#also posts about this stupid AU will now be tagged as:

[sevilai]

Adding on to my Sonic Odyssey concept

I would have ideally liked to do Eurylochus or Polites first, but I'm going to slap you with my pick for Poseidon instead :3c

[corellianhounds]

Toro Calican Lives AU — Behind-the-Scenes Character Analysis

Words: 2k

Antiheroes like Madmartigan from Willow and Han Solo and Toro Calican in Star Wars face hardships and problems because of their choices. We like them because they’re fun and funny and dynamic and interesting to follow, but they’re underdogs specifically because their flaws lead to the mistakes and choices that land them in hot water, and the narrative doesn’t reward them for the problems they get themselves into. Madmartigan is stuck in a cage and left to rot because he was a criminal, and the rest of his problems before he chooses to do the right/heroic thing come from his own bad choices and abrasive personality. Han Solo was frozen in carbonite and hung up as a decoration indefinitely because he was a drug smuggler who dumped his supplier’s shipment in the lake when the cops showed up and had bounty hunters sent after him, and his absurdly good luck just happened to run out out when that criminal history caught up to him at the most inopportune time. Toro Calican, in canon, gets killed because he chose to double cross a master hunter in the pursuit of fame and glory, despite the fact he was young, inexperienced, alone, and because he arrogantly— incorrectly— thought he had the upper hand.

Though I’ve tweaked his character enough to make him more of a good guy in the Toro Lives AU, I was never going to erase his flaws and I never wanted for Toro and Mando’s dynamic to come across as every movie with a young and cocky rookie apprentice accompanying a stoic and taciturn supervisor as he learns the ropes, but the rookie doesn’t actually have the skills he boasts and is more of an immature comic relief who has to mature and learn his lesson from the father-figure type mentor (who leaves the narrative in some way) in the end. I think that’s overdone and runs the risk of falling into clichés that we’ve seen a thousand times already, and it does these characters a disservice by not showing more complex depth to their characters and histories. Mando already HAS a kid, so to split that focus by having the same character relationship with Toro takes too much away from the main characters of the story, and frankly I just don’t find entirely immature adult characters funny or interesting in the first place. I want for all of these characters to feel like people, not a pile of stock character clichés anybody could have written

If Toro’s going to be funny, it has to be because he or the situation is genuinely funny, and he can’t be the butt of the joke every time or he’ll either become a pushover if he lets it happen, or he’d logically become contentious after a while if he doesn’t. Things people get teased for have to be partly rooted in truth, or it’s just pointless antagonism that doesn’t work as humor anyway because there’s no joke to be had, it’s just an untrue statement at their expense, and for him to keep up with other people’s teasing (or genuine mockery, as will be the case when we get to The Prisoner), he has to be just as quick-witted or clever right back.

That dynamic is true of any interaction he has in this universe because he IS sort of characterized as the underdog and antihero type, so there are going to be things a lot of people have or can do that put them at an advantage over him in some way (age, experience, resources, authority, skills, physical strength or prowess, people on their side), and to balance the cast out and make him interesting and not just along for the ride, he needs to have resources or skills or qualities they don’t (youth, energy, money, connections, skills, daring capabilities and a better chance of recovery should he fail) to keep from the disparity being too great and taking too much focus away from the adventure

So really he’s closer to Jay in the first Men In Black movie, in that he’s already coming to the table with some skills and know-how, but he’s being introduced to a setting foreign to him where he now has to use those skills in different ways and figure out how to apply them based on new information. In the one episode we have of Toro, he IS able to recall Fennec’s last known location by memory, his observation skills have potential but just need more experience and polishing (not noticing the Tuskens right behind him vs remembering the briefest moment he saw the kid and making the connection while Fennec talked), he’s a quick-thinker and has good reflexes, he’s capable of finding/acquiring resources and knows how to handle them, he’s got a decent poker face, and he does actually hold up against Fennec for a little while in a hand-to-hand fight AND proves to be quick on the draw against her at the end. He’s honestly not entirely dissimilar to Han Solo in a lot of ways (the biggest difference being their class background and the influence those had on them)

Giving him some depth and history isn’t hard, and it makes him more interesting for Mando’s character to interact with and bounce off of because if Toro DIDN’T have any skills, knowledge, or potential, Mando logically wouldn’t have agreed to bring him along. He shouldn’t have to babysit a capable adult guy if Toro was just a whiny kid with zero life experience, and there’s no reason he would agree to give this kid room and board (and training) if Toro is ALSO annoying on top of that

Jay in MIB is as much an active participant moving the plot along as Kay is, and he’s interesting to watch and listen to because he has a different perspective than Kay and Kay genuinely likes him. He specifically chose Jay to train him not just to be his partner but to be his replacement. They’ve got different backgrounds and abilities that complement each other’s and allow the story to focus on the bigger adventure, their dynamic being the background/interpersonal character development part of the story that makes us care about the bigger picture. Jay’s own jokes, teasing, protests, and arguments, humorous or otherwise, are always grounded in something true and come from understandable motivations behind why he says or does them in the first place. Jay’s funny but more importantly he’s smart, and he’s able to justify everything he says or does. There’s never a moment where he’s annoying just because the writers wanted some comic relief and didn’t know how else to get that across. There is also humor that comes at his expense, but he’s not there for everybody else to dogpile on him. None of the teasing or treatment he gets from others feels mean-spirited or puts him at an unfair disadvantage in the scene— He can dish it out as much as he can take it, and the narrative allows him the freedom to do so without punishing his character for it (ex: Being called nicknames he said he didn’t want, but getting away with calling the other characters by nicknames too, pushing back against or reproaching authority when they’re out of line and frequently being objectively right or justified, his instincts or hunches or initiative being rewarded with the desired result, etc.)

Toro’s still more of a rookie in this universe, he’s not the exact same character as Jay (because Jay is already a seasoned cop), but giving him more depth based on what we DO see of him and grounding him and his background in something still understandably human hopefully sets him up to be dynamic and interesting, driving some of that forward momentum in the story. Stories are always more interesting when the characters are the ones driving it based on internal motivations and choices, not just being moved around by the plot. The circumstances Toro will end up in will almost always be because he made decisions that got him there, even if that decision is to go with what Mando decides. It’s only interesting to watch their dynamic develop if both of them are still making those choices.

What further differentiates Toro from Jay’s character is that I do give him more of the antihero qualities like I mentioned above. Right now he’s in it for his own self-interest. The areas where Toro’s character is immature are rooted in selfishness (a quality responsible and mature adults work to manage because being an adult usually means having other people relying on you); my own headcanons and background I’ve come up with have him established as a rich kid who set out on his own to make a name for himself, but who is still young and privileged without the boots-on-the-ground life experience of having to be self-sufficient and know his way around the galaxy.

The rich kid background means he’s got the money he left with and some connections he can pull later, but a life of privilege also means he’s been afforded an education, has had opportunities to diversify his skills in specialized areas other people don’t even have access to, has resources or knows where to gain said resources other people don’t, and most importantly, he’s had a lot of leisure time at his disposal growing up where he could just choose to go do or learn something whenever he wanted. (In Toro’s case, that meant doing the equivalent of drag-racing, stunt-riding motorcycles, learning how to shoot and familiarizing himself with firearms, and general mischievous/daredevil antics one can get away with when you both have the money to afford it and aren’t paying your own health insurance).

But this means that what he lacks is in not quite knowing how to relate to working class people, not being accustomed to being unable to just BUY stuff whenever he needs it, not having the kinds of wilderness or survival skills born from necessity, and not having had to refine his interpersonal skills so he doesn’t come across as rash, arrogant, impatient, rude, and annoying. Regular people don’t have as much money or resources and are more likely to rely on one another, which means learning how to navigate personal relationships and conflict so they don’t lose those connections and the resources/knowledge those people provide. Disposable income and a life free from the stress of simply surviving allows you the freedom of choice and the freedom to leave at any time, which means you may have less legitimate problems in your life but you’re also less likely to have deeper long term connections or patience with people/circumstances in general.

Toro’s used to instant gratification, but because of his particular upbringing (backstory for later) he was ALSO pushed to develop the sharper skills he does have; however, that means he’s more likely to be impatient and individualist by nature, and since his whole objective was striking out on his own to make a name for himself because bounty hunting seemed like a cool choice of profession, he’s selfish and stubborn almost by default because he doesn’t have the life experience that would have curbed that impulse sooner. He wants to do his thing, his way, and he wants to do it now.

That being said, I wanted Toro to be smart. He’s not a spoiled prince to the point of Kuzco in Emperor’s New Groove (because he wouldn’t have left a life of luxury otherwise)— Mando wouldn’t have the patience to tolerate him if that were the case. Part of Toro’s intelligence is in being able to see reason when it’s provided. He’s willing to listen to other options or explanations provided they’re good enough to justify why something has to happen how or why or when it does. He’s not so arrogant as to think he already has all the skills he needs to do this job— If he were, he wouldn’t have asked Mando for help in the beginning or admitted to the job with Fennec being the very first he’d ever taken with the Guild. Sure he’s prideful and wants to save face, but what 25 year old guy doesn’t?

The interpersonal conflict comes in because his flaws and traits collide with Mando’s less talkative, less sociable nature, meaning Mando’s not always going to tell Toro every detail of a plan at first, which sometimes causes Toro to protest or ask more questions than Mando may have patience for himself. He wants Toro to follow instructions when they’re given and stop questioning everything (partly because Toro DOES just need to learn to listen and not insist on his way all the time, and partly because a lot of what Mando does is second nature to him by now and he doesn’t always have a gauge for what other people may or may not know). Their conflict isn’t necessarily because they dislike each other, it’s because they’re just different. That's what makes them interesting and compelling to watch.

[mixed-messages]

Chip and Dip

Lando Norris x snowboarder!reader

Author’s Note: In honor of where I live getting around 11 inches (28 cm) of snow over two days, here’s a little social media au about an Olympic snowboarder, who also happens to be sponsored by Monster Energy. Just like Lando. None of these IG stories are real. I made them with my need for detail

I haven’t done an smau in so long, so please bear with me and the fact it doesn’t really have a plot

General Notes: no use of yn, a nickname is used instead. no faceclaim, but there’s some skin showing in a few images! swearing, she/her pronouns used, yc is your country but you can pretend it’s just a snowboarding team or smth!

Liked by mclaren, lando, chipnflip, and 567,832 others

monsterenergy Two of our favorite snowboarders will be heading out with a few other Monster Energy athletes for a snowy getaway. Stay tuned for clips, tricks, and videos

Tagged: chloekim, chipnflip

user02 stfuuuuuuu omg omg who are the other athletes???

user78 CHIP AND CHLOE MY FAVE DUO 👹

user34 wait can someone please explain why she goes by chip???

↳ chipfan omg it’s so stupid (affectionately). years ago she was a guest on a youtube channel (forget which one) and she tried to do a trick and fucking ATE it (not the good ate) and chipped her front tooth. everyone just calls her chip now

↳ user04 it was that one trickshot channel

chipnflip let’s get ittttt 🏂 Liked by author

chloekim So excited! We’ll have to teach these skiers how to snowboard 🥱 Liked by author

user18 I SEE MCLAREN LIKED. PLSSSSS TELL ME LANDOSCAR WILL BE THERE

↳ monsterenergy we can neither confirm nor deny 👀

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Liked by mclaren, chipnflip, oscarpiastri, and 1.3m others

lando the boys on the slopes

Tagged: oscarpiastri, patriciooward, nolansiegel, monsterenergy

user167 PATO IS THERE TOO? IM GONNA COMBUST

user16 is it just mclaren and the two snowboarders?? 🏃🏻‍♀️

↳ monsterenergy We can assure you there are more than just the five of them! There are ten in total!

user74 Not them becoming a clique 😭

user55 have they taught you guys snowboarding yet???

↳ chipnflip I fear we haven’t been able to teach them yet! We wanted to get to know each other first! Hopefully tomorrow 🤞

↳ lando @.chipnflip If it’s like anything today, I’m worried I’m gonna become scared of the snow

↳ user67 LANDO WHAT HAPPENED TODAY?

↳ lando @.user67 snowballs to the face 😔💔

user178 so you’re telling me 10 athletes had a snowball fight and no one posted about it???

↳ chipnflip I gotchu!

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Liked by nolansiegel, patriciooward, lando, and 678,438 others

chipnflip The snowball fight that occurred between 10 professional athletes last night. To our managers, no one got injured 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Tagged: lando, chloekim, patriciooward, and 6 others

lando Speak for yourself 👎🏻👎🏻

↳ chipnflip dude, be so for real, it wasn’t even packing snow. it was as light as a feather

↳ lando MATE YOU LIFT

user137 LANDO GETTING HIT IN THE FACE JQICNDOW BYEEE

oscarpiastri As Lando’s teammate, I must say, I do believe there was a small piece of ice in one of the snowballs

↳ chipnflip Ope— uhhh I was unaware of that one

ycnowboarding We’d like to formally apologize to McLaren for any harm our athlete may have caused to your very expensive driver

↳ mclaren we accept the apology. Liked by author

↳ lando says WHO?

user33 not her bullying Lando 2 days after they met 😭😭

↳ user77 and him clapping back 🏃🏼‍♀️

user88 OFFICIAL YC SNOWBOARDING ACCOUNT APOLOGIZING IS SENDING ME

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12,458 likes

f1gossipupdates Some of Chip’s recent IG stories! There are lots of theories after Monster Energy uploaded a video of the winter getaway/vacation. While other athletes were being interviewed and Chip or Lando could be seen in the background, the other was always close behind. Leading some fans to suggest that there might be something going on between the two of them.

user009 omg can’t two people just be friends?? even if they’re more than friends should we even care??

hater17 i get a weird vibe from her. idk. i dont like her

↳ hater62 no bc i totally agree. there’s something about her that bugs me and i can’t put my finger on it. i hope she doesn’t take advantage of lando 💔

↳ user72 “take advantage of lando” 🥱 puhhh-lease you’re saying that like she’s not an incredibly successful athlete that has 3 Olympic gold medals and is as well known, if not more, than lando

user90 does anyone know why she rarely shows her face??? I wanna know what she looks like so badly

↳ user108 I mean… did you not watch the video monster put out?? Her face is clearly in that 😭😭

user779 chip and lando this, chip and lando that. but we should talk about the sibling-like banter between her and pato. they’re kind of iconic 💔😔

↳ user028 PLEASE. when Pato was “bullying” her and then she just… pushed him off his snowmobile??? 😭😭 and then Nolan and Chloe started to chant “fight, fight, fight” ???

hater59 she’s actually so annoying. she can’t stay away from any of them and it’s so cringe

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Liked by chipnflip, chloekim, maxverstappen, and 1.6m others

lando Truly an awesome experience! Huge thank you to @.monsterenergy for hosting this event, will forever remember it!

Tagged: chipnflip, oscarpiastri, chloekim, patriciooward, and 5 others

annika.overtomorrow It was great meeting everyone!! We’ll have to do something again! Liked by author.

↳ lando gotta get the gang back together sometime soon!

↳ user2 THE GANG. ARE THEY ALL BESTIES NOW??!!

user14 SEVENTH SLIDE. SEVENTH SLIDE

chloekim You weren’t a horrible snowboarder, I’ll give you that.

↳ lando You honor me greatly

user85 call me crazy, but is that chip in the seventh slide???

↳ user23 I was thinking the same thing but she doesn’t wear those types of goggles 💔💔

chipnflip Will forever laugh at your hair in pics 1 and 4 🫵🏻🤣

↳ lando You’re just jealous 🥱🥱

↳ chipnflip whatever helps you sleep at night!!

user65 Still obsessed with the fact Nolan casually pulled 10 McLaren lego sets out of his suitcase

↳ user17 No bc I cackled when that happened

↳ nolansiegel what can I say? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I come prepared

hater9 Praying seventh slide isn’t… her. Was literally hard for me to watch the videos they posted bc of how obnoxious I found her. like wtf even is that nickname???

↳ user56 that’s not very girls-girl of you like your bio says. Liked by author

↳ user56 LANDO?????

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Liked by lando, nolansiegel, maxfewtrell, and 578,491 others

chipnflip Was definitely a fun time! Met so many new people and was able to catch up with some longtime friends :,) My runs weren’t too bad either 🥱🥱

user92 max f in the likes????

↳ user10 RIGHHHHTTT???

chloekim she’s an icon, she’s a legend, and she is the moment 😍

↳ chipnflip i’m gonna kiss u

↳ lando @chipnflip eh? 🤨

↳ user6 lando 💀

patriciooward It was great meeting you! Even if you did kick me off of a snowmobile!

↳ chipnflip booooo 👎 you’re making me sound aggressive

↳ patriciooward @chipnflip Good!

↳ user65 helpppo i love their friendship

oscarpiastri Pretty sure Lily has been attempting to subtly ask to meet you

↳ chipnflip Oh my gosh that’s so sweet 😭😭 text me!!

lando bet i could do the trick on the second slide

↳ chipnflip omg I bet you could 🤩🤩 bet I could win a grand prix in less than 110 races

↳ lando @chipnflip low blow :(

hater8 gosh, she’s so fucking rude.

↳ user14 girl, I think she was joking Liked by author

↳ hater8 but how are we supposed to know that??

↳ user14 as long as lando knew it was a joke why does it matter???

↳ lando I knew it was a joke. I was sitting right next to her.

user54 hold. lando and chip. hanging out. together. alone???? 👀

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+ stories from lando and chip during the trip

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okay, so I’m thinking of doing a part 2, maybe with some writing. just because I think the ending to this as of now is a little bland and I want chip and lando to do the classic soft launch photos (I have some cute ones).

Please let me know if you’d like another part!

[spider-man-2o99]

Just wanted to say that I have been thinking of you and pre-emptively empathizing with the nonsense you are no doubt being flooded with and the psychic damage it must be causing. Keep stanning the king ignore the weirdos <3

thankg u.,, i feel like ive been trapped in a fuckign . Torture Labyrinth these past coupl days . but. wwe will. We Will Yet Persist onwards w/ our hand on the left wall till we;re either out or at the center i swear 2 fucking GOD,

[shawtuzi]

HIDE N’ SEEK FT. GOJO SATORU

summary- you and your boyfriend decide to play a little game of hide and seek at a halloween party

content warnings include- modern au, a little plot but mostly smut lmao, oral m!receiving, throat fucking, shoe humping, fingering, a little groping from gojo, sorta needy!gojo but he’s also pretty mean, unprotected sex, rough sex, tongue sucking bc i’m obsessed w it rn, squirting, creampie, geto is a perv, rushed ending, not proofread /// wc: 3.1k

a/n- hi!!! i’m back kinda from my hiatus so pls enjoy this bc idk when the next time i post will be lmao

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

gojo <3: i see you.

your heart rate began to pick up as you read the ominous text from your boyfriend. your eyes looked in every direction hoping to see someone in a ghost face mask on their phone, but unfortunately no such luck.

“why did i agree to do this . . . so stupid,” you grumbled to yourself as you shoved your phone in the back pocket of your sexy nurse costume. to add a little context you and your darling boyfriend, gojo satoru, thought it would be fun to play a little game of hide and seek at the costume party/bonfire one of his friends was throwing. you hide he seeks. the only catch was neither of you could have your location on and you weren’t allowed to tell anyone about the game. all you had to do was make sure gojo didn’t “tag” you before midnight. simple right? not.

you had thought nothing of it when he said he was going to be ghostface come to find out more than half the people at the party were dressed as the masked killer. it was easy to spot you of course—with your skin tight red and white dress and red stockings but trying to decipher which one of these people were gojo was simply impossible.

gojo was standing a few feet away from you, a sinister smile on his lips. he could see how frustrated you were becoming and boy was it a cute sight to see. your brows were furrowed and your red, glossed up lips were pulled into an adorable pout. you had the slightest tinge of fear in your eyes—between that and your costume he was becoming more riled up as the minutes ticked by.

you glanced at your phone—

11:42 PM

only eighteen more minutes and you were golden! you glanced at the part of the woods where it was dark and unoccupied with any party goers, without a second thought began to walk over to finish up the rest of the time. little did you know gojo was trailing behind you, quietly giggling at how silly you were for making this so easy for him.

“s’freezing out here,” your hands rubbed up and down your arms that were now covered in goosebumps. the only sounds that could be heard was the bass of the music from the party and your feet crunching against the dead leaves and twigs on the ground along with—another pair of footsteps???

you whipped around and were met with nothing but the party goers in the distance. you knew it was just a fun little game but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread that overcame you. you had half a mind to text gojo and call off the game but with only ten minutes left you decided to stick it out.

after a minute your phone buzzed in your pocket.

gojo <3- found you :)

“wha-?” all a sudden your front was pushed into a tree, you felt someone’s weight press against you along with something plastic poking against your throat. “i found youuu,” gojo giggled, pressing the plastic knife more into your neck. you pushed your backside into his hard on making him groan right into your ear. “no fair ‘toru…couldn’t find you anywhere with all those people wearing the same costume,” you whined, slick beginning to stain your lacy white panties.

gojo hummed and without a second thought shoved his free glove covered hand into your panties, cupping your sensitive pussy. “c’mon baby you know i don’t like to play fair let’s not act dumb hm?” you couldn’t see his face but you knew just from the tone of his voice he was grinning from ear to ear. gojo used his middle finger to rub at your clit, giving you minor relief while he humped your ass. you both stayed like that for a moment before he began to grow bored.

“suck my dick,” was all he said, removing his hand from your panties much to your dismay. “but—but ‘toru—” you were cut off by gojo squishing your cheeks together roughly. he pushed you down by your shoulders, not caring that the twigs were scraping and poking against your soft skin. (don’t worry he’ll bandage you up later if need be <3)

“now if you recall from earlier..” be began to unbuckle his belt, “we agreed that whoever won got to do whatever they wanted with the loser right?” he waited for you to nod your head before continuing. he slowly unzipped his pants, pulling them and his briefs halfway down his toned thighs. “and who’s the winner?” he giggled, tracing his almost painfully hard dick against your lips. you darted your tongue out to get just a little taste of him, making satoru visibly shudder. “you, you’re the winner,” you mumbled, setting your hands in your lap.

gojo cradled your face his hands, fighting the overwhelming urge to rip off the ghostface mask and kiss you till you were breathless. “don’t look so sad babydoll, i’m about to fuck your throat and your little pussy so good let’s look alive yeah?” he gave your cheek a rough couple of pats. he brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “open your mouth.” you parted your lips and with little to no warning gojo shoved the digits down your throat, impressed that you had kept your gags to a minimum. he rubbed your saliva around the length of his dick and gave himself a few quick strokes before pushing the tip against your lips.

you wrapped your lips around his dick and gojo’s hand immediately found purchase on the back of your head. “yeah . . . jus’ like—fuck, l-like that,” although he was putting on a tough façade for the sake of the situation it was fading away quicker than he had anticipated. you were just so good with your mouth :(

you didn’t even care that you lost, now too enamored in the pretty sounds that were slipping past gojo’s lips. and you both certainly didn’t care that anyone could possibly catch you in the act. “i need to record this shit goddamn,” with shaky hands gojo held up his phone and started to record you, quietly apologizing for the sudden flash of light in your face. you played it out a little for the camera knowing gojo was definitely going to use this vid for times when he’s by himself. you wrapped both of your hands around his dick and worked quick pumps around the tip while your other hand moved slowly up and down the base.

satoru felt his knees buckle a little when you started sucking on his balls, nearly dropping his phone in the process. “you’re s-so fuckin’ hot, so hot n’ a-all mine yeah? please say it,” he didn’t give the slightest fuck how pathetic he sounded. all needed in this moment was for you to tell him his dick belonged to you and you only and vice versa. “yes toru all yours,” you hummed leaving kisses around the base of his dick. that was all he needed to hear before he tossed his phone to the side and began to brutally fuck your poor little throat.

each time your nose pressed against his pelvis from deep throating him it just gave him more incentive to put a fat rock on your finger and never let you go. your dress had ridden up and without even thinking gojo pressed the top of his shoe against your cunt making your hips jerk forward. “hump it, hump my fuckin’ shoe and cum from it,” his ‘demand’ was shaky and breathless but nonetheless you listened to your boyfriend and started humping his shoe.

between gojo still ruthlessly fucking your throat and the laces of his shoe rubbing deliciously against your clit you were overstimulated beyond belief—and it felt incredible. he loved when he could turn your brain into a pile of mush and you enjoyed it just as much. after holding your head firmly against his pelvic area for god knows how long gojo removed your mouth from his dick, finally letting you get some air. you didn’t know if it was alcohol, the blunt you took a few hits of, or just horniness in its purest form but you were feeling insatiable.

you wrapped your arms around his thick thigh and planted your knees firmly into the ground before moving your hips with quickness. gojo was surprised at your actions, his dick visibly twitching at you getting off on his fucking shoe of all things. “i’m—i’m close, can feel it toru i’m—o-oh my!” a sharp gasp left your lips when gojo began tapping his foot just the slightest. “jerk me off n’ let’s cum together,” you didn’t need to be told twice as you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, suckling on the tip as well to bring him even closer to his peak (and to avoid getting cum in your face/hair heh).

you both came in unison a chorus of moans and groans leaving both of your mouths. “that—that was good, you’re so good y/n c’mere,” gojo was quick to pull you to your feet and pushed your back right against the tree that was shielding you both from any potential spectators. “i wanna kiss you so bad,” he spoke softly, cupping and massaging your breasts over your thin dress. “but i really wanna fuck you with this stupid mask on,” gojo gripped your plush thighs and lifted you up with ease, you weren’t even the littlest but surprised when his impatient ass practically ripped your panties in half trying to get them off.

“put it in for me,” gojo muttered, blindly shoving your tattered panties in his back pocket. you complied whispering out a little ‘anything for you toru’ before slowly swiping his sensitive tip between your pillowy soft folds. just as you were about to slide him in you heard voices and footsteps that sounded like they were getting closer and closer. “w-wait someone’s coming!” you whisper-shouted but that didn’t stop gojo from pushing his dick into you with one swift thrust. a broken moan emerged from your throat and you were quick your cover your mouth with both hands.

“put your fuckin’ hands down no one’s gonna see us,” gojo hissed, his toes curling from how tight and hot you felt. you hastily removed your hands making gojo smile behind the mask. “they might not s-see but they’ll—hah! hear us toruuu,” you whined burying your face in his neck.

gojo made sure your legs were securely wrapped around his waist before yanking the ghostface mask off, he pressed his lips against yours without missing a beat. “guess i’ll just have to keep kissin’ ya to make sure you don’t make to much noise yeah?”

“yeah . . . . you’re right.”

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“do—do you guys *hiccup* here that?” a drunk, poor unknowing geto slurred out, his brows furrowing at the sound of grunts coming from the darker part of the woods. of course no one responded, too invested in literally anything else besides geto’s drunk ramblings—plus his jason mask muffled anything he had to say.

geto pushed himself up from the log he was sitting on, nearly falling over in process. “guess i’ll go look myself…dickheads,” he muttered to himself, making his way over to the suspicious noises. he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a particularly loud groan and that’s when it started to click. “holy shit . . . h-holy sh—”

“satoruuu!”

if geto was in his right state of mind he would’ve turned around with a quickness and forget this ever happened—but he’s not. his feet stayed planted, not daring move an inch closer. he hadn’t even realized be was starting to palm himself over his pants—already half hard. he could feel his heart in his throat as he took one step forward . . . and then another . . . anddd another.

he stopped once he could clearly hear the schlick schlick schlick noise of gojo pounding mercilessly into your poor pussy. he couldn’t see much but he could hear everything. he could hear your cute little pants and whines as you tried to poorly keep quiet, he could hear gojo muttering what must have been dirty promises into your ear, but in his opinion the best thing he heard was how sloppily you and gojo were kissing.

anytime your moans were becoming louder and more high pitched gojo would smash his lips into yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth without warning. gojo sucked your tongue into his mouth, a groan rumbling in his chest when he felt you tighten around him. “you taste like alcohol . . . you been drinking tonight love? is t-that why you’re being so—hah! fuckin’ loud? hm?” his ring and middle finger began toying with your clit and your lips started to tremble. hot, salty tears began to run down your cheeks making gojo giggle. “you’re s’cute when you cry, please cry more for me,” he cooed licking at the never ending stream of tears flowing from soon to be bloodshot eyes.

“you’re—you’re such a *sniffle* p-perv ‘toru,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his snow white locks. when you have a particularly harsh tug gojo’s knees buckled the tiniest bit, nearly making him lose his balance. “i see you’re feeling pretty mean huh? lets fix that . . . only thing i need you to feel is numb.” gojo removed his fingers from your clit and without warning shoved the digits between your lips. man oh man did you wish he would’ve taken those stupid gloves off, what you really needed in this moment was the feeling of gojo’s soft fingertips prodding at the back of your throat.

gojo slowed the pace of his thrusts, more focused on fucking your throat with his fingers. once he had his fix he removed his fingers from your mouth, smearing any excess saliva on your lips and chin. he slowly pulled his dick out, the moonlight mixed with the dim light from the bonfire making him glisten with your slick.

“n-no! no no don’t do that here someone will definitely hear me ‘toru,” you pouted, knowing good and well what gojo’s intentions were. gojo hummed as he rubbed his fingers between your soaked folds, pretending to to thinking about the consequences of his actions before giggling once more. “oh well!” he smiled, inserting his fingers into your pussy, immediately finding that spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“god do you hear how wet you are? such a slutty fuckin’ pussy goddamn,” gojo growled, adding his thumb to the mix by rubbing your almost painfully sensitive clit. you didn’t know how the fuck he was holding you so steady with one arm but you couldn’t even bother to care, too focused on your upcoming orgasm. “p-please . . . please add ‘nother finger ‘toru i need it,” you gasped loudly, back arching against the tree when you felt gojo begin to suck at your breasts over the thin material of your dress. gojo added another finger, increasing his pace until he felt your legs begin to shake.

he brought his lips close to your ear, nibbling and sucking at the lobe. “you’re so lucky we have to walk in front of everyone once we’re done or i would’ve torn this dress to pieces,” his words had your toes curling, and your eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time as your pussy squeezed around his fingers.

while you were quickly chasing your peak geto was trying his absolute hardest not to reach his just yet. his pants were pulled down just enough to let his aching dick out and he wasted no time stroking himself to your pretty moans.

it was no secret to the three of you that geto had found you attractive—shit with the way gojo boasts about your guys’ sex life how could he not be curious??? yes curiosity. that’s all that this was. once he got off he would walk away and never think or speak of it ever. but he couldn’t help but think of the next time he sees you walking around with a limp and accidentally starts to wonder what positions gojo could’ve possible put you in . . . or wonder how brutally he had fucked your throat when he hears how hoarse your voice sounds.

his thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched moan that was quickly cut off by what he assumed was gojo’s lips on yours. he heard gojo say in a teasing tone ‘you tryin’ to baptize me over here?’ and he nearly cummed imagining your fucked out face and trembling legs.

a spurt of cum landed on your thigh and gojo tsked, shaking his head. “that won’t do, gotta be inside you now so i can finish inside,” he hummed, realigning his dick with your entrance. he pushed in with one swift thrust and that’s when your finally felt your brain turn into a muddled pile of nothing but lust and want. although it was dark gojo could still see the dazed look in your eyes and it brought a blissed out smile to his lips, which were now stained red from your lip gloss.

“c’mon baby talk to me, how do you feel?” gojo purred, pressing his forehead against yours. your words kept getting caught in your throat and all you could mutter out was a pathetic ‘feels s’gooood’. gojo could slowly feel himself begin to crumble, mumbling out incoherent sentences along with you. “i know baby i—shit, i know. feel so good ‘round me, so perfect you’re so perfect gimme a kiss,” he smushed his lips against yours with a clash of tongue and teeth—his fav kinda kisses.

“gotta big load for you baby, c’mon cum with me i know you can do it,” gojo’s words of encouragement finally brought you to your peak and this time you both just let it out. every pushed down moan and groan could be heard from anywhere if anyone paid close enough attention but neither of you could find it in you to care. gojo’s hips stilled as he emptied himself inside you, his tongue lolling out in the process. you were quick to bring your hands to his soft locks, gently scratching his scalp. “don’t do that, gonna make me too tired for the drive home,” he chuckled, giving your sweaty neck a sloppy kiss.

“speaking of, how am i supposed to walk with all this in me it’s a lot satoruuu,” you whined, feeling the urge to smack gojo on the back of the head for tearing your panties in two. gojo sighed, stroking your bare thigh gently with his thumb muttering something along the lines of ‘i’ll handle it’.

while you and gojo took a minute to regroup from your intense fuck session, geto was regrouping himself from possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. of course he felt disgusted with himself for spying on his best friend fucking his girlfriend but he also wanted more???

this was definitely going to be a problem.

[jaikoyaki]

One more chance.

//kim minji x reader//Street racing AU// Oneshot //

— Tied her down to my Queen bed. Tease her just enough to hate me.

SYPNOSIS ❯❯❯❯ Rivals, exes, idiots with fast cars. you race, you fight, you kiss—sometimes not in that order. tonight’s supposed to settle the score. but when has that ever gone to plan?

WARNINGS ❯❯❯❯ Suggestive jokes/themes, Explicit Language, gayness

TAGS ❯❯❯❯ Street Racing AU, Enemies/exes to something, Fluff, Mutual Pining, teeny tiny angst, Underground Racing Culture, FEM!READER

WC ❯❯❯❯ 3.3K

A/N ❯❯❯❯ Bro. Why do all my writing sprees start at 1am. like thats my peak freak hour. I nearly titled this “fast & freaky” 😿🙏 and every time I reread it in the morning I cringe so bad oml. Also fuck tumblr i got this accidentally posted this twice

Minji looks stupid good under neon.

Always has, always will.

She’s got on this oversized firetruck red windbreaker, slung off one shoulder, and a navy cap pulled low so the bold “P” hides her eyes. Not that it matters. You know that look. You’ve memorized it. 

Her little crew is wrapped around her like she’s royalty but you know better.

She never needed an entourage.

She had you.

Once, you were the one by her side. Closer than any of them.

Now you’re across the lot, gripping the wheel like it’s her hand and praying your engine doesn’t stall the second she glances your way again.

You’re parked right at the edge of the strip—an old shipping yard they turned into a half-legal racetrack, lit only by flickering floodlights and the glow of brake lights. Smoke curls into the sky from burnt-out tires. The air’s thick with gas, sweat, and something else you won’t name.

People are everywhere, perched on hoods, crowding around the starting line, drinks in hand, phones out. Some are here to race, most are just here to watch.

“YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!”

 The host’s voice crackles through the busted PA system, slicing through bass and bad decisions.

“Another night, another round of racing! Don’t cry when your bets flop! And don’t cry too hard when your car eats shit on the last corner!”

The crowd whoops. Somewhere behind you, someone lets off a firecracker.

You roll your eyes and lean back against your car, arms crossed over your chest.

“He’s getting more dramatic every time,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” Ryujin replies, slipping beside you, “but he’s right. Bet money’s gonna get ugly tonight.”

You shoot her a look. “You betting against me now?”

She snorts. “Please. I like my money where I can count it.”

 Then she elbows you. “You know Minji’s crew showed up an hour early just to scout the track?”

Your gaze flicks across the lot. Minji’s still there—right where you left her in your rearview mirror.

“Guess she’s worried.”

“Or,” Ryujin says, nudging your shoulder, “..she’s just taking it seriously. Word is a sponsor specifically requested this race.”

“What race?”

She deadpans. “The one you’re in. With her.”

You blink. “Huh..?”

Ryujin stares at you. “Did you not read the group chat?”

You definitely did not.

“Some hotshot sponsor asked for you two specifically. Said it’d draw a crowd.”

You frown. “Why? We always end up tying anyway.”

“Exactly,” she grins, “they eat that shit up. Everyone wants to see who’ll finally win.”

You sigh, turning your attention to the starting line where two cars rev. Another crew-versus-crew race about to start. One of the drivers signals to the crowd, standing half-out the window, hyping them up. His engine is loud like it's got something to prove. The other car flashes its headlights in response.

“Ten seconds!” the host calls out, voice echoing off rusted metal and sweat-slick concrete. A girl in fishnets raises her arms at the starting line, bandana fluttering from one wrist like a flag.

You and Ryujin watch in silence.

"That one’s from Jeno’s crew,” She murmurs, nodding toward the black Supra with matte decals. “He’s fast, but he always oversteers on turns. Cocky.”

You hum, eyes locked on the track.

The girl drops her arms.

Engines scream, tires screech, and the two cars launch forward like rockets.

The crowd erupts as they rip down the makeshift strip.

They drift the last corner hard, one nearly clipping the sidewall. It's messy, but it earns a cheer.

“Messy,” you mutter. “But ballsy.”

“Mhm,” Ryujin agrees. “Still won’t beat you, though.”

You flash her a small smile. But it fades the second you glance back across the lot—

Minji’s not in her spot anymore.

She’s moved closer to the track, standing just behind the barrier, closer than she needs to be.

And closer to you.

You spot her through the smoke just as another set of tires scream across the finish. She’s got that look on again—the one that says she’s thinking three steps ahead.

Well, fine. So are you.

You push off your car and stroll over, hands deep in your pockets, the smirk already forming.

“You finally come to get a better look?” you ask, stopping just a little too close. Like, you-can-smell-her-perfume close.

Minji doesn’t flinch. “Just wanted to see what kind of excuse your crew’s gonna spit out when you choke again.”

“Cute,” you grin. “You sound nervous.”

Her eyes slide to yours. “You wish.”

You laugh under your breath. “You always talk more when you're trying not to feel something.”

The parking lot was empty, save for the two of you and the occasional buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

“You should probably ease off throttle in that second turn. If the back end slips, counter-steering alone won’t be enough, you’ll need—” She paused, catching herself mid-ramble.

You raised an eyebrow, looking over. “Min.”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking again.”

Minji sighed, low and annoyed, more at herself than you. “I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You nervous?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the dark stretch of road beyond the lot, and her voice, when it came, was tight. “It’s not nerves. I just... like to be prepared.”

You nudged her with your shoulder. “And I know when you’re lying.”

She glanced at you, and for a second, something softened in her expression—like she wanted to admit it, to just let it out. But then the wall came back up. She took another sip of her drink, voice casual again. “Then stop asking dumb questions.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to be scared of losing.”

“I’m not,” she said, too fast.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Her jaw ticks, just barely.

Bullseye.

“I talk more when I’m bored,” she fires back, deadpan. “And you’re a slow burn.”

You tilt your head, lips twitching. “Funny. You weren’t bored last time you were in my backseat.”

Her jaw tightens.

“Oh—we’re still pretending that didn’t happen?” you say, sweetly venomous. “Should I shut up before your crew hears how loud you were?”

Minji’s team starts glancing around awkwardly. Yours is already watching like this is the undercard fight before the main event.

“And here I thought red was your lucky color,” you muse, eyeing the way it clings to her. “Still looks better crumpled up on my floor.”

That does it.

She spins on her heel and stalks back to her side without saying a word.

You watch her go, a smug little curl tugging at your lips.

She’s rattled.

Exactly where you want her.

–

Minji stalks back to her side of the lot. The crowd’s still buzzing, cheers, engines, someone yelling about lost bets—but she doesn’t hear any of it.

Her head’s still full of you.

Of the way your voice dropped, just enough to make her pulse beat faster. The stupid smirk you wore like it was your default face. God, it’s like you know exactly which buttons to push, and worse, you do it on purpose.

She’s halfway to her crew’s car when Hanni materializes beside her.

“She’s so annoying,” Minji mutters, yanking off her gloves one finger at a time like they personally offended her.

“And hot,” Hanni chimes in like she’s checking off a list. “Annoying and hot. The deadliest combo.”

Minji shoots her a look.

“What?” Hanni shrugs, hands buried in her hoodie pockets. “You keep racing her. That can’t just be about pride. Either you’re trying to prove something to her, or you’re hoping she rear-ends you and calls it foreplay.”

Minji glares. “Hanni.”

“I’m just saying, man.” Hanni says, all innocent. “You get weird when she’s around. Stiff. Clenchy. Very Batman-core.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Hanni cuts in. “You were flirting and fighting at the same time. Flirting-with-enemies-to-lovers pipeline speedrun.”

Minji scowls, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s not—she’s just… distracting.”

Hanni grins. “Awww. She gets under your skin. That’s sooo gay of you.”

Minji doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. Her silence says enough, especially when her eyes flick back toward the track. Toward where you’re standing.

She still remembers the last time you two raced. The tie. The after. The stupid, breathless laugh you gave her in the dark when you said, “Bet you let me win.” As if she didn’t push her engine harder than she ever had that night just to keep up.

—

Fifteen minutes later, the host’s voice crackles to life again, loud and electric.

“ALRIIIIIGHT! We’ve got a special matchup tonight, folks—one straight outta hell!”

The crowd roars in anticipation.

“Back by very popular demand—Minji of the NJZ Crew, and Y/N from the 88s! You know ’em. You love ’em. You fear what’s gonna happen if one of them actually wins this time!”

People scream. Cameras flash. Phones are up, recording, live-streaming.

Bets are flying, shouted across the space like war shouts. You even hear someone yell “Fifty grand on the 88s!” over the din.

You step toward the line, helmet swinging from your fingers, engine still humming behind you.

Minji’s already there, leaning against her MR2 like she's posing for a photo. Her windbreaker gone, now tied loose around her waist. She’s in a fitted white tank stamped with I ❤️ ME, Her track pants sit low, hips tilted just so— and okay—

You almost hate how good she looks.

Almost.

She glances at you as you approach, then back to her car, jaw tight.

No words?

You grin.

“What? Not even a ‘good luck’? I thought you were a gracious loser, Min.”

She doesn’t flinch. Just shifts her weight and leans into the door of her car, lips curling into the faintest smirk.

“I was just thinking…” she says, voice slow and deliberate, “how nice your car would look with my initials keyed into the hood.”

You blink. Your cocky grin falters for a second—just a second. Long enough for her to catch it.

She saw.

You recover quick, letting out a short laugh. “Dream big.”

She opens her door but pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s cute when you pretend you’re not nervous,” she says, voice pitched lower now. Just for you. “But I’ve seen the way your hands shake after a close race. You still get that adrenaline high?”

Your jaw clenches.

“Why, you offering to help me wind down after?”

She looks at you then. Really looks. Her eyes drag down your figure like she’s memorizing you.

“Only if you win,” she murmurs. “But we both know you won’t.”

You recover fast—ish. Coughing once. twice. Covering your smile with your hand. Okay. She wants to play like that now?

“You always flirt when you’re desperate?” you ask, trying to steady your voice. It almost works.

Minji raises a brow, eyes gleaming. “Desperate?” She steps closer. “L/N, if I wanted to rattle you, I wouldn’t be using words.”

You open your mouth—ready to snap back, or maybe choke—but the host’s voice cracks through the moment.

You blink.

Wait.

You were supposed to rattle her.

-

"Let’s make it spicy tonight, shall we?” the host’s voice booms over the speakers, dramatic. "Winner takes ten grand from our very generous sponsor and... who knows—might just walk away with a real racing contract. That’s right, our mystery backer’s in the lot tonight, hunting for the next underground icon. Think of it as your shot at going pro.”

Racing contract.

cheers and gasps ripple through the crowd. 

That’s new.

That’s everything you’ve ever wanted

Your heart stutters.

You glance at Minji. Her expression doesn’t change, but you notice how her fingers tighten on the wheel, the knuckles turning white.

“And hey,” the host adds, clearly having the time of his life, “loser’s still the winner’s bitch for the night!”

The crowd explodes.

You smirk behind the glass of your helmet as you finally slide it on, slow and deliberate. Your hands find the wheel like they belong there.

Minji’s already seated, belt clipped, gaze straight ahead.

No more talking.

But you don’t need words to know what she’s thinking.

She wants this.

Bad.

Just like you.

The girl from earlier steps back onto the track, arms raised, bandana whipping in the wind.

Red.

Your foot taps the gas once—just enough to feel the purr of your engine under your heel.

Yellow.

Minji’s MR2 booms beside you, low and steady.

You glance once at her, just once, through the smoke and heat.

She’s already looking at you.

And she smiles.

Green.

The second the light turns green, you’re off.

Rubber shrieks against pavement as your tires fight for grip. The force slams you into your seat.

Minji’s MR2 launches beside you, her shift smooth, timing perfect. She’s done this a hundred times. Maybe a thousand.

She’s right there—mirror to mirror, heartbeat to heartbeat. You can feel her, even through the roar.

She's not holding back. Not tonight.

Streetlights flicker overhead, throwing shadows across the cracked asphalt.

You take the first bend a little too tight—there’s a trash bin sitting half in the road.

You overcorrect, swerve slightly, tires skimming the edge of the curb.

Don’t oversteer. She’ll never let you live it down.

Minji doesn’t flinch.

She sees your mistake and takes advantage, cutting inside and passing you cleanly.

Her MR2 hugs the turn perfectly, tires whispering instead of screaming.

Typical.

You spot an opening: a tight, flooded alley shortcut that most wouldn’t risk. You remember it from scouting earlier, but you hadn’t planned to use it. It’s too unpredictable. Still, you dive in.

Water splashes up the side of your car, and for a moment, the whole chassis shudders.

You're hydroplaning—

Breathe. Don’t panic. Catch it.

You do. Barely.

When you burst out the other side, you’re ahead.

Final lap.

Now it’s you she’s chasing.

The road curves into a long sweeping turn, then tightens into a brutal S-curve right before the finish.

You keep your line tight, eyes flicking between the mirrors and the road.

She’s gaining on you again. She knows this part too well.

She’s not even forcing her car just waiting for you to mess up again.

But then—

Halfway through the lap, right before the last turn, something goes wrong.

Minji’s car stutters.

You don’t stop. Can’t. Not now.

You tear across the finish line a second later.

You win.

The crowd erupts. Fireworks explode somewhere off in the distance, a streak of color lighting up the night sky. Your name’s being screamed, shouted, echoed all around you. Someone grabs your arm—probably Ryujin, lifting it high into the air. You barely hear them. You barely hear anything, honestly.

Minji’s out of her car by the time you circle back. She gives you a stiff nod, lips pressed thin like she’s biting something back.

“Congrats,” she says.

You want to say something—Thank you? Did I? Are you okay? Was that real?—but she’s already walking off, disappearing into the crowd before anyone can stop her.

And maybe the crowd’s still celebrating, but all you can think about is her jaw. Clenched. Her fists. Shoved too deep in her pockets. The way her eyes didn’t meet yours long enough to say what she really felt.

She’s pissed.

You know her.

All too well.

-

Later, when the chaos has faded, you find yourself steering your car toward the place you’re 99% sure she went.

An old lot, tucked behind an abandoned strip mall. No lights. No noise. Just the faint hum of a playlist she always swore helped her ���focus,” even though half of it was just twice songs and alt-pop breakup songs.

Sure enough, her MR2’s there.

Hood popped. Headlights dimmed.

Minji stands with her back to you, sleeves rolled up, frowning at the mess under the hood like she’s trying to will it back to life.

You park a few spaces down and walk over.

“I thought I told you to replace the starter,” you say casually, eyeing the cables.

She jumps. Just a little.

“You stalking me now?” she says, not looking up.

“No,” you lie. “Just figured I’d find you sulking somewhere.”

“...Not sulking,” she mutters. “Just...processing.”

“Uh huh.”

You step closer. The smell of smoke and hot metal lingers in the air. You glance at the engine, then at her hands. She’s holding the wrench wrong.

You sigh. “You’re gonna strip the bolt like that.”

“I know how to fix my car,” she snaps.

You hold up your hands. “Didn’t say you didn’t. Just offering.”

She hesitates.

Then, quietly so quietly “...Fine.”

You take the wrench from her. Your fingers brush. She tenses.

And suddenly, it’s just the two of you again. Just like it used to be. Two grease-stained idiots under the hood, arguing about torque specs and spark plugs.

“Still a little dramatic,” you mutter, tightening a bolt.

“Says the girl who revved so loud the crowd thought a jet was landing.”

You glance at her sideways. “Eh. Admit it. You missed this.”

She scoffs. “You wish.”

You grin. “You let me win.”

That gets her. Her face twitches.

“No, I didn’t,” she says, but you catch it. That tiny, guilty shift in her eyes.

You step in closer, wiping your hands on your jeans.

“You knew how much I wanted that contract,” you say, voice quieter now. “It’s all I ever talked about.”

Her jaw tightens, and her eyes don't meet yours. She’s thinking—really thinking, like she always does when she doesn’t know how to feel.

You remember those late-night conversations, way before any of this. When it was just you two, talking about your futures under the glow of her dads garage lights. You used to tell her about your big dream of making it as a real racer. You said it like it was just some offhand joke, but she saw it. She always did. The way your eyes lit up when you said it. She knew.

And then, in the present, as the host’s words echoed in the back of her mind, she saw your eyes shine when they mentioned the contract. You were ready to take it, to take that chance, and she let you.

“Min,” you say, softer, “your car was fine five minutes before the race.”

She still doesn’t speak. Just looks away. Jaw tight.

Her lips tremble slightly, but she stays quiet. Always holding back. Always too in control. But not tonight.

You step in closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Close enough to see the way her fists twitch like she’s holding back from either hitting you or grabbing you.

You don’t say anything else.

You just wait.

And maybe that’s what breaks her.

Because a second later, she moves.

No warning—just a sharp inhale, and then she’s on you. Arms locking around your shoulders, body crashing into yours like she’s trying to shove all the distance out of the way. She hugs you hard. Desperate. Her breath hits your neck hot and ragged, and you feel the tension in her spine like a livewire.

Her grip’s bruising. Her nails dig into your back like she wants to hurt you for making her care this much. But you don’t let go.

You never could.

She buries her face into the curve of your neck, and the exhale she lets out sounds like a surrender as her hands slide down your sides, fingers pressing into your waist with a force that leaves no room for escape. Her lips graze your skin when she speaks, sounding shaky and too honest.

“I missed you,” she mutters, and god—it’s not fair, the way your heart jumps like you haven’t heard her lie a hundred times before.

Rivals, sure. Exes, yeah. But damn—her hands still remember the shape of your waist better than her steering wheel.

MINJI IN RED LIKE😻😻😜😜 RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

taglist: @arihiu @fruityg0rl @keiji-jin @strangercat @yjiminswallet @hazel-tanthamore22 @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @gtfoiydlyj @Mj.Db @gtfoiydlyjm @somedaydream @peranoo @syronns @angiisss @Drvirgus @aloneinacity @nnewjeansstuff @imsogay504 @sh1ba100 @tashasmywife

[ambiguous-avery]

Blind Date

Dean Winchester x Castiel | WC: 3360

Summary: Sam sets Dean up on a blind date, but nothing is quite what it seems. 

Tags/Warnings: Destiel, modern AU(? IDK what to call it), fluff, mechanic!Dean, accountant!Castiel, no beta we die like men

A/N: Alright, writing something a little out of my SPN wheelhouse but back into territory I used to always write! Saw this post by @colorlessjay and inspiration just hit. Whatever’s in your coffee, keep it up (and share with me, please!). Hopefully I did your idea justice! Thanks for sharing it 💜 (Also, please forgive me if Castiel is mischaracterized. I’m still in the early seasons of Cas)

It was a stupid bet. 

Not because he was opposed to a blind date. But because Sam was throwing away money, and Dean was all too happy to abuse the hell out of a free meal. And some post-date sex too, if he was lucky.

The restaurant he pulled up to was far too swanky for Dean’s liking, and the two cars he parked his Impala between were worth more than yearly rent. He tapped his fingers nervously against the steering wheel and tugged at his collar, wishing Sam would’ve given him a bit more of a warning about the restaurant he had picked for Dean. 

This was upscale. Like, way upscale. The kind of fancy where they probably had fifteen different forks and expected you to know which one to use first. The valet had given him a once-over when Dean had insisted on parking Baby himself, their eyes raised in silent judgement at Dean’s apparel. His second-best flannel and jeans with only a single tear at the knee were hardly the appropriate attire for this place. But it was too late to back out now.

“Fuck it,” Dean muttered, checking his watch – 6:55. Five minutes to spare. He was early, which never happened. Sam would’ve had a field day with that information. But knowing Dean’s luck, the person Sam had set him up with was probably already there, wondering if they had been stood up. Dean cracked his knuckles and gave his reflection a quick once-over in the rearview mirror before climbing out of the car, his usual bravado and swagger in place. It was a good thing Dean was used to faking like he belonged.

The interior of the restaurant was all polished wood and low lighting with a live jazz band playing in the corner.

“Reservation?” the hostess asked, her smile professional and polite even as she looked him over.

“Yeah, should be under Cas.” Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortable. Sam hadn’t even told him his date’s full name, just that they had “similar tastes” and “would get along.” Knowing Sam, she was going to be some bookworm who’d spend the whole night talking about nerd stuff.

The hostess lead him into the restaurant, weaving between tables of laughing couples and groups of friends. Dean tugged at his flannel again and silently cursed Sam.

“Your party is already seated,” she said, stopping at a corner table.

Dean paused mid-step.

A man was seated there.

Not a woman.

A man.

This had to be a mistake. Or more likely, this was Sam’s idea of a joke. Set Dean up with a dude, take photos from the outside, and laugh about it for months. Classic Sam. The hostess cleared her throat. “Sir?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Dean mumbled, approaching the table. He was going to kill his brother. Slowly and painfully. Possibly with one of those fancy forks. Okay, kill was a little extreme. Maybe some Nair in Sam’s shampoo again would be enough. Or supergluing his laptop shut.

The man looked up, startled by Dean’s arrival, and holy shit – those were some blue eyes. Like, unnaturally blue. The kind of blue that put the sky to shame. They were striking, even in the dim restaurant lighting. The man tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing in confusion. His dark hair was tousled, like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times and somehow managed to make it look intentionally messy. He wore a crisp, button-down with a tie that matched his eyes, a stark contrast to the rumpled trench coat that pooled in his seat. Despite that, he was still better dressed than Dean.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly deep and gravelly. Dean sank into his chair across from the stranger and swallowed hard.

“Look, man, I know what’s going on. Sammy put you up to this? I gotta say, it’s a good one. He really went all out.”

The man’s confused expression only deepened.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know any ‘Sammy.’” He glanced around as though he were looking for the parent of a lost child. “I believe you may have the wrong table.” Dean’s eyes narrowed at him. The man was certainly committed to the bit, he’d give him that.

“Right. So you just happen to have a reservation under the same name as my blind date? Come on, man. You’ve gotta do better than that.” 

The stranger’s shoulders tensed.

“I wasn’t aware I was occupying someone else’s reservation. The hostess seated me here ten minutes ago.”

“Look, you can drop the act. I know Sam set this whole thing up to mess with me.” Dean scowled and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What’d he promise you? Free drinks? Dinner?” The other man’s expression shifted from confusion to annoyance, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Listen,” the man began, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “I don’t know who you are or who this ‘Sammy’ is, but I have had too long of a week to be dealing with this. I simply want a quiet dinner. I’m not part of whatever game you think you’re playing.”

Dean’s certainly wavered. The guy seemed genuinely irritated, and as Dean studied his face, there was no hint of recognition there. No smug little smile that would give away the joke. Either this guy was an Oscar-worthy actor, or Dean had just made a complete ass of himself.

“Wait, so you’re not… Cas?”

“I am Castiel. Or Cas, as some call me,” he confirmed. “But I am certainly not your blind date.”

Dean ran a hand down his face, suddenly feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

“So you’re not here because my brother set us up?”

“No,” Castiel replied firmly, his annoyance clear in the way his mouth formed a tight line. “I’m here because I wanted to treat myself to a nice dinner after a particularly rough week.” Then, as if the universe were laughing at him, the waitress appeared at their table, her friendly smile faltering slightly as she immediately picked up on the tension.

“Are you gentlemen ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Actually,” Dean began, already pushing his chair back, “there’s been a misunderstanding–”

“Wait,” Castiel said, and he seemed as though he were a little surprised at himself. Something about the embarrassed flush creeping up the stranger’s neck made Dean pause. The waitress slipped away. “I... believe we both may be the victims of circumstance. You were expecting someone named Cas for a blind date, and I happened to be a Cas who was seated at your table. Since you’re already here, you might as well sit back down. No sense in both of us eating alone.”

Dean hesitated, hand still gripping the back of the chair. This wasn’t how this blind date was supposed to go. Then again... Sam would laugh his ass off if Dean came crawling back home with his tail between his legs. The thought of his brother’s smug expression was enough to make Dean sink back into his seat.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester.”

“Castiel Novak,” the man replied, holding his hand out over the table. Dean took it, surprised at the firm grip and rough feeling of calluses on Castiel’s palm. He had expected soft hands from someone who dined alone at a place like this.

The waitress returned with a smile that seemed to touch her eyes this time when she noticed that the awkwardness had dissipated.

“Have you decided what you’d like to order?” she asked, pen and paper at the ready.

“I’ll have the bourbon-glazed steak, medium rare,” Castiel said, closing his menu. Dean cracked open his own menu, eyes going wide at the prices. Oh, he was definitely making Sam pay for this.

“Uh, I’ll have the same.” He doubted this place had any burgers. “And a whiskey would be great.”

When she walked off, Dean drummed his fingers on the table, suddenly struck by a distinct lack of words. Blind dates were usually never awkward for Dean. All he had to do was lay the charm on the gal across from him, and things just went from there. But this? This was uncharted territory. 

“So...” Dean started, “bad week, huh?”

Castiel sighed, and Dean could see the way the weight of the week pushed on Castiel’s shoulders.

“You could say that. I’m a tax accountant, and April 15th is three days away.” Dean grimaced, suddenly remembering that he needed to bother Sam about his taxes for the year.

“Tax day. That’s rough.”

“Especially when people who have known about the filing deadline for years still act surprised when it arrives,” Castiel said dryly. Dean tried not to look guilty at that. “How about you? What do you do when you’re not crashing a stranger’s dinner?”

Dean chuckled, feeling himself relax slightly. Maybe this wouldn’t be as awful as he thought.

“I’m a mechanic. I co-own a garage with my uncle. Not as fancy as number-crunching, but I’m good with my hands.” Dean immediately regretted his choice of words, feeling heat creep up his neck. “With cars, I mean. I’m good with cars.” Castiel’s lips quirked up slightly, the first hint of a smile Dean had seen from him.

“I imagine both skills come in handy.”

Their drinks arrived. A whiskey – neat – for Dean and a red wine for Castiel. He must’ve ordered it before Dean sat down. Dean took a healthy swig of his drink, the familiar burn putting him back into safer territory.

“So this... Sammy,” Castiel said, taking a careful sip of his wine. “Your brother, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Little brother that’s not so little. Guy’s a sasquatch. Stanford law and everything.”

“And he often sets you up on blind dates?”

“No,” Dean snorted. “This was a first. I usually do just fine on my own.” He paused, realizing how that sounded, then added, “I mean... not that I’m... well, you know.”

“I don’t actually,” Castiel said, his head tilting slightly. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

There was something disarming about Castiel’s direct gaze. It wasn’t judgemental or mocking, just... interested. Dean wasn’t used to being studied so intently. To someone who seemed to actually hear every word he said. If he was being honest, he wasn’t used to people not swooning. Not that he wanted Cas to swoon. Not that he would mind. That thought dredged up a weird feeling that Dean didn’t feel like grappling in the moment. In fact, he’d be happy if he never had to confront that at all.

Their steaks arrived, perfectly seared and glistening with the bourbon glaze. Dean cut into his, letting out an appreciative sigh at the first bite.

“Damn, that’s good,” he said, momentarily forgetting his manners. “Sam may be a pain in my ass, but at least he picked a decent restaurant.” Castiel nodded in agreement, savoring his own bite with closed eyes.

“I’ve been coming here on particularly difficult days for years. They have a honey cake that I find... comforting.”

“You come to a place like this for comfort food?” Dean asked, making a vague motion to the crystal glasses and linen tablecloths.

“Everyone’s definition of comfort is different,” Castiel replied. “What’s yours?”

Dean’s knife paused mid-cut, and he actually had to stop and think about it for longer than a moment.

“I guess my mom’s apple pie. Nothing fancy, just... home.” Dean hadn’t meant to reveal something so personal to a stranger, but something about Castiel made him easy to talk to. The two of them fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence as they ate. Dean found himself stealing glances at Castiel between bites. The guy was good-looking in an unconventional way. Perpetually rumbled but somehow still put together with that intense stare that seemed to see right through Dean’s usual bravado. It was unnerving. But not in a bad way?

“So, no date tonight for you either?” Dean asked, pushing his empty plate away. Castiel dabbed at his mouth with the cloth napkin.

“No. My social calendar is rather sparse these days. Work takes up most of my time.”

“All work and no play makes Cas a dull boy,” Dean quipped. He mentally facepalmed. “Sorry, that was–”

“Accurate,” Castiel cut in, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “My brother Gabriel tells me the same thing. Though he uses considerably more colorful language.”

“Younger?”

“Older, actually. Though you’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise considering his behavior.” Castiel shook his head. “He once filled my office with live ducks because he thought I was ‘quacking’ under pressure.”

Dean just about choked on his drink. Maybe it was Castiel’s dry delivery of the line. Or maybe it was the mental image of Castiel sitting at his desk with ducks waddling around the office. Either way, Dean laughed, deep and genuine.

“No way. Like actual ducks?”

“Twelve of them,” Castiel confirmed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “It took maintenance three days to repair the damage, and I’m still finding feathers in my filing cabinets.”

“Sounds like our brothers would get along. Sam once filled my car with packing peanuts while I was sleeping. Took me a week to get them all out.”

“And yet you still love him.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean shrugged, trying to come off as unbothered as possible. “Family, right?”

The waitress came by again.

“Can I interest either of you in dessert?” Dean glanced at Castiel expectantly.

“You said something about a honey cake?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, his expression brightening.

“Two honey cakes, please,” Dean said, the words surprising himself. He typically didn’t care for cake, but the way that Castiel’s face lit up had Dean curious. Must’ve been pretty good to get a tax guy excited.

When she left, a blanket of awkwardness settled over the table again. The impromptu blind-date-turned-friendly-dinner was coming to a close, and Dean found himself oddly reluctant to let it end. Dean cleared his throat.

“So, your original date. What happened there?” Castiel blinked and tilted his head again.

“I didn’t have one. As I said before, I merely wanted to treat myself to dinner.”

“Right,” Dean nodded, mentally kicking himself. “Sorry, I just assumed. Because it’s Friday night, and this place is...”

“Romantic?” Castiel offered, glancing around at the couples holding hands and the soft lighting designed to flatter features. 

“Yeah.”

“I suppose it is. I never really noticed. What about your date? The real Cas?”

“I dunno,” Dean said with a shrug. “Sam’s the one who was in contact with her.” Dean grimaced, realizing that he hadn’t paid much attention to his surroundings during his meal. Poor gal probably showed up, couldn’t find him, assumed he stood her up, then blown up Sam’s phone. Oops. He actually felt a little bad about that.

The honey cake arrived, and as Castiel’s eyes lit up as he took his first bite, Dean found himself more interested in Castiel’s reaction than trying his own dessert.

“You weren’t kidding about this cake,” Dean said when he finally dug into his own. It was surprisingly good. Not too sweet, and the sliced almonds on top added just the right texture. “This might be the best dessert I’ve ever had. And I’m more of a pie guy, usually.”

“Don’t let Gabriel hear you say that,” Castiel replied with a small smile. “He owns a bakery that specializes in pies. He insists they’re superior to all other desserts.”

“Smart man.” Dean took another bite. “Though I guess I’ll have to make an exception for this cake.”

And just like that, the two of them fell back into a comfortable conversation as they finished their desserts, sharing stories about their brothers and work. Dean found himself laughing more than he had in months, surprised by Castiel’s dry humor that showed up once he relaxed. When the check arrived, Dean instinctively reached for it.

“I’ve got it,” Castiel said, his hand brushing against Dean’s as he also reached for the leather folder.

“No way, man,” Dean insisted, tugging the check closer to him. “This was supposed to be my treat. Well, technically Sam’s treat since he got me into this mess.” Castiel hesitated.

“You’re going to pay for dinner with a stranger who wasn’t even your intended date?”

“Hey, this turned out better than whatever Sam probably had planned.” Dean shot Castiel a grin. “Consider it my apology for crashing your solo dinner.” A beat passed between them before Castiel’s grip on the check loosened, and he relented.

“Very well. But next time, it’s my treat.”

Next time.

The two of them paused as the implication of next time hung between them, heavy but not entirely unwelcomed. Dean tucked Sam’s card into the folder and passed it off to the waitress, doing his best to ignore the strange flutter of something in his chest.

“So,” Dean leaned back in his chair, leg bouncing anxiously. “I’m supposed to report back to Sam about how this all went.” Castiel raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you planning on telling him about our... misunderstanding?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean laughed. “This is too good not to. But I can’t help but wonder what the person I was supposed to meet would’ve been like.”

Castiel’s expression shifted slightly, something unnamable passing across his features before he neatly tucked it away.

“Well, I hope she would’ve been worth your time.”

“Honestly?” Dean shrugged. “I doubt she could’ve made tonight any better.” A hint of color touched Castiel’s cheeks as he glanced down at his empty dessert plate. The waitress returned with the receipt, and Dean signed it with a flourish, making sure to leave a generous tip.

“Thank you for dinner, Dean,” Castiel said, rising from his chair. “It was unexpected. But pleasant.”

“Yeah, same here,” Dean replied, standing as well. The two of them walked toward the exit together, shoulders occasionally brushing in the narrow path between tables. Outside, the night air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the warmth of the restaurant. The sky was clear, but with all the light pollution from the city, the stars were barely visible. Dean hesitated at the bottom of the restaurant steps.

“Hey, you, uh... got a card?” he asked. “In case I need a tax guy?” he added quickly. Castiel’s expression softened, and he reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat before producing a business card.

“My work number is on here. But you can find my personal cell on the back.” He handed it to Dean, their fingers briefly brushing past each other. Dean took the card and flipped it over to see the neat handwriting. Castiel Novak, CPA. He smiled and tucked it into his own pocket.

“CPA,” Dean repeated. “Sounds official.”

“It is,” Castiel replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. “I even have a special calculator and everything.” Dean laughed. Another awkward silence.

“So,” Dean finally began, rocking back on his heels. “Guess I should let you get home. Long day and all that.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Castiel looked up at the night sky then back at Dean, a soft, genuine smile gracing his features. He took a half-step back. “Give me a call if you need help with taxes.” A pause. “Or a next time.” And with that, the two parted ways.

Dean slid into Baby’s front seat, still reeling over the evening. What the hell was that? He typed a message to Sam, his leg bouncing as his fingers tapped against the screen.

Sam’s phone pinged. Two notifications.

The first was from his bank, notifying him that his card had been used.

The second, a message from Dean.

Jokes on you. I ain’t paying you shit.

Sam typed a response back, frowning. He had been so confident about this gal.

Damn, and here I thought Cassie’s love for Led Zeppelin would’ve gotten you.

Three dots appeared, signifying that Dean was typing. Then they disappeared. Then they popped up again. Then, a text.

WHO?!

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Tags: @yftmaifky123 @from-my-dark-and-twisted-mind @j12at3 @omgisthatfrog @youchangedmedestiel @sadundefinedbread @lab-trash @pancakesyyrup @donotknowblr @themaidenofdarkness @theroundbartable @treeg0at @ballistamoon @letmebefrowny2 @illusionremember @totally-not-a-dragon-in-disguise

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist! (heads up that I don't typically write Destiel)

[orphicsun]

hi cheyyy!!! do you have any writers in here you recommend? been looking for new content EVERYWHERE

of course:) i have some writers on here who i absolutely adore so I’ll tag them and who they write for. i feel so weird tagging people on tumblr like im committing a crime pls ignore me!!

@shouyuus check out her vi fics especially figure eights. she is one of the sweetest people on this app and posts cute drabbles n blurbs often!!

@undressrehearsal writes for ellie. i discovered her on ao3 from dare to be stupid which is god level tier fanfic

@uhlunaro their sevika fics are so yum i recommend feed me. i have reread it an embarrassing amount of times wow also their knowledge of the appalachian mountains is impressive just sayin..

@edenspoem writes for ellie(and a little bit of abby now?) but she is one of the first writers whose work i fell in love with on this app, before i was even writing on here tbh. my personal favs are infiltration and fuck and pretend. if you like creative tropes n good plot aestra is a genius

@s-4pphics also introduced me to ellie williams tumblr. i have lost a crazy amount of sleep reading sal’s series they are so emotionally provoking and i want to hang each of them up in a museum or something.

@meganegatari writes for tlou characters(abby, ellie, dina) i also read some of their fics before i became a writer on here. their most recent made me cry but it’s because i read angst knowing i’m a huge crybaby LMAO. also shoutout to @bloodstainedsapphic because i know she helped write that and i love her writing anyway.

@vifilms and @sinstear these two both write for tlou and arcane and i’m always sat when either post. i rayray’s series and eren has yummy drabbles if you like shorter stuff and a masterlist full of abby stuff that actually got me into abby no joke.

@powderpinkandsweeet writes for ellie and abby, i remember this 60s au she did that i had to reread over and over again because i love older time periods with lesbians its so rare to find in fanfiction. i also adore how realistic her writing feels.

@berritart writes shorter posts for abby, vi, ellie, and i’ve been obsessed with her blog when it comes to blurbs. she mentioned vi with a packer and i still think about that

@loaksky writes for various characters i believe, but i know she writes for ellie and vi. i am so obsessed with her fic come a little closer and anything she has written for ellie. i recommend the vi fic if you want something longer.

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.4): bonfire debrief - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

part 3 - part 4 - part 5

present day, 2 years since starting kooked.out;

the island lookout had backed off from posting about the group for a while. ever since kooked.out had kicked off, you’d been showing the world everything you were up to before they even had the chance—parties, random adventures, all of it. and whatever wasn’t posted on your page, they’d cover, but the things were so minor, and started to feel like the same old thing. eventually, the posts about you four slowed down.

that was until today. last night’s bonfire had been one of the biggest of the year—end of summer, peak tourist season, which also meant a whole lot of attention. things were about to get interesting again.

it was mostly typical night for the pogues; jj doing something stupid like always, drinking, and laughter. what wasn't, was john b turning every girl throwing themselves at him away, and instead wanting to enjoy a "quiet night". and as the pogues do, calling him out on it.

pogues groupchat, kie, jj, cleo, pope, from jb's perspective;

the kooks were too busy recovering from last night's chaos—fighting off hangovers, dealing with random texts from people they barely knew, and trying to avoid the heat of the day. phones were barely on their radar until sarah happened to check a notification that was actually relevant.

just like that, the island lookout had their eyes glued to the four; once again.

the post wasn't what mattered. it was the fact they knew this was just the start. the start of constant coverage of every. little. thing that happened in their lives, just like it was 2 years ago when they had just started posting.

except now, island lookout had audiences beyond the island. kooked.out fans had slowly started finding the twitter account, as followers from obx would fill the comment sections talking about "island lookout could never". now not only could fans access what they chose to post, they could see what everyone else was saying about them.

and whats a better solution than to drink your feelings away?

an; tags under the cut!!

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @frankocealuvr11 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @Chillgal135 @6r4cie

[hivemuthur]

Tightrope - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!, frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU. This is part of a request for @pxszels

Ch.1. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: okay, things escalate, all I'm gonna say :v Very dubious science warning and thank you @rennethen for beta reading!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A lot of intrusive thoughts clatter through your mind as you glare pure death at Viktor, sitting two chairs away from you. Jayce—a buffer that protects the both of you from yourselves.

Strangulation is the first, most obvious one, but it dangerously quickly turns into something borderline erotic when you watch Viktor’s neck. And you really stare at it—the sharp angle of his jaw turning into the smooth column, porcelain skin interrupted with freckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he speaks out his infuriating truths. Ugh, since when is this happening?

The second, also obvious, is electrocuting him—just successfully this time. But then again, an unbidden image breaks into your mind’s eye: Viktor’s startled expression, his hand clutched to his heaving chest, hair tousled from the electric current, cheeks a bit flushed under your palms cradling them.

The heat on your own face almost betrays you, but fortunately, the picture of Viktor’s mouth saying I could make you gag gives you a comfortable explanation for the roses blooming across your cheeks—you are just really, really pissed.

You’ve been at each other’s throats for over a week now, and each encounter has been a small battle to win. So far, as expected, it’s a tie, but you are determined to stomp his head into the ground, his ear in your teeth.

You’ve just sat through Viktor’s answer to Heimerdinger’s conundrum:

"Given the choice between a platinum-based catalyst and an experimental cobalt-nickel alloy for an industrial hydrogenation reaction, which would be the superior option in terms of efficiency and long-term viability?"

"If the goal is efficiency, the answer is already clear," Viktor says in a flat tone, and you almost break your pencil. You parrot his voice in your head, your face doing a tiny, mocking expression—one that Jayce immediately counters with puppy eyes.

"Platinum’s catalytic activity remains stable across multiple reaction cycles, and its surface energy allows for consistent molecular interactions," Viktor continues, his posture so unbothered it’s as if he’s already won. "Even if alternative materials show potential, they introduce variables that compromise long-term reliability."

"You're focusing on controlled lab conditions, but industrial applications aren’t perfect systems," you mutter, leaning over your desk and addressing the entire thing to Heimerdinger. "In real-world settings, we need materials that are adaptable, not just reliable in a vacuum."

Your tone becomes more passionate, encouraged by Heimerdinger’s eager nodding. "The alloy has a wider range of operating conditions and costs significantly less—why cling to a metal that’s prohibitively expensive when there’s a viable alternative?"

"You're assuming ‘viable’ just because it works in some conditions," Viktor counters, his voice clipped, clearly irritated. "There’s a difference between potential and actual applicability. Platinum has proven efficiency—your alloy is a gamble."

You huff, leaning forward and turning to face Viktor this time, as Jayce slowly sinks into his chair. "And you're assuming ‘superior’ just because something is well-documented? Science doesn’t advance by relying on what’s already been done. You can’t just dismiss an emerging material because it makes you uncomfortable."

Viktor’s lips curl slightly in that way that always makes you want to throw something at him. "Uncomfortable? No, I simply prefer optimised methods over—what was it—guesswork?"

Your jaw tenses. "Right, because clinging to the safe choice is the height of scientific innovation."

"Optimisation and recklessness are not the same thing," Viktor snaps.

"No, but stagnation and cowardice are pretty damn close."

That’s probably what prompts Heimerdinger to finally step in.

"As fascinating as it is to observe your ongoing academic duel, might I remind you that this is a classroom, not a battleground?"

The words should sting, should make you shrink into your seat, but the bemused glint in his eyes softens the blow. Viktor, ever the picture of self-restraint, merely tips his head, as if the interruption is a minor inconvenience. You, on the other hand, can’t quite suppress the triumphant curve of your lips as you lower yourself back to your seat.

Heimerdinger sighs. "If either of you would like to continue this discussion, I suggest you do so after my lecture."

You don’t quip a single sound throughout the rest of the class, and Viktor doesn’t either. You can feel his eyes on you periodically—or rather, you can see them in the corner of your eye when you try to make it look like all your focus is directed at Heimerdinger’s blackboard.

By the time you get to worrying about how your afternoon project session with Viktor is going to go this time, the class ends, and Joe picks you up for breakfast. A brief reprieve is interrupted by Viktor’s dry, “Don’t be late this time.” But before you can poke his eye out with a pencil, he passes right by you without even sparing a glance.

All that tension dissolves into laughter when Joe makes fun of your miserable crossword choices.

“Aren’t you supposed to be ridiculously smart?” he teases, tapping his finger against the newspaper. “Why the hell did you put 'Beethoven' for ‘Famous deaf baseball player’?”

You groan, snatching the booklet back. “I was in a rush!”

Joe smirks. “The answer is Dummy Hoy, by the way. Actual deaf baseball legend. Try to keep up.”

“Well, excuse me, smartass!” you say, flashing a ludicrous grin as you hurriedly scribble over the letters. “Huh, okay, it does fit. Words are not my strength, what can I say.”

Joe hums, watching you with an easy smirk as he takes a ridiculously large bite of his apple. “What are your strengths, then?” he asks, chewing thoughtfully.

You tap the end of your pencil against your chin. “Huh. Engineering, I suppose. And I’m a pretty okay friend, I’d like to think.”

Joe raises a brow, amused. “A pretty okay friend? I’m not sure I can resist such attractive advertising.”

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, nudging his arm. “I’ve had some bumps in my record recently.”

Joe’s smirk softens into something more genuine. “As I said—I probably won’t resist.” He leans back, tossing his apple core into a nearby bin with practiced ease. “And speaking of being good friends, since I do aim to become one, I should probably drop you off at the lab?”

Your stomach drops. “Oh, shit, yes. If we want me to live, definitely yes.”

You shove a chocolate bun and all your other things back into your bag and urge Joe to move faster, which prompts him to pry whether the skinny guy glaring daggers at you in front of the classroom can really do any significant damage. He demonstrates a few rugby pacifying moves, which you try to take with a straight face—but you burst out laughing when, just as you reach the lab’s door, he tells you, “Remember the dump tackle.”

And you have no idea where the urge to hold your breath as you enter comes from but releasing it upon seeing that your two favourite buffers—Jayce and Sky—are there to ease any blow coming your way makes you feel somewhat lighter. They sit hunched over their notes, so you only wave hello and approach Viktor, who is leaning over the intricate layout of books and papers splayed across the workbench.

"Glad to see you on time for once," he mutters, not even bothering to spare you a look.

"I tried very hard," you sigh, dropping your heavy bag onto the floor. "For you."

He smiles. Odd. The smile vanishes as quickly as it appears, and Viktor is back to his stuck-up self when he turns and says, in a tone seeping with boredom, "Alright. I rewired the band properly while you were gone. It's time to discuss the possible power supplies."

Properly, huh. "What do you have in mind?"

Viktor straightens, gesturing vaguely to the mess of notes sprawled across the workbench. "A micro thermoelectric generator would be the most efficient choice. Converts body heat into electrical energy—self-sustaining, minimal maintenance, and no reliance on external charging."

You arch a brow. "Efficient, sure. If you ignore the fact that it's highly dependent on temperature gradients. The output fluctuates, and if the user isn't generating enough heat, the power supply suffers. You'd be relying on biological inconsistency."

He hums, noncommittal. "There are ways to stabilise it. A supplementary capacitor—"

"Which introduces another point of failure," you cut in smoothly. "Supercapacitors have high charge cycles, but they degrade. If we're adding redundancy, why not go with something that guarantees a steady output?"

Viktor glances at you, unimpressed. "And what would you propose?"

"A miniaturised kinetic energy harvester." You lean forward, tapping a finger on the notes in front of him. "Energy is gathered through natural movement—walking, gesturing, any kind of physical motion. The output is consistent and doesn’t rely on external conditions."

"Consistent, yes, but also inefficient in comparison." He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Kinetic harvesters require constant motion for optimal performance. What happens when the user is sedentary? The energy reservoir drains, and there is no backup supply."

You purse your lips. "Then integrate both. A hybrid system—kinetic as primary, thermoelectric as auxiliary. Movement generates most of the power, and any residual body heat supplements it. Redundancy without overcomplication."

For a moment, Viktor is quiet, his fingers idly tapping against the workbench. Then, almost reluctantly, he gives a small nod. "A reasonable compromise."

You blink. "Did you just agree with me?" Unthinkable. But you do have witnesses.

He exhales sharply, picking up a pencil. "Do not make me regret it."

Before you can fire back, Jayce, having had enough, loudly shuts his notebook and stretches. "Alright, I am starving," he announces, shooting a meaningful glance at Sky. "Lunch?"

Sky, who has been keeping her head down and very obviously pretending not to listen, perks up immediately. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

Neither of them waits for an answer before standing. Jayce claps you on the shoulder as he passes, his voice overly casual. "Try not to kill each other before we get back."

"Can’t promise anything," you mutter.

Sky just snorts as she follows Jayce out, leaving you alone with Viktor, making the forced civility even a bigger challenge. He writes down your ideas on the board, when a loud growl of your stomach makes him pause.

“Haven’t your himbo—erm, sorry, Joe—fed you properly?”

“Get lost,” you counter stupidly, rummaging through your bag for your safety bun. You tear off a piece with exaggerated nonchalance, throwing Viktor a shit-eating smirk. “He fed my soul.”

Viktor rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Good for you,” he grumbles, turning back toward the board, but you catch the briefest flicker of something—mild annoyance, maybe—as he refocuses on his work.

Viktor taps his fingers against the edge of the workbench, gaze fixed on the equations scrawled across the board. “The issue with the stability of the connection isn’t the materials themselves,” he says, his tone clipped with focus. “It’s the uneven current distribution. If we integrate a secondary regulator—” He gestures to a hastily drawn diagram, circling a particular point with the chalk. “—we can stabilise the output without overhauling the entire circuit.”

You exhale sharply, arms crossed. “That’s just putting a bandage on it.”

“It’s refining, not patching,” Viktor corrects, finally glancing at you. “A full redesign would be unnecessary, and we don’t have the time for it,” he mumbles, less sure of himself and you take a note of his brows furrowing.

You linger on the rebuttal, but ultimately, you step forward, coming to stand beside him. Your eyes scan the board, taking in the schematics, the modifications—annoyingly, frustratingly sound. You rub at your temple and sigh.

“Okay. Okay,” you state firmly, staring at the board. “I will admit the superiority of your idea over mine, because I am decent.”

You turn to Viktor, for once glad to admit defeat with such grace—only to catch him outright staring at you, his eyes almost absent. It usually doesn’t take him that long to formulate a comeback that is supposed to land like a slap but of course bounces off and figuratively flares up on his cheek instead.

No slapping this time, though.

“What are you looking at?”

“You have a—” he says quietly, pointing at the corner of your lip.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wondering how long you’ve been walking around with a chocolate moustache before he noticed. You nag at the spot with your fingers, but Viktor scrunches his eyebrows, looking almost pained when he whines, “God, not here.”

“Well, you showed me there!” It’s ridiculous, but you actually laugh, still trying to blindly locate whatever food dirt clings to your mouth after eating that cursed bun.

“Ah, damn, not here—here!” Obviously, you’re doing a poor job because Viktor huffs, half-annoyed, his lips turning into a pitying smile. “Ah, just—” He sighs, exasperated, then finally—oh.

He licks his thumb, stills you with a hand on your shoulder, and leans in. “Let me,” he murmurs, swiping his wet thumb over your skin.

“Oh.”

Viktor does such a great job of not looking at you while performing his little mercy that this gesture—almost sweet, if you two weren’t dangling from that tightrope right now—might have had a chance of passing as friendly. Maybe—if his touch resembled that of a mother cleaning dirt off a child’s face. Maybe—if his thumb weren’t caressing your lip with lingering tenderness, as if trying to memorise the order in which your mouth would wrinkle were it to come to kiss his.

He’s possibly, most likely done at some point, and you should be all cleaned up. But he doesn’t stop. He takes in your face—chin tilted up, leaning into his touch. Eyes hooded, defenceless. Such a gentle, fragile picture before him, so different to the way your mouth twists into a groan when you see him or the way you smirk when your insult lands on a fertile ground.

A calloused, trembling thing keeps swiping over your lips, and you inhale sharply. His hand shifts from your shoulder to your neck, and your eyes fall closed.

And then, oh, he still doesn’t stop.

His hand is shaking, breath held tight in his chest. Quivering fingers—index and middle—ghost over your upper lip, and for the love of everything sacred, you have no idea what overcomes you. When you part your mouth.

Viktor has a faint idea of what possesses him when he accepts the invitation and slides his fingers inside. It’s that nagging, ever-present thought—or wonder, rather—of what this mouth feels like from the inside. He’s thought about shutting your yapping mouth many times before. He just didn’t know his fingers would do as good a job as his tongue.

For a moment, it’s so insanely erotic that your brows scrunch. He pushes in and out, glides over your teeth and tongue. It’s all quiet, just the soft clicks of your make, until—

“Oh, fuck,” Viktor exhales, his thumb swiping beneath your jaw.

You hold him firmly between your lips and, at one point, even hum softly as his fingers part and graze the inside of your cheek. With a sharp exhale, he retreats, dragging your spit over your skin before cupping your face.

Your eyes open, and he’s so close you can taste his breath. An impossible moment.

You don’t think. You just do.

You let your face be pulled closer and closer until you think his mouth almost brushes yours—when your eyes meet. And then Viktor looks to the door.

His expression changes. A spatter of darkened gold flicks between the entrance to the lab and you, back and forth, before suddenly—he withdraws. His hands leave you in an instant. He rushes away, drops onto a stool, grabs a notebook, and starts scribbling as though nothing happened.

And you barely manage to take a ragged breath before the door swings open, laughter spilling inside—Jayce’s, loud as ever, followed by Sky’s.

Jayce looks around, eyebrows raised. “Huh. Nothing’s on fire for once.”

He passes you, and you can only bulge your eyes out to yourself, the only silent embodiment of the shock coursing through your veins. And goddamn it—Sky fucking catches it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stopping in her tracks, eyeing you from head to toe.

First, you nod. Many times. Smiling like an idiot, completely fake. “Yes.”

“What was that then?” She mimics your expression, and it looks so fucking stupid you almost snort—but unfortunately for you, Jayce sees what Sky is trying to express, and now his attention is on you.

Quickly, you turn back to your previous position, lean on one leg, drill your eyes into the board, and a half-smile onto your face.

“I’m just… thinking. With my face. About this,” you gesture vaguely to whatever Viktor managed to cross out and write over in your split second of focus.

“Just some internal monologuing. In fact,” you say, slapping your thighs. “I need to… excuse me for a second—” is the only thing you manage before turning on your heel and rushing out.

Jayce immediately turns to Viktor. “What did you do?”

But you don’t hear the answer. You let your face twist and turn as you walk fast through the corridors, bumping from door to door, praying that one of them will be unlocked—some classroom or a janitor’s closet good enough for you to hide and slam your fists against a wall.

Finally, you find one—a small storage room stocked with backup sanitary items for disinfection. You barge in, leave the door ajar, and begin your dance.

You fall into a crouch and contemplate whether you could scream. You probably can’t, so you just hide your face between your knees, bury your hands in your hair, and mouth, What the fuck?

You take a couple of breaths. Stand up, take a few steps. A thousand expressions fly across your face as your mouth falls open and closed between cut whispers, crumbs of your thoughts. No and what and oh, God fall out, barely audible, as you gesture wildly with your hands and walk around in a tiny circle.

You try to jump it out, kick something that’s not there, before muttering, fuck. What the fuck. Then, a long exhale, and your hands just fall to your sides.

Fuck, again.

You press your lips into a thin line and breathe heavily through your nose, eyebrows all scrunched.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s voice startles you.

He is standing in the doorway—for God knows how long—and you just clutch a fist to your chest, still unable to speak.

He stares at you, half-smiling at this display of internal conflict. He looks like he wants to say something. Or like he wants you to say something. You have no idea.

The longer you don’t speak, the more worried his face becomes. You take two steps toward him—then turn again, leaning over a small table. Then straighten back up, mouth something at him, but it’s impossible to say what. Chew on your cheek to the point of drawing blood.

As you get closer and closer, something breaks within you. Your hands reach for him—then retreat again. One more step, and one more.

And Viktor is stuck in place in the doorframe, having not even the faintest idea what to do.

Finally, you’re so close you could touch him. And you nod, as if to yourself, as if admitting some kind of defeat—when your hands cup his face, and you close the distance between his mouth and yours.

Just one kiss. Deep but fleeting, no tongue.

When you break away, you lick your lips and look at his nose. You make a tired, strangled sound, but Viktor doesn’t let you back away further.

He hooks his cane over his forearm, hands come to grab your waist and your neck, and he kisses you back—this time with tongue. Walks you inside, breathes through his mouth into this kiss that is neither fierce nor gentle. It’s just… so wanting, his moans are almost cries.

And you, too, want him to the point of crying out, when your hands don’t calm down with his touch—simultaneously mussing his hair and tugging at the collar of his shirt, signalling you want it off, you want to feel more of him. You slide your fingers underneath, nails scratching his collarbone, and he releases a low growl into your mouth.

It must look absolutely idiotic, when you bend backwards and pull him with you, making him hunch to not lose your lips, and Viktor stumbles, almost knocks you over before using your body for balance. You wrap your arms around his neck so tight his head almost snaps off and he responds with an equal strength of his palms crushing your ribs.

Hoarse breathing and little needy cries fill the tiny space, and you almost rip the shirt off his back, until—

The sound of your name echoing down the corridor startles you.

And then—

“Viktor!” Jayce calls. Behind him, Sky calls yours.

You detach from each other, panting, pure peril oozing between you.

“I’ve messed you up,” Viktor says quickly, adjusting your shirt back into your skirt. You could smile at the sweetness of the gesture, but—

The voices—closer, and closer, and closer.

“God, your hair,” you whisper, hands flying up to smooth down the strands you’ve mussed with panicked fingers.

Viktor’s hands drop from you. He lets you fuss over him but the more you touch him the more distant his expression grows. You almost deem your work decent, when he leans back in and shoveshis tongue into your throat again, as if he can’t stay away.

“Viktor, no, they will—”

You get cut off by a firm push to the table. He steps between your legs, yanks the door closed with his cane, and clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he pants. “They won’t.” And then he licks your neck, and your legs kick around him, thudding against the table leg.

“Shh, quiet,” he whispers between breaths. Bastard drags his tongue up your neck again, his free hand coming to pin your wrists together on your stomach. A kiss under your ear, a gentle suck of his lips gets your thighs clenching, trapping him between your legs and he has the audacity to smirk against your skin.

The sweet torture continues, when, feeling your fidgety hands grow pliant he releases you, only to use the newly gained freedom of his arm to slide a flat palm up your back, between your shoulder blades, all the way up so his fingers brush under your hairline before grabbing a fistful at the base of your skull. Have you known any better, you would bite the silencing hand, but you moan into it instead.

The moan dies into a whine, when Viktor’s tongue abandons your neck, and he comes back to look you in the eye all serious, then kisses the knuckles of his own palm as if they were your lips. “I meant it when I said I could gag you,” he hums and either he is not ready to see your eyes rolling to admire the insides of your eyeballs or the mere thought gets him to turned on his lids shut involuntarily.

And when Jayce and Sky clearly trot right next to the door that is now holding a secret dearest to your heart, you both freeze and keep your eyes shut, following the moronic rule of if you can’t see them they can’t see you either.

“All right, I’m ready to give up,” Jayce says, and Sky responds with nothing, but you can see her nodding in your mind’s eye. “Let’s just hope there aren’t any bodies lying around come morning.” That, Sky dignifies with a chuckle.

You both listen to the sound of their chatter and steps descending down the corridor in complete stillness, and when he is absolutely certain you are now truly alone, Viktor releases your mouth, its tender flesh pulled with his retreating hand, a quiet sticky sound follows.

He bites on his lower lip and stares at the glistening inner side of his palm for a moment and you wonder if he contemplates whether to lick it or wipe it into his pants. Then, he looks back at you, unsure and searching and you take one more step toward utter insanity, wrapping your legs around his and fisting his crumpled shirt.

“Is that a yes?” he asks against your mouth, cane comes to rest by the table and needy hands accept the invitation before his brain does as they cup your ass, pressing you against him. The feeling of his cock, hard between your legs and straining in his pants sends a cramp all the way to your core.

“A yes to what?” you bounce the question off as your tongue darts to lick his upper lip.

“To gagging,” Viktor still tries, but the chuckle gives him away.

“You’re disgusting,” you snort, nearly into his mouth. He swallows it in another kiss, prettier than the last one, gentler. Deeper as well, when he cups your face and licks into you through pleased hums, his eyelashes brush underneath yours and you can smell chalk and paper on him.

Of all people, Viktor giving you kiss so full of emotion, is not a thing you would bet on. But you accept it, messing his hair back into the state from before you licked it down with your palms, soft strands fill the gaps between your fingers as you flex them to tug, pull, and scratch your nails on his scalp and as you crack your eyes open, goosebumps rises and falls in waves down the taunt skin of his cheeks.

“For fucks sake touch me,” he rasps, showing you his underbelly. “Please.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say this word to me,” you tease him, licking into his mouth and shifting your hips so that your clothed cunt would press on his crotch. He groans your name out in a warning and doesn’t let you win this one, biting your neck, almost unhinging his jaw in the process.

You don’t retaliate either. Shaky fingers come to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, and you caress his collar bones before placing a soft kiss in the pool where they meet. Viktor’s head lulls back on his shoulders, hips roll into yours and mouth moans out the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Ah, fuck,” you hiss against his skin despite yourself. Very reluctant to let him know how hot you find him right now, you drag your tongue up his neck to shut yourself up. Viktor, obviously at the edge of his patience, grabs the back of your neck and collides your mouths back into another greedy kiss, making you almost, well, gag, on his tongue.

“Yes to gagging, then,” he says triumphantly. Tired with waiting for your hands to touch him where he wants it the most, he slides one palm under your skirt, pressing on a thin, wet barrier of your knickers and hums, pleased that he is not alone in his overwhelming want.

“Ah!” A gasp escapes you when you feel how desperate his touch is. “So, there is, fuck—” you stutter at the feeling his fingers sliding the material to the side and finding your clit. “Kindness in your touch after all.” Your hands already fumble at his belt and Viktor smirks at the stark contrast between the overall cockiness of your message and a very poor delivery not backing it up.

“Only kindness,” he whispers and there is honesty within him you’ve never seen before. He sinks two fingers inside you, thumb fixed where you throb and pulse, and you almost lose his cock from your hand at the stumbling realisation of how good he is with his hands. You brace yourself with a firm grip on his shoulder, your free hand spreads the beads of precum over his head and Viktor exhales a shuddery breath. You give him a couple of experimental pumps and decide to push him further, retreating your touch only to present him with your palm open, waiting below his chin when you say, “Spit.”

“Who’s disgusting now,” he chuckles but obeys. Soon a warm wet splash lands on your hand, and you cannot take your eyes off his lips when his cheeks hollow out and tongue rolls to gather his spit for you. You’ve never seen him doing it either. The movement of his fingers doesn’t waver for a moment, and you have to use all of your massive brain power to not get distracted between your own pleasure and his cock.

You grasp him at the base and spread the slick all the way to the top, rolling your fingers on the sensitive spot under his head, to which Viktor replies with a firmer rub against your clit. The more you edge him, the more he coms forth, curling his fingers inside you, making you scowl and lose your rhythm on his cock and he’s willing to make this little sacrifice only so see how lovely your face contorts the closer you are to falling apart.

He defeats you almost entirely when a third finger gets introduced to your hole and all you can do is just hold him in your palm, your other hand slides back up his hair and you tug him close to taste his lips again and send your groan into his throat. Finally, you come in a couple of clenched out spasms, losing control of your mouth as you press yourself into him and Viktor gulps down your moans, humming and smiling with something clean and genuine.

Your legs go limp on his sides, forehead comes to rest on his shoulder, and you allow yourself a couple of shuddery breaths before moving your hand again. You lift your head to look at him, face all pink and covered with a sheen of sweat and his lips part sweetly when you resume languid rolls of your wrist.

Viktor braces himself on the edge of the table, hands come to grip on each side of your hips, his knuckles pale, and he leans in, holding your gaze. Utters a quiet fuck when you smile at him, all blissfully complete and you suddenly find yourself wanting to make him feel just as good. So you pump his cock faster, taking cues from the way his cheeks flare up, eyes flutter and breath hitches. He grunts and moans and pants and you record each and every one of those sounds in the grooves of your brain.

When’s he’s becoming unbearably hot and twitching in your palm, his hands crawl back to cup your face, and he kisses you deeply, soft tongue invading your mouth again and you know he is almost there, so you pull your skirt up and make him paint your inner thighs with cum. Heat spreads across your skin when Viktor shakes out the last spasms of his orgasm, your lips still glued together.

“Who knew you are such a sweet creature,” he mumbles hotly between kisses, his softening cock rolling in his own cum on your thigh.

“It’s a secret, don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, reaching blindly to the shelf above your head to grab a roll of paper towels. You hand it to Viktor, and he tears off a piece and sets the roll outside of your reach. With a protest already dangling off your tongue, you let it crawl back into your throat when Viktor wipes himself off your thigh with tenderness and care that gets you borderline embarrassed.

Then, he cleans himself up and you watch him with wide eyes as he tucks everything back into his pants, throws the cum-stained paper into the bin and leans back to kiss you, as if something just got established.

“A compromise agrees with you,” he says, resting his forehead against yours. “You too,” you reply stupidly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. And you wonder—how long is the fall off this tightrope going to be? When will you crash into the ground and break your neck?

[diamondpastry]

trainwreckshipping submas dia au masterpost (in order <3)

in order of the sequence, not the date posted ... so you can have the definitive slop eating experience of the timeline im building... those in BOLD are important key moments, but the others still provide some needed context in a way ...

quick summary is that this is the usual ingo disappears to hisui while volos immortal and lived long enough to eventually come across emmet ... then they do the usual plate collecting stuff. this is just my interpretation of it

PRE-DISAPPEARANCE (before ingo disappeared. mostly junk to establish the twin's fun little dynamic)

who is this? - fun aftermath to an interactive post ...

sweaty emmet - nimbasa trio <3

GRIEVING ERA (lasted 1 year, emmet on his own coping with ingo's disappearance)

sad emmet - poor thing

emmet forgets elesas birthday - 2 months no ingo

stupid alcoholic - 3 months no ingo

emmet with a bong - 4 months no ingo

day drinking - 5 months no ingo

i'm normal - 1 year no ingo

PLATE COLLECTING ERA (volo finds emmet and convinces him to collect plates with him)

this is why i fuck with you - SHITPOST

pads - SHORT COMIC.

immortality - emmet finds out about volo's 'curse'. they talk about it.

gaah my cheeks gaaah - ART

non canon rp thing but its silly - SHITPOST/DOODLES

wash your clothes - SHORT COMIC. just a silly thing.

happy valentines guys - ART

volo's so damn tall - DOODLES

emmet straight up kills volo - volo using his immortality and emmet's fear of straying too far from ingo's image to manipulate/break him down into someone more vulnerable. this also comes in fanfic form, which provides more context to volo's point of view

ROSE-TINTED ERA (emmet falling in love with volo while volo continuously rejects his advances)

volo gets mauled by a bear - FANFIC. emmet is a lot less aggressive with his interactions, now growing a sort of concern/affection for volo. volo thinks it's disgusting. short doodle comic version here.

emmet cockblocks volo - FANFIC. has suggestive elements but no intercourse is actually observed (still mind the tags, however!). volo rejects emmet's affections, feeling that he is unworthy/is losing control. showcases his tendencies to self-sabotage.

not even worth it - SHORT COMIC. alternative summary to the previous one in case you aren't a fan of suggestive fanfics.

enough casual sex - SHITPOST/DOODLE

ugly - SHITPOST/DOODLE. emmet craving validation from volo.

frown upside-down - SHITPOST/DOODLE. emmet trying to cheer volo up.

need you - ART.

he dgaf - ART. emmet seeking comfort from volo.

hairdryer - SHITPOST/DOODLE. emmet pranks volo.

CONFESSION CHAPTER 1 - also comes in fanfic form, which provides more context than the comic. emmet confesses his love to volo, volo confesses a different thing entirely.

CONFESSION CHAPTER 2 - FANFIC. after emmet left, volo is struck with a realization. he looks for solutions to get ingo back, but unfortunately it led him back to plate hunting. while he still plans on rewriting the world, he swore to reunite the twins. comes with little doodles!

FALLING OUT

phone call - 2 years no ingo. emmet takes all the plates from volo and returns them to their rightful place. he then finally accepts that theres no more hope for ingo and that hes never getting him back.

stalled train - emmet setting a healthier routine for himself. though, it seems a part of him is still missing.

EPISTLE - 1 year after the phone call. volo has succeeded in collecting all the plates by himself. emmet hears about it and set off to try and stop him from fulfilling his plans.

REVELATION ERA

no posts here yet. this is a massive turning point in the story, but i must avoid spoilers for now ... you guys are free to piece things together though.

AFTERMATH

emmet breaks ingos back - he misses him

ingo brought home a sneasel ...

but your thighs - SHITPOST/DOODLES. reveals that emmet and volo are still seeing each other despite what happened. ingo is not a fan.

miss me, emmie? - ART. just a small visit while emmets working

awkwar - SHITPOST/DOODLE. ingo catches the two during work

and you still see him? - SHITPOST/DOODLE.

little crush - ART + DOODLES

big ass emoji - DOODLES/SHITPOST. ingo utilizing his new phone <3 and emmet is drunk

friendmaxxing - SHITPOST/DOODLES.

ingo in the modern world - ingo constantly being overstimulated during his transition from hisui to unova. emmet clinging on to their past routine, in hopes of returning back to 'normal'.

nightmare - comes directly after the previous comic.

ingo volo interaction - they do not get along

trainwreckshipping divorce - reveals that emmet and volo often end up in physical fights, yet still continue seeing each other. emmet gets fed up.

moving on - after the fight with volo, emmet learns to accept that things are never going back to normal.

these are still updating !! there are plenty of puzzle pieces ive yet to reveal ... i do accept asks discussing theories though i eat that up...

also i'd love to showcase my awesome trainwreckshipping playlist if you're interested in listening to that stuff.

[starlightshore]

I also asked this on your other account, but I’m not sure if you check that one:

What would happen if tagin/tagout loop swapped with winning hat loop unknowingly (eg they both wake up having swapped bodies)

How would they react? How would everyone around them react? Would we lose another Siffrin?

Oh funny! I was responding to that right now, heehee! Context for those not in the know:

Winning Hat AU <- Tragedy AU; Loop Wins 2hats fight and possesses Siffrin's Corpse

Tag In/Tag Out <- Comedy Sequel; Post-normal 2hats, Loop and Siffrin swap places every other day pretending to be the same Siffrin. Because they're stupid like that.

I'm pretty sure each Loops would instantly find out happening on account of that world's Siffrin. Can I get a whomp whomp in the chat?

Detailed examination of the What If below:

I can't imagine Loop in Tag In/Out would do well. I'd imagine they'd have a massive blown-out freak-out and then run away to live their life in the woods. There would be no tag-system.

Loop being stuck in Winning Hats would be awkward and sucky. They'd be the one to find a way to return back home, as that'd be their main goal. There's not really a temptation to stay, even if it means there's no "competition" to be Siffrin here.

Like, this is a Loop who got that closure and made up with Siffrin so they'd miss their stardust + they've already hopped universes once, thank you, and that sucked the first time.

As for the families of each universe: They're in the dark about the tagging system so they don't understand why Siffrin got so weirdly sad but of nowhere. Or like, more sad than usual.

Winning Hat AU Loop is already such a trainwreck that another personality change wouldn't even be the weirdest thing they've done in the last (checks watch) 2 days.

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (06)

And we are back for another chapter !

Warning: cursing (maybe)

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

05 <- 06 -> 07

Masterlist

Taglist

Todoroki’s heat had finally passed after three long days. He’d spent them either with Kirishima buried deep inside him or wrapped in his muscular arms, their bodies entwined in moments of quiet warmth. It had been all too easy to lose himself in the haze of desire, letting the weight of everything else fade away in a blur of passion and closeness. But now, as the intense flush of heat left his system, his mind was painfully clear.

Embarrassment hit him hard. What was I thinking? He asked himself repeatedly, and almost felt lightheaded as he recalled the desperation—the way he’d thrown himself at you like some lovesick teenager in his first heat. It was reckless and stupid. Worse yet, he’d let himself imagine all sorts of salacious fantasies involving you, Kirishima, and himself throughout his heat. It was utterly inappropriate. The clarity felt almost unbearable as shame surged through him, dense and stifling. If it were just about embarrassing himself, he could eventually deal with it. But the memories of that day went beyond the dizzy haze of horniness, beyond the scent of peaches and yours warm touch against his skin. He also remembered Kirishima’s raw rage and the deep red of your blood covering your face and the hospital floor. Shame gnawed at him from within, leaving in its wake buds of guilt, which blossomed as images of you walking around with a crooked nose and split lips flooded his mind.

Thankfully, it had been Kirishima who picked him up from the hospital that day. The red-haired hero had been too considerate to press him on what had happened; his only priority was taking care of him. Yet, as Todoroki had laid beside Kirishima on the third and final night of his heat, he knew that by morning, he’d have to face the rest of the pack. And neither Katsuki nor Izuku would spare him the questions he dreaded.

Morning came too soon. By the time Todoroki left his room, Kirishima was already gone and it was still early, he knew no one had left for work yet. He rushed to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water might somehow calm his nerves or at least give him a moment to gather his thoughts. For the first time in his life, he almost wished his heat had lasted longer—anything to delay the inevitable, awkward conversation but no amount of scalding water could cleanse the mess of emotions swirling inside him. After a dozen of minutes, he resigned himself, finished his shower and got ready for the day.

The moment he emerged from the steamy bathroom, Izuku was waiting, worry pooling in his green eyes and his rough, scarred hand instinctively lifted to cup Todoroki’s face. His touch was warm and steady, grounding him and quieting the chaos within him. Despite the awkwardness of this whole situation, seeing Izuku made his heart flutter, and he smiled softly in his mate’s arms.

“Shoto,” Izuku murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wanted to be there, but I was tied up at the agency and..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a fast ramble, "Just... if you need anything, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. I already called your agency and told them you’ll need a few more days off. Kirishima told us a little about what happened, and I swear, we’ll track down that doctor. We’ll make sure—”

“He doesn’t need you babbling his damn ears off, Deku.” Katsuki’s voice cut through Izuku’s rambling. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Todoroki—not unkind, but piercing.. “He gets it. He’s not helpless, you know.”

Izuku shot Katsuki a small frown but remained unfazed by his blunt interruption. Beneath the sharp words, Todoroki could sense Katsuki’s genuine concern. The familiar edge in Katsuki’s tone was oddly comforting, and he knew that Katsuki’s refusal to coddle him was just his way of showing respect and consideration.

As they moved to the dining table, where Kirishima was already eating breakfast, Todoroki took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and took his seat around the table. Izuku quickly joined him, sitting beside him and reaching over to place a comforting hand on his knee. Todoroki felt a rush of gratitude for the quiet support, and even Katsuki, despite his sharp gaze, gave him space to speak without pushing him.

.

.

.

“So... you were the one who threw yourself at her?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, his doe eyes blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to process Todoroki’s recounting of the events.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Katsuki scoffed in disbelief.

Todoroki’s face flushed deeply with embarrassment, his cheeks burning so much that he thought he might actually burst into flames. This was a lot more mortifying than he’d imagined. Izuku had started off so supportive, leaning in to comfort him, but as Todoroki went on and explained the situation, he watched Izuku’s expression shift from understanding to confusion, and finally to what felt like... judgment. Slowly, Izuku had began to scoot away from him, casting side glances full of disapproval and making it impossible for Todoroki to meet his eyes. Katsuki was more disappointment than anything else. Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. To him, this was beyond stupid—something a too-hormonal high schooler might do and definitely something Todoroki should’ve known better. But it was Kirishima’s silence that unnerved Todoroki the most. The red haired kept his gaze down, uncharacteristically quiet, before abruptly standing up and storming toward the door.

“I need to go apologize!” Kirishima’s voice was laced with urgency, tinged with panic, but Bakugo grabbed his arm and halted him.

“You can’t go back to that hospital, Eijirou,” Katsuki said firmly, tightening his grip. “What are you gonna do, knock on the door and ask for the doctor you beat up? You’ll only make things worse.”

“Kacchan’s right. She’s probably scared right now, and she’ll run the other way if she sees you again,” Izuku added, stepping in front of Kirishima and blocking his ways like a barricade, while exchanging a look of silent agreement with Bakugo.

“But I can’t just stay here! I hurt her—badly. She even tried to explain, but I wouldn’t listen,” Kirishima’s voice grew agitated. The vivid recollection of your tear-filled eyes and bloodied lips coiled within him, guilt tightening its grip on his chest. What kind of man hits an innocent woman? he thought, fists clenched as he struggled to free himself from his mates' hold.

“I’ll go,” Todoroki interjected suddenly. His words startled the others and they turned to him, puzzled. “It was my fault. I should apologize to her.” His voice was calm but resolute, slicing through the tension in the room and carrying a steadiness, calmness, that sought to soothe Kirishima’s agitation and remorse. “Izuku’s right; you can’t go there directly, Eijirou. I’ll go and apologize on behalf of both of us.”

"But I have to do it myself! I was the one who hit her. I should at least cover her medical bill!" Kirishima protested, spurred by a faint voice in the back of his mind reminding him how unmanly—and even less heroic—his actions had been.

“I’ll tell her you want to apologize in person too. If she’s okay with it, I’ll give her your number so she can reach out to you,” Todoroki assured him gently. It pained him to see Kirishima like this, especially knowing it was his fault. All he ever wanted was to see him smiling, radiant and untroubled, and judging by the looks on his other mates’ faces, it was clear they all shared the same feeling.

Kirishima’s expression wavered, torn between making a run to the hospital or listening to his mates, but Katsuki ended his internal debate with a firm arm slung around Kirishima’s shoulders, steering him toward the door.

“Come on, shitty head, we’re gonna be late. It’s Shoto’s mess, he’ll handle it,” Bakugo said, his voice losing its usual edge, and softened just enough to offer some reassurance to Kirishima.

Izuku lingered behind, casting Todoroki a final glance filled with quiet suspicion. Todoroki could almost see the gears of his mind turning, overthinking as always, but then Katsuki barked Izuku’s name from the doorway, urging him to hurry up. With a sigh, Izuku followed the red eyes pair and they all left for work, leaving Todoroki behind in their appartement.

Todoroki paced in circles around his apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He kept telling himself that he needed to apologize, but every time he neared the door, a wave of nerves yanked him back, making him turn and start another lap around his living room. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—unsteady, so... nervous as the weight inside him grew heavier, sinking like an anchor. He’d never been one to feel so unsettled—he was usually straightforward, never having trouble apologizing when it was needed. If he made a mistake, he fixed it; he owned up. But this felt different. Today, shame, guilt, and apprehension mingled within him in a discomfort he didn’t fully understand.

“Okay, it’s just... an apology. You’ve done this before,” he muttered under his breath, trying to summon his usual calm. He had told his mates so confidently that he would do it, but look at him now. “Just go in there, say you’re sorry. It’s not complicated.” Yet the words didn’t settle him. Instead, they only seemed to make him more anxious. Why was facing you so daunting suddenly? He couldn’t explain it—he didn’t understand it.

After what felt like ages, he forced himself to grab his keys and head out the door, before he could talk himself out of it again. But the nerves only grew worse when he settled into his car and sat behind the wheel. The flashes of three days ago replayed in his mind, flashes of him almost humping the backseat. They made him wince as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and started the car.

The hospital wasn’t so far away from his apartment, a short 30-minutes drive, but he had to will himself to stay focused on the road. When he paused at a red light, he found himself wondering if your scent would be as intoxicating and bewitching as he remembered it to be and the thought made him groan as he banged his head on the steering wheel, mumbling to himself, Focus, Shoto.

As he drove past a flower shop, a quiet voice in his mind suggested he bring you something. He considered it for a moment, pondering on how appropriate it would be to bring flowers to someone he didn’t know, especially someone who had been beat up because of him. Yeah, no, even he could tell it would be weird. But somehow, he found himself making a U-turn, parking his car in front of the flower shop, and stepping inside.

The floral scent enveloped him immediately—a soft, sweet fragrance that seemed to soothe the edges of his nerves. Before him laid a sea of vibrant and cool blooms stretched out in rows: roses blushed in shades of crimson and coral, delicate peonies, soft violets, cheerful tulips, and vivid anemones. The shop was beautiful, but he knew he had to leave fast when he realized he was searching for flowers that would complement the color of your eyes. He almost laughed at himself. Ridiculous, he mused, but there he was, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and a minute later, he was holding a bouquet of dahlias. With the flowers in hand, he made his way to the counter, quickly paid, and rushed back to his car, feeling the steady thrum of nervousness in his chest.

Finally, we got to see Izuku and Katsuki in this fic. It took us 6 chapters but we made it through!!

I hated writing this chapter, omg, it took me almost a whole week. You guys have no idea how many versions of this chapter exist 😭. The length wasn’t the issue—I tried to make it a bit longer than usual (not by much, though; I’m usually around 1.5k words, but today I hit 1.9k). BUT omg, nothing really happened here. I think it was just a boring chapter (at least to write) 💀.

I’ve always referred to the characters as Todoroki, Kirishima, Izuku, and Katsuki in my head. But it’s kind of weird how half of them go by their first name and the other half by their surname in the narration, right? It’s also a bit confusing when I use both in the same chapter, so I’ve decided to stick with Izuku, Katsuki, Kirishima, and Todoroki for the narrator. The reader will use their first names once she meets them properly.

As always, criticisms are welcome.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

05 <- 06 -> 07

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby ; @midnight-nightmare ; @bluepatrolbear ; @talilosha ; @bawlangya ; @optimisticprime3 ; @purplescorpi0 ; @astrolovedy ; @desiree-lee ; @okaysxx ; @the-faceless-bride ; @thelameone101 ; @gethexxed ; @lowkeyhottho ; @bvirrious ; @heespretty ;

[polonium-snap]

Fic rec for your bkdkbk post-canon woes

Now that MHA is over I've been satisfying my bkdkbk needs with fics like one does, so I made this fic rec of the best fanfics I've read over the past few months. Unintentionally most of them are rated E, idk why, if you want more fics, feel free to check my ao3 bookmarks, I have over 1000 bkdk fics bookmarked

DISCLAIMER: Please check the tags and warnings thoroughly before reading any of the fics here

Multichapter:

You Gave Me Purpose, Kacchan by wowschreave | Rated T | Post-canon

The first in what I call the "Post-canon holy trinity" I've already talked about this one so much but I'll do it again because this is THE post-canon fic, plus it has amazing, beautiful, wonder-who-made-this-masterpiece ART lol

promises kept by gabstar | Rated E | Post-canon | BKDK

The second instalment of the Post-canon trinity, starring co-depended BKDK which is one of my favorite flavors

Count to Infinity by socksasgloves | Rated T | Post-canon | BKDK

The completion of the holy trinity with more Post-canon goodness because it's what I crave on a cold night

The night we decided to be brave by Albipepo | Rated E | BKDKBK | Accidental parents

I love this one so much, I hated both of them for being stupid half of the time but it's so so worth it

i'm not myself when i'm without you by YunaTuna | Rated M (but I would rate it E) | Possesive BKDK

This one is so interesting and dark, I'm obsessed with possessive Deku and this hits all the right marks and more

And the world went still by Saiyasha | Rated E | BKDK | (temporary) Mayor Character Death | Established relationship

GUT-WRENCHING, this one hits so hard, I nearly died, but it thankfully has a happy ending

Kacchan vs the Internet by palavering | Rated T | Soc Med

This one is not complete but read it read it please it's so good, and the social media aspect is so peak, like I can rave for hours on how well the author uses CSS

Baby Bottles and Blushing Faces by derDschungelderRosen | Rated T

Baby Project is a classic but I adore this take on the idea so much, plus it's hilarious

keep the rain by gheemin | Rated T | Post-canon

I adore how introspective this one is, it also overwhelmed me with feels

Fake it, 'till you make it. by Princess_ofPizza | Rated M| Charades

Drinking games are always bad ideas, unless you're bkdk in which case carry on

Inhibitionless by Sonday | Rated E | Quirk shenanigans

Horny quirks are the best

You Had Me From the Start by bellbloom | Rated E| BKDK| Artist x Bartender AU

As an artist myself Artist!Izuku scratches an itch I didn't know I had

A Starving Artist's Success by StevieBanks | Rated M | BKDK | Artist x Fashion designer AU

Which is why I have two fics with artist Deku, also kind of a meet-cute

Unraveled by omicroncet | Rated M | BKDK |

Three words; sleep deprived Izuku

One-shots:

love in the making by Kacchdeku | Rated G | Post-Canon | BKDK

Third-wheel Kota is the best

Sturdy Heart by lurethegalaxy | Rated T | Post-canon| Established Relationship

Angsty but so so so good

pacemaker by passengerside | Rated T | Post-war | Canon-compliant

The pacemaker scene has me dead, ascending, AND there's art?!!

The Eight Years Between by Loriqod | Rated T | Post-canon | Established relationship

I love when fics fill in the gaps of the canon content

Embers by UglyGreenJacket | Rated T | Post-canon | angst with a happy ending | Established relationship

My poor baby Izuku needs a hug, thankfully Katsuki is there to give it to him

king of hearts by nikkiRA | Rated E | Quirk shenanigans

This quirk is so creative and cute and I love that it also includes their other classmates reactions

crepe date by isidium | Rated T | Fluff

'Cause we all think about that one crepe comment Izuku made one (1) time and so does Katsuki

chasing the rabbit by mimiwrites | Rated T | Amnesia

Even more Quirk shenanigans because those are always so fun

love is a labour (i'll slave til the end) by nikkiRA| Rated E| Omegaverse| DKBK

I love LOVE Omega! Katsuki and you can take him from my cold dead hands

Talk After Talk by beanbeanrose | Rated T | Post-war

This is just them talking but i love it so much

GG by MajestyTime | Rated T | Crack treated seriously

This one is all over the place but in a good way, it played off as a laugh but it has a very interesting what-if scenario

If I'm Being Honest by Queen_of_the_Otakus | Rated M | Truth serum (kinda)

Forced truth situations are so funny because it's never that deep but everyone still freaks out

Thanks for reading!!! Hope you guys like the fics I chose

[lara-cairncross]

i noticed in one of your tags on a post a bit ago about fairy au you mentioned Shelldon. is there anything you wanna tell about him? and/or anything you posted earlier i may have missed? even if you dont want to share that right now, thank you for sharing other parts of your au, its really cool!

HSHFJSF Shelldon is Donnie’s emotional support pet rock!!! Bc he hates bugs and most animals lmao. I did a bunch of silly doodles of them in this post, if that’s what you’re looking for? :D

I don’t have much to share about Shelldon beyond. like. stupid shit I made up bc it made me laugh. Including but not limited to:

Leo, Raph, and Mikey all have beef with Shelldon for various reasons and in various ways

Donnie believes Shelldon is sentient. This infuriates Leo to a degree that scares the rest of the family

Raph also believes Shelldon is sentient but bc Shelldon has never spoken to him, he just assumes that Shelldon hates him personally

Kendra ALSO believes Shelldon is sentient and is constantly trying to steal him from Donnie and/or lure Shelldon to her side with promises of better benefits and a higher pay rate for his job as “emotional support pet rock”

Shelldon. May or may not actually be sentient.

Shelldon has been the victim of three attempted murders (thanks Leo), 17 attempted kidnappings (thanks Kendra), and has been implicated in a single instance of breaking-and-entering as the rock used to smash through the window. Donnie sat at Shelldon's bedside for three days while he recovered. I would like to reiterate that he may or may not actually be sentient.

Shelldon has only survived all this abuse bc he's literally indestructible and nobody can figure out why

Shelldon has his own, smaller, cuter emotional support pet rock called Shelldonite

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Golden Cufflinks: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. https://colormepurplex2.tumblr.com/post/766335488954138624/golden-cufflinks-jjk Confined: Y/n didn't think testing out a new sex toy would cause so much havoc but no worries, her next-door neighbor Jungkook doesn't mind lending her a bit of assistance. https://www.tumblr.com/cravetive/742183386711539712/%F0%9D%97%96%F0%9D%97%A2%F0%9D%97%A1%F0%9D%97%99%F0%9D%97%9C%F0%9D%97%A1%F0%9D%97%98%F0%9D%97%97 Show Me Something: He was your first kiss years ago, only to become your first heartbreak the next day. Your life would have been much easier if only you would forget about him and move on, instead of having to see him almost every day because your best friend had fallen in love with his best friend. When your pal had suggested having a road trip for the final days of summer break before going back to campus, you said yes for a reprieve. Too bad she forgot to tell you about the two extra passengers tagging along. One of which is the boy that still has a tight hold of your heart without either of you even knowing it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/30396546 Slow Dancing: When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale. https://archiveofourown.org/works/39615618 Call Me Mistress: "It has certainly been quite the party," you began, taking a stroll around the table to give his friends time to ogle you. "But I'm here for someone else on his special day.” The end of the riding crop snapped suggestively against your open palm and you felt excitement bloom around the large table. “Now, let me see if I can find out which of you is the birthday boy..." A long-term client hires the Mistress to help celebrate his best friend’s birthday. The festivities lead to new business. https://dark-muse-iris.tumblr.com/post/164844332231/call-me-mistress-ramen-m-part-1

Sillage: Soulmate!AU where soulmates are drawn to one another by the infliction of physical touch, whether it be pain or pleasure. But it is only initiated once the two people somewhat interact. https://www.tumblr.com/deerguk/144529213896/s-i-l-l-a-g-e-pt-one The Pink Pill: This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria. https://www.tumblr.com/dollfaceksj/723667191148462080/the-pink-pill-jjk-version-m-3-days Reminder: Whenever he flies back into town, your doorbell is the first he rings. When he has to fly out again, your bed is the last he lies in. However, you’re not stupid. You know your ex-boyfriend, that also happens to be an up-and-coming professional boxer, Jeon Jungkook, doesn’t come to you only. Unfortunately, you have no right to be jealous, not when you’re the one that ended the relationship. https://www.tumblr.com/dollfaceksj/721591770571554816/reminder-jjk-m-masterlist Stay: “Jungkook,” His name was merely a sigh flying out of your lungs and through your parted lips. “If we do this - if we go down this road - how do we go back?” https://eoieopda.tumblr.com/post/703940957854449664/stay-jjk

Losers: I get lonely when you're not here, and this darkness appears, leaving me stranded. https://www.tumblr.com/eternalguk/744420253674668032/losers-jjk-m