#but then i get like this. where.. i guess i'm bored? but i'm looking for something to do and my brain can't settle on one

[ladyblueberrymuffin]

Hey there! It's your resident Beautiful Creatures girly here. You are well within your right to dislike the series, it's from 2010 and there are aspects of it that haven't aged well, or shouldn't have been okay to write even then. I feel like despite Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl both seeming like genuinely progressive writers trying their best, like a lot of white writers they can fuck up a lot when it comes to writing people of color. They made a black character an adopted mother of the white protagonist, for goodness' sake. And his housekeeper?! I like Amma, despite how dated her character is, but people might hate how she's written and that's valid. I personally would also like to point out all the fatphobia at the expense of Charlotte Chase, and the only cop in town whose name is literally "Fatty" (although to be honest, I think he gets off pretty lightly compared to Charlotte), and the scene where Ethan describes the Basketball team in Halloween cheerleading outfits, and how he says specifically that they looked like the cheerleading team "until you noticed the stubble and hairy legs" felt really uncomfortable to read as a trans woman. (But I do love how in the same scene Lena makes sure to tell Link, who is on the basketball team and is dressed as a cheerleader "I think you look great.") Also, Ethan uses the word "exotic" to describe the way Aunt Marian looks. Ew.

However when it comes to slavery and the Civil War, the series has never shied away from talking about it, and it always has been very clear what side it's on.

Only folks down here didn’t call it the Civil War. Everyone under the age of sixty called it the War Between the States, while everyone over sixty called it the War of Northern Aggression, as if somehow the North had baited the South into war over a bad bale of cotton. Everyone, that is, except my family. We called it the Civil War.

(LMAO, Ethan is so freaking corny. "I'm not like other boys, I call it the Civil War. Good for you.)

I would be spending my second consecutive year studying the “War of Northern Aggression” with Mr. Lee, no relation. But as we all knew, in spirit Mr. Lee and the famous Confederate general were one and the same. Mr. Lee was one of the few teachers who actually hated me. Last year, on a dare from Link, I had written a paper called “The War of Southern Aggression,” and Mr. Lee had given me a D. Guess the teachers actually did read the papers sometimes, after all.

“I deserted, Genevieve. I couldn’t fight one more day for somethin’ I didn’t believe in. Not after what I’ve seen. Most a the boys fightin’ with me didn’t even realize what this war is about—that they’re just spillin’ their blood over cotton.”

See how the line about people thinking it was just about cotton is reiterated?

Everyone in Gatlin County was related to the wrong side in the War Between the States. We were used to that by now. It was like being born in Germany after World War II.

In history, she wasn’t there while we reenacted the Lincoln-Douglas Debate, and Mr. Lee tried to make me argue the Pro-Slavery side, most likely as punishment for some future “liberally minded” paper I was bound to write.

And here are some more examples from later books:

I was in history class, and we were talking about the Reconstruction, which was the even more boring time after the Civil War when the United States had to put itself back together. In a Gatlin classroom, this chapter was even more embarrassing than it was depressing -- a reminder South Carolina had been a slave state and that we had been on the wrong side of right. We all knew it, but our ancestors had left us with a permanent F on the nation's moral report card. Cuts that run that deep leave scars, no matter what you try to do to heal them.

I realized where I was standing. “I’ve seen pictures of hidden rooms and tunnels like these. Runaway slaves used them to leave houses at night without being seen.

I had come out on the other side—the safe side, where slaves using the Underground Railroad could lose themselves in the thick fields.

You are free to think that is still not enough, that the story keeps tip-toeing around the subject, but to me it feels like it's clear that the book is deconstructing the "idyllic small Southern town" trope at every turn. The Lost Cause myth permeating this whole place is relentless, the xenophobia and conformism are woven within the fabric of Gatlin, and the town itself seems like as much a villain as any of the supernatural ones.

It wasn’t just Lena. She wasn’t the first. I’d watched them do it, my whole life. They’d done it to Allison Birch when her eczema got so bad nobody would sit near her at the lunch table, and poor Scooter Richman because he played the worst trombone in the history of the Jackson Symphony Orchestra. While I’d never picked up a marker and written LOSER across a locker myself, I had stood by and watched, plenty of times. Either way, it had always bothered me. Just never enough to walk out of the room.

It wasn’t much, but if I knew Mrs. Lincoln, I knew enough to be worried. You could never underestimate the lengths women like Mrs. Lincoln would go to protect their children and their town from the one thing they hated most—anyone different from them. I should know. My mom had told me the stories about the first few years she’d lived here. The way she told it, she was such a criminal even the most God-fearing church ladies got bored of reporting on her; she did the marketing on Sunday, dropped by any church she liked or none at all, was a feminist (which Mrs. Asher sometimes confused with communist), a Democrat (which Mrs. Lincoln pointed out practically had “demon” in the word itself), and worst of all, a vegetarian (which ruled out any dinner invitations from Mrs. Snow). Beyond that, beyond not being a member of the right church or the DAR or the National Rifle Association, was the fact that my mom was an outsider.

Some of this stuff didn't just age well, it feels like it's becoming more and more topical as years go by. This is textbook fearmongering. Just look at how Mrs. Lincoln talks about Lena at her "trial".

She regained her composure, smoothing her skirt, and turned to face the Disciplinary Committee. “Miss Duchannes’ charms seem to work quite well on the weaker sex,” Mrs. Lincoln said with a smile.

“As Principal Harper mentioned, this is not the first time Miss Duchannes has had violent episodes.”

“Miss Duchannes is a very disturbed girl. She suffers from a mental illness. Let me see…” Mrs. Lincoln ran her finger down the page as if she was looking for something. I waited to hear the diagnosis for the mental illness Mrs. Lincoln thought Lena suffered from—the state of being different. “Ah, yes, here it is. It appears Miss Duchannes suffers from bipolar disorder, which Doctor Asher can tell you is a very serious mental condition. These people who suffer from this affliction are prone to violence and unpredictable behavior. These things run in families; her mother was afflicted as well.”

I also like that Beautiful Darkness touches on repressed sexuality in such strict conservative towns.

"I can't believe it." I wadded up my napkin. "Who would have figured Gatlin was so romantic?" I had bet on church books. Liv had bet on romance novels. I lost, eight to nine. "Not only romantic, but romantic and righteous. It's a wonderful combination, so --" "Hypocritical?" "Not at all. I was going to say American. Did you notice we delivered It Takes a Bible and Divinely Delicious Delilah to the very same house?" "I thought that was a cookbook." "Not unless Delilah's cooking up something quite a bit hotter than these chili chips." She waved a fry in the air. "Fries." "Exactly." I turned bright red, thinking about how flustered Mrs. Lincoln had looked when we dropped those books off at her door. I didn't point out to Liv that Delilah's devotee was the mother of my best friend, and the most ruthlessly righteous woman in town.

Furthermore, for every fault you could find with Amma's character, she's not "ethnically ambiguous".

Genevieve threw the mirror to the ground and turned to Ivy. But the old woman wasn’t paying attention. She had already mixed the powders and the earth and she was sifting them from hand to hand, whispering in the old Gullah language of her ancestors.

“And you know there’s no guarantee it’ll work. It didn’t turn out so well the last time. But I can tell you this: I’ve got my great-great-aunt Ivy downtown with the Greats, and they’ll help us if they can.”

"My family came to the Sea Islands from Barbados before you were a thought in the Good Lord's mind."

The book still misrepresents this real life group of people. For every thing right, like the bottle trees, or Amma being a Protestant and incorporating her culture and spirituality into that, there's Amma giving Ethan a red string bracelet as a good luck charm, which as far as I know is a Jewish folk custom, or her being a practitioner of Voodoo, which as far as I know is incorrect, because the customs practiced by the Gullah/Geechee are referred to as Hoodoo wherever I looked, but anyone more knowledgeable than me, please feel free to correct me.

As for Lena's internalized misogyny? I feel like the book handles it better than most books of it's time (but my bar might be in hell, because I am thinking of Twilight). Lena is surrounded by positive female role-models, like her grandma, Aunt Del, Aunt Twyla, Aunt Arelia, Marian, Amma, Ethan's mother, and of course, the most stunning, Aunt Leah, who has a pet cougar, and murders demon vampires with her succubian staff, and eats people. Even the Sisters and Thelma, who are silly comic-relief old ladies with their Dolly Parton-esque caretaker are revealed to have been in on the magic secret all the time, and Aunt Prue has been charting a map of the Caster Underground her whole life, and gifts Ethan with a magic cat.

Even Lena's abusive mother is given a sympathetic backstory, with Lena literally crying over her and saying "She was just like me", and becoming obsessed with her. The book series also introduces Liv, who is a romantic rival turned friend, and Ridley, whose everything "manic pixie dream girl, not like other girls" Lena is not, and is still her best friend, and a tragic heroic figure, and is a victim of slutshaming from everyone, including Ethan, and still never changes the way she dresses, never loses her edge and gets a whole book series onto herself, because Ridley is just amazing. And it is Lena who actually believes in her, and has to defend her from Ethan, who also eventually realizes how wrong he was about her.

There's a lot of books that would portray a character like Ridley as the villain (and also the movie apparently?), but she's one of the most nuanced members of the cast, and some of the most heartwarming moments are hers.

Ridley appeared at the top of the steps, breathless. She hugged Lena, taking her from me. She rubbed her face against Lena's wet cheek. They were sisters, for better or worse. They always had been. "Lena, listen to me. You have to choose." Lena looked away, pained. Ridley grabbed the side of her cousin's face, forcing Lena to look at her. Lena noticed right away. "What happened to your eyes?" "It doesn't matter. You need to listen to me. Have I ever done anything noble? Have I ever let you sit in the front seat of the car a single time? Have I ever once saved you the last piece of cake, in sixteen years? Ever let you try on my shoes?" "I always hated your shoes." A tear rolled down Lena's cheek. "You loved my shoes." Ridley smiled and wiped Lena's face with her scraped and bloody hand. "I don't care what you say. I'm not doing it." Their eyes were fixed on each other. "I don't have a selfless bone in my body, Lena, and I'm telling you to do it." "No." "Trust me. It's better this way. If I still have some Darkness inside me somewhere, you'll be doing me a favor. I don't want to be Dark anymore, but I'm not cut out to be a Mortal. I'm a Siren." I could see the recognition in Lena's eyes. "But if you're a Mortal, you won't --" Ridley shook her head. "There's no way to know. Once there's Darkness in your blood, you know …" Her voice broke off. I remembered what Macon said. Darkness does not leave us as easily as we would hope. Ridley hugged Lena tight. "Come on, what am I going to do with seventy or eighty more years? Can you really see me hanging around Gat-dung, making out with Link in the back of the Beater? Trying to figure out how the stove works?" She looked away, her voice faltering. "Can't even get decent Chinese in that crappy town." Lena held tight to Ridley's hand, and Ridley squeezed it, then gently pulled her hand away, one finger at a time, and placed Lena's hand in mine. "Take care of her for me, Short Straw." Ridley disappeared back down the steps before I could say a word.

Also, while Lena's feelings of jealousy are handled with respect (because she's an isolated person who's never had friends before and it's complicated, but Ethan was considering leaving Lena for Liv and almost kissed her when their relationship was in a really bad place, but you could also argue they were broken up), she still isn't presented as in the right for how she treats Liv, and she realizes it, and actually makes amends. Which is another reason why Lena is best girl. And Liv is not just swept under the rug and forgotten, like in some other books, but actually joins the main cast, and becomes one of the most useful members. Lena cries when they have to part ways for college.

I also like that the problems that Lena faces at school can't be blamed on one person (which is a mistake the movie makes with Emily Asher), it's the whole town, and the kids at school are just the product of the system. Are Savannah and Emily still written in a way that slutshames them? Yeah, but I feel that is a consistent character flaw for Ethan that gets challenged by Ridley, and also as far as bully characters go, I feel like Savannah and Emily are still written with more consideration than most characters like this.

If you didn't feel like reading all that, that's fair. It's not a perfect book by any means, but you'll never find a book that is completely unproblematic, especially from 2010, and for me at least, the book does enough right for me to still love it, despite it's flaws. If you hate it, that's fine, and it's also fair.

you know sometimes I remember that there was a book I absolutely loved in high school where a girl catches her mother and boyfriend fucking, runs away to New York City, gets addicted to shooting up fairy dust with a group of homeless goths, and then uses the power of lacross and a crush on a troll to get really good at sword fighting

late 00s YA urban fantasy was a delightful mess

[confusedfandomuser]

There's two now...?

Uhhhhhh there's no teacher rn for 2 classes so I might aswell make another one since I'm bored ╮(╯_╰)╭

Both of you stared at each other, one with fear while the other with shock and curiosity on how could the tiny robloxian come into their world.

...

Silence was the only thing present in the bedroom "Uhm... How in the world are you in here!?" The silence was broken by you as you point at the more tiny robloxian in shock.

"You— you aren't supposed to be here!" You yelled in alarm as you try and process how 007n7 from the hit game Forsaken you've been playing came into your world as a much tinier version.

As you're currently panicking on seeing the robloxian, the said robloxian is staring at you in confusion now though there's still fear in his eyes that's clear as day.

"You.. What are you..?" 007n7 questioned back since you are much different then himself and the others that he knows of.

With a hand that has 5 fingers instead of a blocky square hand with no fingers, a more detailed face with a nose rather than a two dots for eyes and a mouth with no nose.

You're much weirder than him, and he wonders why. "Ah, I'm not answering you until you tell me how you got here!" You reflected his question and went back to yout own question.

"Hm.. I came from your computer..." He answered you and pointed at more larger screen then him, with his blocky arm pointing at your computer, you think he looks adorable.

"Then to answer your question of what am I, I'm a human." You responded by pointing at yourself. "A human who's bedroom you came into." You deadpanned at him, though you're quite wary of him since you can't tell what he'll do even if he's tiny.

"Erm... How about we discuss this more seriously..? Like how do you get back into your world or maybe you could try going back the same way you came here....?" You point at the computer screen behind him.

"You're not supposed to be here anyway and I think its more better if you leave now, who knows if someones looking for you. 乁(ツ)ㄏ" You shrugged as you smiled nervously.

"Go back..? Go back to where my life is a lie, my actions, my sufferings to which are only entertainment to you?" 007n7 pointed and glared at you.

"!? It's not me who even created your backstory! Why in the world are you blaming me!? I'm just the player of the world you live in!" You panicked and waved your hands infront of you.

"And plus I've just discovered the game you came from 10 days ago!!" You added as you continued to panic, trying to explain to the robloxian while you're feeling guilty since you know his backstory.

"Ah, how about we both calm down hm??" You offer as you still held both of your hands at the side of you in a 'I surrender' motion, sweating slightly as you try to calm down the angry robloxian.

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

It took good few minutes of trying to calm down an angry robloxian who was a hacker back in his world, you did notice how some things in your room glitched out and flicker a bit, you guess its from 007n7 who was very angry a while ago and didn't notice.

You note to yourself that you can't make 007n7 that angry, else you might lose some of your stuff and rebuy it again. Who knows maybe your charger for your phone will get glitched out and be unable to charge your phone due to an angry 007n7 glitching it out.

"Are— are you calm yet...?" You nervously ask 007n7, even though he's tiny he's still able to do something with his powers as a hacker.

"Sorry for my outburst earlier.. I'm still processing on how my life was a lie and just a game for you..." He guiltily replied with his head down, casting a shadow over his face.

"Ah! It's totally fine! I- I understand what you're feeling right now! I mean I'd also freak out and crash out if I also learned my life was a lie and an entertainment for someone." You replied,trying to comfort him as you sat infront of your desk where 007n7 sat on.

Now that he's calm you finally relaxed a little, though it's shortened as a blocky gray hand popped into the still open computer screen infront of them.

Flicker! Crackle..! BAM!!

The computer screen glitched and spat out a new robloxian that you're also familiar with, their spiky tail, the spawn symbol on their black shirt(?), the messy hair and the dagger resting beside them.

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

"What the fuck..." You muttered to yourself but you're still heard by the two of them. You stared in shock as you gazed at Two Time who also came into your world now and witnessed how they came.

Erm... Lookie a new chapter!! Anyways I've squeezed my brain to make a new chapter even though I should be squeezing out some answers for the two quizzes I'll be doing later. ┐(´д｀)┌ Also don't mind me making my two main survivors appear first (˶◕‿◕˶✿)

[werewolfsmile]

feel like i can't write feel like i can't read can't watch anything can't scroll tumblr cause i've caught up on my dash a million times over what the hell else is there.....

is this what understimulation feels like???

[screambirdscreaming]

ok this is a long fucking shot but does anyone out here know anything about. Allergies but rather than having itchy runny-nose symptoms you just feel systemically like shit. Like fatigue, nausea, vague headache, moderate-to-severe excercise intolerance, that sort of thing. But correlated to like, pollen exposure. Or just air quality in general?

The best ballpark diagnosis I have is asthma, but I've never actually had An Asthma Attack so I don't know if that's.... right. And even if it is, I can't really find good research or resources on managing systematic effects of asthma at this like... non-acute, non life-threatening severity.

Sometimes with weird medical shit like this, there's information that exists if only you can find the right keyword to search.... maybe somebody's got something?

Or even just, it'd be nice to hear if anyone elae deals with this and I'm not, like, completely insane*

*for this. other insanity unspecified.

[femininelookingmale]

does anyone, by any chance, know any good romance book where A falls first for B, who is a pretty reserved but overall kind and gentle person? where B slowly starts falling for A and feels a bit embarrassed about the whole thing?

[fisheito]

edmond olivine......... farm sounds edition tiny tsun obsessed with girlfriend 4x his (cup_ ) Size....

[berrryparfait]

shower head ✩⋆｡˚

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: feeling curious, playful, and pent-up, you decide to surprise him by stepping into the shower and giving him head. you've never done anything like this before. 「my girlfriend can be quite surprising at times. and bold.」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, lads men being needy while you suck them off, dubcon but deep down everyone involved could not have been more willing (they told me personally)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: bathroom – montell fish

✧ a/n: hihi!!! wow, it's been a while! this is my first fic on this account—i used to run @.starfellforyou but got a little bored of writing genshin fics and decided to hop right on over to another one of my hyperfixations instead... this also happens to be my first ever nsfw fic (i told myself to stop daydreaming and start writing lol), so please lmk if there's anything i'm doing wrong/missing out on as i'm fairly inexperienced when it comes to tumblr etiquette. hope you like it! <3

SYLUS squints at you, his hands stilling in his hair as the last suds of shampoo run off. "Are you lost?" he drawls, voice dripping with honey. He steps away from underneath the overhead shower and turns to fully face you—he's gorgeous, muscles slicked with running water and face slightly flushed from the heat. You simply stare at him with a mischievous glint in your eye, a teaser for what's to come. "It's unlike you to show up like this, unannounced." He smirks at you, unabashedly eyeing the length of your naked body and tracing your gaze to his semi-hard cock. You return his lewd expression. "I do love to keep you guessing." Slowly, you kneel before him, rivulets of water gushing down the side of your face and between your bare breasts. He leans against the wall as you open your mouth to take him in, his movements lazy. It's a struggle at first, but the low groan that escapes his lips turns it into a challenge. You run your tongue along his length, eyes glistening with cruel anticipation as it hardens to the point of no return. Determined, you begin to push deeper, moving back and forth as he sighs and throws his head back against the wall. With a delicious "pop", you release him from your mouth and begin teasing his tip. You circle his favorite spot and try your best to resist a smile when he squeezes his eyes shut, breaths coming shorter and faster and in white puffs of steam way above you. "Fuck..." His hands find their way to the back of your head, where they gently but firmly grasp your hair and begin to pull. Your mouth is guided back around his cock as you begin to suck him off harder, sounds of pleasure that beckon you to pick up speed echoing overhead. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. His hands around your head get rougher—more desperate—and you reach out to grab his thighs as his tip slams against the back of your throat. Hot spurts of cum fill your mouth, drip down your chin, coat the impressive length of his cock. There's so much of it. You both pant in exasperation, completely spent, only partially satisfied. The look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. I'm getting fucked tonight. "Get up, we're going to bed."

ZAYNE works hard. So hard that you feel he deserves a little treat. Dr. Zayne may dedicate his life to helping others, but you want to dedicate your life to helping Dr. Zayne. A simple equation, really. The look on his face when he sees a very exposed you enter the shower while he's in it is pure gold. He frowns in shock, his cheeks turning pink as he backs away from you and makes a feeble effort to cover himself and protect his decency. It's endearing, the genuine confusion on his face. Need to make him cum hard. Really hard. "W-What are you doing in here?" He darts his eyes from side to side as he tries to avert his gaze from your breasts, now inches away from his chest. You shut the door behind you and get down on your knees. "You've had a long day at work, Doctor. Let me help you relax..." You gesture for him to sit down on the shower bench, and he reluctantly complies. "I'm afraid this isn't a good idea—" "Shhh..." You cut him off with a devilish grin as you breathe onto his growing cock, and a flicker of uncertainty—and begrudging intrigue—ignites beneath his pretty features. "Be a good boy for me and hold still..." You gently glide your tongue down his length, teasing him with slow, languid strokes as he writhes and struggles to stay silent. It isn't long before your mouth is enveloping his cock, eliciting whines of pleasure from deep within his throat, the small sounds driving you crazy with need. You pick up the pace, and soon his moans grow louder, more desperate. He begins to pathetically thrust skyward, helpless against the blinding pleasure of getting his cock sucked and stroked by a natural talent. "I'm gonna cum—" he whispers, strained, as you stop torturing him with your mouth and white streaks of cum shoot out in every direction, landing on your face, your tits, the walls, his thighs. You almost feel bad for him, the way he's just sitting there shivering with leftover ecstasy. But you know that once morning comes, he'd no longer be deserving of anyone's pity.

RAFAYEL may be a god, but that doesn't mean he's beyond enjoying the fruits of worldly labor. So what if his baths are the most luxurious and elaborate you've ever seen? One has never had a good bath until they've experienced shower head. You've convinced yourself of this much—now it's time to convince Rafayel. He looks ravishing as always as you enter the large shower room, his movements elegant and naturally seductive. He startles slightly at the sight of you. "Oh? Looks like I have company." He drags his eyes up and down your body, a playful smirk playing on his lips—but you know it for what it really is. An invitation. To give Rafayel exactly what he wants. Bubbles fill the room as he spreads himself across a large shower seat in the shape of a clam. Your prince. Your pearl. As if coerced by an invisible force, you gravitate towards him with a dark anticipation in your gut. He's sprawled before you, clearly getting harder by the second. Soon, he's going to get demanding—whiny, even. You need to please him fast. You circle his tip with your tongue and plant wet kisses along the length of his shaft, your way of preparing him for what's to come. His eyes are heavy-lidded, drowsy, drunk on the look in your eyes as you take him in whole, a delicious moan escaping him as you push his thighs further apart. Slow strokes, then faster ones. Repeat. You can tell he's in pain, yet somehow still in control of himself. That just won't do. "Not good enough, Your Majesty?" Your right hand moves to caress his balls, a gesture that sends him into overdrive. "Ugh, this girl—" His voice comes out garbled with a pained groan that makes your heart leap. You back away just before he cums. Can't let him off too easy. The frustrated noise that leaves his lips satisfies you more than it should, and you don't let him wait too long before you're sucking him off again, drawing out his orgasm until he nearly blacks out. He glares at you in petty indignation as his cum explodes into your mouth, both consumed by pleasure and immensely frustrated. You swallow it all down in a single gulp, feeling proud of yourself. "Who has the higher ground now?"

XAVIER jerks away from you as if you were a bad omen, instinctually bringing his arms up around himself in an attempt to block your view of him. It's no use, of course—he's as exposed as you are. "Uh..." A violent blush tints his cheeks as he fumbles for words, vivid blue eyes unable to meet yours. "Can I help you?" How could someone come off as so shy and judgmental at the same time? The thought makes you smile. "I'm here for you, cutie." He doesn't seem to understand, but it doesn't matter—you'll just have to show him. You grab his arms and gently coax them away from his body, baring his semi-hard length to you and making him squirm. Your fingers wrap around the base of his shaft, stroking gently as he gasps and twitches. The expression on his face has shifted, dark and cautionary. "Kneel," he orders, and you obediently get down on your knees. He pushes his length against your lips and groans, any trace of the bashful, reserved boy who'd almost pushed you back out the door completely gone. You lap at his precum, the taste of it salty and slightly bitter on your tongue. He nods once, giving you permission to take him in whole. Oh god. Overwhelmed, he closes his eyes and throws his head back against the flowing water, pure bliss written all over his face. "Just...like...that..." His tortured moans are like music to your ears, a symphony giving you new resolve as you begin pumping him with heightened speed. Your hands are looped around his knees, which you notice are shaking slightly with the threat of release. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you picture him coming undone, wholly and undeniably submitted to you, a beautiful mess of your own creation. He stares down at you dangerously. You look up at him with doe eyes, because two can play that game. Who is predator and who is prey? With one last luscious stroke of your tongue along the base of his shaft, he lets out a strained cry of pleasure, planting a hand on the wall behind you to steady himself. Strings of his seed land on your face and tongue as you smile up at him, already giggling at the adorable change in his demeanor. Back once again is the Xavier you know; introverted, demure, and utterly embarrassed with himself. "No more coming in like this..." He sounds serious at first, but then he glances away and chuckles softly—and your heart explodes.

CALEB doesn't even give you time to explain yourself. One second you're stepping into the shower and the next you're sitting against the wall, your thighs flush against the stone floor. "Interrupting me again?" His tone is intimidating, so different from the way he spoke to other people. For a split second, a jolt of delicious fear shoots through you, settling right between your legs. "What, too scared to speak, Pipsqueak? You're the one who came in here." He takes a step slower, his dick inches from your lips. He's already hard. Too hard. The look in his eyes is ruthless—predatory. You begin to question your capabilities, but it doesn't last long. He slides his length into your mouth, all the way, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent yourself from gagging. "You look so pretty with me in your mouth..." The thought sends waves of pleasure through you, punctuated by sudden, hard thrusts as he fucks your face with concern for little else but the devastating pleasure coursing through him. This power dynamic, this feeling of being dominated—it's all too much. Don't stop. I don't want him to stop. Your moans are muffled and weak beneath his own savage grunts and he continues to push into your mouth, hands braced on the wall above you as he pushes against his own weight to gain momentum. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Your eyes well with tears as he thrusts deep into you one last time, warm bursts of cum filling your throat and coating your tongue. His breaths are belabored, sweat and water dripping down his chest as he looks down at the mess he created. Your face is streaked with tears, and the sight makes him smirk. For a moment, it's as if he's back to being the kind little boy you once knew. But any semblance of innocence vanishes with the next words that leave his mouth. "I'm not done using you yet, Pipsqueak."

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[iam-anordinary-human-orami]

I really want a scene like this in tsc2 where Neil seems to call Jean more often to check up on him and the floozies are perplexed "Why is Josten calling you?" "You guys close or sth?" "You still haven't told us what happened when he whisked you away" "we are worried sick Jean, how can you keep us in the dark?" And then Cat will say sth like "are you not sharing what you're talking to Josten about cause you're embarrassed?" Jeremy being a worried mother hen "is he bothering you?" And Jean keeps shutting everything down telling them not to worry, and then Laila as a joke says "is he flirting with you?"

And Jean responds with "I hope not. I don't think his boyfriend would take it well"

Everyone immediately stops what they are doing. "Im sorry, his WHAT?"

All hell breaks lose. Cat is shaking Laila "Josten is FRUITY?!", Jeremy is like "He has a boyfriend?" Laila being like "in the year that he joined the foxes and almost died in the hands of his serial killer dad, he got a boyfriend??? How???" And then Cat and Laila start asking questions, Jeremy trying to calm them down but also being curious, Jean is like "Well he's not told me explicitly, but it's obvious."

Jeremy having an epiphany "oh my god. Is it Kevin?" Cat in the background "oh please let it be Kevin" Jean says no, "Kevin is too much of a coward", the floozies are looking at each other like "oh we are definitely unpacking THAT at some point". And then they're like okay, well maybe the boyfriend is not on the team. But Jean confirms, it's a fox, i can tell u who it is-' "NO! We need to figure this one out!" "Let our gaydar do the work Jean we got things to prove!" Jean tiredly: "to who?"

So they start guessing, oh Hemmick is undeniably fruity, Jean is like "I don't even know who that is. Oh, backliner? No, not him". "Maybe it's Boyd?!" Cat being like "Escandalo! Cause he's with the captain right? Wilds?" Laila commenting "He'd be out of his mind to pass on that, and this is the educated opinion of a lesbian", Jean is like "how come u guys know all their names?" Jeremy says "they are a small team and it's hard not to keep tabs on them when they are in the news cycle every week or so"

"Guys we're losing track, keep your heads locked in! Who could be Josten's boyfriend, that tonight's pressing question!" "But there's no one else... wait, is he with the other backliner? Short blonde?" "I'm gonna be honest, I don't get queer vibes from him" "Lol can u imagine it's actually the goalkeeper twin" "what the one that went to juvie and looks like hes one step away from biting our heads off on the court? Nahh". Jean looks at an invisible camera like he's in the office.

And then something happens and they forget about it, until like the winter banquet or some shit and Cat is intently looking at Neil trying to decipher who his boyfriend could be, maybe he is in a throuple with Wilds and Boyd? Jean is like "Why are you looking at the foxes' table so intently?" "It's investigative work, don't worry about it" and then Neil comes over and takes Jean away at the open bar to talk about sth, the floozies are pretending to not be looking at them. Neil notices and he's like "I see they taken claim already." Jean responds with "It's not what u think" and they talk, Andrew probably gets bored at some point and goes to Neil, puts a single hand on his lower back and Jean being able to hear commotion in the Trojans table turns to see them acting like "normal", except their poses look rehearsed, there's drinks that have been spilled on the table and Cat is drinking from an empty glass looking at the sky.

[fake-bleach]

ROAD TRIP STOP | LOGAN HOWLETT x READER

taking a small road trip with old man logan where you’re halfway to where you need to be, and you're bored out of your mind. unluckily for you, your boyfriend won't possibly give into your antics.

or, logan fucks you in a gas station bathroom <3

word count: 3.3k

WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: (18+ only!) fem!reader, porn w/ slight plot lol, piv, unprotected sex, this shit is roughhh, degrading, filthyyy dirty talk, use of pet names, slight choking, coming inside/creampie, manhandling? i guess?, logan refers to himself as "your old man" bc i'm insane, anddd happy ending bc we all know how much i love those! :D

a/n: there aren't nearly enough fics abt old man logan & i need him Badly.

+ logan pictures from @divinesols incredible moodboard <3

ao3 link! | my masterlist

you’re 4 hours into your road trip, and logan, well, being the man he is, hasn’t let you drive a single second.

he tells you that you can just sit there n’ look pretty and that’s good enough for him. but, he’s getting tired, and the nearest hotel isn’t for another 50 miles.

you notice his eyes getting heavier, his body slouching more, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. so, you do what you do best. why not have some harmless fun with your old boyfriend?

your hands subtly inch over to his thighs, fingers trailing the clothed skin just above his knee, and he flinches surprisingly, glancing at you for a moment with that tired face of his.

“what are y’doing? huh?” he asks, with a quirk in his eyebrow and his voice rasping more than usual from his fatigue; it only makes it all the more arousing for you.

you grin, your head turned to look up at him with a sly expression. “just waking you up a bit. you’re practically falling asleep here.”

your fingers move upwards now, slowly but surely, and right before you can reach the spot just below his bulge, he sighs out, gripping your hand to lightly push it off of him.

“not here. got another hour left til’ we’re at the hotel. then, we can rest up, baby.”

you pout, looking at him eagerly. “are you even gonna make it there, lo?” you tease, “your eyes are getting heavier, you’re tired.. why don’t you just let me drive?” you attempt, but you’re knocked down the second you try.

he huffs, shaking his head. “don’t you try that shit. you know what m’gonna say to that.”

you groan at that, rolling your eyes fussily as your head turns to look up at the roof of the car. “you’re insufferable,” you sigh out, jokingly, of course. but, you were with logan long enough to know just how stubborn he could be. that he could almost always be.

which means, you knew exactly how to get what you wanted, in more ways than one. 

let’s just say this way was more fun, anyway.

you let out an exasperated breath before turning back to face him, your eyes lighting up just slightly before you open up your mouth.

“guess i just gotta..” you trail off, hands now on your body with your fingertips grazing the skin on your chest; roaming around the loose shirt you had on. “..entertain myself for the next hour then..”

logan turns his head to you now, eyes fixing on your hand just long enough to catch you slip it underneath your bra, cupping one of your tits. you let out a low moan as you look into his eyes, fingers rolling the nipple there, and he scoffs.

it’s a sound that has your heart racing immediately.

“you’ve been a good girl so far, sweetheart. would hate for you to switch up when we’re almost fuckin’ there.” he warns you, turning his head back to the road, having seen enough. “don’t you start now. gonna make you regret it.”

a pang of arousal hits you just like that, pussy involuntarily clenching around nothing as he threatens you; a threat that you definitely need to see for yourself.

you merely pout at him again, but his words aren’t enough to stop you. not when you’re just getting started.

your hand leaves your breast, slowly inching down your stomach, then to the waistband of your shorts, all with your eyes still locked on him. you bite your lip as your hand breaches underneath the material, testing the waters before your fingers reach the hem of your panties.

fingertips aching to dip into the wet heat, you anticipate your own touch as your hands lower, but an immediate grasp at your wrist stops you completely, eliciting a gasp from your throat.

mouth falling open in shock, you turn to look at the man responsible with that gruff look on his face, and that snarl from him gives you more than enough of a warning.

you clear your throat, letting out a noise of frustration towards your boyfriend as he all but tosses your hand away carelessly.

“knock. it. off. don’t make me say it again.”

logan nearly growls at you, moving in closer to get right in your face; he isn’t playing around, and you know it.

but, god, does it only encourage you more.

it isn’t until logan’s focus is completely back on the road that you test the waters again; your fingers finally inserting themselves into your soft, warm folds, wet and waiting so impatiently.

it makes you moan, a hushed sound that you try your hardest to bite back from releasing, but you’re evidently unsuccessful.

so, before you know it, the truck is swerving, causing you to pull yourself back to hold onto the sides of the car, anywhere that you could grab onto. the wheels squeal loudly as the high pitch penetrates your ears, and logan makes a harsh u-turn without a second to waste.

“lo! what the fuck!” you exclaim loudly, wild eyes reaching for his own, but it’s no use. he’s dead set in front of him, shaking his head furiously as the white of his knuckles present itself from holding onto the wheel so tightly.

he’s had enough of your shit.

his eyes never leave the road in front of him once, never returning to you. no matter how much you talk or try to get him to respond, he doesn’t budge.

instead, for the next 5 minutes, silence fills the space between you as your eyes shut from your frustration. it’s all you really can do at this point.

but, it’s only when the high screech of the wheels halting and the gear being put into park has your eyes opening again, eyes latching onto the bright lights in front of you.

a gas station, and the convenience store’s white luminescent glass reflecting on logan’s face. he’s out the driver’s side as soon as you can look at him, and before you can process it, he’s dragging you out of the truck, slamming the door shut as he does so.

you scramble against him, fists almost pushing their hardest into his chest as you whine loudly, increasingly dazed and confused.

“logan, what the fuck are you doing?! let go of me!”

you fight against him harder, but there’s nothing stopping him. not now.

he lets out an exasperated breath, his heavy footsteps embedding themselves into the loud gravel beneath them as he drags you along.

“don’t play that shit with me. actin’ like you don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” he practically yells at you in a hushed voice, “you know what the fuck you’re doing.”

“walk.” he orders you instantly, and you don’t hesitate to obey. not when his voice gets like that.

most of all, because it makes your heart pound—pounding in your chest because he’s right. you know what you’re doing.. but, you can’t say you regret it. no, not one bit.

and if he’s gonna make you regret it, you might as well go all out. right?

his grip on your arm is tight as you walk side by side with him, leading you into the gas station with the door open for you. you can’t even acknowledge the cashier from how quick logan swifts the two of you past them; straight towards the bathroom, and it makes you gulp. 

it’s too late for anyone to be around, too late for anyone to care, and you know that. but, the thought exhilarates you anyway.

he shoves the door open with a hushed whisper—one that’s almost incoherent as it escapes his lips. “you wanna act like a fucking brat?” he shuts the door hurriedly, shoving your body against the sink, “i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat.”

you yelp at the sudden movement, his fingers digging themselves into your skin as you cry out at the feeling. it’s rough and brutal and it burns, but it’s so fucking good.

“lo.. lo, please,” you whine as your eyes shut tightly, the overwhelming sensation of his hands on you and his hot breath hitting your skin being too much to handle.

your body is flush against the sink as you attempt to squirm, to try to get him to do something, anything.

that cruel laugh of his fills your ears—quiet yet booming in your head as it sends chills throughout your entire body, eyes flashing open to look at him in the mirror in front of you. “please? please?” logan mocks you, “do y’even know what you’re asking for, baby? nah.. you don’t.”

“you just want..” logan trails off, his hands mindlessly reaching for your shorts, “to get fucked.. like the whore you are.”

without a single warning, he yanks them down along with your panties, and your whines are impossible to stop when the cool air hits your bare skin. when his filthy words are the only thing you can think about.

“can’t keep these pretty hands to yourself, you gotta rile me up to do it for you?” you hear the clank of his belt unbuckling, the zipper of his jeans sliding down, “gotta piss me off every goddamn time you get so fucking needy? i mean,” he laughs harder now, “not that i really blame you..”

logan pauses, and his eyes that were once staring directly at you now shift to look straight ahead, latching onto your mirrored reflection instead. as if he was looking right into you now. “pretty girl like you.. would be a shame to let this cunt go to waste. so, i’ll do you a favor..”

your jaw falls open in complete shock as your face contorts, as the tip of his cock breaches your tight hole, making your eyes roll back instantaneously with a sob from your lips.

“i’ll use her real good. for what she’s made for, yeah?”

your hands grip the sink in front of you as tightly as possible, body trembling as logan groans into your ear, his hands on your body never loosening.

instead, his grip only tightens as his hips become flush against your ass, his entire cock piercing you to the hilt with a satisfied moan.

“that was easier this time, wasn’t it? gettin’ used to me now. just needed to..” logan takes a moment to pull himself out of you, the tip resting against your entrance as he groans. he slams himself back inside of you so hard that your body fails you, your hands landing on the mirror to hold yourself up, bent over.

“break her in real fucking good.”

your body shakes against him as you cry out at his intrusion, stammering out a string of noises as your walls involuntarily clench around him over and over again. it’s almost as if you’re rapidly adapting to him; the way he stretches you out so much that it hurts in the best way possible. you’re pulsing around him, increasingly growing wetter by the second as your eyes water from the intense sensation.

your words slur with a few whines of what seem to be logan’s name as your hands move back to the sink, attempting to push yourself back up against him, but he stops you. grabbing one of your hands, he places it right against the mirror again, holding it still as he grinds himself into you. it makes you breathe out rapidly, body bent over the sink completely now.

“keep em’ right there. right fucking there. you don’t get to do that. y’don’t get to make any choices here.” he grunts in your ear, his thick beard grazing along your jaw as his eyes flicker from your face back to the mirror. he notices the way you’re trembling, eyes filled with those pretty tears of yours, and it makes him smile—a chuckle leaving him shamelessly.

he takes a moment to admire you, whispering out, “what i’m gonna do to you, baby..” and it makes your eyes flutter shut, warmth filling your core.

his other hand trails up the front of your body now, and it practically covers you completely because of how big it is—your stomach, your breasts, your chest, then finally, your neck. your gasp is loud; heavy, as his fingers wrap around your throat, holding you still for him.

all of you in the palm of his hand—all in his control.

you moan eagerly as he looks into your eyes through the mirror, grinning almost maliciously, “isn’t this what you wanted?” he laughs, his hips stirring a bit as he agonizingly pulls out of you, making you wince, “you wanted my attention so bad, wanted my cock so fucking bad..” he growls in your ear, his hand sliding from your throat to the back of your neck, pushing you down hard, and it makes you grip onto the side of the sink even more. 

“well, now you fucking got it.”

the sound of his rasping grunt hits you first; before you’re sobbing out on his cock, pelvis hammering inside of you with a tight hold on your neck, keeping you there with no chance of stopping, no squirming, no escaping.. no running away from this.

all you can do is take it as he pounds into you, the agonizing ache of his cock sliding in and out of you rapidly increasing the coil in your core, your loud cries and moans enough to make him go harder.

“there you go, there she is..” logan grits out, hands now grasping at your hips, smacking your ass, eliciting a grunt from you, “better fuckin’ hope no one walks in here, or else all they’re gonna see is some whore gettin’ used.”

you cry out as you feel the tip of his cock reach the deepest parts inside of you, nudging your g-spot suddenly as a tear slides down your cheek, your knuckles white from how tight you were grasping at your surroundings. your cheeks grow hot from the idea of that happening, stomach tightening as heat pools your core.

“what’d they think, huh? you think they’d wanna join in on the fun? bet they’d wanna fuck you too after i’m done with you. tightest fuckin’ hole i’ve ever had.”

you whine out now, shaking your head desperately in retaliation as you deny it. you couldn’t ever have another man like this, not now, not ever—only him.

logan sighs out, “no, no, no, i’d never let em’ baby, don’t you worry,” he reassures you, pressing his lips against the top of your head, “this,” he murmurs, his hand reaching to cup the front of your cunt, the rough skin on his palm grazing your clit just enough to make you squeal, “s’all fuckin’ mine. you hear me? not a single soul gets to use her like i can.”

“not like she’d want it anyway. only wants my cock in her. s’the only way she can really be filled up.. fucked stupid and cryin’ for me. ain’t that right? never got fucked by a man like me before y’met me, and i’m sure as hell no one will ever get her trembling like i do.”

you shake your head again, tears continuously spilling out of your eyes as your stomach tightens repeatedly, “n-no, lo, only you—” you stammer out as logan buries himself inside of you to the hilt, plunging into the warm heat of your walls, and he slows, relying on pure power than pace now. the harsh drive of his hips has your head fogging up, so close to reaching your peak with your cunt shuddering.

“ohh, there we go, she’s doing it now. shaking all over this fucking cock, squeezin’ me so tight,” he hisses, “that all you up in this pretty little head, or can you even control it? can’t even control it, can you, baby?”

a string of noises leaves your lips, breathless and mixed with whines and a few tears in your eyes as your core spasms out, his cock hitting deep inside of you repeatedly.

“what was that? can’t really.. understand you, baby, y’gotta speak up..” he teases, a mean laugh escaping his throat, “c’monnn, use your words, really think em’ out, say em’ clearly.”

“c’mon, show me that you’re still my good girl. my good little girl. speak up for your old man, honey.”

you yelp out at his filthy words, “m’.. i c-can’t.. control it, ah!” your moans involuntarily stringing out, eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of your head, your pussy convulsing around him intensely. “g-gonna–c-cum, lo, oh—” you spit out, your chest grasping for as much air as possible.

he hums in your ear now, fingers reaching for your clit and fastening tight, harsh circles at it, making you shudder, your cunt throbbing around his cock—pulsating over and over again as you start to see white. “gonna fill you up, sweetheart, gonna make you take it, fuck.”

you can’t even register him anymore as he talks you through it, the “come for me, baby,” muffled in your ears as you listen to him, cunt constricting around him tightly as you soak him, and the sound is filthy as logan chases his release, squelching loudly from your climax.

you let out a muffled sob as logan finally reaches his peak, slamming himself deep inside of you as he holds you there, the spurts of white hot spilling & coating your walls. all you can hear is the ringing in your ears, along with the mixture of your heavy breaths and logan’s rasps surrounding you.

logan’s strong arms pull you up against him as you catch your breath, heart rate slowing as your back leans against his chest tiredly. he mutters sweet nothings to you, praising you with kisses along your neck, cheek, then to your lips.

“my good fucking girl, my sweet girl—oh, baby,” he hums in your ear, eyes shut as he takes you in. you sigh out, breathing him in as your hand reaches behind, landing on the back of his head to pull him in closer, “god, i love you.”

you laugh, pressing a mindless kiss on his skin, “i love you more, lo, i–i’m sorry for acting out, for being such a—” you begin to apologize, but he just shuts you up with another peck to your lips. “shh, you hush now. i appreciate it.. you riling me up all the damn time. s’ the only way i can still feel so young.”

you giggle, eyes opening up to turn your head to him, taking in his disheveled look—tired, old, grumpy. the man you loved, as handsome as ever.

“always young in my eyes, lo..” you smile, “besides.. it’s the only way i can get you to fuck me that good.” you tease.

he huffs, rolling his eyes. “i fuck you that good every goddamn time, n’ don’t you deny it.”

you laugh, nodding. you can’t deny that fact. but, your eyebrows furrow slightly, suddenly thinking back to the previous events.

“did you really fuck me in a gas station bathroom, babe? what if someone walked in?!” you groan, pushing your forehead into his chest, embarrassed.

he chuckles, “locked it the minute we got in here, baby. wouldn’t let anyone see you like that,” he reassures you, gently gripping the side of your head to make you look up at him, “you got that?”

his face is stern now as he looks into your eyes, and those butterflies in your stomach erupt as if it were the first time you ever got them from him. you nod though, gleaming up at him.

“got it.”

he grins, “good. now, let’s get you cleaned up n’ back on the road. back’s killing me even more now n’ that bed’s calling my name.”

you laugh at him, teasing him further. “old man.”

you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[burgojo]

KILLER? I BARELY KNOW HER! FUSHIGURO TOJI / M!READER

summary. shadows of your past catch up to you – but you're the strongest, and there's nothing you can't handle.

wc. 5.5k

tags. smut | top reader, bottom toji. mentions of underage drinking. sorcerer + teacher reader, enemies-to-lovers (with extra steps), sorta sugar baby toji/rich reader, doggystyle + missionary, mentions of exhibitionism + filming, unprotected sex, brief degradation (r. receiving), brief breeding kink, implied shower sex

notes. every dark-haired male jjk character deserves a silly and illogically powerful best friend with whom they have romantic tension :3 you're him. literally.

The pleasant chime of the doorbell echoes throughout your home. You're not expecting anyone.

You know you should be careful. In fact, you shouldn't be staring at the back of the front door at all. Opening it would ruin the carefully put-together façade of the closed-curtain windows and dark rooms.

Maybe you're tired, and you forget, moving on instinct. Maybe you're bored.

Maybe you're hopeful.

The door inches open, and a man looks up from where he'd been staring listlessly at the flower-spotted bushes lining the patch of green between the entrance and the driveway. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and his eyes are dark, flickering with an emotion you can't quite catch before it flutters away.

"Toji?" you say, the surprise in your voice teetering on warmth. "Hey..."

"Hey," he replies – exhales, really, something like a hum. He reaches up by his shoulder, the action too familiar for you not to stiffen, but he just rubs the back of his neck, stretching out the cricks of his body. "So. New place, huh?"

Your hand rests behind the door. He knows better than to expect it to be empty. "Old, technically. It was my first property purchase."

He tilts his head. "Yeah? When did you get it?"

"Fifteen. A birthday present for myself – a gift for surviving another year of high school. And curses, I guess. Surviving them was way worse because getting their blood in my mouth made me want to die."

He scoffs, and the raised scar over the corner of his lips shifts with his amusement. "Fifteen... And what does a teenager do with a house?"

You shrug. "Drink. Party. Pirate movies. The usual."

"Hah. Sounds like you were a fun kid." Toji scuffs the toe of his sandals against the ground absently. Then he rolls his neck and sighs. "Look, I didn't come all the way here to talk history. Long-ass way out, too, so just let me in."

Lifting an eyebrow, you give him a once-over that feels keener than it should be. "Are you here to kill me?"

"What, you think I'm here for that bounty? Who do you think I am?"

"Don't blame me. You seem very well aware of it."

"Isn't worth the effort for the price. 'Sides, you've given me more than that over the years, haven't you? I like to keep my options open, and it seems to me like it's a better investment to keep you alive."

"You talk as if you could kill me at all," you mutter, a little disdainfully, but it dissipates swiftly when Toji cracks a smirk, so familiar and entwined deeply with your favourite memories. The breeze stirs lightly, and Toji's hair ruffles, almost blue in the sunlight.

"Couldn't I? You're the one who runs away."

"Yeah, after immobilising you. Not a lot of fun to be had if you're dead as a doornail. Say – how deep are you in the jujutsu world? You must be rusty. I'd be willing to help you train."

"You'd help me kill your fellow sorcerers?" He chuckles and arches a brow. "I'll have you know I'm looking at a contract worth thirty million from a bunch of religious crazies."

"Peanuts." You wave a dismissive hand. "Now that I mention it, I'm getting complacent, too... I could use the challenge. Keep in contact with me and I'll pay you double."

"You're paying me to use my body?"

"Your words, not mine."

He holds your gaze steadily for a while, and despite his airy voice, his eyes are thoughtful. "Let's not talk business on your doorstep. Lost your manners, have you?"

Finally, your shoulders loosen, and the tension in your body vanishes. With a soft chuckle, you pull the door open further and step aside. "Don't make me regret this."

"Please," he says, slipping out of his sandals and into your home. "You never do."

Zenin. Fushiguro. The Sorcerer Killer. All of his names, all of his history, and yet, to you, he is just your baby – your Toji. It'd be embarrassing if he cared enough to be embarrassed, he thinks as you draw him into a rib-shattering hug. Instead, he feels smug.

Before that Gojo kid, there was you. It wasn't a position you were born for – like the kid was – but you trained your way up and eventually found yourself most suited for the role, all but waltzing into it – because what youth wouldn't want to be number one? It was almost gross, your selflessness and single-minded ambition, and Toji knew how that sort of mindset made the people in power feel. They commissioned him for your death at one point, after all.

It was fun. You were both so young: dancing around each other's weapons as if it was all a stage, chasing each other's clues like a couple of dogs running after a bone. Still – you were society's best, the cream of the crop, and for you to be his, of all people, was a selfish triumph he indulged in too many times to count.

His hands creep up beneath your baggy shirt as he leans up to kiss you, tongue slipping between your lips to share in the taste of some expensive whisky he can't name. He hums – a low, rumbling sound, like a tiger chuffing – as his fingers bump over thick, warm muscle.

Blood and bone. That's what you all are, when it comes down to it.

"You should wear tighter clothes," he murmurs against your lips. "Less to grab in a fight."

The backs of his thighs press into the edge of the kitchen bench, where a forgotten glass of water sits – the remnant of your half-hearted attempt at being a good host while his lips found your neck.

You huff. "A 'fight', huh? I wasn't expecting one."

"You should always expect a fight. While you're at it, always expect to lose. Stops you from being disappointed."

"Sounds pessimistic."

"That's the price we pay for being good at what we do."

"As if you pay for anything, Toji."

He chuckles. He drops the hem of your shirt before sliding his palms up your chest – what a tease – and cupping your face. His hands are warm, callused, thrumming with lifeblood. He sweeps his thumb absently over your cheek, committing every pore of your face to memory. You have the urge to pull away, look down, like a schoolboy with a crush – but Toji's hands are firm.

"C'mon, at least look me in the eye before we kick this off. You that ashamed of me?"

Startled, your gaze flicks up to his. Instead of the half-wry look you expect, he smirks and pulls you in to meet his lips. His fingers interlace loosely at the nape of your neck, caging you in place, and you have no choice but to bend to his whim.

"Stupid," you mutter against his lips, mostly to yourself. "Stop playing with my feelings, Toji – that's manipulative. You're breaking my heart here."

Rather than pulling away himself, he pushes you away, a palm flat on your chest but without any real power. It remains there as he leans back against the stone countertop. "My bad, baby. It's just funny."

"Funnier than you calling this," you gesture between your chests, "something to 'kick off' after... how many years? If you weren't all over me seconds ago, I'd think you came over for a beer and a game."

He lifts his hands in teasing surrender at your accusatory tone. "All right. We'll fuck, then. Maybe include some heavy petting for the B-roll, if you're up for it. Sound good?"

You cross your arms over your chest and muster up a suitable amount of annoyance for a glare. Toji finds it hard to take you seriously – what with your dumb jokes and ridiculous inclination towards flashy fighting – so to him, it's more of a pout. "So, you got lonely without me, huh? Yeah, nah. We're not filming ourselves."

"Hm." It's not a yes, but it's not a disagreement, either. "Why not? It'd be hot."

"I'm a teacher, Toji," you remind him, clicking your tongue when he shrugs, one hand on his hip. "I don't want that kind of thing to exist. If it got out..."

"So you are ashamed of me," he mutters. He steps forward to grab your hands when you start to protest, visibly distressed. He snickers. "Kidding, kidding. Fuck, it's fun to play with you. You don't care about the other one, then? The one from the abandoned restaurant?"

"Well—" Your breath stutters when Toji absently compares hand sizes and laces your fingers together. You watch as he aligns four of his fingers against your ring finger specifically, one at a time as if comparing again, but this time...

"Well?" he prompts, his grin broadening. His shaggy hair falls across his eyes as he tilts his head.

"Well, I don't look like I did ten years ago, and as far as I know, my face isn't in it..." All logic scatters like leaves in the wind when he looks up at you through his lashes, that playful, pretty smirk of his tugging at your heartstrings just right. It's like the years never passed. You swallow. "I-It was different," you finish lamely.

Toji's eyes flicker down to your lips. With a flick of his wrist, he twists a hand in your collar and tugs you down so that your faces are inches apart. Your chests collide roughly. He doesn't seem to care, his gaze trained on you with a heavy, smoky intensity. "Fine. If you won't let me film it, you better make it memorable. I'll decide later if it was worth coming here for."

—

Toji should have known you were serious when you pulled the bedframe about six inches out from the wall. He'd laughed at first, insulting you for such uptight behaviour regarding something as boring as walls, but you'd just dragged him to the bed with a roll of your eyes.

With how loud he was moaning, you could only be glad that he didn't find you at your apartment property.

"Toji," you breathe, your gaze trapped on the tight, firm ass ricocheting off your hips. Your grip tightens. "Toji."

"Fuuuck," he drawls as his cock throbs, prying his eyes open to narrow them at you over his shoulder. Lust has turned the usual green of them nearly black. "What?" he bites out.

"I missed you. Missed this. Fuck, baby, you're so fucking tight."

He lets out a throaty chuckle, turning back around to rest his head on his forearms. With a shift of your hips, your cock punches his prostate, over and over, and his eyes roll back briefly, a pleased groan rumbling from the depths of his stomach. His dick pulses and swings uselessly between his muscular thighs.

"M-Men are all the same," he grumbles. You click your tongue, though you don't miss the way an involuntary moan makes him stutter.

"Awful way to greet an old friend, you know. I thought you were smarter than that. Try being nicer," you slam your hips forward, making his eyes fly open with a gasp, "and you'll get what you want."

His skin prickles when you glide a warm hand up his side and come to rest it upon his shoulder, holding him down with just enough strength to make his muscles flex to fight it. Your thumb rubs little circles into the back of his neck, tracing the dips of his shoulders until you find what you're looking for. You dig into the taut muscle, making him wince.

"Stressed?" you hum, and your voice is gentle. Gentler than he deserves. "Is it money problems again?"

Something like guilt stirs in his belly, but a well-angled thrust has his thoughts unravelling. "No."

"No?"

"No," he repeats. You hum in response and don't push the matter further.

Your hand lifts from his shoulder, and already he can feel the stiffness returning. Damn those God-hands of yours. He finds himself arching back, bracing against the bed, in an effort to return your hands to their rightful place.

You hush him sweetly, pressing your chest to his back and burying your face in the crook of his neck. The angle has the shaft of your heavy cock pressed right up against his prostate and his body jolts with the fiery burn of pleasure, his knuckles turning white as he fists the sheets. "No need to chase me anymore. Not going anywhere. 'M right here, baby."

Toji manages to scoff, and his voice is steadier than he expects. "Not chasin' you, asshole."

"Yeah? Then what do you call showing up at my door as you did, unannounced?"

"Welfare check."

You roll your eyes. "I hate you."

You punctuate your sentence by yanking his hips back on your cock, the wet squelch of lube and precome making him shudder. Despite the rough treatment, a moan tumbles from his lips, and he laughs, loose and breathy.

"Fuck me like it, then," he dares, knocking his temple gently against yours.

One hand lifts to card through his hair. He groans softly as your nails scrape his scalp, but his eyes fly wide open as you grab a fistful and tug, wrenching him up to kneel. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as you wrap your hand around his leaking cock, jerking him off at the same pace as you fuck into him – he swears he sees stars as your thumb and index finger twist roughly around his swollen tip. His cock squelches in your fist, bubbles of precome sliding down his tip and smearing across your palm.

"Fucker," he snarls, ceasing his split second of flailing to grip your hip and thigh. You'd consider it painful if you hadn't also had the pleasure of being stabbed, slashed, shot, and bitten. "Nngh – so fuckin' big—"

"Going back on our word, are we, honey?" you say slyly, twisting your fist up and down his wet cock. "Tsk, tsk, Toji... so forgetful. I'd say you're getting old."

You glide a fingernail up the line of his vein, making his hips stutter and forcing another curse to slip from his lips, and you dig the tip of your finger roughly into his leaking slit. He moans and his back arches against your hold as your throbbing cock easily slides deep into him, the harsh, rapid smack of your balls against his ass almost disorienting.

He shudders. The heat of his body pulls his skin too tight, makes his tongue heavy and clumsy. Your hands are not quite soft – years of weapons training and hand-to-hand combat would do that to someone – but they're sweet on him. Loving, nearly. Your warmth softens the rub of calluses and tough scar tissue, and Toji learns them anew.

"C'mon, baby... want you to talk to me. Love your pretty little sounds." You end the sentence in a whisper, patting his stomach with the absent sort of friendliness you had as a youth. You never shied away from touching him, rewarding him with your weight draped over his shoulders or entwining your fingers when he did something that pleased you.

That familiar feeling jolts him back to reality. He glances your way – perhaps to say something, but he doesn't remember what about – and you capture his lips with yours, tilting your head and running your tongue over his lower lip.

He keeps them sealed, airtight.

You groan into the kiss and nip at him pleadingly, because you'd have to break Toji's jaw to get him to open up – and you couldn't do that to your favourite killer. Your name falling from his lips like a prayer is too sweet to pass up on.

Eventually, with enough petting and kisses, Toji relents, if only to see you perk up like a puppy tossed a bone. He groans softly as you explore his mouth, tongue curling around his and gliding over his teeth.

Your breath is hot and sweet against his, your lips shockingly gentle despite the quick and steady pace of your hips bouncing off his ass. He jolts every time your cockhead kisses his prostate, swollen and sensitive from your unrelenting pace. His dick bobs, dark red and pulsing hotly in your palm, and he groans like an injured animal. It's almost desperate.

Your shaft drags against his slick walls, which clench with a rippling squeeze as if he's trying to milk you dry. With each hungry snap of your hips, your tip punches the breath out of his lungs. His vision blots out, and he swears he can feel your cock in his damn throat.

Without warning, and without a word, he comes, his expression going lax with pleasure as he releases thick ropes onto his stomach. It's four hard spurts and two weaker pulses, the slow, measured tugs of your wrist twisting in a way that has his thick thighs trembling.

You coo softly, and Toji's face is uncharacteristically warm. Little kisses drift their way up his shoulder and neck and he sighs softly, eyes shut and head tilted back against your shoulder. You press your palm against his chest to feel the heart thudding beneath his ribs, the rise and fall with each shallow breath.

You cup his chest and squeeze.

He cracks an eye open, disapproval furrowing his brows. In response, you grin cheekily and nip at his earlobe as you smooth your fingers through his hair – a silent apology for being so rough.

To his credit, he lets it go. Doesn't even smack you for being an ass. He does, however, clamp down punishingly around your cock when he pulls off, making you hiss at the scrape. It bobs and you shiver at the cold air.

Thoughtfully, Toji glances down at it, still hard as rock and curving upwards towards your stomach. He reaches for it.

Your eyes widen when he slips a nail under the edge of the condom. "Wh-What are you doing?"

"Don't sound so scared. I know we're both safe. Said ya missed me, right?" He grins, dark and sharp, with eyes half-lidded – almost coy. "I'll let you finish inside me. For old times' sake."

"Contract-sanctioned stalking? I thought better of you, Toji." Despite your flippant words, your breath hitches, and Toji's grin widens. He tugs the slick condom off and tosses it aside – without even tying it up, the bastard – and before you can grumble about it, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and presses his lips to yours.

You groan softly as he parts his lips and allows you in. He shifts closer, his knee between yours, and grabs your hand. He brings it down between your bodies.

"Baby..." you whisper as he wraps your hand around your lengths, pressed together. He is hot and velvety in your palm.

"Mm." The sound is deep and content, and he blinks up at you slowly like a cat. "I know. I want it."

Then, slinging his arm loosely around your shoulders, he pulls you down with him.

You barely manage to catch yourself before crushing him, your instincts and reflexes dulled by familiarity and a dreamy languor. Not that you think he'd mind – not with that grin.

Toji spreads his knees and hooks his calves around your thighs. He guides your cock into him again, and he rumbles out a pleased moan as it buries itself hilt-deep into his slick warmth.

His head falls back against the pillows as you press your hips flush against his ass. "Ah, shit..."

"You good, baby?" you murmur, swallowing harshly as his gummy walls flutter tightly around you, as if he can lock you inside forever. Your dick twitches.

"Mmh, fuck, jus' sensitive. Move."

It's only natural that you obey.

Toji feels hotter now that you don't have the layer of plastic to contend with – hotter, wetter, hungrier. You thrust shallowly at first, but as his moans grow louder – less restrained – you allow yourself to move tip-to-base, deep and dirty the way he used to like it. Seems he still does. The rim of his puffy asshole catches on the ridge of your cockhead and his nails rake down your shoulders and back, leaving stinging raised lines in their wake.

Pride fills your chest, inflates your ego. An infamous assassin, the Sorcerer Killer, spread wide and inviting with his cheeks all flushed – he's certainly given you a thousand little deaths. You grip the meat of his ass and lift his hips off the mattress, fucking into his wet heat at a new angle that has him shouting your name.

Maybe it's because you can see his face – see all the pretty cock-drunk expressions that wash over his features – that you find yourself chasing the precipice of release embarrassingly fast. He locks his legs around your waist, thick and muscular, and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Why would you ever want to leave?

"Toji," you grunt, panting softly. "'M gonna..." Your breath fans against his sweat-slick skin, making him shiver and arch into your touch. He cups the back of your neck as you nibble and suck dark bruises into his tanned skin, his lashes fluttering as you shift his thighs on your lap and leave far too many deep red hickeys printed on his skin. You even scatter a few across his collarbones and chest, and you're only pleased when he looks like he was mauled by a bear.

He pants softly, his bitten moans making your cock throb even harder. Fuck, you're so hard – the shape of your teeth printed into his skin for all to see makes you prouder than you'd ever admit. You trace the marks gently with your fingertips and Toji's chest stutters.

Gazing up at you with lidded, unfocussed eyes, he laughs, freer than he had since you met him earlier. Your heavy cock plunges into his stretched hole, again and again and again like you're trying to make him take, and your grip on one of his thighs is tight enough to leave red crescents. He grasps your face, turning it down towards him, and offers a sleazy, roguish grin, breathless. His eyes trace the cut of your cheeks, the curve of your lips.

"You look less stupid than usual. S'all you're good for, ain't it? Fucking me nice an' deep with that fat cock of yours – f-fuck. S'mine, yeah? All mine?"

You shudder and groan, bone-deep, and Toji can feel the heavy throbbing of your cock leaking inside him. The slick feeling of you against his walls builds a hot ball of arousal in his lower belly. Your chest heaves against his and your stomach tenses, familiar planes of muscle firm against his hand. Excitement roars through him like a wildfire – eager and keening.

He yanks you down for a devouring kiss as you come, catapulting off the precipice into white bliss. You gasp into it. His ass clenches around you with his own release as he moans, his soft walls stroking you and sucking you in.

He's so fucking warm, so fucking wet. His body is slick with sweat and he shoves his tongue into your mouth like a man starved. Maybe he is. You groan, low and pleased, and his thighs tighten around you like a cage, possessive in his hungry, unyielding embrace.

Spilling into him is heaven. You've died and ascended, you're certain of it. He drinks you deep, as if he was made for it, and lets his head fall back against the pillows with a less-than-steady sigh as your balls tighten and pulse hotly against his skin. Dragging it out, you grind your hips into his ass in lazy circles, huffing and puffing against his throat as if you've run a marathon. Your fingers graze his own, fluttering in a way that seems almost... uncertain.

Hah. As if you knew what that word meant. You were unshakeable, infallible. The strongest. You'd hold onto that title for as long as you could; the burden was heavy.

Rather disappointingly, you don't choose to hold his hands. They glide down his waist and hips, making him shiver, and you slowly pull out, the solid but gentle grip on his thighs never wavering. You set him down as if he was made of glass and his body twitches as thick come leaks from his stretched hole, dripping and pooling white below his ass.

He tosses a lazy arm over his eyes, bending one knee and bracing against the bed. Another hot gush of come. "Ah, f-fuck... shit. You still come like a truck..."

Your gaze, once so dark and sultry as if you were about to eat him alive, now snaps to him, wide and kind and so embarrassed that Toji can't help but crack a grin.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He rolls his eyes. "Other than the hickeys, no. Wouldn'ta minded it anyway," he adds slyly, peering out from within the shadow of his arm. "Pretty hot when you get creative."

Shuffling off of the bed with a soft chuckle, you pick up the discarded condom and toss it in the bin. You pull open the wardrobe with a flex of a wall of muscles that Toji watches keenly, spreading his knees to eye you through them. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

"Y'know, I was thinking," you begin suddenly, rifling through clothes and drawers.

"You can do that?"

"Shut up. I was thinking about you – your situation."

He closes his eyes and sinks back into your bed. "When'd you have the time? Not while you were fucking me, I hope."

"Just listen, Toji." You turn around, washcloth in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other. Dark, but loose and unremarkable – as he prefers it. You toss the clothes at the bottom of the bed and disappear into the adjoining bathroom, raising your voice as the faucet squeaks on. "I was wondering if you'd wanna... you know – catch up. Or at least let me help you."

You continue, "I could find you a place in a better school zone, get you set up legitimately. Honestly, actually, you wouldn't even need to work. You could just focus on your family and I'd take care of the rest."

Toji sits up, ignoring the pinch of pain and the mess between his legs. It'll ache later, so he'll deal with it later. "What?"

"I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, heard you the first time. But why?" He lowers his voice as you return to him and begin to clean him up. He meets your eyes and his mouth takes on the beginning slant of a smirk. "My ass that good, huh? You want me to be your sugar baby?"

Heat floods your cheeks. "You're not that hot, Toji. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Wasn't talking about my face. Still – it's not like you to beg me to go on the straight and narrow. What's with that?"

"At the risk of sounding humiliatingly sappy after sex," you sigh, sitting back and dropping the cloth aside, "I still care about you. A whole fucking lot. I only want good things for you, Toji, and I have all this excess wealth that I can't donate fast enough, so if I can change just two more lives – I'd beg for the chance."

The desire to change lives without ending others'. He can understand the sentiment.

"What would you want from me?"

For a moment, you're taken aback by the tiredness in his voice. You blink. "Nothing? Like I said, the money would just vanish into a charity otherwise. Well – maybe I'd like to be invited over on the weekends, and maybe drop off-slash-pick up itty-bitty Megumi every so often. He's that age, right? Oh – and you gotta let me into the kitchen. I make a mean lasagne. Wonder if the boy would like it..."

He snorts. "That's a lot of conditions."

"Well, I am offering to let you live like a plump and happy housewife, so..."

He's quiet for a while, his hair falling over his eyes in a way that blocks your view of his face. You toss a rolled-up towel at his head, and he catches it without looking.

He lowers the towel. "You... don't seem to care that I left you."

"No, I didn't at all care that my friend dropped off the face of the earth without warning." You cross your arms and scoff, the smile slipping from your face. "I only heard about what happened months after you vanished, and by that time, there was nothing I could do to search for you. I had too many people looking at me to dig up old underground contacts and not enough time to comb through the country myself. You could have talked to me, you know," you say, your voice softening. "I would never turn you away."

He shrugs, noncommittal. "It's like you said – too many people looking at you. Would be alarming if I came strolling up to your door, wouldn't it?"

"You did today," you point out.

"Yeah, when there's a bounty on your head. I could be killing you right now."

You scoff, though the hint of a smile flickers across your lips. "You're impossible. But fair point. Just... think it over, okay? Come find me after all this bounty business is over and done with. You know where I live."

Toji chuckles softly, and he accepts your offered hand. You lead him to the large bathroom and he threads his towel over the rod next to what must be yours. He stares longer than he should, but the sight of the two towels beside each other – his green, yours blue – forms a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. His heartbeat quickens.

The sound of water hitting the tiles fills the bathroom. He raises his voice over it. "Hey."

Glancing over, your arm shimmering with water droplets from where it rests against the faucet handle, you tilt your head wordlessly.

"I should be picking up the kid in a couple of hours," he explains, "at six. As far as he and the childcare know, I work a normal nine-to-five like the rest of 'em. You could go."

Your eyes widen, and you let out an endeared laugh. "Toji, Megumi doesn't know who I am. The last time we met, he was a newborn. I'm not about to give everyone a heart attack by showing up on your behalf."

"It wouldn't be on my behalf, dumbass." His tone borders between disparaging and fond. "I'd go with you."

"Wh—?" Your throat bobs harshly. The shower seems forgotten, and Toji pushes you backwards into it with a palm on your chest because he's not about to waste the water. It pours onto your head, your hair beginning to stick to your face, and it still doesn't seem to register. A smile pulls at his lips as he reaches for your body wash, scanning the label while your brain putters out and short-circuits.

You didn't expect an answer that soon.

"You heard me," he says coolly, as if this is a normal Tuesday for him. He squirts a dab of body wash onto his palm. "Isn't this what you asked for? In my opinion, it's not that fun. I get a lot of women chattin' me up while we wait. Awkward as hell since I can't be rude or they might tell their kids, and then their kids won't like Megumi... ah, it's a big deal. You being there will help. You love to talk, so you can do it for me. Good game plan, right?"

"Toji, I..."

"The fact that I'm talking more than you worries me."

"You said pick-up's at six, right?" you say suddenly, the glint in your eyes intensifying.

He arches a brow, glancing up at you. "Yeah."

"That means we have an hour." You lean in, trapping him against the glass of the shower. There's a hint of mania in your gaze, starved with a vehement zeal. "I'm gonna fuck you, now."

His eyes widen. A feral grin spreads across his face. He laughs against your throat and moans when you press your thumb roughly into one of the many hickeys littering his neck and chest. "You're crazy. Fuckin' crazy – oi."

It's disturbingly easy for you to lift him by his thighs and press him against the cool glass. His skin prickles as he grips your shoulders and mutters, his breath mingling with yours: "If you drop me, I'll kill you."

"Promise?" you ask with a breathless grin.

He crushes his lips to yours. No one else gets the privilege of taking your little deaths.

[yi2huo]

C'MON KEEP UP! ₊ university au 𐙚

𐙚 𓈒 𓈒 SYNOPSIS ) ; after a throwaway statement from heeseung, you can't help but notice your best friend jake in ways you've never noticed before. even worse, things get complicated when sunghoon gets added to the mix

PAIRING ) — college!jake x fem!reader ₊ fluff, humor

WC ) — 2.2k+

INCOMING MSG ) — ding ! i took a mini hiatus but i'm back !! i can't wait to post more this summer >< if anyone has any requests, feel free to drop them through asks ♡ 

“cute necklace, y/n.” heeseung drops into the seat next to you and you slide your bag over to the left to accommodate him. you lean your bag against jake who is sitting to your left, and he uses the opportunity to steal a sip from your drink. 

with the professor already rambling away about quantum mechanics, you struggle to pay any sliver of attention to heeseung’s words as he continues to yap. “where did you get them from?”

muffling a yawn, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the star dangling from your neck. the sharp indents prick you back into a memory. “oh, these. they were a gift from a friend.” 

“oh, a friend? or do you mean your boyfriend?” 

you faintly hear jake choking on the drink but your attention is quickly stolen by heeseung’s words. 

they’re throwaway, that much is obvious from his wandering eyes to his wide yawn as he pulls out his laptop. they shouldn’t mean anything yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."

he hums, raising an eyebrow as he spares you a quick glance. his gaze flickers somewhere behind you for a second and you would have looked too if his next words didn’t pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”

“my type?” your mind blanks. 

“like what you look for in a person.”

“i know what a type is.” you quip back, hoping the playful hostility can hide your sudden surprise. 

“then why do you look so disgruntled?” he turns on his laptop, ignoring the loud whirring that blares. “don’t tell me it’s someone like me?” 

that causes you to scoff. “definitely not, i’ve known you since you were five.” 

heesung continues to stare at you, pressing you wordlessly and you give in, finally surrendering more thought to his question. 

"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good-looking? someone who’s… not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they’d have to be smart but not in a i-don’t-have-fun kind of way. like in a cute way." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humor, someone who will make me laugh.”

“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”

you chuckle quietly, muffling the sound as the professor spins around to glare at someone else talking. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”

“you'll always have me.” heeseung says, grinning.

“don’t be stupid.”

“or—hear me out—your type kinda sounds like jake.” 

“okay, now i know you’re actually stupid.”

“come on, you two—”

your voice is a harsh whisper when you chide, “will you shut up already? he’s sitting right there!”

“you two have been friends for years.” he matches your volume this time, to your relief. “you’re telling me you’re friends with your exact type and haven’t felt any sort of way about him?”

you make a face and shove him playfully. you open your mouth to say more—a jab at heeseung’s own lovelife instead—when a piece of chalk cuts through the air and faintly skims past your nose. you turn back with a start and make eye contact with a very angry professor, his bald head shining in the light. 

“is there something you’d like to share with the class?” 

you let out a strangled squeak, sinking into your seat as heeseung chuckles beside you. 

“no, sir.” 

when the lecture hall finally moves on from your show of embarrassment, you turn away to pretend to busy yourself with your bag. when you come back up, positive that your face has cooled off such that you can almost look presentable again, your eyes accidentally meet with jake’s. 

there’s an unreadable expression on his face, eyes wide and unfocused as he stares at you. feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, you quickly look away and sink down into your chair yet you struggle to completely ignore him. you watch from your peripherals as he looks away, sunghoon whispering something into his ear and chuckling though he seems to not be having it, swatting him away like a fly.

seeing his face made you think. maybe heeseung was right, didn’t jake match your type criteria? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and smart? 

with a start, you look back at heeseung. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”

“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” heeseung chuckles. “are there any more?"

the professor slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.

your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and forced groupwork. your conversation with heeseung quickly slips from mind as you’re lost in the mountain of work. 

when you enter the lecture hall the next day, you’re surprised to find jake already there and seated at the same spot. it seems like you’re the only two people there and you awkwardly take your seat next to him. you had arrived early to avoid the early morning rush but you wondered what his excuse was.

“good morning.” you mumble, flashing him a small smile. you take the chance to observe him, frowning slightly when you watch him push up his glasses as he continues to read a heavy chemistry textbook. 

since when did he wear glasses?

his eyes flicker to yours as you unpack. “good morning.”

“what’s with you?”

jake clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”

your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my DS, jake i told you to take good care of it!”

“i am taking care of it! it’s fine!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i am.”

you narrow your eyes before looking away, turning on your laptop. “it better be. i need to run pokemon black on that. when are you going to finish using it?”

“soon. i’m almost finished with the elite four. my party is basically set, i was just waiting to finish an assessment before i grind it and…” he trails off suddenly, the animated look on his face fading. he clears his throat, pushing up his glasses somewhat clumsily. “i mean, if that’s what you wish i shall return it to you as soon as possible.” 

you turn to him horrified. “so you did break my DS!”

“i said it’s not broken!” jake bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i’m simply being considerate.”

you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong? why are you talking like that?”

“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"

“hey, no need to get defensive. i’m just saying you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”

jake leans forward. “yes?”

“crazy.”

he falls back in his chair, groaning, textbook forgotten and placed harshly down on the table with a thud.

you tilt your head. “where's hoon? you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”

jake peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”

“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch jake mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.

he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.

you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favorite anime had delayed its upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with sunghoon, leading to this strange attitude.

the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to sunghoon’s usual behavior.

“are you trying to be like hoon?” you try.

jake whirs around to face you. “what?”

“well, you’re trying to be all, what was that word you used earlier? more considerate.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”

jake remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.

jake’s speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.

“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”

he doesn’t register your question. “you think sunghoon is well-mannered?”

“well, yes?”

“and calm?”

you nod. “at least more than you.”

“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”

the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”

“oh my god, you do.”

“no? i mean, i think hoon’s great and everything—”

“you think sunghoon’s great?”

“don’t you?”

“you think sunghoon’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think sunghoon’s great.”

"i didn’t say all of that! why are you putting words in my mouth?"

"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"

flushing, you flail for words. “are you… are you jealous of sunghoon? i thought you guys were past things like that!”

jake grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “i am not jealous of sunghoon.”

the door to the lecture room is thrown open and sunghoon steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and jake as you both watch him enter.

“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.

“nothing!”

“nothing.” jake says and glares at him.

sunghoon blinks.

“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”

“jake’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”

“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. jake, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”

"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."

"so i did do something. you're so predictable, jake."

you snicker as jake huffs and glances away, intent on ignoring sunghoon’s pestering.

subconsciously, you drown sunghoon out too, your traitorous mind observing jake’s eyes. you had always thought it was just a neutral brown, but looking at it now, it seemed more like amber dripping like honey, the chocolate hue sparkling and dimming as the lights flickered overhead, and you watched the light dance through his eyes.

something shifts and it’s not just the aircon suddenly turning on. something like realisation dawns on you though you have no time to come to terms with your new thought when jake turns to look at you. startled, you hold his gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.

you look away hastily and inhale.

jake glances to the front, oddly fidgety.

sunghoon looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”

“nothing.” jake says.

sunghoon clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was, and your realization is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.

jake clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”

at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns when you don't give him any other reaction.

your professor saves you from addressing his statement as he walks into the room. unlike every other day, you have no snarky comment to make about his radiant bald spot. your mind fails to work as you turn over jake’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?

slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with jake and the talk you had with heeseung yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.

did that mean…?

someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked sunghoon?

you watch jake’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.

seconds tick past. your professor’s monotonous voice drawls on and yet jake doesn't even spare you a glance.

no, maybe you were wrong after all.

just as you were about to face your professor again, jake’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.

oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.

jake has a crush on sunghoon.

[c1phra]

Hugo relationship headcanons... please..... feed the starving........

... ❝ RELATIONSHIP HCS! ❞ ft. hugo x reader

𝒾. ⠀FEATURING : an assortment of headcanons about your relationship with hugo!

꒰ contents ꒱ mild spoilers for hugo's backstory i guess? gn!reader. fluff. headcanons. wc : 1052

꒰ notes ꒱ HIII ANON!! thank you for the request hehe i hope this is to your liking, i'm still getting a grasp on his character :")) + @rainswept hugo tag <3

a relationship with hugo is not easy. not at first, at least.

despite his collected exterior, the scars of his past still sting when pressed, and it's a pain not easy to ignore, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he has healed. it takes a while to allow himself to open up enough to begin the relationship in the first place, let alone let his guards fall, one by one...

but he'll manage. he's nothing if not resilient; give him time, patience, and the chance to ask you out himself, and he will be the most attentive lover you've ever had.

it starts with the classic: flowers, a huge bouquet that takes two hands to hold, and a box of chocolates. he's calm when he's handing them to you, his voice even as he spits out the confession speech that took hours in the mirror to prepare, but his mind is going haywire, worrying about whether it's too much, too soon. maybe he should have stuck with just the chocolates after all, or even just a smaller bunch of roses, or something else entirely—

he's thankful you don't let him languish in his thoughts for too long, cutting off his overthinking with a simple “yes.” it takes all he can to restrain himself from breaking out into relieved laughter at your response.

it's all history from there. when you're with hugo, nothing is ever boring; he'd consider it a personal affront for his beloved to be disinterested when they're out with him. no matter what you're doing, be it an extravagant day out, or quiet night in, there's always something to look forward to.

the more elaborate dates are what he leans towards in the beginning, as a means to impress you—dinners at the most high-end restaurants, and tours of art galleries—but it's the simple ones where he truly shines. when all of the grandeur and showiness is melted away, when it's just the two of you curled up under a weighted blanket with some trashy rom-com playing in the background, that's when he truly feels at home.

at the start of the relationship he's careful with his affection. even the most innocuous gestures are subtle tests, experimenting to see what you are and aren't comfortable with. pet names are one of the first things he tries out, a genuine “darling,” or “sweetheart,” slipped into the teasing, overly sappy “honey-pie,” and “snookums.”

when it comes to physical affection though, he tends to be... flighty.

a part of it is the natural touch-starvation that comes with being deprived of gentle touch for so long, but another is the fact that he simply doesn't know how to respond to it. it's not that he's opposed to the feeling, he simply prefers to be the one to touch you, to ensure he keeps some level of control over the situation.

it makes it easier. safer. if he knows if and when it happens, he doesn't have to worry about the instinctual recoil that happens whenever you suddenly grab his arm, or the overwhelming swell of emotion in his chest when you kiss his cheek. after a while, the instinct starts to dull, but it never quite ceases fully.

in any case, he doesn't stop you from touching him, (he doesn't know if he could bring himself to, even if he wanted to) but he favours the touches that he's warned about beforehand. ask for a kiss, and he'll never refuse; motion for a hug, and his arms will be open and waiting.

he tends to mirror what you like; every touch—even the ones that seem casual—is another test of what you're receptive to. once he's satisfied with his understanding of your boundaries, your wants and needs, he's more than happy to indulge you—no matter how much or how little you like.

one thing he does like is when you're walking together, he enjoys having you hold his arm, instead of his hand. it feels so much more intimate somehow, having your hands linked through his arm. he can't help but glance over at you every few seconds, a wide grin breaking over his face as he realizes how lucky he is.

hugo is extremely perceptive to how you feel, almost scarily so. there's no use trying to hide anything from him. surprises, secrets, suppressed feelings, he notices it all. if there's an issue in your relationship, he doesn't let it linger; he sits you down and confronts it together.

and if you're having problems of your own, he's also there to help. he might be slightly overzealous with helping you fix whatever you have going on, but he's more than willing to just listen if that's what you need. either way, he can't stand the idea of you keeping something to yourself when it's clearly troubling you.

somehow, despite his directness when it comes to resolving conflict, the first “i love you,” takes a while. it's a difficult sentence for him to muster up, even if it's been months since you got together. in a way, it's the weight of it that holds him back. speaking it aloud

so he saves it for a moment that seems casual, perhaps to steel his nerves slightly, or to simply soften the blow. it happens when you're half asleep, mid-way through your nightly routine. he's on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he pauses by you in the bathroom, kisses your temple and whispers an “i love you,” into your hair.

in fact, you're so tired that you don't even notice it at first, simply humming in response as he ducks out of the room. it's a few seconds later when the words finally process, and you almost drop the toothbrush in your hand.

what follows is you dashing to the kitchen to confront him, a flurry of questions on your lips. he's frustratingly impassive with his responses, an air of forced calmness about him, as if he hadn't just shocked your entire system. the bewilderment on your face is amusing to a degree, but there's an anxiousness that accompanies it; one that doesn't ease until he hears those sweet, four words that he's been craving ever since the day he asked you to be his.

“i love you too.”

©c1phra 2025 : do not copy, translate, repost, redistribute, or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <33

[deathofacupid]

opposites attract, they say. they attract, but they don't last. at least, not satoru and you.

"'toru," you tug on his sleeve, the silk cool against your clammy skin. he glances away from the gaggle of people surrounding him, a practiced smile flashing across his face. it doesn't reach his eyes.

"yeah, baby?"

you inhale, the bass of the music vibrating through your chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. "can we — could you…" the words catch in your throat. what were you asking for? sanity? a moment of quiet? "um," you stammer, "when's this going to be over?"

"over?" he echoes, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, as if the very concept is absurd. "babe, the party just started."

your party. the party you hadn't asked for, the party you dreaded.

"i know," you say, treading carefully. you knew he'd put effort into this. it's just… the room felt like it was closing in. it wasn't his fault, not really. he thrived in this environment, the center of attention, radiating that effortless charisma. people were drawn to him like moths to a flame. and tonight, the flame was burning too bright.

"but… it's just really, um," suffocating is the word that claws at your throat, but it feels too dramatic, too needy. "it's just kind of a lot."

he laughs, a booming sound that seems to amplify the noise around you, and says something you can't hear over the music. "'toru," you sigh, the sound barely audible, "i can't hear you."

he clicks his tongue, a flash of annoyance crossing his features, before he leans in and excuses himself from the group. he takes your hand, his grip a little too tight, and pulls you out onto the balcony of the penthouse. the city lights sprawl beneath you, a dizzying panorama that mirrors the chaos in your head.

"okay," he says, his tone impatient, as if this whole conversation is an unwelcome interruption. "go ahead."

the resentment simmers. you swallow it down. "toru, this is… nice and all, but, uh — i'm just not sure… not sure this is my scene."

he squints at you, his brow furrowed. "what do you mean? it's your party."

"i didn't want one, though. don't get me wrong, this was… thoughtful, i guess. it's just too much for me."

satoru blinks, genuinely surprised, as if you've sprouted a second head. "but…i mean, i thought you'd like it. look at how many people showed up for you."

"'toru, those people aren't here for me. i don't even know most of them."

"it's a party! like, a party party. of course, you won't know all of them."

"i probably don't even know three of them!" you snap, the frustration finally breaking through. "you know i don't like these things," you add, the words softer now, pleading.

"yeah," he scoffs, the sound laced with something you can't quite decipher. "i do."

"well, what's that supposed to mean?"

"nothing. it's just," he groans, running a hand through his hair, "frustrating."

"frustrating? it's frustrating? me wanting to spend my birthday with you, that's frustrating?"

"you are with me!"

"and, like, one hundred other people! what's frustrating is that you're not listening! i told you i wanted to spend today, just the two of us!"

"but that's what we always do," he mutters, the words barely audible.

"what? oh, i'm sorry, is quality time annoying?"

he pinches the bridge of his nose, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "that's not what i meant."

"that's what it sounded like."

"look, it's just… boring doing the same thing all the time. we like different things."

"yeah," you whisper, the words heavy with a sudden, sinking realization. "we do, don't we?" you shake your head, the movement small and defeated, and turn to walk past him.

"wait, where are you going?"

you shrug, unable to meet his eyes, "to go to a different thing."

[33forthew1n]

˖ ࣪ ִ𖤐 unlikely match ˖ ࣪ ִ𖤐

🏎️❣️ oscar piastri x grunge!model reader 🏎️❣️

written ff + smau (fc: gabbriette)

fluff

synopsis: chronically unfashionable oscar meets impeccably dressed, fashion-obsessed yn ln. despite all their differences, can they see eye to eye?

WARNINGS: swearing

a/n: @iamred-iamyellow we talked abt this one months ago and here it is!!

@norrisainz33 tysm for the writing tips on my other acc :)

ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

Fashion wasn't Oscar's strong suit. He often joked that if he could wear the same outfit 7 days a week he would. Hell, the social media team even made content out of Lando guessing what Oscar would pull up to the paddock in since he was so predictable.

So, why, did he get invited to a fashion show?

Regardless of his disinterest in all things fashion, his team had recently bagged a trendy apparel brand as a sponsor. Juicy Couture then realized they could mold Oscar's very basic, boring "sense of style" (if you could even call it that-) into whatever their brand desired. And that leads to today where Oscar starts to plan how he will get out of this burden of a responsibility.

After he texts his PR manager a picture of the fashion show invitation and a simple message saying, "How bad will it look if I don't attend?" He quickly recieves three messages saying "Worse than when Lando crashed into you last season", "Worse than if you started dancing on Zak's grave and signed an Alpine contract on it", and "Your going to that fashion show, Piastri. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

So on December 28th, Oscar came to terms with the fact that in the next few weeks he would be attending a fashion show alongside dozen of people who knew tons more about fashion than he does watching dozens of models while he tried his hardest to look like he gave half a crap.

Yipee.

𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

Yn Ln. Standout Gen Z internet personality turned model...and very recently a Juicy Couture brand partner and collaborater.

You grew up wearing Juicy, looking for lightly worn Juicy tracksuits on ebay, and all around idolizing the 2000s It Girls that donned Juicy like it was modern-day Chanel. To have this partnership in your repertoire was just about the closest thing to a cure for your chronic impostor syndrome.

Your Juicy collaboration would go live the day after the fashion show that you helped put together.

As you ran through your post-show speech for the millionth time, you put your pre-planned outfit on and did your signature makeup.

You arrived at the venue fifteen minutes before lights out. You helped with the finishing touches and took your seat. Just one minute before lights out, a young, handsome man sat down next to you. He was way out of dress code, wearing a button down. The only indication that he had any relation to Juicy Couture was the JC pin on his collar.

As the show went on, you turned to him and asked him, "What do you think of the line?"

Surprised, he said, "I don't really know anything about fashion. Looks...fine?"

You laughed as you spoke, "Just fine? Guess your not a big Juicy fan."

"Oh- I'm here on work obligations. Don't know this brand much at all. You?"

You turned your body back to the stage and said with a small smile, "It's my line."

"Oh", was all Oscar could muster.

After the show, you gave your speech and got a round of applause from the crowd. Safe to say the show was a resounding success.

As you were preparing to leave, the man you'd sat next to during the show gently grabbed your wrist. You turned around with a questioning look in your eyes. He shyly introduced himself, "Oscar Piastri. I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier."

"What did you say earlier?", you asked, obviously playing dumb.

"Nevermind that, then", he said, smiling.

You chuckled and introduced yourself, "Yn Ln."

"Nice meeting you, Yn", he said before turning around and leaving you wondering what the hell had just happened.

Turns out, though, you weren't the only one wondering what was going on between you two.

f1gossipgirl

Liked by f1fangirl32, piastriwdc25, and 3k others

f1gossipgirl Recently single Oscar Piastri was seen at a Juicy Couture fashion show recently. While that in and of itself is already interesting, he was seen laughing and talking up Yn Ln.

Yn Ln, three years Oscar's senior, is a model and formerly a singer in 'Nasty Cherry'. She's well-known for her edgy aesthetic and her blazing modeling career.

Do you think there is romance on the horizon for these two?

view comments ⬇️

nastiestcherry keep my wifes name out ur mouth 😡😡😡

↳ ynno1model our queen has avoided all controversy just for some vroom vroom boy to be her downfall...

oscschampion polite cat pulls???

↳ mclarendoom that quiet rizz speaks volumes

landooscargirl ok but unfashionable man x fashionista woman is a TROPE AND A HALF

oscarsbeigeshorts can yn pls get oscar out of his default fit 😭😭 my eyes are TIREDDD

ynsno1fan not yall treating our girl like shes a fashion column come alive (just looked him up...hes in dire NEED of her help)

↳ cherriedup oscar's lucky he can drive bc those fits are...interesting!

𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

The second time Yn Ln met Oscar Piastri was at the 2026 Miami Grand Prix.

You hadn't told anyone you'd be there. (Your defense was that nobody had really asked.) In all honesty, you didn't know much about F1 or who any of the drivers were. Much less that you had already met one of the drivers of the team that had invited you to the garage.

All you had to do was pretend to be interested, snap a few cool shots, and post that you had attended. Simple enough. Right?

Simple until you see your fashion show acquaintance getting into a Formula 1 car for Qualifying. Simple until you start to feel like he might see you as a stalker of sorts once his eyes land on you.

Yet, once he's back in his garage after a stellar qualifying his eyes meet yours and he immediately smiles. The look in his eyes is teasing as he says, "We meet again."

Without missing a beat you say, "I guess we do."

The first time that Yn Ln realized she was interested in Oscar Piastri was at the 2026 Miami Grand Prix.

.yn

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 2.2 mil others

.yn orange you glad i went to the Miami GP? #JuicyPartner

view comments ⬇️

mclaren gorgeous gorgeous girls stan McLaren 🥰🧡

^❤️ by author

nastycherriezzz thin brows suit her so well omfg

lando damn...no spot on the post for #2?

↳ .yn win me a race and you'll get your own post, norris 😉

↳ norrizgirlies is it too early to say yndo would be such a hot couple?

↳ ynsjuicycouturez the shipping culture in f1 has to be studied by psychiatrists worldwide 😭

oscarpiastri papaya* ↳ piastris81stgirl oscar this is NOT how to get a baddie. ABORT ABORT ABORTTT

↳ .yn does papaya you glad sound as good to you osco?

nofishleclerc she calls him osco??? thats like 4th base in oscar nickname territory

↳ oscarism she played along when he corrected her...his annoying ass finally got a match 😭

𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

The first time Oscar Piastri realized he had it bad for you was a few months later. You two had hung out over his summer break at his place and you had left behind your Juicy hoodie. Every time he saw your hoodie on his couch he couldn't help but smile.

You two weren't dating persay, but it was safe to say you were mutually interested in eachother. Things were easy, comfortable even for you two. Oscar hadn't felt that since...Lily. He felt lucky to just get to feel it again in this lifetime.

oscarpiastri

Liked by lando, .yn, and 832k others

oscarpiastri Recharged 💪🚲

view comments ⬇️

lando who's the lady friend, mate?

↳ oscarpiastri what do you mean?

↳ lando oh! uhm nevermind ig

pastrysargeant lando leaving oscar under the bus in typical lando fashion 💀💀💀

vettbull love oscar's two shadows 😍😍😍😍

.yn nice stuff osc 😅

↳ oscarpiastri you too???

↳ .yn slide 2, baby. slide two.

↳ oscarpiastri 😄

↳ nicolepiastri oh my innocent summer child ❤️ never change

ynhq who else thinks this is yn? her comment rlly makes me think its her in the pic

↳ nastiestcherryz delusion is our fanbase's daily choice of drug huh

𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

You and Oscar had spent the entirety of summer break together. You two began the summer as something more then friends. Honestly, you were waiting for him to ask you out.

Until he'd asked you to dress up and get ready to go to dinner together. You weren't surprised or suspicious of what the occasion could be, so you went to doll yourself up. Black floor length dress, tattoos out, acessory galore, your usual makeup; the whole nine yards.

You sat on his couch mindlessly scrolling until he was ready to go. A low whistle from Oscar let you know he was in the room.

"You like?", you asked.

"Of course I do, gorgeous."

That was confirmed when he swooped down and kissed you with the fervor of a starving man.

He held your hand and led you to his car where he opened the paasenger and ushered you in.

"Where to?", you questioned.

"A new spot. Lando said it was romantic and food was good, so I thought it'd be good t'nite", he said casually.

"Romantic, huh? You're not going soft on me here, Piastri", you joked, trying not to let your nerves shine through. Not unlike Oscar, you were known for your cool exterior. But, that didn't mean you didn't feel things. You'd wondered for a bit now how long this talking stage would last. Even to the point that you began to second guess your relationship.

Yet, that was all put to rest when dessert came out.

Your favorite dessert, tiramisu, was put on the table with a 'May I be your boyfriend?' written on the plate in melted chocolate.

Your eyes quickly watered and you looked into Oscar's eyes. All you saw in his warm eyes were love and care.

"Oh, Osc. I'd love for you to be my boyfriend", you say before going in for a kiss. He deepend the kiss and put his hands on your waist. He held onto you like you were a dream he couldn't believe had come true.

.yn

Liked by oscarpiastri, alexconsani, and 875k others

.yn too cute to gatekeep 🖤🪽 @oscarpiastri

view comments ⬇️

alexconsani pretty girl 😍❤️❤️

↳ juicyyn alex ignoring oscar 😭😭😭

↳ cheerynlow shes everything 😍 and he's....a race car driver?

oscarpiastri Beautiful 🙂

^❤️ by author

iamrebeccad stunning couple! ❤️

↳ .yn thank you, pretty girl 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous girll

^❤️ by author

nicolepiastri Keep him in check, Yn. (And please tell him to call his mother once a year 🙄)

↳ .yn @oscarpiastri 😡😡😡😡 call ur sweet mom

↳ oscarpiastri 😅

𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ ࣪𖤐꩜ִ

.yn

Liked by oscarpiastri, lando, and 991k others

.yn opposites do attract 🖤 + 🧡

tagged: @oscarpiastri

view comments ⬇️

oscarpiastri My girl 🙂

↳ lightsout55 u think an unhappy man says shit like this? i rest my case.

↳ wdcrosberg 100%

webbahvrttel the way she handles all the hate shes getting for being w him makes me want to stan her 😭

lilymhe my model of the year 😍

↳ .yn MY golfer of the century 😍😍

mclaren our paddock princess 🧡

^❤️ by author

juicycouture match made on the runway

↳ wolffwoof quite literally in this case

[alchemistc]

Based on my own post from earlier this evening because I can't stop thinking about it.

vanilla

He doesn't mean to see it. He swears. It's just - Tommy's laptop is right there and Buck's is all the way in the office and if he doesn't look up the lifespan of a Cecropia moth right now he's going to forget about it for a month only to remember in the middle of something vitally more important than watching Planet Earth reruns.

So he twists the thing around from its spot on the side table, boots it back up, types in Tommy's password (pA$$word3, because no one would ever guess that he'd be both so lazy and so creative in his laziness), and watches Firefox boot itself up. It's an older laptop, and Tommy doesn't take great care of it - case and point, he didn't even close out of his tabs, they're all still there, and - well. Shit.

That's the most ridiculous dildo he's ever seen.

Biggest, too.

Jesus.

Buck immediately forgets 100% of what he was doing.

And - and looking up Tommy's history is absolutely a line crossed - there's no reason for him to fucking spiral just because there's a bright purple dragon something on the screen with a base as wide as Buck's thigh. There's no reason why he should -

He clicks the search history and regrets it pretty immediately.

That kills two hours.

He has three more until Tommy's off shift, and now everything is worse. Because.

Okay so.

Like.

They have a pretty healthy sex life, Buck thinks. A year into Tommy and Buck Part Two and they still can't keep their hands off each other. And - so, like, sue him for preferring all the boring stuff he never really got to enjoy long term - the way he knows Tommy goes a little crazy when they're lying on their sides and Buck can just slip right in and press his lips to Tommy's shoulder, tuck his hand under Tommy's where he's got it on his chest, curl their fingers together and just breath into each thrust. Sue him for liking it when they're face to face and Tommy's looking up at him with the pads of his fingers tracing the shell of Buck's ear and he can see the love love love in his eyes, see the way his tongue curls out Buck's name like a prayer. Sue him for his fantasies always drifting to that sunny afternoon in their bed, Buck on his belly and Tommy everywhere around him, over him, inside of him, humming useless nothings into Buck's ear while the sweat from their skin eased the chafe of being pressed together from pelvis to collarbone.

Buck picks up his phone. Watches the familiar name ring out one, two, three - answered on the fourth ring.

"Am I not kinky enough, do you think?" Buck asks, and gets a drawn out moment of silence.

"Nope," Ravi says, and the call drops.

And who else is he gonna call, really? Hen and Chim? (Hard no, they nipped that in the bud back when Buck and Tommy were still in Part One) Maddie? Another line too far, but this one he doesn't feel like crossing today. Eddie? If he'd even pick up?

Buck dials out again.

Ravi picks up on the second ring. "Buck, I love you man, but I get a front row seat to your little love fest at least once a week, four hours a night. I am not equipped or willing to help you with your sex life."

Fair. That's fair. Boundaries are important. Ravi does an excellent job of setting his up and announcing where they are.

"It's just I found something in Tommy's browser that -."

"Absolutely not. I'll block your number for twenty-four hours."

"Right. Cool. Sure thing." Buck breathes.

"Talk to Tommy, if you're freaking out about it." Ravi caves, just a bit. "Every time. I say this every time, and it always works, doesn't it?"

True. On both accounts. When did Ravi become his go to guy?

(When he started picking up the phone whenever Buck called. When he came to Buck with his own shit and didn't apologize for it.)

"Yeah. You're right. I'm gonna talk to him."

"We're still on for Friday, right?"

Buck has to search his memory to figure out what he's referencing. Tommy's taking Ravi to the farmers market over in Venice Beach that Buck refuses to go to on principle because Sherri's Treats aren't even homemade. She gets the baked goods from Costco and decorates them with store brand icing.

"Talk to Tommy," Buck throws back, just to be a brat, and Ravi sighs.

"Touche."

He's still freaking out when the call ends three minutes later, and he doesn't want to have to pull this trigger.

Except. Like. It's still there. Right on Tommy's screen. Watching him.

The phone rings six times.

He's contemplating how ridiculous it is to leave a voicemail when Lucy answers with a groggy "'lo?"

"Am I not kinky enough?" Buck asks, and gets the start of a cackle and then a long, slow pause.

She's gonna hang up on him. She's absolutely going to -

"It's ten-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday, Buckley."

And it sure is.

God, this would never have happened if he hadn't started an update on his phone mid-episode.

"Walk me through it," she continues, all business, all of a sudden, and so Buck tells her, grateful for her hums and uhuh's as she starts her day. Buck talks over the sound of her brushing her teeth, and pouring her coffee, and absolutely doesn't mention that he thinks she should probably have better sleeping patterns while he spirals about Tommy being unsatisfied with the sex they have.

"Gonna break bro code here a little to tell you you have literally nothing to worry about there. Seriously. You're getting gold stars every night, I promise you."

"He's been looking up gimp suits and gags, Lucy!"

She's quiet on the other end, for a moment.

Then she starts laughing.

Again.

Which is a great feeling for Buck. He loves it when Lucy laughs at him.

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. Honey those aren't for you."

Well, now he's kinda mad at the implication that Tommy would -

"Not for Tommy, either," she interrupts, like she knows where that spiral leads. "I forgot what time of year it was. This is new for you."

"What's new for me?"

He can picture the sly grin on her face as she pours something into a bowl - milk maybe. Then cereal.

God, what a psycho.

"Tommy and an army buddy of his have had this escalating prank war going on for like...seven, eight years? I don't know, I wasn't here at the start of it, but I guess it started as the most heterosexual man you've ever met trying to be a good ally to his newly out buddy and sending a set of butt plugs to the only address of Tommy's he had available."

Weird. But not the weirdest thing he's ever heard. "Which was?"

"Oh, Harbor. Yeah. Got it his first week there. So now every year on the anniversary they try to send each other shit at work that should technically be grounds for a sexual harassment claim from their coworkers. Last year Tommy got a fully custom furry suit. Dude probably dropped thirty grand on that thing."

He shouldn't ask. He definitely shouldn't -

"It was a horse. Because of his big fat -."

"I get the picture, thanks."

"So yeah. It's coming up on time for them to push a boundary a little too far and actually have someone complain about it, this time. They won't stop until one of them gets a write up."

It's kinda funny. Kinda sweet, too, in that really weird way military men are with each other. Irrationally, Buck kinda wants to slew foot the guy for being an unintentionally massive flirt.

Straight dudes are the literal worst at allyship, in the weirdest ways possible.

"He's out of state, so don't go getting territorial, Buckley."

Never gonna live that down.

"But seriously though? Back to the original point. Which is you freaking out that Tommy is unsatisfied in your sex life. Number one: talk to him. You guys are the actual worst. Always gotta have a second opinion before you bite the bullet and do the normal thing. Number two: I know too much. And I know you have nothing to worry about. Number three: when he gets home I want you to record his reaction when you turn the laptop screen on him like a spurned wife and send it to me. I'm having a bad day. I could use the entertainment."

"You just woke up."

"And had to talk an old coworker down from a ledge about how satisfying his sex life is with a current coworker. Bareback, no lube, just wake up and go."

"I think this also counts as sexual harassment."

"You started this conversation with 'am I kinky enough' so I'm not super concerned."

By the time he gets off the phone with Lucy he's very firmly on solid ground. And also wondering exactly how much Tommy actually talks about their sex life when he's not around. Tommy keeps things pretty close to the vest. He can't imagine he's going around bragging about that time he started crying when Buck hit his prostate right as he licked into his mouth and slid a hand up his arm to link their fingers together.

Maybe in less detail.

Something about seeing God, maybe. That seems more like his style.

---

Tommy has a routine, when he gets home from work. Keys hung up, jacket on the coat rack, duffle tucked into one of the cubbies of his makeshift mud room. Shoes under the bench, two minutes of head scritches for Goose as she meows her way down the hall to greet the only man she'll ever love.

(Buck's super cool about the fact that Tommy's breakup cat hates him. Totally chill.)

When Goose has had her fill and darted off to go bounce off the walls of the office, Tommy likes to amble in to whatever room Buck is in and drape himself across Buck's back for a moment, mouth pressed to the knob of Buck's spine, hands roaming for a moment before he manages a greeting.

He's making risotto for dinner when he hears the lock click in the front door.

He's ignoring Lucy's text reminding him to get a reaction shot.

He listens to Tommy talk back to Goose like he understands every "mrow" listens for the shuffle of socked feet down the hall, listens to him pad across the kitchen tiles, braces himself for the dead weight of Tommy against his back.

Tommy's got a hand halfway up his shirt when he mumbles into Buck's ear. "So I hear we have something to talk about."

"Ravi snitched."

"Ravi still thinks I'm the sensible one, of the two of us."

Buck snorts. Tips his head back against Tommy's shoulder and basks in the moment while Tommy buries his nose behind Buck's ear.

"Before I say anything else, I know you said I can use your laptop whenever I want but you should know I definitely snooped where I shouldn't and jumped to some wild conclusions. Which Lucy has already cleared up on your behalf, because apparently we're both too chicken shit to have a conversation without using a lifeline."

Tommy stills. "I didn't close out my browser session last time, did I?"

"You did not."

"And Lucy told you about the horse costume Dom sent me last year."

"She sure did. She very specifically called it a furry suit, though."

Tommy blows out an exasperated breath against his neck. "And you were freaking out because...?"

"I thought maybe you were bored with the sex we have."

That gets Tommy going. He pulls free just to get enough leverage to spin Buck to face him, hands on his hips and eyes catching Buck's like if he doesn't see Buck's eyes in the next five seconds he'll do something crazy, and Buck doesn't really know how he got so lucky but he's not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if it's a furry.

"Evan. Please understand when I say this I'm not exaggerating. Our sex is life altering. I want to have slow, quiet, vanilla sex with you until the day I die."

"Which won't be for like another fifty years."

Tommy hums. "I'm gonna be popping Blue Chew when I'm ninety-five and have two bum hips."

"Oh, so I have to do all the work?"

"Why do you think I dated younger?"

Buck has to kiss him about it. And then he has to pull back and duck his head to remind Tommy of the part he blazed right past. "Full disclosure, when I said I snooped I meant I went into your search history."

Tommy's chuckle shakes them both. "I figured. You go back far enough to find the single porn link in amidst all the shitty plastic used actuators for sale on eBay?"

"I'm not a masochist, Tommy." Figures he'd get so frustrated looking for a part to fix the rattling in the Jeeps dash he'd want to rub one out. Usually takes him more than a single video, though. Probably he'd decided he'd feel too guilty to actually get off until he had the part ordered.

Tommy shifts his weight a bit. Wedges a knee in between Buck's legs. His eyes get that sparkle to them that means he finds Buck to be an adorable menace. "How married to the risotto are you?" he asks, hands shifting from Buck's hips to behind his thighs.

"Not - not terribly." It had been a distraction from thinking about Tommy's army buddy, mostly. The recipe still isn't perfected and even though Tommy's complimented it every time, Buck can tell it's missing something and Tommy is just letting him figure it out on his own.

"Maybe we could order in and I can show you how satisfied I am with your service."

"We - that's definitely an option. On the table."

"How about this very sturdy counter, instead?"

They haven't done it somewhere not-the-bed in months.

Their knees aren't gonna thank them for it.

Buck has to attempt to ignore Tommy mouthing at his neck to remember if there are enough ice packs in the freezer for the both of them, right now.

"Yeah - yep, let's do that instead."

Tommy gets both hands under his ass and lifts.

He doesn't quite swoon over the move, anymore, but it still makes him more than a little giddy.

"Wait, did you decide on the dildo over the gimp suit, because if you're escalating at the same rate as your friend I think -."

"Can we talk about Dom after I get my satisfaction scores in, please?"

"Shutting up now."

"I don't believe that for a second," Tommy says, and then shuts him up with his mouth anyway, just for good measure.

[miange1]

Would you write an effeminate male reader? Who wears some clothes or jewelry/costume jewelry considered feminine? I'm asking because the last time I made a request like this on another profile, people said in the comments that I was reinforcing stereotypes(?) as if effeminate men didn't exist

Anyway! I'd like an imagine where Patrick Bateman is intrigued and somewhat bothered by the spontaneous way the reader expresses himself (perhaps internalized homophobia?) and it all culminates in angry sex! 

Totally inspired by that bathroom scene 🤒

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍 — weirdo

tw: male reader(he mainly wears women's jewellery and is described to look like a girl), (internalized) homophobia, micro misogyny, one sides angry sex, desk sex, sigma mindset, reader is written to have a slim and feminine body(it is NOT sugarcoated), reader 'flirting' is all in his head, feminization, breeding kink

note: i'm so bored bro can something happen fr

he hated you.

if you were dehydrated on an island with him and he had two bottles of water, he'd drink both of them right in front of your face.

when you came here, he thought you were some short haired woman in a suit. he already hated you then, thinking you were a lesbian or some shit. but learning you were a man? who willingly uplifted your feminine features? it drove him insane, he hated when you stepped foot in his office.

every time you handed him something, he could feel those rings along your fingers. they weren't bulky or big. they were thin and dainty, with little jewels in the holder. disgusting.

next came the earrings. now he guessed diamond earrings would be okay for a man, but you wore those..dangly ones. either that, or hoop earrings and flowered studs.

then the necklaces, almost made him lose his mind. now, almost. what genuinely made him lose it was the lip gloss. you swore to him it was lip balm, but he wasn't stupid.

"here you are mr. bateman, the finished files and a few customer names written down." your fingers would graze, and he'd barely hide back the look of disgust.

then he saw it, glistening from the sun and onto your lips. a gloss. "excuse me," he stopped you, clearing his throat. "what is that, on your lips." you'd blink a bit, like you were confused before you made an 'oh' sound. "it's just lip balm mr. bateman, my lips have been getting awfully dry." you'd flash him a smile, and be on your way.

as he'd watch you go he had to stop himself from thinking. nice ass..

if he was really that below himself he'd wolf whistle.

you've been working now about a good month or two, and this feeling in his chest and stomach has just been getting worse and worse. the night before, he had been thinking of you, and thought a bit too hard.

he could tell you felt it too. you were leading this on, making him feel this way. you'd wave at him a certain way, lean over his desk, give him looks. he knew it, knew damn well. he got a lot of flirts, but you, you weren't even bothering to hide it.

but he needed you..in his office. now.

"someone said you needed me, mr. bateman?" you came inside, different types of jewelry on this time. he was so angry, so pissed off at you and himself. at you for just being you, and at himself for simply being attracted to you.

his mind was so clouded. he didn't see his hand at your waist, didn't feel himself gripping the skin beneath your suit jacket, didn't feel his lips on yours, didn't remember himself bending you over the desk.

each thrust made the desk urge forward from time to time, the legs scraping at the floor beneath it. was the door locked? he didn't know, was one hundred percent sure he didn't care either.

"mr. bateman!" yeah, but he heard that. heard your constant babbling and moaning, felt your squirming and cries of pleasure and he fucking loved it.

his hips were getting tired, but he couldn't stop, it felt too damn good. he saw the way your ass jiggled with each thrust, his fingers gripping along the slim curve of your waist, and leaving faint agitated marks.

"never fucked another man before," he breathed out, slowing his thrusts but making them harder. one of his hands came to your neck, pushing you lower down. "but i guess you don't count, do you?" his voice was low and patronizing, teasing you to get you upset and not aroused.

but shit did it have your dick twitching, you liked it you wanted even more. "look at this.." his fingers wrapped around your necklace, pulling it to choke you up. "dressed like some woman, body looks like one too. it's ridiculous."

his lips caught yours, tasting the flavour of your so called 'lip balm'.

a gasp caught in his throat, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt himself cum inside. he hadn't even known he was close, he was far too caught up in the pleasure.

"damn.." he pulled out, watching you twitch and writhe as his cum oozed and glopped out of you wantonly. "i could probably get you pregnant like one, have you full of me."

he sighed shakily, his dick softening up. "get out." your head turned over, looking confused. how the hell could you just leave with his cum leaking out of you?

but damn it, whatever. you cleaned yourself up best you could, getting your clothes on messily yet trying to look somewhat presentable.

you twisted the knob to his office,

"come back tomorrow."