assume the worst of hyuntak? you fumble with your door code before slamming it shut and collapsing on your bed.

hyuntak would never do that, he's never done anything to make you think he would do that. you cry harder knowing that you were a bad girlfriend for instantly assuming the worst of him.

a memory of minseok arguing with you appears in your head, and you can't stop it from replaying in your mind.

"why are you making such a big deal out of nothing? it's just one fucking date, i don't get it," minseok scoffs in your face with an annoyed expression.

you blink away a few tears and try to reason with him again, "i'm just upset that you waited 30 minutes to tell me. if you knew you couldn't make it, why did you make me wait so long? also you always do this, it's not a one off thing."

"do i have to tell you everything? seriously, it's not even that bad. you're lucky i'm still with a pathetic bitch like you," minseok's words stab into your chest, and you can't help a small sob that bubbles out of you.

"minseok, it's about the principle of it. you don't respect me or my time-" a stinging sensation on your cheek interrupts you and you realize that minseok has slapped you.

"respect this and respect that. why can't you just fucking shut up and respect my ears? nobody wants to listen to your feelings, okay? get it in your head, god. so fucking annoying for what," minseok walks away from you and leaves your house, slamming the door behind him. before he's out though, he looks at you and you hear him mutter "such a crybaby."

you hold your cheek in shock. did minseok just slap you? remembering what he said, you burst into more tears. he was right, you really were a crybaby.

you're too worked up to notice that hyuntak has opened the door to your house, and that he's standing in your room's doorway.

hyuntak freezes, not knowing what to do.

"reader.. are you okay?" he tentatively asks, slowly approaching you. you look up at him but all you can see is his vague silhouette through your tears.

you can't see his worried expression, and you mistake it for annoyance.

"'m sorry for- for leaving the night market." you hiccup slightly, "'m okay i promise, i'm fine,".

hyuntak steps closer to you and moves his hand to your face to wipe away your tears, but you flinch and block it with your forearm.

something in hyuntak's heart breaks at the amount of fear you held towards him. "reader, you're not fine and we both know it. can.. can i touch you right now?" hyuntak wants to hold you in his arms and let you vent out all your worries but he's scared you'll flinch again.

you nod shakily, scooting over on your bed. hyuntak sits next to you slowly, making sure you're not scared. the tears still haven't stopped and you furiously wipe at them as if that would stop it.

"you're going to hurt yourself, stop it." he says softly and lightly grabs your hands. your face hangs low, too ashamed to face him.

hyuntak gently you into his arms, letting you cry into his chest. he starts rubbing your back soothingly. he doesn't know what happened, but he needs to comfort you first before anything.

"reader, it's okay. i'm here for you,"

taking in what he said, you hold onto his hoodie a little tighter. hyuntak was too good for someone like you. even if it was selfish, you wanted to hold onto him so tight he would never leave.

after minutes of constant reassurance and soothing from hyuntak, you've calmed down to small sniffles and hiccups.

hyuntak takes a breath in before asking, "do you want to talk about it?".

you contemplate it. you guys have been dating for 4 months now, and he still has no idea of minseok. deciding it was time for him to know, you started to tell him about what he was like.

the entire time, hyuntak is listening with rage brewing in his veins. he hugs you more protectively, as if he's shielding you from a ghost of minseok. when you finish speaking, hyuntak swallows carefully.

"he would hit you?" he asks through gritted teeth, "and would do all that while cheating on you?".

you nod slowly into hyuntak's chest, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "i just.. let him. it's my fault," hyuntak shushes you quickly.

"don't ever say that, it's his fault to begin with. he was actively manipulating you, and you still blame yourself?" hyuntak rants, becoming increasingly upset.

he was angry that someone treated you so badly, and how he wasn't able to protect you.

"thank you for telling me reader. i love you so much," hyuntak pulls you away from his chest so you can look at him directly. "please, never forget that. you will always be the most beautiful, strongest girl i know."

your eyes start to water before you know it, but this time it's from happy tears. "i love you too hyuntak, i'm sorry for being so.. insecure," you admit.

hyuntak shakes his head, "never apologize for that," he moves his hands to cup your face and wipe your tears, "whenever you feel like that, i will always be here for you. talk to me, please."

"i will, i promise." it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. knowing that hyuntak will always support you makes you tear up again, but this time from happy tears.

"i love you, hyuntak"

"i love you too, reader."

fin

a/n sorry for the wait! i hope this fits what you wanted <3

[gay-dorito-dust]

Bob's love or signs of it weren't loud or grand, it was soft, it was personal and it was sweet and it was within the quiet moments where it was just you and him and nobody else.

They were in the glances he made towards you, making sure you were real and apart of the reality he lives within, just within reach for him to touch you and feel just how alive you were but just far enough away where he didn't have to fear of accidently hurting you. His gaze alone would be enough to tip off anyone that he was in love -or at least close to falling in love-for his eyes softned and his pupils were wide with adoration as if all he ever could want and need was standing right next to him, making him feel more complete and whole then he's ever felt in his entire life.

Like he didn't need anything of materialistic origins when he had you close by, like he was seeing you for the first time and still feeling that immedite falling feeling as he does. Fully knowing that he was doomed to gaze at you like you were his muse and he was the lovesick artist who could never stop writing poems about you, create masterpieces in your imagine for others to also fall in love with you; yet not nearly as more in love with you then Bob himself.

It wasn't a competion becuase Bob would win out against everyone every time without fail, he looked at you as though it was his curse, as if he couldn't get enough of you and needed to intergrate you into his memory daily. yet how could gazing at the person he loved be considered a curse when it's the blessing he's been wanting to have from the moment he laid eyes on you? He needed to see you from even behind his eyelids and know you so vidily that even when blindfolded or rid of all of his memories of you, Bob would still be able to see you, to know you as detailed as he did for he could truly never be rid of you and your influence.

His memories maybe murky but when it came to you? Bob remembered every last thing about you, knowing you like the back of his hand despite himself being inable to remeber things of his own past, he could remember things about you that even you had long forgotten whereas it stuck in his mind like glue. There wasn't a detail that Bob didn't know about you, there was apart of his mind, a apart of him that was made to withold things about you both big and small. He could know your footsteps, your vocal patterns, your habbits -both good and bad- and know your non verbal signs of discomfort and content.

Bob could remember your routine in the morning as he sits on the kitchen island, mentally ticking off the boxes with every seconds that ticks by, until the moment you were stood in the doorway greeting him good morning like you did the previous mornings before now. Your favourite memories and least favourite memories were also intergated within his mind as your intrests, dislikes and things that you were neutral about were also pivotal for Bob to keep close to his heart, as though it would be the biggest diservice to you if he didn't. There wasn't a thing about you that didn't go unnoticed by Bob for everything you did, everything you were was worth every part of his attention and worth him remembering as though he wouldn't be able to withold anymore infomation about you anymore; yet he always does.

It was in the way he would linger in your presence, wanting to stay by you, stand a little closer to you whenever he could as your shoulders brush togeher or hands breeze past knuckles; as though giving you a ghost of a kiss he didn't have the strength to give you without his knees buckling underneath him. It was in the way that Bob would always seem attached to the hip with you as he could be seen over your shoulder, just happy to be within your presence and get to follow you like a lost puppy without being reprimended for his attrocious attatchement to you.

It's in the way where Bob wanted to spend every waking moment with you, whether you were doing something or doing nothing because Bob was just happy that you wanted him near you, especially after everything that happened with the Void. His mind is silent and only focused on you and only you, bathing you in gold and in an ethreal light, a light that was no illusion nor trick of the mind becuase it was his truth of how he viewed you. His mind calms with you, it's silent and peaceful the most it's ever been in a long time, there wasn't a voice in the back of his head that told him how he shoulod view himself nor was there any doubts left to linger within in.

it's all disipates as there's nothing but a light, warm feeling within his mind left, one where he could unclench his jaw and relax his shoulders and allow himself to just live in this moment with you. Bob was allowed to just live as Bob within your presence, to be able to let himself enjoy the moment with you without assuming the worst will happen, to let himself be happy.

[angel-z-xdx]

Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare: Ghost might surprise you with his tenderness after intimacy. Though he’s stoic and reserved, he ensures you’re comfortable, offering a soft touch or a quiet reassurance. He’s not overly verbal, but his actions speak volumes—a warm towel, water, or holding you close in his arms.

B - Body: Simon’s body is a canvas of scars, each telling a story of battles fought and survived. He’s strong and imposing, yet he’s self-conscious about his scars. Hearing you admire or cherish his physique helps him see himself through your eyes.

C - Confidence: Ghost is confident but not cocky. He knows his strengths and brings an unshakable calm to intimacy. His quiet assurance can make anyone feel safe and desired, though he’s more focused on his partner’s pleasure than his own.

D - Dom/Sub: Simon’s natural dominance is evident, but it’s never overbearing. He thrives on being in control, but he’s attuned to his partner’s needs, ensuring mutual satisfaction. If he trusts you deeply, he’s open to letting go occasionally.

E - Experience: Years in the military haven’t left him much time for relationships, but his maturity and attention to detail make him an attentive lover. He’s learned to read people well and adapts effortlessly to what his partner wants.

F - Favorite Position: Ghost prefers positions that allow for intimacy and connection, like missionary or spooning, where he can see or feel you close. He’s also a fan of standing positions—a practical choice for his strong physique and intense moments.

G - Goofy: Simon has a dry sense of humor, and while he’s serious in most aspects, he might throw in a sly quip to lighten the mood. He values the comfort of his partner, even if it means cracking a rare joke.

H - Hair: His short, regulation haircut is practical, but his facial hair is another story. He’s aware of its appeal and might let you tug on it playfully during heated moments. He secretly loves the attention.

I - Intimacy: Intimacy with Ghost is layered. He struggles to open up emotionally but craves a deep connection. When he lets his guard down, he’s intensely devoted, treating every moment as significant and meaningful.

J - Jealousy: Simon is not outwardly jealous but fiercely protective. He’ll observe from the shadows, ensuring no one crosses boundaries with you. His quiet possessiveness manifests in subtle gestures, like keeping a hand on your lower back in public.

K - Kinks: Ghost’s kinks lean toward dominance and control. He enjoys restraint, whether it’s physical or situational, and takes pleasure in heightening his partner’s anticipation. He’s also partial to praise and enjoys hearing his partner’s appreciation.

L - Location: Simon prefers privacy and safety, valuing control over the environment. A quiet bedroom or secluded space is his comfort zone, though he’s adaptable if the moment calls for spontaneity.

M - Mood: Ghost’s mood during intimacy is intense and focused. He’s not one for casual flings; when he’s with someone, it’s deliberate and passionate. His energy can shift from tender to commanding, depending on the dynamic.

N - Noise: Simon is relatively quiet, but his low grunts and occasional whispers are intoxicating. When he speaks during intimacy, it’s deliberate and laced with an irresistible edge.

O - Oral: Ghost is thorough and meticulous. When he’s giving, he’s entirely focused on his partner’s pleasure, taking time to learn what makes you tick. Receiving is less important to him, but he’ll let you take the lead if it pleases you.

P - Pace: Simon’s pace is controlled and intentional. He’s not one to rush, preferring to savor every moment. He can adjust depending on the situation, from slow and sensual to fervent and intense.

Q - Quickies: While he prefers meaningful encounters, Simon understands the demands of time and circumstance. He’s efficient and attentive during quickies, ensuring you’re as satisfied as possible.

R - Risk: Ghost is cautious and values safety above all else, but he’s not averse to calculated risks. If it strengthens your bond or adds excitement, he’ll consider stepping out of his comfort zone.

S - Stamina: Years of training and discipline have given Ghost impressive stamina. He can go for extended periods, ensuring his partner’s satisfaction before considering his own. He’s in it for the long haul.

T - Toys: Simon isn’t opposed to incorporating toys but prefers to rely on his skills first. If his partner expresses interest, he’s open-minded and eager to explore together.

U - Unpredictable: Ghost’s reserved nature makes his rare spontaneous moments thrilling. Whether it’s an unexpected kiss or a sudden shift in intensity, he keeps you on your toes.

V - Vulnerability: Opening up is a challenge for Simon, but with the right partner, he’ll let his walls down. His vulnerability is most evident in quiet moments, where his actions convey the emotions he struggles to put into words.

W - Wildcard: Despite his stoic demeanor, Simon has a surprising romantic streak. He’ll plan intimate moments, like lighting candles or bringing you small, thoughtful gifts to show his affection.

X - X-Ray (Physical): Simon’s body is as strong as his presence, with broad shoulders, a muscular build, and scars that tell a story of resilience. He’s well aware of his physical appeal but values connection over appearance.

Y - Yearning: Ghost’s yearning runs deep. He’s a man who’s lived through loss and pain, making him crave genuine connection. When he finds someone he trusts, his passion is unwavering.

Z - Zest: Though his life is defined by discipline and danger, Simon brings an unexpected zest to intimacy. His dedication to his partner’s pleasure and his rare moments of levity make every encounter unforgettable.

[keferon]

Getting lost (part 2/?)!!

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The humans were really weird today, they had treated him to a meal in addition to the frozen fish he got every day, and he had done nothing! His pool was closed to the public, which only happened when he had a medical appointment and he hated them. The feeling of apprehension clouded his thoughts, it steamed in his belly, resonated in his heart before intruding into his flesh and bones, filling his being with a tugging, a curious desire to search, to understand. With this thick cloud blocking his little world of thoughts and the many staff members circling around his waters, he only wanted one thing: answers.

He would have asked, he COULD have asked, but humans didn't like that. He often tried to talk to them, but the more words came out of his mouth, when his language went beyond simple things like "eat" and "hello", their gaze withered, in the same way that an overwatered flower would have done. The truth brushed the veil of their thoughts before being quickly rejected for coos of joy and excitement at the new words that the orca had learned. And they couldn't really hear him anyway, people he recognized as veterinarians thanks to their green outfits were standing behind the glass of his indoor aquarium and not on the platform they normally used above the water. It felt more like a check-up than a real intervention and he thanked all the deities he knew for that! But no verbal interaction for him.

That still didn't explain why his part of the aquarium was closed. The keepers liked to do their check-ups in public, and honestly it, reassured him not to be alone during them. Being alone made him feel empty, there was nothing to do, nothing to say....just him and himself. He loathed when his body became numb from inactivity, when even his emotions mixed in the melancholy of his thoughts to become nothing but noise without purpose or words. He knew that the more the days passed, the more the little world he tried to keep in a corner of his head crumbled and that one day it would end up collapsing. That day, he will have gotten lost deep enough to never get out again, and there are days when he wonders if he would do better to swim faster to the bottom, to stop the internal bomb that was sleeping inside him, to let the ticking of the clock stop for good and to finally be at peace.

Little taps on the surface brought him out of thoughts he didn't want to have, that he tried as best he could to hide. It was his signal, maybe everything wasn't completely different today? Without hesitation he gave a simple tail swipe that propelled him without any real force towards the air. It was much too hot for his taste, one of the big disadvantages of summer, which made him think that they hadn't provided him with any enrichment with ice recently, maybe they didn't have enough for the whole park? His gaze fell on his regular keeper, Brice, who gave him a gentle pat on the top of his head between his ears.

"Hi buddy"

He cooed before throwing him a fish from a basin placed next to him. Jazz caught it on the fly, creating waves under his weight that soaked the keeper from head to toe, making him laugh. He liked to make people laugh, he was good at it, and he knew that the more he did it, the more humans would come and the less alone he would be. While eating his meal (they were really generous today), he saw Brice talking to the veterinarians who had been behind the window a few moments earlier but also to other people he didn't recognize, inspectors perhaps? In any case, their conversation was clear, even if the humans, as usual, didn't suspect that he was listening.

"Are we sure that the procedure is possible?

- One hundred percent, Jazz is completely docile and has no wounds that could be infected by a mystery disease from the other.

- The new mer is clearly not docile, he has been trying to escape since he woke up. I recommend a gentle approach, a quick first contact so that they assimilate each other."

The orca's ears perked up and his food froze in his throat. A new mer? Here?? He seemed to pause in his rapid descent into the heart of his mind, a pause in the chaos as the numbers of the bomb stopped decreasing, all to listen, to confirm the growing feeling in his chest. Hope? Fear? Stress or just pure denial that something like this could happen? In his head, a new melody began to write itself.

-----------------------------------------

-🦇🐧

Part 2 is less poetic, I didn't have the strenght for it🥲 hope you still like it!

OOOOOOOOOAAAHHHHH I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH DKLDNFKELNDHFKF

[hiraethwrote]

miracle

contents : gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, hurt/angst to somewhat comfort?, established relationship, slight toxicity but not really, depictions of a verbal fight, little bit of a self insert, very emotional reader, timeskip, no use of y/n — wc 1.2k

heart pounding, blood rushing, hands clenching. and silence. complete and utter silence, standing frozen still in your bedroom — your shared bedroom — after having slammed the door in tobio’s face.

trembling hands came to wipe your wet cheeks. you weren’t entirely sure when you had started to cry, only that once the tears had started to fall, you hadn’t been able to stop them.

you sniffled quietly, taking a look about your surroundings.

a long time ago, you and tobio had promised each other to never taint the sacred space of your bedroom. it was to remain a place of absolute solace and comfort for the both of you. any negative feelings were to be left at the door before entering.

but tonight’s events had made you break that promise, standing in the room that now felt unrecognisable by the dark and cold atmosphere. it somehow felt like it was swallowing you, threatening to pull you under completely.

and as the loud bang from the door still echoed in your mind, you regretted all that you had said.

you and tobio had been apart for longer than preferred this time around due to conflicting schedules — you had been pulled out of town for work for an extensive period, while tobio had finished his first season for ali roma in italy. you had both booked a ticked back to your home in tokyo the second your schedules allowed it.

both of you had endured a long and exhausting day of travelling, and after having worked yourselves to the bone, it was only to expect your patience was running low.

but the seemingly straight path to that logic reason was nowhere to be found in your mind in this moment, hidden behind thick clouds of tired fatigue. and now you were also too worn down from the worst fight you could ever remember the two of you having, simply leaving you fragile in the shell of your body.

it had never been as bad as tonight.

would you be able to take back what you had said?

did he truly feel so strongly about the things he’d thrown in your face as he let on?

would you be able to recover?

you hated the fact that you couldn’t answer your last concern with a confident of course.

because you were both so extremely stubborn, to the point where you had a cruel tendency to let petty grudges linger longer than either of you wanted — you just couldn’t help it.

and was this the event — this horrible fight — the trigger that would cause your childish stubbornness to lead to your relationship's demise? the straw that broke the camel’s back?

there spawned an invisible pressure on your chest, suddenly struggling to draw enough oxygen into your lungs as the fear of a breakup slowly started to tangle you in its thorns.

however, three weak knocks was placed on the bedroom door, instantly halting the weed's growth for a moment.

you spun around to face the door, once again feeling the overwhelming silence suffocate you as you waited for his voice to seep through the cracks.

“you’re coming out.” his voice was weak, lacking the aggression that had been present not even ten minutes ago. but there was a strange assertiveness to his demand that had your hand instantly hover over the door handle.

you swallowed the lump in your throat before gathering the courage to creak it open, standing face to face with tobio again.

his eyebrows where just ever so slightly pinched together in frustration, and his lips were tilted down in a strict frown. but his eyes — his oh-so-beautiful, blue eyes were just sad.

“you’re coming out,” he repeated, the faintest tremble to his voice. “you’re not bringing this in there.”

you nodded slowly in agreement and blinked away the tears, guilt building up in you with what you had done. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled.

he didn’t respond, only stepping aside to let you walk past him and into the living room.

suddenly the atmosphere had shifted into something... awkward? an unfamiliar feeling in his presence, standing an unnatural three feet apart. you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, while he, on the other hand, had his arms tensely pressed along the sides of his body.

his eyes traveled the floor, working so hard to find the right words to say. “we’re tired,” he said and took a deep breath. “i think we both said things we didn’t mean.”

“are you sure?” you hated how it came out almost accusatory — it wasn’t intentional, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t spewed just as mean statements as he had. it was just that flaw in you that puppeteered you with ease when your body didn’t have the ability to fight it.

you drew a sharp breath when your question instantly had his eyes lock with yours.

“i am, at least.” you deserved that one.

you let your arms fall to your side and straightened your posture. taking a deep breath, you decided to find the single shred of strength you had left in you to actively push your stubbornness aside in order to approach the conversation the way you both wanted — the way you both deserved.

“you’re right,” you said. “sorry.”

“it’s been a long day. for the both of us.”

“that doesn’t excuse it-“ you cut yourself off, the tears threatening to come back again. “it doesn’t excuse what i said.”

his shoulders relaxed. “me neither.”

for a moment you just stood there, looking at each other. you knew the same thing was running through your minds — how embarrassing, that something as mundane as exhaustion had brought you to a point where you had expressed mean remarks beyond your wildest imagination to the person you loved the most in the world.

and you felt your heart break by the mere thought of how you had hurt him with your recent words and actions. you didn’t think you’d ever be able to sink so low — yet here you were.

“i’m sorry,” he said. he fought to keep his voice strong and steady so you’d be able to see how sincere he was.

“i am sorry too,” you managed to force out before the tears came streaming back, accompanied by loud sobs.

it seemed to break him out of his own mind long enough for him to walk up to you and quickly envelope you in his secure embrace.

your arms instantly laced around his torso in return, feeling like you couldn’t bring him close enough to you. his grip on you instinctively tightened, hoping that his steady frame pressed against you would eventually fill you with a sense of safety.

“you’re my miracle, you know.”

another loud sob seeped from your lips, digging your face further into the crook of his neck, letting his deceleration marinate in your mind.

you’re my miracle.

it was probably the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, quickly erasing the pain he had caused earlier.

tilting your head ever so slightly, you opened your mouth to speak, “you’re-“ was all you were able to get out before the sobs kept on tumbling. you so badly wanted to tell him the same thing. of course he was your miracle too, and you needed him to know.

the words continued to die on your tongue before you felt him squeeze you even tighter.

“i know,” he whispered, followed by a quiet sniffle, which led you to believe his eyes weren't completely dry either. “i know.”

slowly the warmth started to creep back into the apartment.

an : hea lore drop, i stole the line "you're my miracle," from my ex which he said to me not long before our breakup became final :,) comments and reblogs are appreciated

tobio nation : @hiraethwa . @shouyuus . @yogurtkags + honorary new member maybe @lale-txt

©hiraethwrote 2025 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[lxdymoon0357]

hi beautiful !

Can i ask yandere calisto(of death only waiting for vilainess) with a lapileon reader of my in law are obssesef with me(she have cursed blood)

(warnings: blackmailing, poisoning, forced marriage, forceful harvest of body parts (your blood), murder,manipulation, verbal abuse, mentions of suicide.)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Yandere! Callisto Regulus X Lapileon! Reader

◙ Callisto is a very dangeranged and protective man, everyone knows about him. Especially you, one of the darling children from the great noble yet very secretive Lapileon family filled with the genetics of red eyes and quiet and reserved demeanors, though not from Eorka empire exactly, but rather from the midlands in between Eorka empire and the nearest other empire.

◙ Your quiet and reserved demeanor is what caught his attention to you in the first place, your family and you didn't regularly attend, you kept to yourselves and you all were VERY MODEST as compared to the trends of the empire which came and went by, always covering every part of your skin.

◙ Of-course it's not long before he tries to become your acquaintance, getting closer to your brother, Therdeo, and eventually you. Forming alliance, he takes the chance to court you. It's not hard considering it would be rude to deny the crown prince, wouldn't it? I believe it would almost deplete your image if you denied him, though of-course he would say no pressure in marrying him.

◙ I imagine it was an utter mistake he learnt of the family's secret. He forcefully entered on one of those days where you got so sick, you were bleeding and vomiting blood and the very few were trying to force him out, but he entered nonetheless and he demanded as to why you're not having anyone and why you're so nervous and everything.

◙ He figured he stumbled on something which will help him tie you down to him. And he was all too glad about it. Of-course you had to admit your family secret and he used it tie you with him, claiming he will make sure nothing can happen and also suggesting to use your blood to help the empire, which you of-course denied as it was family rules to never use your blood as a method of killing.

◙ Of-course it resulted in anger and him blackmailing to kill your entire family and reveal your secrets so no Lapileon ever in the world would be safe, as everyone would be thrown into the severed lines of being "demonic". And you of-course didn't want it, he knew..

◙ Of-course that's why within 5 months of courting, you got married to him, he says it's true love between you two!~ How cute, a reserved noble and boisterous crown prince together, a sight to behold really!! Of-course they don't have to know what goes on behind the scene

◙ Constant beration of your family, telling you how they were isolating you..Harvests your blood for the sole purpose of bettering his immunity incase you one day try to kill him off, he couldn't afford that. Imagine leaving his darling spouse behind!

◙ He adores you so much, he gets you the most gorgeous red coloured jewels to match your red eyes, the most prettier red dresses, red shoes, red metallic hair accessories..everything to match your gorgeous red eyes that he adores so much.

◙ He doesn't get mad often at you, but of-course days exist when something ticks him off, he blackmails you by threatening to reveal family secret and does reveal it to some servant for a while and then later on kills off the servant when he cools down and realized how hurt you must be!

◙ Of-course some days you somehow manage to piss him off, it might result in blood splatter to kill off a few servant or verbal abuses thrown your way, of-course you're just so idiotic that you don't even know what's good for you! He's doing this for your betterment and you have the audacity to even think of someone other than him? Of annoying him, of being ungrateful to him?! He's your fucking husband, you idiot. You're just such an idiot, it would sometimes been better that you don't exist!

◙ Of-course he never means those words, darling! What are you talking about? He never meant it, t was just in anger and heat of the moment. After berating you, verbally abusing you or even hitting you once or twice in anger, he couldn't control..he does love you at the end of the day, cuddling upto you, checking to make sure you don't have a cut anywhere he would hate to see you upset if you accidentally killed someone!

[gorgeous777]

Unfunny, George Weasley x Fem. Reader

He does his best to cheer you up.

A/N: Based off a character ai bot I made, go check it out! The story is about period comfort, but it's only implied with the bot, so do with that what you will :) Also, sorry this one is kind of short 😔 https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/beiu733m

Enjoy!

_________________________

He tried to be the best boyfriend he could be. And he succeeded for the most part. The day had started off normal. Boring, mostly. He and Fred hadn't planned any pranks for today, so things were mellow. All up until you didn't show up to charms class, that was. He noticed almost immediately, as the two of you sat together in that class. The minutes ticked by, and you wete still nowhere to be seen. He glanced around the classroom. Nothing.

Passing period ended, and you hadn't shown. Half concerned half curious, he hopped out of his seat and walked over to your firend. If he didn't know where you were, then maybe they would. Much to his dismay, they said you'd gone to see Madame Pomfrey halfway through last class. Just then, Professor Flitwick walked into the classroom. He cursed inwardly and jogged back over to his seat. That complicated leaving class to go see you. His eyes flicked around the room with thoughts running a million miles per hour. Thinking up different ways to get out of class quickly and unnoticed. Or to come up with an excuse to leave. Something full proofed.

He sneaks a glance into his bag. Nothing. He just goes for it and rifles through it until he found something: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder! It was perfect. Stealing another glance around the classroom to make sure nobody was looking at him, he concluded now was the time to strike. He chucked the block at the floor to which it instantly combusted and the room went pitch black. Panic set into the classroom and Flitwick shouted "Weasley!" He snickered and booked it out of the classroom while he could.

Sure enough, he found you curled up in one of the beds when he got to the hospital wing. He frowned inwardly and made his way over to your bed. "Lovey what're you doing in here?" His voice was laced with worry as he spoke. Upon hearing his voice, you turn your head to look up at him. "Hi George" He sighs, dropping his bag on the floor. "Hi love" You scoot forward a bit, allowing him to slip into the bed with you. His arm slides around your torso, pulling you close and pressing your back to his front.

And then it came to him. A joke! Jokes always help lighten the mood. "Hey love?" You hum in response, to focused on the pain in your lower abdomen to verbalize a response. "How does a wizard organize a party?" His question puzzled you a bit. Nonetheless though, you gave a proper response this time. "I dunno.. Why?" He let out a snicker. "He spells them out!" You couldn't hold in the snort you gave at his horrible joke. Only he could think of something so unfunny. "Oh please George" He laughed a little. "What, it's funny?" You shook your head lightly. "I promise you it's not" His lips returned to your shoulder, and trailed soft kisses to the junction where your neck met it.

It's silent between the two of you for a while. Madame Pomfrey wasn't anywhere to be seen, off getting more potions no doubt. His hand slowly rubbed your stomach, the touch gentle and soothing. He'd hoped that you would tell him what was the matter, but after a long silence he could guess you weren't. So, he asked. "You gonna tell me what's the matter love?" His voice came out a low murmur, to which an audible sigh left you. Followed by instant regret of doing so as it made your cramps worse. He felt you flinch slightly and he instinctively held you a little closer. "Yeah, cramps, mostly.. Madame Pomfrey excused me from class to lay here until they go away because she need to restock on stuff to make me feel better"

That answer answer made him internally frustrated. There wasn't much he could do to help you feel better. Not literally anyways. He could keep cuddling you for comfort on an emotional level, which he would, but that was about it. He pressed his lips to your shoulder as he thought hard about how to make you feel better. As he thunk, the hand he had on your stomach slid down to your lower abdomen and rubbed there instead. He furrowed his brow heavily. His mind was blank or dearth of useful ideas.

"I promise you it was"

[riality-check]

TW: past verbal and emotional abuse

The Harrington house is a game of perfection.

Steve has known this fact for as long as he can remember. There is a right way, a narrow way, a rigid way, of doing things. Numbers dictate all: rebounds, points, and assists for basketball, new PRs in freestyle and backstroke for swim. The numbers themselves do not matter; all that does is that they grow and shrink appropriately.

Infinite growth is not sustainable; not for Steve's stats, not for Richard's stocks. Both of them strive for it anyway.

The house must be clean. The parties can't be busted. The people of Hawkins will only say good things about the Harrington family. Gloria strives for these things, day in and day out.

The Harrington house is also a game of Perfection.

Steve hated that game growing up. The one with the little yellow pieces and the blue board. He was never able to get all the pieces in the right spot before the board spit them all back out.

It made a ticking noise, like a time bomb. Steve doesn't know when he started associating that sound with his parents.

It fits. It fits almost too well. They're fine, at least for a little while. The ticking starts quiet, then grows louder and louder until everything blows up.

The thing is, in Perfection, that the board blows up even if you put all the pieces in the right spots in time. The thing is, in the Harrington house, that everything blows up even if Steve does everything right.

The ticking lasts for days sometimes, weeks others. It's impossible, random, and impossibly random.

The only consistent thing is the board blowing up. And when that happens, so does the shouting.

The Party thinks that Tommy and Carol taught Steve to be cruel. That they're the ones who taught him how to bare his fangs and spit venom. That once he left them, the rage left him.

He's okay with letting them think that. It's easier than explaining that Richard and Gloria are the ones who taught him how to snap and shout, how to tear holes in other people with a few well-spoken barbs.

When Steve thinks of his parents, he thinks of fighting. He thinks of his father calling him useless and his mother calling him an idiot. He thinks of his mother calling his father dirt and his father calling his mother a bitch.

There are never any apologies. "I'm sorry" is never said in the Harrington house, even when the board gets reset.

They say "I got you pizza for dinner." "I saw this at the store and thought of you." "Do you want to come with me to get gas?"

And with that, the ticking starts up again.

Horrible things are said when the board blows up. Steve says horrible things when the board blows up. He's called his father an asshole and his mother self-absorbed and apologized without any apology at all.

He cleaned the pool instead.

Steve doesn't want to the board to blow up in the middle of the Munson trailer. It's why he's keeping his mouth shut while Eddie yells at him.

"What the hell, Stevie?" Eddie shouts, arms flying. "I told you that you can’t do that!"

“You told me you don’t want me to,” Steve says, staying calm and measured.

Calm and measured. Not blowing up. Steve isn’t going to snap or shout or bitch. He isn’t.

“Fucking semantics!”

“They were saying-”

“I don’t care what they were saying!” Eddie roars. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me!”

It’s true. Wayne calls Eddie “Teflon,” says that nothing sticks to him, least of all anyone’s opinion. Steve knows that Eddie doesn’t care about what most people in Hawkins think about him.

But he cares very much about what the people who care about him think.

Steve can say a whole lot of things right now. He’s angry, physically biting his tongue to ground himself. He can say a whole lot of things to cut Eddie to the bone, to end the argument and then some.

But he won’t.

Love is knowing how to hurt someone and choosing not to. It’s using a knife to split an apple to share instead of to cut skin to ribbons.

Steve can’t trust himself not to slash Eddie open. He says awful things when everything goes to hell like this, snaps back hard when snapped at first, operates purely on instinct.

He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I care that you could have gotten hurt when you swung at those assholes,” Eddie continues. “I care that I wasn’t there with you when you defended yourself. I care that you won’t let me take a look at your hands and make sure they’re alright.”

Steve squeezes the knuckles of this right hand in his left. It stings, but he’s fine. Nothing broken. He knows from experience

“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” Eddie barks.

Steve lets go of his hands, lets them hang loosely at his sides.

“So, what the hell, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, still loud, still snappish.

A variety of terrible answers surges to the front of Steve’s mind. Eddie’s biggest insecurities, the things he’s only told Steve when he thought he was asleep. Ways to wipe the anger off his face and replace it with stuff easier to manage: shock, hurt, sadness. Things he would say if he didn’t particularly like Eddie, if he were still in high school, if he were still in his parents’ house.

Steve doesn’t say anything. He keeps the knife in its drawer. He closes his eyes tight and breathes in once, then again.

“Hey,” Eddie says, softer.

Steve opens his eyes to find him a step closer, hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

Oh.

Well.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s said it before. Of course he has. He knows the words, knows that he needed to say them to Dustin and Robin and Max, and he has. He’s stepped too far with jokes and forgot about some things and missed some things they’ve said.

But he’s never yelled at them. They’ve never yelled at him.

This is not how this is supposed to go. Eddie isn’t supposed to apologize. He’s supposed to clean Steve up or make him dinner or invite him along to go grocery shopping.

And Steve was supposed to snap back.

“It’s okay,” he says because that’s what he’s supposed to say, yeah?

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It was bound to happen.”

Eddie stares at him, big doe eyes shining, like he has five heads. It makes Steve want to put his bloody hands behind his back, make him shrink.

He swears he can hear ticking, but the board just reset. Didn’t it?

“What?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I got scared, but that doesn’t mean I get to yell at you. That’s not okay.”

What does Eddie get to do, if not yell?

I deserve it, Steve thinks, but he’s smart enough to know that saying that out loud will just lead to another fight.

There’s been barely any time to put the pieces back.

Steve doesn’t get it. But, he figures he’s always been a little slow on the uptake, so he can watch. Observe. Figure it out later on his own. He’s pretty good at that.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he holds his hands out for Eddie to take.

He’s dragged along to the sink, where Eddie rinses the cuts out with cool water before bandaging them up with the remnants of a box of Band-Aids from the bathroom. When they’re dry and finished, he presses a kiss to each knuckle, feather light.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking at Steve very seriously.

“Me, too,” Steve says, voice a little hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

It feels good to say. It feels good to mean.

Standing there in the kitchen of a trailer in Forest Hills, looking at the mismatched furniture and half-full ashtrays of the living room, holding hands with his boyfriend formerly accused of murder and apologizing for the first time and meaning it, Steve feels like he can finally breathe.

The ticking has finally stopped, and silence sounds so sweet.