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too-deviant · 8 days

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pick me up?

with…LUKE CASTELLAN!

contains…frat boy!luke, fwb!luke, boxer!luke, 18+ CONTENT, oral (f receiving), mildly public sex, dry humping

The rarity of receiving a text from Luke before midnight was not lost on you.

And yet, when your phone vibrated on your desk at eight-thirty, you picked it up and swiped carefully into the chat like it was the norm. You only recognised the oddity of the situation when Luke’s text didn’t read anything along the lines of u up? or come over?

can u come pick me up?

trav drove me here but left like an hour ago and i have no ride

He dropped his location the moment your read receipt appeared on his screen, and you recognised the boxing gym a few blocks south of your apartment shining at you from under that damn red pin. You asked him why, but continued to slide your uggs on nonetheless, ignoring your roommate’s questioning gaze with a wave of your hand and a, “Be back later.”

You only began to question your actions when you reached the first red light. In the weeks you had known each-other, you and Luke communicated solely after the witching hour – when the only light came from his car and the only sound came from deep in the back of your throat. There was the occasional drunken makeout at any of his frat parties, but never had he asked you for a ride.

Although, you would give it to him; his car wasn’t in the lot when you pulled up. You barely made out his silhouette when your headlights flooded the front window, and he was gone when you turned your car off. You weren’t expecting him to respond to your i’m outside – you never responded to his. But after five minutes of waiting, you huffed a sigh and relented to his clear intentions.

The inside of the gym was as expected – cold from the AC, but warm from the residual body warmth. A ring in the middle of the space, several punching bags and other equipment you couldn’t name. Footfalls pulled you from your stupor, and your eyes drifted to where Luke’s familiar figure was exiting the locker room a few feet to your left.

His compression shirt hugged him in all the right places – the bulging of his biceps and outline of his abs a refreshing change from the loose hoodies and baggy team jerseys he usually wore whenever you met, leaving everything to your imagination. He was in his usual grey sweats, and you applauded the consistency, always down to admire the way they hung low on his hips – the urge to tuck your fingers under the band was prominent, but you held back in favour of watching him pull off his gloves and flex his fingers in such a way that must’ve been on purpose.

“You needed a ride?” While the circumstances of your meetup were out of the ordinary, you kept to the usual sarcastic comment. More often than not did you mutter uber for one? whenever you climbed into his car – and just like clockwork, Luke rolled his eyes and smirked at you through his bottom lashes. You weren’t stupid, and he was well aware.

“Totally.” Was his muttered response.

“None of the other fifty guys you live with were available?”

His hands wrapped comfortably around your hips, pulling you ever-so closer, “None of the guys I live with have lips like yours.”

“They don’t?” You pouted, hands wrapping around his shoulders and sliding up his neck, “But I swear me and Connor use the same lipgloss.”

He chuckled lowly, arms tightening around you until he could lift you up and spin you around, sitting you down on an empty table you assumed was for gloves and tape. A gasp ripped through you at the sudden movement, fingers tightening around him for balance – Luke simply sidled between your thighs and rested his hands gently on top of them.

He kissed you, deep and slow, and you allowed yourself to get lost in it – so lost that you barely registered it when he went for the waistband of your shorts. You just used his shoulders as leverage, mouth still on his, and let him slide them under you and discard them on the ground.

He pulled away from you, knees already buckling and mouth latching on to your shirt as he went further down, “Not those ones.”

Your fingers tangled perfectly in his curls, coiling through their humid wisps and tightening when he pushed your underwear aside and licked a stripe from deep below your vulva all the way up to your clit, latching around it and doing that thing he always said he’d do if you were good enough. Your mewl was amplified by the echo of the empty space, and the table rocked only briefly before Luke’s hand was on your stomach and pushing you to a laid back position.

The way he suckled at you, dipping his tongue into you for a brief moment only to come back out and swallow around you. Your legs found their way around his head and he groaned deep into your cunt, dropping fully onto his knees and yanking you slightly with him. You gripped the edge of the table out of instinct, but your fingers found their way back to his hair in no time, the peak of your orgasm creeping up on you slowly.

You barely murmured a, “Oh – Luke, I’m gonna…” Before your ankles locked around him and you were shoving him hard into you. He took it like a champ, letting you ride it out and slide yourself across his face and nose until you couldn’t anymore, hips stuttering and dropping back onto the table.

You caught your breath, and he stood. Luke always did this; watched you. You felt weird about it at first, but soon enough got used to his gaze keeping you warm while the heat between your legs settled and the huffs of air escaped your parted lips. You met his eyes and held out your hands, allowing him to pull you up into a seated position.

“Been thinking about you all day, didn’t have time to go home and shower.” He pushed your hair away from your face, unsticking it from your forehead, “Plus I really did need a ride.”

It felt intimate – too intimate for a guy who’s text chain in your phone was the same two word question and one word response on repeat every couple of nights. So you avoided his gaze, suddenly heavy, and pulled him even closer, grinding your wet crotch against the tent in his pants and making it impossible for him to not take you right then and there.

"God -- damn." He grunted into your neck, face dropping. His hands settled around your back, venturing up your shirt and smoothing the planes of your spine. He brought them around to grope your tits, and you hummed in satisfaction at the feeling.

Your hips started to grind, and your own hands flattened on his ass so you could push him into you at a languid pace. Your wet rubbed all over him, staining the grey of his sweats dark, but he didn't seem to mind and took over his own movements.

The feeling was euphoric, and the overstimulation had you biting down on his shoulder, but Luke was moving fast t and uncoordinated, chasing his own high with a series of moans into your mouth once he found his way back to it. His hands stayed on your breasts, squeezing hard and rolling your nipples between his fingers -- you were on the cusp of your second orgasm when you felt the warmth of his cum spread through his pants. A few stuttered thrusts and he was a panting dog in your shoulder, hands dropping to the table beneath you.

"Your place or mine?"

divider by @cafekitsune :)

#you asked for this #you're welcome #ya nasties #(its me im the nasty)#@lia’s works #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine

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taegimood · 4 months

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breeding kink soobin is my roman empire

OKAY BUT THAT ONE ANON OF YOURS THAT WAS TALKING ABOUT THICK STICKY CUM SOOBIN-

literally can’t get it out of my head, his hips pressed into yours so deeply that there’s barely room for him to thrust properly but he doesn’t care, all he cares about is staying as deep inside you as he can get - he’s rolling his hips raggedly against yours, pretty lips sucking all over your tits, moaning whispers of “gonna fill you up so good, baby” and “want my cum, baby? tell me you want it” while you’re too fucked out to even respond 😩

he’s so fucking big and cums so fucking much.. kissing you as he releases inside you, making out with you all sloppy and wet as he’s groaning against your lips. he insists on cockwarming you, so warm and full, every now and then giving a soft little thrust or two to make sure nothing drips out <3

sits up sooo slowly later, keeping his cock inside you until he’s sitting on his knees, watching the way his cum coats your pussy and the base of his dick when he hasn’t even pulled out yet. then pulls out gently and gives a quiet, breathy little moan at the sight of his thick sticky cum slowly dripping out of you 🤧 he’s using his long pretty fingers to slowly rub your pussy with it — eyes flickering up at you through his lashes as you twitch and moan — before he fingers it back into you, the lewd wet noises and the warm gooey feeling making him whisper “fuck” under his breath, almost getting hard again on the spot.

when he removes his fingers they’re coated and dripping, and he brings them up to your lips for you to suck clean like a good sweet girl taking all of binnie’s cum <3

#ask mj ♡#mj’s hard thoughts #txt #soobin #soobin hard thoughts #soobin thoughts #soobin smut #soobin x reader #taegimood #mootie lia! 💫

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quillkiller · 4 months

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all im saying is ive never seen someone criticize those marylily or dorlily fanart/fics where they’re harrys mothers and theres no james in sight

#yall will force lily to be a mother bc of ’canon’ but yall dont care about james //responsibility// being a father ??#yall are not the feminists you think you are #the absolute stupidest reason to be against jegulus fr #’how can you take harry from lily?’ ok and what about all the wlw lily ships where they raise harry ?#where are you THEN ??? asking how they can take harry from james ????? WHERE ARE YOU THEN #a woman will always be nothing but a mother #even before she even is one #*lia voice* ever since she’s been a daughter she’s been a prisoner #why is harry ONLY lilys goddamn responsibility #free lily from being a young mother fr..#a dad is a babysitter and a mother has to lay down her life and freedom for the child #which is why yall dont actually care #you just want to be anti jegulus and loud about it #i dont even ship jegulus #ahfhsjsj #maybe reevaluate your stance on the heteronormative nuclear family dynamics and how they’re anti women #bc yall are just pushing the heteronormative agenda with this absolutely lacking take #ok anyway #interesting hill to die on from a girl who hates mlm ships having kids and doesnt ship jegulus #but thats a whole other thing #so!

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ourdadai · 2 months

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✿ lia ꒰ itzy ꒱ lockscreens !

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meademalove · 5 months

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Found a longer version because everyone seems to love it 🙊🔥❤️

You're welcome!

#meadema #meademalove #ask meademalove #alessia russo #katie mccabe #vic pelova #victoria pelova #caitlin foord #kyra cooney x #kyra cooney cross #beth mead #kim little #lia walti #amanda ilestedt #arsenal #arsenal women #awfc #woso #arsenal wfc

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a-wolf-at-the-door · 6 months

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I've been thinking about the No-Thing. Obviously, in the process of unbecoming a No-Thing, it stopped being. Despite no longer being, it does still exist, otherwise it wouldn't be able to know that it is a No-Thing.

In that case, if one would be able to step into the Void and survive, how would they perceive the No-Thing? Would it be a visible No-Thing? Would it be a feeling? A sound? In what perceivable way does the No-Thing exist? Not necessarily for the human perception systems. We are quite limited in those.

OR is the No-Thing's perception of itself so skewed with suffering and change that it no longer perceives itself as a thing that IS? Could it be that the No-Thing still is, but can't conceive the notion of its being?

I miss Rose :( she was in far less pain than the No-Thing.

Hope your week is going well, and that your weekend gets you very well-rested.

First off thanks for your well wishes and I hope your week is going well too!

I’m so glad you’re thinking about this, I have spent many hours wondering about exactly this question. I have four answers for your one question. They take the form of bad news, good news, a twist, and a promise. The twist is an essay tbh, get ready for a long read!

The bad news: I don’t have a satisfying answer to what the No-Thing is and how the No-Thing would hypothetically be perceived. This is partly because it’s a counterfactual hypothetical: the No-Thing isn’t. Is. There isn’t anyone else doing the perceiving, and if anyone else were to enter the Void they’d be either killed or No-Thing-ified too, excepting those with a Void ship, but my understanding was that part of the way the Void ship worked was by preventing external perception anyway… The other reasons I don’t have a satisfying answer: answering might involve a little bit of spoiler-ing that I don’t want to do, and also, though I pretend otherwise, I can’t entirely wrap my head around the concept of unbeing either! I’m trying to convey not only that which cannot be conveyed but also that which cannot be comprehended, and to get across the truly incomprehensible I can’t cheat and comprehend it!

The good news: You get to decide how to imagine it! Each reader probably has a different understanding of what it must be like for the No-Thing in the Void. Our imagination of unbeing is informed by our individual experiences of being, of embodiment, of identity. I know I move through the world of being very differently than many in my circles, partly due to big Identity Labels™ (cis woman, queer, short, thin, young, white, Latina, neurodivergent, etc. and oops! Now you know a lot more about me!) and partly due to non-Identity Label™ experiences, traumatic and restorative and neutral alike.

The twist: I lied a little, or told a half-truth. Definitely true thing: I believe that stories are always collaborations between writer and reader. Writers provide the scaffolding and readers fill it in and make it particular. We can try all we like to evoke a certain experience, but everyone brings their own background and experiences and lens to the story, so no two people ever really read the same story. And so with that, I think it’s the author’s responsibility to let go. The words on the page are published and the rest of the work is up to the reader to determine and decipher however they may.

But.

I am feeling a little irresponsible.

So I’m gonna tell you more about what inspired the way I write the Void. This isn’t technically a direct answer, nor is it meant to be the sole interpretation of the Void. If you don’t like it, you can always ignore it! Anything I say about these fics is pretty much “fan interpretation” unless it’s in the body of the fic. Here, I’m not really the all-knowing author, I’m just someone who gets to read ahead before everyone else. (because I wrote it lol)

So. How and why do I write the Void (and the No-Thing) the way I do?

The easy answer would be to point to some literary influences. I drew on some elements from DW canon. I love The Magnus Archives podcast and The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater (who is just generally a huge influence on my writing style, I adore her and her work). I consume a lot of speculative fiction and poetry and interesting science writing.

But the real deep-rooted influence of my imagining of the Void is rooted in my mental health challenges. I want to first couch this by saying I’m in a really good place right now and have been for a while. I’ve done a LOT of therapy and I’m on the right medications and I’m making a ton of progress taking care of myself, but I have at points in my life suffered from intense depression, anxiety, and complex trauma. I also have ADHD (but I don’t like saying I “suffer from” that one because it’s so intrinsic to who I am). I’m about to talk about these mental health things in a bit more depth so if you’re not comfy reading about them skip ahead to the promise!

Ok.

I have always struggled with embodiment. Not so much with my specific body—I have a lot of privilege as a thin cis woman and I want to acknowledge that—but with the idea of being in a body to begin with. I blame some of that on the Catholic Church teaching me that the body and all its earthly desires are bad things, and some of it on growing up surrounded by people with a lot of internalized fatphobia, and some of it on growing up intellectually gifted in a society that has a bedrock belief in Cartesian dualism (mind and body are separate, mind is superior to body, mind is pure and godly and must be cultivated, body is impure and animalistic and must be controlled/repressed). My thoughts have always been so fast (thanks ADHD) that I often felt like my body was a limitation.

I have long been very antagonistic towards embodiment and am only recently (past few years) beginning to truly unpack and heal from that. For a very long time the narrative in my head was like this: I am a mind and my mind is clever and creative and quick and capable of so much. My body is an inconvenience. Taking care of it takes time away from the extraordinary things my mind can do. Why does my body betray me by needing sleep, needing food and water, needing bathroom breaks and tooth-brushing and medicine and moisturizer? Why can’t I write as fast as I think? Why can’t I just be a cloud of disembodied thought?

A lot of egotism, a lot of shame. The two often go hand in hand.

These thoughts go back as far as I can remember. I learned to type really fast because I have memories of being a toddler watching my mom typing away and being jealous because handwriting was too slow for me to get my stories out.

I was also a pretty morbid kid. Like seriously, I would read the obituaries in the newspaper and search specifically for young deaths. I don’t know where this came from—I have been very lucky and have still not lost many people close to me, and at that time I hadn’t really lost anyone close to me at all. But I thought a lot about death.

I wasn’t a very good Catholic. I scored highly in religion class because I scored highly in almost every class, and I could believe that Jesus had really existed and done all that stuff the Bible said, but my faith broke down when I thought about death. Hell was terrifying. Purgatory was still beyond my comprehension. My real issue was with Heaven. It sounded interminably boring.

Before anything else, I am and have always been a writer. And as a writer I know that plot relies on conflict. So a reality where everything is perfect all the time and everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happens? Couldn’t get behind it.

As I started losing my faith, my thoughts turned more towards oblivion. (Cue early-2010s TFiOS-era poetic depression). The idea of winking out into nothing terrified me, consumed my thoughts, kept me up at night. What would death be like? Nothing. And what would Nothing be like?

So you see, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about unbeing. And I’ve spent an awful lot of time ignoring the realities of my being, dissociating from my body because I felt limited by it, ashamed of it, detached from it, betrayed by it. (In reality, I was the one doing the betraying.)

Writing Rose/the No-Thing in the Void has been an exercise in paying attention to my being. Trying to capture absence means I have to better understand presence. And it’s made me a hell of a lot more aware of reality.

Because depression lies to you and tells you that you are nothing, that you know nothing, that you feel nothing. Anxiety lies to you and tells you that you are everything everywhere all at once, that you know and can predict every possible outcome, that you are hyperaware of all that’s happening. The No-Thing is both of these and more and less. Like depression, the Void robs Rose of identity, memory, connection, but also like depression, it does so imperfectly. She is not unsalvageable because no one is ever unsalvageable. Like anxiety, the Void gives her a hyperawareness and detachment, a series of images she can’t quite connect and comprehend, an inner monologue she cannot silence. But also like anxiety, it doesn’t actually bring anything into clear focus or control.

Rose’s journey back towards embodiment is coming, and I’m really excited to write it. Partly for her, and a lot for me. It’s going to mirror some of the lessons I’ve learned as I get more comfortable with the fact that being human means being embodied, that I am on the same team as my body, that it sends messages to me and I choose to listen or ignore them, that it never betrays me but that I can choose whether or not to betray it. Her return will also show more of Bad Wolf as a disability. (Disclaimer: I don’t generally disclose the specifics but I have a few conditions that can be classed as disabilities, though they are the sort that can be managed thanks to modern medicine, my parents’ health insurance [thanks Obama!], and a lot of luck and privilege, so with the exception of rogue flare-ups, they don’t usually have disabling effects on my day-to-day life.)

The promise: Rose will return. Can I promise she’ll be in less pain? No. But can I promise she’ll come back and grapple with her new challenges and do it all with characteristic aplomb? Yes.

Ok that’s all! Hope you enjoyed the essay that didn’t really answer your question lol, now go forth and imagine!

#ask lia #spoilers for my fic lol #tw mental health #tw mental illness #tw anxiety #tw depression #tw body issues #oops I wrote an essay #tw religious trauma

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off-phelia · 2 years

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*Puts the peddle to the floor and careens through several lanes of traffic to go left*

Everyone likes the left, but nobody cares about the right. 🤧😭

#ask Lia

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writers-ex · 1 year

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Lia I couldn't get your pretty nails out of my head today, and now I'm wet... can you help me out...please?

🍁🍂🖤🧡

“we should get our nails done together sometime~ imagine having matching fingers and then taking turns fingering each other!! it would be so cute wetting my hand with your cum almost like adding an extra shiny coat…” looking down at the wet pool on your joggers lia smirks as she moves her fingers to your hole poking it through the fabric “shame they haven’t finished drying yet…”

#🍁🍂🖤🧡 anon #ask lia #ask itzy

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junghelioseok · 1 year

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i really really miss you and your writings :( so much that i keep coming back to reread your stuff… i hope you’ve been doing well and staying healthy love 💗

ahh, thank you sweets, i miss being on here! and i'm slowlyyyyy trying to get back into the swing of things but OOF life is busy sometimes, ya know? i'm also recovering from a cold, but other than that i'm doing well! hope you're happy and healthy too, babe!!! 💕

#ask lia #answered #anonymous

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cranberrysoap · 5 months

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How likely is Lias to bully me before making out with me?

does this count

#lias/#ask cran #colour sketchins #side note i first read this ask while getting groceries and had to try not to grin too much lmao

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boba-beom · 4 months

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hi smiles :33

thinking so much about boyfie beomgyu... i hardly write or get requests for beom and i can't stop thinking about him T^T

hii liaaaa <3

let me justt say that boyfie beomgyu would be a dream <3 he's the type of boyfriend to be so gentle with you, but also so goofy at random times. why? because he loves making you laugh. he loves the sound of your laugh, the way you throw your head back with your eyes shut tight, the way you playfully nudge him because he did the most outright weirdest shit but that also makes you so happy because he's so comfortable with you.

he's the type of boyfie to grab your favourite snacks before he comes to see you, or even bring you food that you've been craving that month — be it home cooked or take out, you'd still appreciate it either way. I see him making you hot chocolate drinks every other time you hang out. his little artist in him jumps out when it comes to garnishing your hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles, sometimes he likes to change it up and gives it to you with a chocolate flake and fresh strawberries on the side.

he's the type of boyfie to grab onto a piece of your clothing wherever you may be. he does it more when you're both out and about; his fingers tugging on the sleeve of your baggy hoodie, the zipper of your coat, your bag strap. and if not your clothes, then he loves when you let him latch his pinky finger with yours. he just wants to be in contact with you in any way possible.

he's the type of boyfie to either buy you a hoodie similar to his so you match outfits sometimes, or he lets you use his hoodies (not without spraying his cologne/perfume on it). he loves seeing you in his clothes though. you'd be like a mini him and I feel like he would fold so hard. like can you hear his cute giggles?!?! or the proud laugh he does :>

he's the type of boyfie to sulk a little when you give his friends more attention when you're in a group hang out, bring back where he would tug on your clothing material to remind you that he's your boyfie. sometimes all you need to do is give him a brief comfort hug and / or a kiss on his cheek. if you run your fingers through his hair he'll love that even more.

he's the type of boyfriend to take you out on a cute date, whether it be at an arcade, bowling, or something that's more of an activity type. the other times he'd take you to restaurants when it's a special occasion,, however, he may also treat you out even with a simple achievement bc he's so proud of you regardless!

he's the type of boyfie to shower you with affection all day, every day. he never takes his moments with you for granted. he will shower you with compliments. always. he may tease you but he never insults you in ways it makes him feel awful about himself. the only times he may call you degrading terms is in bed. but he never does it without a praise in the mix.

he's the type of boyfie to make you feel so good behind closed doors. he can be a little shit and tease you in the least convenient places, but once you have your privacy he will not hold back. a repetitive thing is he aims to please you first before himself. no matter how desperate he is he worships your body like there's no end.

he's the type of boyfie to make love to you more than a quick fuck. as long as he's making you feel good, he feels good too. amazing even. will litter you with kisses everywhere, hold you with such love and care, but will fuck you until he knows your legs will ache the next day.

he's the type of boyfie to care for you regardless. he loves your company and I'm a strong believer that he's a quality time type of guy. he'd talk to you about everything and anything. what intrigues him the most is whether or not you think about things the same way or not. he's the type to learn more about his significant other and fall in love with them all over again every single day.

I didn't mean to go on a ramble but I love beomgyu sm<3

#lia ᡣ𐭩 #miupow ᡣ𐭩 #[ 🪴 ] — asks.#[ 🧸 ] — mutuals.#choi beomgyu #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hours #txt imagines #txt scenarios #mdni #smiles hard hours

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