#actually you know what i AM tagging this here goes

[silcoitus]

Hello! I think I'm doing this right but if not, I'm so sorry:

What do you think Silco would do if he found out, years later/during Act 2, that a fling he had when he was alot younger and dumber, resulted in him having a Son/Gender neutral child living in Piltover?

(how this is discovered can be completely up to you)

Would the angst of them being a Piltovian(?) citizen permanently leave their relationship undefined or would he push away his hatred of Piltover and try and meet them?

Better yet, how would Jinx react to this?

Just a bit of potential angst to spice things up I guess haha.

Thank you!

Thank you for this amazing prompt, anon! It's one of my favorite ones I've ever received! Why does writing angst soothe me? It doesn't make sense.

Summer's Ghost

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Mature

Tags: Silco, original female character, original child character, angst, depression, reference to character death, character study

Word count: 2.7k

Beta reader: @juniper-sunny

Silco receives a curious letter from a Piltie boy claiming to be his son. Spurred by lingering bitterness and unresolved anger, Silco visits Topside for answers and to finally speak his mind to the woman who left him so many years ago.

Dear Mr. Silco,

I'm not exactly sure how even to begin this letter, so I’ll start with the part that is most relevant to you:

I am your son.

I know, I didn't believe it at first either. But if you keep reading, I can tell you how that happened.

My mother was a brilliant woman, born and raised here in Piltover. She was the top of her class and an artist. My grandparents tell me that, in her university days, she had a bit of a rebellious streak. She ran away from home to live in the Undercity. Over the course of a summer there, she met a man. And fell in love.

You probably know more about how the rest of this story goes than me.

After that summer, my mom had a change of heart. She returned home with a new bundle in tow: me. And while she never told me, I assume she left the Undercity in order to raise me here.

But you probably don’t care about all that. You just want to know why I’m writing to you. 

Well, first off: I'm not asking for money. My mom (and grandparents) provided for me and I have a comfortable life here in Piltover. 

I don't want anything from you. Not really. I wrote because… well… My mother died recently. It's actually how I found out about you. My birth was a closely guarded secret and it was only when I was cleaning her stuff out after her death that I learned. She had a box of things from her time with you: a diary, some photographs, a bracelet. I thought you might want them.

I don’t know what your relationship with my mother was like or how it ended, but this seemed like something she would want me to do. If I crossed a line, I’m sorry. 

I've attached her obituary. It has her final resting place. If you want to collect the box, I've left it on her grave. If you haven’t taken it by next week, I’ll assume you want nothing to do with it. And that’s okay, too.

Sincerely,

M.

P.S I also included a photo for proof. You can hold onto it. I already made myself a copy.

When finally Silco lifts his eyes from the letter, it's with slightly parted lips and inward curling eyebrows. Visions of memories long ago flick across his mind’s eye unbidden, released like water from a dam. 

Setting the letter down, he retrieves the other effects in the pneumatic tube. Fingers tremble as they pull out a small photograph. It's worn around the edges and the ink has faded significantly, but the image is unmistakable: it's him in his early twenties, standing next to the woman who left him.

He remembers that summer clearly, the memories vivid and the feelings so strong it could power a Hexgate. He remembers the late nights talking, the sound of her laugh, the way she was always sketching in her notebook. He remembers the first time they kissed, followed quickly by the first time they made love.

Silco’s lips press into a thin line, something bitter bubbling within him. 

He remembers his desperation when he ran through the Lanes, searching for her. He remembers how he couldn’t sleep for days, worried something had happened. That someone had taken her. Or worse. He remembers crying so hard that he could feel it in his teeth, his cheekbones feeling as if someone was pressing their thumbs to them with the aim of crushing them. He remembers drinking.

And drinking.

And drinking.

Drinking to cope.

Drinking to forget.

Drinking to wash down the bitter taste of the knowledge that he had let someone get so close to him so quickly, only for them to rip his heart out and slash it to pieces. And to add insult to injury—

My mother was a brilliant woman, born and raised here in Piltover.

He stares at that word again.

Piltover

Hand shaking violently, he picks up the pneumatic tube and hurls it across the room. It breaks on impact as it hits the office door, glass shards flying through the air.

Of course.

Who else could chew him up and spit him out? Who else but a Piltie? His home—his life—nothing more than a tourist attraction to her, a vacation away from her cushy, privileged life. 

How could he have been so blind?

How could he have been so stupid?

He can feel his heart rate rising, chest heaving as his breathing grows unsteady. Good eye fluttering closed, he puts one hand out, signaling himself to stop.

Slow down.

Breathe.

He takes one long inhale through his nose, holding it for a moment before blowing it out his mouth through pursed lips. When he opens his eyes, his jaw is set, decision made.

He snatches the letter, photo, and newspaper clipping off the desk, shoves them into his coat pocket, and walks out the door.

As far as final resting places go, this certainly is one of the more luxurious ones. Even in death, Topsiders can’t help but preen and self-aggrandize, if not with their bodies, their tombs. Each gravestone seems to be attempting to outdo the next, growing larger and more gaudy in size as Silco walks down the rows of graves. Subconsciously, his nostrils flare and his mouth twitches into a snarl.

When he finds her name among the dead, he’s surprised to see not a tombstone but rather a park bench. Constructed out of blue pearl granite and polished to a brilliant shine, her name, date of birth, and date of death are carved into the back. The soil around the bench looks freshly turned over and the carved letters barely have any dust or dirt accumulated in them. Studying the dates, it would seem M did not lie; she had died two weeks ago. 

And there—sitting on one end of the bench, waiting for him—is the box.

His chin lifts as his mismatched eyes scan his surroundings, looking over his shoulder, his ears alert and listening for any signs of other visitors. Certain no one is nearby or within eavesdropping distance, he turns his attention back to the bench.

He could just take the box and go. There’s no need for him to linger here. But as he stands staring at her name—carved with such finality into that unmoving stone—he can’t bring himself to leave.

And yet, it’s odd, addressing a bench. On his way over, he had envisioned himself spitting on a tombstone with great satisfaction. But now, as he’s faced with something as welcoming as a bench in a beautifully maintained cemetery, he feels stuck. Any anger that had been boiling in his abdomen before has simmered down, upended by the unexpected appearance of his former lover’s grave.

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves the photograph. After propping it up on the bench, he addresses the woman who lies six feet underground. 

“You…” He can’t even bring himself to say her name, both hands balled into fists in his coat pockets. “You’ve been here this entire time.”

Both eyes roll as he realizes the error of his statement.

“Not here, but in Piltover.” He brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, good eye squeezed shut. “I searched for you for weeks. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I thought someone had taken you. I thought you had—”

Died.

Well.

It’s accurate now, isn’t it?

“Typical Topsider,” he spits out, one hand gesturing as if throwing something away, like the way she had thrown him away, “You come to my home, promising a bright and brilliant future, but all you do is leave destruction in your wake.”

He steps back, pulls his head back, and spits onto the freshly dug soil.

“Disgusting,” he snarls. “And to think, I had lov—”

He pauses, unable to finish the word.

He was young. He was ignorant. That was not love he felt for her. Nor adoration. That was infatuation; merely a young man’s naive idea of what love was.

What that was—it was Not Love.

Silco pulls his fingers through his hair, collecting himself.

“Why?” His hand curls into a fist again. His tone is bitter, full of anger, growing in volume. “I don’t care why you left; I know exactly why you left.” 

As he continues to speak, his concerns about being overheard are overcome by the thundering emotions swelling inside him, churning and bubbling after years of dormancy. “You didn’t want your son to grow up to be a street urchin like his sumprat father. No… all I want to know is…”

His next words are bellowed out, the sound coming from deep within his lungs, each word punctuated with a pregnant pause, as if he means to put his entire body into every syllable.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me?”

There’s a flurry of wings as nearby birds take flight, spooked by the sudden noise. 

Silco’s good eye flutters closed again and he takes long, deep breaths, recentering himself. His hand comes up, forefinger pressing to his sternum. There’s a desperation to his voice now, a yearning. Mourning something he didn’t even know he had until a few hours ago.

“I had a right to know.” He opens his good eye, staring at the photograph. Staring at her. “He is my son. He is my blood. How could you have kept him from me for so many years?”

He gathers himself, eyes casting to the ground. 

He had so much more he wanted to say. Years of anguish, torment. But now that he’s here, he’s forgotten them all.

He feels empty.

Finally, he slumps down on the bench, next to the box. It remains untouched beside him. He sits with his shoulders sagging forward, both elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as his head hangs low. 

It’s quiet in the cemetery.

He turns his face toward the photograph, addressing the woman in it with a whisper of a voice. “All I wanted was for you to be okay. For you to live a good life.”  He lifts his head toward the great, open sky of the City of Progress, free from smoke and fissure gasses and ash. “And I suppose I got what I wanted.”

He hangs his head once more, speaking to the ground at his feet.

“You just did it without me.”

A stiff breeze blows through, tugging at his coat. He makes no move to bundle himself up further, letting the chill air surround him, seeping into his bones.

He sits.

And remembers.

After a few moments, he hears movement. Ears prickling and head whipping up, he spots a boy walking between some nearby tombstones. He looks to be a teenager, fifteen—maybe sixteen—years of age. The boy pauses at one of the graves, looking at it silently, his hands shoved into his pockets. After a moment, his eyes lift and meet Silco’s.

Silco meets his gaze, unblinking. The boy doesn’t seem at all fazed by Silco’s corrupted eye, giving him a small, polite nod. Silco nods in return before tearing his eyes away.

Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes pause on the small wooden box on the bench. 

Mahogany. Expertly crafted. Like the bench, it’s beautiful in its simplicity. Unbidden, Silco’s throat bobs as he reaches for the box and gingerly places it on his lap.

After taking a deep breath, he lifts the lid.

The first thing he sees is a bracelet. Black in color and made of thin strips of leather with small circular charms along the strings, it’s plain and modest. The surface of the leather looks almost brittle, worn around its edges from frequent use.

Underneath, there’s a stack of photos. Lifting them, he recognizes the first as one he had taken. The late woman stands laughing beside The Last Drop’s jukebox, Felicia grinning widely next to her. Vander can be seen in the corner, caught mid-sentence as he speaks with whom Silco can only assume is Benzo. Setting down that photo, Silco’s eyebrows lift when he sees the next one.

He doesn’t remember this photo being taken at all, which is curious given the fact he’s the one and only subject of the photo. Silco—sporting long hair tied back in a low bun—sits at the bar, pouring over his notebook. His right arm is wrapped in strips of off-white fabric and in his hand is a pencil, which hovers over the page, posed to write. 

Silco remembers this night.

It was the night Felicia told him and Vander she was pregnant with Violet. It was the night everything changed.

Funny, how the night he learns of one pregnancy happens to also be the night his lover leaves him because of hers.

He hums, continuing to study the photograph.

He had forgotten what he looked like at that age, so used to seeing his marred reflection in the mirror. So used to covering half of his face with foundation just to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Silco’s about to look through the rest of the box when he sees movement out of his periphery. Quickly, he shuts the box and looks up to see the boy from before, standing in front of him.

“Sorry,” he says, voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Silco replies simply. His good eyebrow lifts in silent question.

“Is it okay if…” The boy gestures to the empty spot on the bench. 

Silco stands, hand offering the seat, the box neatly tucked under his arm.

“Oh, you didn’t have to leave,” the boy says, scooting over to leave some room. “I just wanted to sit for a little bit.”

Silco eyes him for a moment, then, against his better judgement, sits back down. The mahogany box feels heavy in his lap. The boy’s eyes look at it briefly before looking out into the rest of the cemetery.

The pair sit in silence, the only sound the rustle of the leaves as the wind rushes through the nearby trees. Silco’s hand covers the box, fingers idly smoothing over the carving of a rose on the lid.

He doesn’t know why he does it, compelled by a nagging curiosity, but Silco breaks the silence.

“Do you have family here?”

The boy nods. “My grandpa.”

Silco hums.

Silence falls between them again.

“Do you?” the boy asks, eyes lifting to meet Silco’s.

Silco’s lips press together, the tip of his chipped tooth catching the inside of his mouth a little.

“In a sense.”

The boy sighs. “At least it’s a pretty nice view.”

Silco follows his gaze.

“It is.”

“Well, except for that.” 

The boy points to a large tombstone made of porcelain with gold accents all along its edges. Every inch of it seems to be covered in some sort of design, painted in blue. But the patterns come across as less elegant and more like visual noise; the eye given nowhere to rest, the senses overwhelmed by all the complicated shapes and textures.

Laughing, the boy makes a retching noise. “It’s so ugly.”

Silco’s lips pull into a smirk, head tilting.

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Yup.”

The boy abruptly gets to his feet, seemingly satisfied. Turning to Silco, he puts his hand out in offering.

“I’m Marlow, by the way.”

“Marlow.” Silco takes his hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy nods, seemingly out of words. After offering a small smile, he turns on his heel, heading for the gates.

Silco continues to sit on the bench, thumb rubbing absentmindedly on the box’s carvings. After a moment, his eyes widen and he reaches into his coat pocket for the letter, eyes darting down to the bottom.

M.

He looks up to find the boy has disappeared. He lets a short chuckle out of his nose as he shakes his head, rising to his feet.

After one final look at his ex-lover’s grave, he starts his trek back home.

He has a feeling this won’t be the last time he visits this cemetery.

And it won’t be the last he’s seen of that boy.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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[disaster-fruit]

Here’s what I know, one of the co-creators denied in an interview that there was anything romantic about jayvik. When I wrote the tags I hadn’t actually listened to it, only heard people saying. I did look for the original video to answer, and here it is:

So though he doesn’t outright say they’re a straight bromance, he does still fall into that common argument of “oh it’s like men can’t be friends and people want to put romance in everything” which as you pointed out, it’s just not true. So yeah, jayvik was, according to him, not meant to be romantic at all (or queer platonic, as far as we can tell. Wouldn’t be surprised if that concept wasn’t even considered), just a complex friendship. It’s also not lost to me that he emphasizes the “humans are really complex” but never with a “so multiple interpretations can be valid”, which to me does seem like insisting against those interpretations.

I have heard however (and this time I have no source) that some animators and voice actors did ship jayvik and that it informed the final product, informed the animation. But as far as ‘word of god’ goes, one of the creators clearly wasn’t on board and denied the romantic tones clearly seen. Which is completely different to how LoK creators acted in the aftermath of Korrasami, and why to me it felt so disappointed. His interview is more akin to 2010s queerbainting than it is to a trailblazer like Korrasami. Such missed potential.

But, for now as far as I am aware this is all the ‘oficial’ response we got. Perhaps it’s too early to judge from one of the creators alone. But I won’t be holding my breath.

okay so a couple more nuanced thoughts about the whole JayVik thing

if you're not satisfied with the ending we got for them, I get it.

I know ppl have been handing this around celebrating that all the queers get something in Arcane but. I mean, MAN if this lineup isn't a perfect illustration of where there's still work to be done when it comes to equal treatment of queer relationships in media.

but at the same time, personally, I'm still mostly satisfied with what we got. and not because of "let men be platonic friends". cause jfc how often do we have to say it: they are never anything BUT platonic friends. "the moment is stronger because it's platonic" look, as a whole ass aspec person: shut. the moment would not have been cheapened by a queer kiss. but I digress.

the reason I'm alright with this might be because I expected worse. like, way worse. that, and also this moment did not feel cynical to me, or queerbait-y, or like it was trying to satisfy all sides. it felt very earnest to me.

and I haven't kept up with creator interviews or anything, but from what I've gathered, there seems to have been a certain. lack of unity? when it comes to how the different parties viewed the relationship between JayVik, starting with LoL's notorious reluctance to confirm male characters' queerness, and ending with statements from writers and staff being pretty contradictory when it comes to these two.

so personally, this looks to me like a situation that might be a bit similar to Korrasami. it's giving "we all know what this is, but this is as far as we can/are willing to go."

do I still think that's kind of unfair? yeah.

do I have a couple other gripes with Arcane, and esp its ending? you know it! (mostly as in. Jinx is not really dead. right? you can't be fr about that.)

but when I add everything up, I'm walking out of this with a very positive tally. and that includes JayVik. and I think recognizing that there's still work to be done is important, but I also think if you're handed one of the most epic queer love stories in history, even if it doesn't dare speak its name, it's alright to be happy about it!

[betryl]

To be honest to me it's not really that big of a deal if someone just genuinely likes TSH's atmosphere and aesthetic and quotes and whatnot. Parts of it are purposefully written to be alluring and impactful and pretty, and I think you're allowed to find them so without it meaning you missed the warning about not idolizing people in pursuit of pointless and shallow ideals. You can be aware of the message and critique it wanted to convey while also just enjoying the book itself from time to time lol. If someone says they have a morbid longing for the picturesque or whatever chances are they know they're not supposed to take it literally or base their whole personality on it, they just think the cool quote is cool. And actually I think letting yourself indulge in Richard's perspective makes you realize even better how skewed it really is and it's the best way to experience TSH

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[iamfuckingsorry]

"Do you know where we are going next?" I asked ART.

Y'know what, I think maybe I don't need any more Murderbot books. I think maybe ending things here is fucking perfect and as much as I love Wells's writing I'm genuinely not sure it can get better for me.

Like, so much of the books are about MB learning how to be a person, about becoming okay with being a complete individual with everything it entails. The first thing it does once it's actually allowed to decide on its own is it runs away from it all (admittedly to go on a mission to confirm some things about its past, because it genuinely just wants to be *good*). It shoves all its emotions away as much as it's able to. Then shit happens, and it makes its first friends, makes decisions based on these friendships, goes through a lot of emotionally intense situations...

And we get to this point here. MB having zero doubts about going with ART says a lot about its relationship with ART, but it also says a lot about its relationship with its humans - it knows that wherever it goes, when it comes back, the humans will still be there. Its humans actively acknowledge its struggles with being a now-free SecUnit and MB is willing to entertain the discussions to an extent and share information about its deeply personal experiences. Hell, System Collapse ends with MB admitting it might be somewhat broken, but that's okay as long as it can keep doing its job, and agreeing to basically do counselling - this is the guy what would rewatch its favourite TV show again and again in order to avoid acknowledging it even had Emotions a couple books back.

Reading this, I know that MB will be okay. It has hopes and goals and genuinely believes in itself and it has an amazing support system that its willing to lean on for the first time in its life. I'm convinced it'll go on to do great things with ART. And that's really the only thing I need to know.

[lynxfrost13]

Maybe I’ll finally Wanze post soon

[premaritalhug]

Sorry if any of these were answered already! But for that halloweeen ask game you reblogged,, could we see you and bro's favorite horror movies? As well as a candy question,, I'm curious to see what you snack on while you watch it, lol

Many thanks and much love!!

Hey. They weren't. Thanks for asking, man. I'm always stoked completely stupid to hear from you. (Pictured here are DVD cases containing Skinamarink, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and Over the Garden Wall.) I don't believe in god, but Jesus fuck if it ain't the holy trinity right before my very eyes. I was going to go off on this whole thing about these three and their respective exceptional qualities, but I'll spare you.* Bro's tastes are a little more... *Skinamarink is pretty new but I'm adding it to the list because it had me leaving the hallway light on and pissing my pants for at least a week. ------------- you want the dope shit jabroni? i gotchu. these are my favorites to bust out in october. cuz you know my ass be straight getting hellza festive in this bitch all month long yo. (Pictured here are DVD cases containing Saw, House of 1,000 Corpses, and Scary Movie.) best shit youll get legally outside of plushrump.com always be pluggin

you know i keep it real with the warheads chocorooms and lemon tootsie rolls. (Pictured here is some high quality, top-of-the-line art. Shit is practically bordering on the erotic. If you can't see it I feel bad for you and I don't know what to tell you. Nothing I'm going to be able to say will describe it in a way that would do it justice. I'm sorry.) (Also, sorry this took so long.)

[pu-butt]

Thinking about Him* again.

*shaolin fantastic the lady-killing romantic

[early-october-skies]

Me when we don't speak anymore by bears in trees

[hauntingblue]

I

<3

In between arc (kinda) episodes

Pt. 3

[stereax]

woohoo spiraling out of control right now (what else is new really I've been fucked up and spiraling for weeks now) and trying to figure out reasons not to delete my tumblr and discord and myself along the way

but you know. talking about myself on my blog automatically means I'm attention seeking and fishing for pity right? should just shut up and stick to the news eh, it's all I'm good for :D

anyway if you need me I'll be in the corner reliving the past, coming to terms with reality, and trying to convince myself I'm not the problem despite every indication to the contrary ✌︎︎

[medicinemane]

Sometimes you have something that you could say, that you think about saying, that you more or less know how you'd phrase it... but it's just not fucking worth it cause you know for a fact that people don't fucking listen

I don't know, I try to stay... if not optimistic then at least with a mind set of "doesn't matter, we've got no choice but to try and make things better"

Truthfully though I think I'm extremely pessimistic when it comes to the chances of anyone actually listening to what I say

I'm not sure if I'm just bad with words but... it seems impossible to convey even simple thoughts to people so... truthfully I've more or less given up and have just stopped trying. Especially if I don't at least know people well

So there it is

[boogiewoogieweeb]

#he's good at his job! #crozier likes him! crozier chose him! #and any enabling of crozier happens because he lives and works in one of the most strictly hierarchical systems to ever exist #where dissidence can be a hanging offence! #and he's so! fucking! angry! about it #also having to deal with a spirit bear on top of everything #that makes you question the very fabric of the assumptions you once had about the world #also his cabin door is stuck!! #we talk a lot about jopson finally snapping and beginning to bite and kick #i really think he should invite edward to the inevitable breakdown - @maedhrus

listen i don't think edward little was actually a bad first lieutenant. when we see him in the first episode he's calm and confident. he does not say much but he's amiable enough. crozier likes him, and i don't think crozier would like anyone he doesn't think capable in some way. generally he's dependable and knows what he's doing. however unfortunately for edward he has these qualities because he has a major case of eldest daughter syndrome, which means he both wants to please his mum (crozier) and has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his younger siblings (crew), so when they get stuck in the ice and crozier starts going (more) alcoholic, he enables his mum bc he doesn't want to disappoint her even if he doesn't agree with her, and he has to pick up the tasks and care for his siblings she's not doing, but he can't let his siblings know about their mum's situation because they'll get worried and restless. and like a true eldest daughter he has to bear the brunt of mummy's anger for being a disappointment but he also doesn't want to seek refuge with the man she divorced (fitzjames) because that feels like a betrayal. also while this is going on there is a giant bear who hunts his siblings for sport so they're dying left and right and also a changeling master manipulator who's making his siblings mad at their mum and who wants to fuck said mum before eating her like some sort of praying mantis. anyway i think i would start being miserable and anxious too.

[im-like-if-a-girl]

I go back to college in a day I'm fucjing sick thinking about it

[maxverstappendefender]

ain't no love in oklahoma // op81 smau

description: twisters actress!reader x op81 but lando is convinced oscar is lying (from request)

a/n: sorry for being completely inactive. life happened and it didn't happen in a good way! i have a huge exam coming up soon so i will most likely still be inactive besides maybe a few short things here and there. anyways first oscar fic so enjoy! all pics found on pinterest, i don't own any

a/n pt2: might do something fun for each day in october but im not sure what so send me some ideas. also might do some more headcannons/blurbs soon here!

requests: closed but feel free to send me some messages since i love talking to you guys

masterlist

liked by oscarpiastri, glenpowell, and 2,927,641 others

youruser: go see twisters!! if you don’t, you suck and you better hope you don’t get stuck in a tornado because there’s useful information in our movie

tagged: glenpowell

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oscarpiastri: proud of you!!

↳ youruser: 🧡

glenpowell: caption is so real of you

user1: doesn’t yn have a boyfriend? why is she so close to glen?

↳ user2: yes but probably because there’s limited space. yn isn’t like that

↳ oscarpiastri: exactly what user2 said

landonorris: cute!

↳ user3: what are you doing here??

↳ user4: lando in the comments?

user5: such a good movie

user6: yn + glen = power duo

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,951,750 others

oscarpiastri: proud boyfriend award goes to me 🏆 thx for all the bts selfies

tagged: youruser, glenpowell

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landonorris: i just laughed out loud

landonorris: “boyfriend” lmaooo

↳ user7: i cant tell if he’s joking or serious

user8: cutest couple ever

glenpowell: aww so glad you remembered the time you took me to the aquarium, what a romantic!

↳ youruser: get your own boyfriend capybara

↳ user9: yn CLOCKED him

// lando’s phone//

//

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 4,027,835 others

landonorris: POLE BABYYYY!!! everyone ignore my teammates instagram posts, i have told him to stop. i think he took a hit to the head or something

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oscarpiastri: do you want to go to the farm or not?

↳ landonorris: you already said i could go so no take backs

↳ user10: lando is going to yn's farm??

↳ user11: LANDO'S MEETING YN?!

↳ user12: oh i know he's going to fangirl so hard

user13: get me someone who looks at me the way oscar looks at lando

↳ user14: are we sure that they aren't the ones dating?

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 3,017,426 others

youruser: back home finally! pic 1: yeehaw. pic 2: my cat cora had her babies!!! pic 3: dinner date :)

tagged: oscarpiastri

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user15: CORA HAD HER KITTIES

↳ youruser: i am officially a grandma. i feel the gray hairs coming in now

user16: oscar and yn are endgame

oscarpiastri: the best company

↳ landonorris: STOP, idk how you got her in on this joke either

↳ user16: i can't tell if lando knows they are actually dating and is joking or if he truly does not believe oscar

user17: boyfriend is back on the feed!

↳ user18: farmer yn is back on the feed!

glenpowell: miss you lady

↳ youruser: you miss my animals more

↳ glenpowell: and what about it.

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, and 4,209,384 others

landonorris: OMG HE WASN'T LYING i got to feed so many animals, got to channel my inner cowboy, AND get drunk with the yn? i can die a happy man

tagged: youruser

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oscarpiastri: believe me now?

↳ landonorris: never doubted you

↳ user19: lando seriously didn't believe oscar lol

↳ user20: i fully thought he was joking the entire time

user21: how hard did you fangirl to meet yn, lando?

↳ landonorris: surprised i didn't pass out honestly. i facetimed GLEN POWELL

youruser: so glad you had a fun time!!

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,298,361 others

oscarpiastri: everyone clear that this is my girlfriend?

tagged: youruser

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user22: sassy oscar

↳ user23: channeling his inner lando

landonorris: yes sir 🫡

↳ oscarpiastri: stop being weird ?

youruser: MY MANNNNN

↳ user24: oh she's in deep

user25: there is one thing oscar doesn't play about in life: yn

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 4,208,763 others

youruser: didn't even know there was confusion that this was my boyfriend lol

tagged: oscarpiastri

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landonorris: how was i meant to know?!

↳ user26: literally how everyone else knew, instagram.

glenpowell: yn stop posting pics of me and my boyfriend and acting like he's yours

↳ youruser: i dont like this joke.

↳ oscarpiastri: bromance or whatever

↳ user27: they're in a throuple

↳ youruser: ew

↳ glenpowell: disgusting

↳ oscarpiastri: huhhh

user28: couple goals forever and ever

user29: if they don't get married... love isn't real

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

"teach 'em"

Titling, tagging, and adding to my masterlist bc I don't think it deserves to get lost in my thot tags only... But it's informal af hehe

was thinking about loser!chan (again) who's like a 2.5 on the virgin (1) to whore (10) scale.

your new boyfriend is a sweetheart. he has the prettiest eye smile and he's uber talented. you love to see the passion when he's dancing and the strong bond between his older friends that are like brothers to him. that very same energy carries over to how he takes care of you. he's always fussing over your well-being and checking in on you in a non-intrusive way. you adore him.

bonus points for the foreplay before sex being hot and heavy. he's a fabulous kisser and he even has a great dick that feels equally as great when he's inside of you.

so why is he still a loser?

because his stroke game is sloppy at best and unfulfilling at worst, the latter happening much too often than you even want to admit to yourself - let alone him. which is shocking considering the way you've seen him hip thrust on stage.

it's just that you feel so freaking good squeezing around him and - oh fuck, oh no! - he's cumming way too soon again. you know this by how often he tells you, letting out a heavenly sob of "thank you for having the best pussy pussy in the world," and "thank you for letting me stick my dumb dick inside."

honestly, you're awfully flattered he has trouble retaining any control over himself. there's something quite intimate about the ropes of his release warming up your womb, still full of his softening cock as he grunts and babbles grateful praises in your ear.

but that doesn't eliminate the fact that you've only memorably cum once after the multiple rounds of sex you two have shared. and the reason you even did in the first place was by wrapping your legs around his hyper-thrusting hips, trying to keep him aligned to continuously hit that one spot with the enlarged head of his cock that had your toes curling.

and just as you're about to hit that peak climax - chan cums first - of course. but it's alright, you're almost there. gummy inner walls spasming around his pulsating cock while he whines at the sensitivity. what finally tips you over that much-needed edge is the warm dampness pooling in your clavicle - your sweet channie so pussy-drunk he's drooling on and over you. only a fool wouldn't forgive him for any of his blunders. though it is your first achieved orgasm with him, you're elated that he possesses some capability of making you cum.

but that was a good month (or more) ago and it's high time that you have that deep conversation with your loving boyfriend. and he's as remorseful as expected. in fact, you think he's near tears at the fear of you breaking up with him over this.

you aren't - obviously. he's perfect in every way, he just needs to learn how to use his dick better to please someone. and it certainly piques your interest when he cusses a certain someone out under his breath while running a distressed hand through his hair.

"what did you just say?"

"um... that it's all cheol's fault."

oh. so your boyfriend's technique actually sucks only because he had a bad teacher. not because he's inherently bad at sex. it doesn't quite add up though, because seungcheol is allegedly the famed fuckboi of the century and self-rated an 11 on the virgin to whore scale...

"call him."

"what?"

"i need to conduct some research."

so chan does as he's told, dialing the bane of your existence because you've never truly gotten along with that competitive, cocky son of a bitch from your graduating class.

"hello?"

"what would you do to make me cum?"

your boyfriend looks so mortified you're pleasantly surprised he hasn't passed out or hung up already. and seungcheol is either too stunned to speak or silently gloating before he finally replies, "darling i think you called the wrong number... with the phone of the one you're supposed to be talking to about this. are you drunk? where's that little boyfriend of yours?"

"i'm not drunk," you roll your eyes hard enough so he can hear it in the tone you always use with him. "and he's not little."

"could've fooled me."

"i'm sure you would know how big he is since you supposedly were the one who taught him all he knows."

seungcheol snorts. "guessing he's not able to satisfy you with that so-called big dick of his."

"i dunno, i think it's 'cause he had a shit-ass teacher. tell me, have you ever made someone orgasm before? like for real?"

"not anyone with the kind of attitude you have." there's some shuffling in the background. "brats like you... well, they - you - don't deserve it."

"gosh, you're so irritating." you spit out before smiling kindly at chan, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "hey, cheol... i think you're avoiding my question so you should come and show us how good your methods really are. and maybe you can make me cum along the way with such stellar teachings."

and then you hang up.

"i-i - " chan stutters, "if he's gonna come down... i m-mean... i'll study harder for you, baby - "

"relax," you press a finger to his lips and then smirk when there are two sharp bangs resonating outside your shared apartment, "looks like our sulky upstairs resident decided to grow a pair."

your boyfriend sighs. "couldn't resist, could he?"

sure enough, when you open the door - there stands your nemesis - choi seungcheol.

he glares, daring to try and look at you with a hint of disdain as if he isn't the one who has a light sheen of sweat on his forehead after running down the steps rather than wait for the elevator. impatient as always, along with a growing bulge in his sweatpants.

"wow... you came so fast!" you fake-clap to mock him further. "i always knew you and channie wanted to share me... trying to ruin my precious boyfriend's dick game 'cause you were jealous he got inside my tight, wet cunt that you always wanted first."

chan's mouth nervously opens and closes behind you and he gulps when the eldest of his friends gives him that look. "i-it wasn't my fault!"

you cling to his arm with a pout, eating up the way you can play off this game with the other man who's nothing but a menace.

"don't be mean to the love of my life, cheollie."

if the look shared between them hadn't already dampened your panties, they soaken even further when seungcheol's dark gaze lands back on you.

feral. hungry. wanting.

got him.

you've always had him wrapped around your little finger anyways and he hated... loved... every moment of it.

"on the bed. naked. both of you. chan on top," he commands - no, demands - and you slide excited fingers down your boyfriend's forearm and take him by the hand, skipping to the bedroom.

while getting into said position, you both start giggling at the realization while whispering words of love to each other that has seungcheol rolling his eyes because it feels like he's already forgotten.

he flops dramatically on the ottoman by the bed and loudly says, "alright young 'un. go ahead and start su - "

"i want you to fuck me, channie. please put your huge dick in my needy pussy... i'm dripping..." and then you whisper in his ear, "all for you, promise."

"shit," your boyfriend - ever the good listener - rubs his tip along your entrance in awe before sliding in with a whine, "you're ruining the bedsheets already..."

"ah please, ruin me."

"fuck, baby you're gonna ruin me."

seungcheol's eyebrow twitches. so does his cock. "hold on a sec, you're going too fast - "

"faster! destroy my cunt with your large cock! i love your fat cock in me so much."

you cling to chan's shoulder blades as he gets lost once more in the rhythmic pulses of your walls perfectly massaging his leaking dick. the extra presence in the room no longer even a thought with his erratic, achingly desperate thrusts. though you're trying to coach and egg him on as usual, he doesn't even need to be hitting your g-spot at this moment because you stare over his shoulder at a different set of brown eyes that shoot heat undeniably right to the center of your core.

seungcheol's jaw is clenched, a hand over his own hard-on. either to hide the pre-cum starting to stain his sweats and/or reluctantly giving in that he's enjoying this more than anyone could even think.

unfortunately, you're moaning so loudly over and over again about the thick, wonderful, ginormous cock (so true) of your beloved boyfriend that he's getting irked again and hates how it's kind of killing his mood.

"that's just 'cause you haven't seen mine yet," he grumbles.

scratching at chan's back, you sneer at the bitter observer. "fine, by the bed. naked." you mimic his tone, if not some of his words, from before. "let me see that prized fuckboi cock you're so proud of."

and soon enough you have one impressively large cock in one hand and your boyfriend about ready to coat your pussy with his cum.

and even sooner, you have two men on their backs for you - one weeping (and his poor dick too) from the overstimulation and the other nearly tearing your ruined bedsheets because you are so insistent on (meanly) edging him with your cruel grip on his large cock.

"fuck you," seungcheol huffs.

"you wish," you bite back and seat yourself back on chan hearing his telltale whimper. making sure to catch the final weak spurts of his cum in your greedy cunt.

let's just say with seungcheol's lack of assistance but much needed presence, you work on effectively teaching not only your darling boyfriend how to please his partner but also the fake fuckboi that might just join your sexy sessions from now on.

if not to learn from the real pro, then definitely in the hopes that one day he might get to touch, taste, or fuck even the tip of his cock in your pussy he's been fantasizing about for years.