#class privilege pisses me off

[honeyed-disgraceful]

Maybe my people pleaser tendencies make me fake because I shouldve told those pretentious daddy money art kids they were right when they said "oh you're more of an artist than I'll ever be"

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.

[bardnuts]

ppl who aren't voting because they think both trump and harris are morally wrong in their policies really fundamentally don't understand the reality of the electoral system huh. They still think they're electing the homecoming queen or something huh.

having the right to vote, and not voting, because you think both candidates are fascists is in fact what the fascists want you to do. i hate to break it to you buster but our democracy is at best a capitalist oligarchy and the power we have over the current system is limited, but voting is one of the most concrete expressions of power we have within that system. it's also one of the first things to go if we become a fascist state for real. People have fought and died over generations for the right to vote. Don't you dare fucking piss it away.

[gwyoi]

The maid discourse is funny when I see other (rich) Asians be like “oh having a maid/nanny is normal everyone does jt here” and I’m just like 🧍🏻‍♀️my family is the maids and nannys.

[derpinette]

whenever a guy approaches me i start wishing i had a giant forehead tattoo that reads "I AM NOT & WILL NEVER EVER BE INTERESTED LEAVE ME ALONE PERMANENTLY" so i could flash it at them

[toytulini]

lightly defending Toshiro while also fully understanding Laois frustrations. as a bitch who let teachers call me the wrong name all through high school cos it was kinda funny

[rottenblur]

Shades of cool|A.Anderson

Summary: You haven’t seen Abby in three days, completely ghosted you confront her and well it seems she won this time.

Warnings: Abby being a stoner, weed consumption(not reader), oral sex, hickeys, dirty talk, smut, fingering, abby being asshole sort of, face riding, praise (good girl), lowkey degradation.

College football! Abby x fem reader 1.8k

Part two to national anthem

It had been three days, no show to class nor practice. You had one option, you really didn’t wanna do it.

If you didn’t figure out what was going on with her you would go crazy, starting to regret not asking for her number before shoving your tongue down her throat and drinking in her wound.

You slide your feet into crocs, looking in the mirror, you look decent enough. You open your door making your way down the hallway to make a pitstop at your best friend's dorm.

You knock on the door, you hear rustling then a bang and the door knob turning. She opens the door rubbing her eyes.

“What’s up?” She asks, looking around.

“Abby been in?” You hold your elbow with your other arm knowing it’s an out of the blue question. You’ve never cared about her before now so why would you care now?

She furrows her brows in confusion. “Uhhh? I wouldn't know.” She points to the dark room, those blackout curtains were her life she could sleep through anything. Unfortunately.

She tilts her head waiting for an explanation. “Oh, I found one of her rings after the game, need to return it.” she laughs, you know she would have just pocketed that shit, except the ring didn’t exist. You needed to see her.

You wave her goodbye then walk next door to Abby’s knocking then waiting. The light peaks under the door, you knock again. “It’s me.” You say, you don’t know why, it’s not like she knows your voice by heart. She makes this clear when she asks who from behind the door, you hear her get up then come to the door.

She opens the door, the air moving her loose hair, her cheeks flushed and damp. It looked like she just worked out. “Is this a bad time?” You ask her, she leans on the doorway looking at you. “Depends what you’re here for.” Looking you up and down, tucking her now scabbed lip into her mouth.

You look into her eyes, and oh she really did get a black eye, you’d think you would notice it quicker but no. It was purple and black, it weirdly suited her. You point to it. “That hurt?” She furrows her brows at you trying to decipher what you meant then she figures it out. “Nah, ‘m good.” You roll your eyes at her, she sits at her desk and man spreads her legs on the seat.

“That’s what you said last time, still let me patch you up though.” You say walking in to sit on her bed. Her room was what you expected, sports posters, a playboy magazine collection not so secretly stashed in a drawer, looks like the classics too. She had her shoes all lined up in a corner, it was clean and way tidier than you thought it would be.

She looks at you, scuffing at your comment. “Whatcha looking at?” She asks, pulling your attention to her. “I came here for a reason by the way.” She looks at you opening up a drawer, pulling out a baggie, grinder and papers.

“Shoot.” She plucks a bud from the baggie putting it into the metal grinder, twisting it as she turns to face you. “Where have you been?” You ask, tucking your legs beneath you. She sighs, taking the top of the grinder off and sprinkling crumbs into the folded rolling paper. “Around.” She says looking up at you. She’s starting to piss you off.

Maybe she was exactly who you thought she was, privileged, aggressive and rude.

You pinch your nose bridge between your fingers, rubbing it delicately. “You haven’t been to class, or practice, it's not like I have your number.”

She rolls the joint, licking the adhesive to seal it off, she opens her window. “Didn’t know you cared.” She huffed out lighting the joint, taking a drag and looking at you. You needed that fucking joint more than her right now.

You stand up, in front of her as she leans against the window seal puffing on some weed that stank up the whole room, making you want to take a breath of fresh air.

“Of course i fucking care Abby.” You look at her lungs full of smoke.

“I get it.” She exhales, all over your face.

“Do you?” You look at her now low eyes, it’s hard to feel in power when she towers over you. “Do you though? Seems like you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.” You continue, she bites her lip and walks closer to you. Oh god.

“I’m sorry darlin’ wasn’t ignoring you just had to figure some things out. Missed ya.” It was the weed talking and you knew it. You roll your eyes, she cages you in with her body against the wall, you missed her hands, her touch, her lips so you didn’t stop her.

“Missed you Abby.” You say as she kisses your neck, you know it’s wrong but what can you do?

You’ve seen her vulnerable, you’ve seen her enraged it’s impossible to know who the real Abby is. Is Abby kissing your neck while intoxicated the real Abby, or is it the one who needs someone to bandage her up the real one?

It’s impossible to break through her barriers, her strong appearance, was she strong inside? Was this a cover to hide her true feelings? Did she miss her ex? Were you a rebound?

Your thoughts are clouded by her lifting up your top, kneeling in front of you and kissing your hip bones. From one side to the other, leaving splotches of red behind. Reaching up to grab your chest as she looks up at you. Those fucking eyes. “Abby.” She keeps kissing, moving up your stomach to your chest marking purple bruises. “Yeah?” She responds, you know you should tell her to stop, she ignored you now she wants you.

But you don’t, unfortunately you want her too. “Keep going, please.” You huff out as she moves down again, grabbing at your waist band and pulling it down to your ankles. You step out of it, she kisses up your legs to your inner thighs. Marking them graciously, she kisses on your clothed cunt sending shivers down your spine.

“God you’re wet, so fucking easy.” She rubs from your slit to your clit, you wetting them through your panties. You watch as she rubs your clit slowly and brutally, tucking her hair behind her ear, those freckles make her look like an angel. She pulls her hand away, kissing your thigh one more time before stripping off your panties and throwing them aside. “I told you I’d be back darling.” She spreads your legs and sticks her head between them.

She teases your clit, licking it with a distance and only with the tip of her tongue. You grip onto her hair, keeping her right where you want her. Where you need her. She lets you put her mouth straight on you. She licks from your clit down to your slit up and down, up and down slowly. She was making you work for what you wanted.

You started riding her face, mouth wide open, her tongue hitting all the right spots, she took your ass into her hands engulfing the entirety, your hips uncontrollably grinding on her face.Your thighs clench around her head, as you come close to cumming all over her face. She moves her hands from tightly gripping your ass to your hips pushing them flat against the wall, away from her face.

“Not yet, be good for me yeah?” She says as she looks up at you, your juices dripping down her chin with a shit eating grin on her face, her hair messed up from you gripping it so hard. She puts one of your legs on her shoulder, pulling your hips back to her and diving back in. She sucks your clit into her mouth, drawing quick circles on it. She holds your thigh, mirroring her tongue with her thumb.

She reaches up rubbing her fingertips at your entrance, then prodding them into you, her thick long fingers don’t compare to your own, they split you apart as she pumps them into you curving them at just the right spot. You were holding your moans in before, as well your best friend was next door and she knew you were here. Fucking risky.

But you couldn’t any longer, your quiet moans from before were now near screams god you wanted to scream her name for the whole world to hear. She pumps them in and out, her tongue working magic on your clit, your thoughts fading away you couldn’t think of any logic, not that you could before. If you could, you wouldn’t have Abby’s fingers deep inside you right now.

You look down at her, she looks back up removing her fingers, you lock your fingers back into her blonde locks. She teases your hole again but with three fingers, as if you could handle that. “Abby, I can’t, won’t fit.” She looks at you as if you insulted her, pulling away from your clit slightly just to mumble. “I’ll make it fit darling.” And she does. She shoves her fingers back into you, introducing a fullness you didn’t know could exist.

Her mouth speeds up and so does her fingers, the consistent hitting of such a special spot inside you pulled you over the edge. You let out your last breathy moan of her name as your walls pulse on her. She pulls her mouth away, watching as her fingers struggle to move any longer inside. She pulls them out, a string of slick connecting you to her.

“God damn, never hear anyone say my name like that.” She removes your leg from her shoulder and stands up, shoving her fingers into your mouth as you suck on them, Abby watching intensely.

“Good girl, love to see you suck on something else sometime.” She kisses your cheek, pulling down your top and sitting you into the bed. “You were really good darling.” She reaches behind her, grabbing your pants, pulling them back onto your body, you lift your hips to assist her.

You’re never going to see those panties ever again and you know it.

You reach into your pants pocket, pulling out your phone to check the time. You’ve only been here for fifteen minutes, god damn. You could go for round two if it wasn’t for all the mind games she plays.

“Gimme your number.” She says holding out her phone. You nod and take it into your hands, typing in your number and saving it as a contact.

“Thanks.” You say back.

“For what? You should have come earlier, would have had more time to play with you but I have to study.” She says, playing an innocent look at you.

You stand up, walking towards the door she follows. She gives you a hug and a kiss then opens the door. “I'll text you, promise.”

You can’t fix her, she’s unfixable.

You have to tell yourself that.

A/n! I know this isnt a popular fic but ive been listening to shades of cool SOOOO MUCH i had to and she was the perfect fit. Asshole abby has my heart

Comment to be added to tag list :)

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 9 || The Professor and His Student

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——WITHIN THRITY MINUTES, you're back in Gojo's company. Shoko wasn't home when you got to your apartment so there was no one for you to rant to and you were left still pissed off because of Gojo.

Actually, even if Shoko was home, it's not like she knows anything about the list. And you're not sure if you even want her to know anything about the list. It'd be too embarrassing to explain to her how you got yourself in this position so, you really have no plans on doing so.

The most your roommate knows is that last night you went out on a date. She doesn't know that it's Geto you went on a date with, or that you've slept with both of her friends and you'd like to keep it that way for the time being. There's way too much to explain for you to talk to her.

So ultimately, that leaves you alone in your situation. You have no one to talk to about this, no one to cry to about how Gojo is nothing more than a manipulative dickhead, and no one to release the buildup of emotions he's just given you.

The worst part of it all is that you were starting to put the blackmailing aside. You were starting to even like the idea of playing this little game with Gojo where you have to sleep with some hot guys and get paid for it. But when Gojo reminds you that you don't have the luxury of being comfortable in your situation, you just go right back to disliking him.

When the man showed up at your door to take you with him to his class, you barely exchanged any words. Gojo carefully explained the things his professor was attracted to, saying how he seemed like the kinda guy to be into a woman who looks like she needs help but is actually smart.

You asked Gojo what kinda clothes you should wear, resulting in you wearing a short skirt with stockings that hugged your thighs nicely. You felt a little uncomfortable in it, especially with Gojo's eyes all over you as if he you and him didn't just argue with one another minutes ago.

"Stop staring, you don't have that privilege anymore." You spat out to him as you adjusted the buttons on the shirt you wore.

Gojo's at your room door, leaning against the frame like always. "Come stop me from staring." He blurts out.

He's so used to flirting with you that he couldn't even help himself.

You send him a glare, "You're making things worse, y'know."

He knows. But he doesn't know how to fix it and still get what he wants at the same time. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't." You say simply.

Gojo falls quiet, watching as you move away from the mirror and over to your dresser to spray perfume on yourself. The scent makes its way into his nose and he has to bite back the compliment he nearly gives you.

After that, you put some shoes on and walked over to Gojo, looking up at the man with distaste in your eyes. For a minute, he simply peers down at you.

"...Can you please move?" You sigh tiredly.

Gojo doesn't budge. "Can you hear me out for a minute?"

You can't even believe the audacity of this man. "No."

"Please?"

"What is there to hear out? If I don't do this, you'll expose me. What else is there for you to say?" You ask.

He doesn't even know the answer to that question himself. "It's not what you think it is," Gojo says in the softest voice he can manage.

"Yeah?" You scoff, moving to fold your arms at him. "So what is it then, Gojo?"

"I just..." He trails off for a long moment.

You watch as he glances back and forth between your eyes, clearly having no words for you. You can see the clear regret in his eyes but you ignore it completely-- refusing to let yourself be manipulated by any of his looks.

Slowly, you lean closer to him. "You just what? Spit it out." You urge.

He swallows but remains silent, which leads you to roll your eyes at him. You then shake your head and move him to the side, stepping past him and exiting your bedroom.

"That's what the hell I thought. Now let's go." You say with a sigh.

Gojo's behind you cursing at himself for being unable to tell you the truth.

He's so scared that you'll never help him without the blackmail and, well, he has every right to be because you're pretty sure that if it weren't for those videos he has over your head, you wouldn't be doing any of this.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The walk to his class isn't long once the two of you get onto campus. It was on the third floor, in a section of the school you don't typically go down. You're not sure if you imagine it but you swear that every person you pass in the halls is insanely attractive.

The men, the women, literally all of them. For a moment you wonder if you're in the fashion department of your school based on the looks of those around you. It makes you wonder what Gojo's major is for a second, realizing you never actually asked him.

Your lips part to do so but... what's the point? You no longer care about getting to know the man anymore. Knowing his major won't help you complete this list any faster so, you end up closing your mouth and keeping quiet as you follow him.

When you get to the class, you notice that most of the room is full and Gojo is within the last group of people to arrive.

You're behind the white-haired man so, his professor lays eyes on him before you. You try to appear as inconspicuous as possible and thanks to the department of attractive and well-put-together people surrounding you, you don't stand out much.

Gojo makes a left to head up the stairs toward, what you assume to be, his seat, and you make sudden and direct eye contact with a tall, overly muscular man you swear isn't the professor.

Oh, there's no way in hell that this dark-haired man with a scar on the right corner of his lips is teaching this class. You refuse to believe that the man standing not too far away from you in a button up shirt that looks like it's seconds away from popping off him, is the damn professor.

Surely, you'd expected the blond man you saw in those pictures Gojo showed you to be a teacher. Definitely not this guy.

Those brown, maybe green, eyes of his skim over your entire body in one quick motion, an eyebrow raising the very second he realizes he's never seen you in his class before. In your hands are a binder and a book that you keep pressed against your chest, slightly fidgeting where you stand with the male's eyes all over you.

You wonder if you should say anything but when the large man looks back down at the papers scattered on his desk in front of him, you get the idea that he doesn't care too much about you being there.

With a sigh, you turn and follow after Gojo, quickly arriving at his seat and sitting beside him. Luckily for you, he's in the very back of the room so you get to sit in the corner with him.

You hadn't planned on learning anything today but, here you are, having no idea what you're getting yourself into.

"Gojo," You whisper and he turns to you. "What subject even is this...?"

"Uh, economics." He hums.

You freeze. "You're joking right?"

"I'm not."

"How the hell am I supposed to explain why I'm here?!" You whisper shout at him.

He shrugs casually, "I dunno."

You scowl. "Of course you don't."

Gojo grimaces at himself for his words, "Okay, well maybe-"

"Nope, save it. I'll figure it out myself." You cut off as you organize the few items you brought with you.

He sighs heavily beside you but you ignore the sound.

The class is steady to begin and your heart increases tenfold in nervousness when the deep baritone voice of the professor hits your ears. It was nothing but a lazy 'afternoon everyone' to greet his students as he went to shut the door but for some reason, it made your nerves spike.

As the professor, whose name you end up figuring out is Mr. Fushiguro, began his lecture, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The room was filled with students who so obviously belonged there. You, a psychology major, genuinely have no excuse to be here right now.

Okay, sure, you may have taken an economics class in high school but, that was high school and it was a required course for you at the time. Now, it'll be a bit difficult to explain why you're there.

Luckily for you, you've been in a similar position before. Except, the last time you were in a situation like this, there were real reasons behind it. You had slipped into one of Shoko's classes and attended that class with her for about three weeks straight-- having needed to use the interactions of her class for a report you were working on.

So in this case, you hope you'll be able to do the same thing and pull this off.

With that in mind, you made sure to actually pay attention to the lecture to ensure that you had something to talk about if or when Mr. Fushiguro questions you.

As you did that, Gojo sat beside you unable to pay attention to anything aside from the woman attentively taking notes beside him. He couldn't help but stare at you with his cheek resting against his knuckles, watching the way you were taking real notes on the class.

He gazed at the side of your face, getting lost in his mind as he tried to think of ways to fix things. He wondered if the two of you could just brush over the argument. It's not like he didn't blackmail you before and you guys didn't move on from that.

Or maybe it was just him who'd moved on. Perhaps you're still worried about the situation you were in. It'd only been a few days since it started, not even a full week yet.

Gojo's so busy thinking that he hasn't realized he's still staring at you. When he does realize it though, he doesn't stop. Instead, the male goes on to admire you. This is probably one of the only times he'll get to be near you going forward.

I hate you, the words still echo in his mind. He's so pissed at himself for it. He should've never even done this. Maybe he could've found someone else to go and seduce these people for him, not you-- Gojo likes you.

Wait, he... likes you? Gojo blinks at his own thoughts, wondering if that's what's wrong with him. Maybe that's why he felt these urges to kiss you or be around you or even make you smile and laugh...

He finds himself replaying the events of that morning over and over. It was perfect. To wake up to you kissing him so softly, to have you in his arms all night, and to even bond a little with you without it being about the list.

It was-

"Gojo," You hummed, breaking him out of his mind entirely. Your gaze was down on the paper in front of you as you spoke, "Do you like your eyes?"

His brows pinch together and you hear him scoff a little bit, "Yeah...?"

"Wanna keep 'em?" You question sarcastically.

He blinks, "Uh, yes...?"

You turn your head to him and your voice is low and an agitated whisper, "Then stop fucking staring at me."

Gojo doesn't even look away yet. His eyes remain on yours and the eye contact is intense for a second. He hates to think about it but, you're rather hot when you're mad, as toxic as it is to think about...

The way you're eyes are all narrow and the tenseness of your face is oddly attractive to the man. Under different circumstances, Gojo would've teased you about it like he normally does but, right now, you look like you might stab his eyes out with the pencil in your hands.

Instead of taking the warning you have him seriously, Gojo only grins at you, "Make me." He whispers back, voice teasing.

You glare for a moment, and then you start shaking your head in utter disbelief. "You're an ass."

"An ass?" Gojo chuckles quietly, "What happened to asshole?"

"I might change it to a piece of shit." You say with a shrug as you turn your head away and multi-focus on both him and the lecture.

Gojo tilts his head, "Doesn't that take too long to say?"

"Dickhead." You say simply.

He frowns, "Ehh, doesn't have a nice ring to it."

With a sigh, you glance at him through the corner of your eye, "I'm not gonna play this little game with you."

"Nono, keep going," Gojo pleads, now smiling at you as if he isn't aware that he's only annoying you even more. "I like hearing all the mean names you can come up with."

You roll your eyes at him, "I hope you fail this class."

"Woahh, I need this class to graduate, sweets." He argues, pouting a little bit at your sudden words.

"Enough with the pet names," You sigh. "Hearing anything affectionate coming from you is revolting."

"You liked it this morning."

"That was before you pissed me off."

Gojo smirks, "I do that quite often though, don't I?"

"Yeah, you do."

He hums and inches a little closer to you, "And yet you still hung around me."

"I was forced to." You reply, trying to take notes on the subject ahead at the same time.

"Were you forced to kiss me this morning too?" Gojo says.

That question made you scoff. He definitely pushed all the right buttons with that one, "Were you forced to be born as an insufferable asshole who likes manipulating women into clearing your debt for you?" You question, anger embedded into your tone.

He pauses. The worst part of what you said was that you weren't even looking at him. You said that without batting an eyelash. And it came out your mouth faster than he expected.

Gojo opens his mouth slowly, almost carefully, "I-"

Before he gets the chance to say anything, the abrupt sound of his professor speaking louder is heard. "Gojo Satoru," The professor calls out with an annoyed sigh.

You think you see the hairs on the back of Gojo's neck stand up and you watch as he grits his teeth and turns his head to face his teacher.

"Plan on talkin' through my whole class?" Mr. Fushiguro questions.

Gojo looks immediately annoyed as he shakes his head, the sight of him shut up so quickly almost satisfying to you.

That earns a nod from his professor, "That's what I thought." He hummed, his eyes snapping over to you right afterward.

You swear you were shrinking under the man's gaze, even though he was on the other side of the damn room. It was so intimidating that you just knew he was about to say something to you.

But, he doesn't. It was nothing more than a quick glance, maybe even a warning glance.

You sigh and then peek over to Gojo beside you, noticing how he looks upset now. A smile graces your face as you see the man in distress, it was quite the satisfying sight to behold-- especially given the hell he's putting you through.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The lecture was a full three hours long, something you surprisingly were able to stay awake for and focus on the entire time.

You have a feeling it was the way Mr. Fushiguro taught the class or maybe it was the way he looks. With a face and body like that, you think you could stay awake and stare for hours unprovoked. That has to be the only plus side to the list you're going through-- the fact that everyone is stupidly hot.

As the class finished, you grabbed all the notes you'd taken and wondered if you should just approach the professor yourself. Gojo waited for you to get your stuff together and then you followed behind him to leave the class.

The halls seemed to be pretty busy with how long it took for students to actually leave the classroom and you ended up waiting for people to walk out. This placed you in the back of the group of people, being one of the last to actually exit.

"You," A deep voice suddenly called from behind.

Your head turns back and you meet the professor's stern eyes. He raises two fingers and beckons you to come to him. With a swallow, you nudged Gojo on the back of his arm, silently letting him know that you were staying behind before you turned and made your way over to the teacher.

As you approached the desk, the man stool on the other side of it, eyes daunting and presence overwhelming. He was far too attractive to be a professor.

"Sir," You greeted calmly, "You called me...?"

His eyes scan all of you in front of his desk. Not in a way that seemed like he was checking you out but, more in the sense that he was confirming he's never seen you before.

He nodded toward a nearby seat, "Sit."

You don't know why your spine goes rigid at his sudden command. Perhaps it was the authority in his voice? Or the deep undeniably attractive tone of it?

Slowly, you move to sit down in the seat he's told you to. After that, you quietly watch as he awaits all the students to leave. Once the classroom is clear, the professor takes a seat at his desk and all of his tension-filled focus goes to you.

You were nervous. Ridiculously so.

And it wasn't even because of the situation itself but because of the sexy-ass man staring at you. Okay, maybe this list isn't that bad... especially if you get to interact with people you normally wouldn't.

The man leans forward, moving to rest his arms on the desk in front of him and clasping his hands together. "Well?" He asks, clearly expecting you to just explain yourself.

You instantly look down to your lap, "Uh..."

When you take too long, in his eyes, to answer, you hear the man sigh heavily. "You gonna tell me why you're in my class?" He questions.

You look up at him and take a deep breath, "Yeah, sorry. I'm a uh, psychology major and I have this project coming up soon where I have to analyze large groups of people, preferably in different classrooms, to see how different goals and aspirations differ the actions of people."

That was by far the best and cleanest lie you think you've ever given in your entire life. It's usually not hard to explain just a little bit of your major to people, the explanation alone always brings confusion.

The man blinks slowly, kinda like he didn't understand what the hell you just said. "Okay." He sighs, "Two things. One, what does that have to do with you being here without permission, and two, can you explain that in simpler terms?"

A light smile grows on your face, "Well, I meant to come here before the class started and ask if I could sit through a couple of your lectures to study everyone but uh, I forgot... A-And, in simpler terms, I'm just here to see how certain subjects affect certain people."

Mr. Fushiguro nods his head, pausing to think about what you just told him. He has no reason not to believe you, he's actually had plenty of students do this in the past.

"Psych major, huh?" He asks.

"Yes sir."

"That's uh," He clicks his tongue, "Surprising."

"How so?" You scoff, quick to take a bit of offense.

The man shrugs, "I don't usually get Psych majors in my class, you're the first."

"Oh." You chuckle, "Well, I was also curious about how the economy specifically would alter people's way of thinking."

"Yeah?" You think you see him grinning at you. He appears to be intrigued, "Why?"

"I mean, when you're talking about the economy, you're talking about money and, well," You shrug, "Who doesn't like money? I just wanted to see if that made any difference in the way people think and act in terms of education."

"Right," He nods again, "And what class is this for?"

Shit. "Uhm, sociology." You manage to say.

The male opens his mouth to comment something but he's cut off by a light knock on his open classroom door, prompting both of you to turn your head. Your eyes go wide at the man you see standing there.

Blond, tall, neutral facial expression, and, above all, mouth-wateringly sexy. Good god, where the hell does Gojo find these men? The male at the door is someone you recognize from the pictures.

"Mr. Fushiguro," The blond calls, voice stoic.

"Nanami." The professor in front of you replies, "How can I help ya?"

The man at the door takes a few steps into the classroom, "I had a few questions on the assignment from last week."

Your mind is all over the place at this point. Is this who Gojo was talking about when he said there are two people on the list in the class?

"I might have a few answers," Mr. Fushiguro, whose first name you notice is Toji based on the nearby nameplate sitting on his desk, responds playfully.

You then watch as he stands and walks over to Nanami, your heart spiraling out of control. Spotting two people from the list in one day? It's nerve-wracking.

The two stand not too far away from you and quietly go over something. You pick up on tidbits of their conversation but it's all about an assignment you know nothing about so, there's not much you can do with the information you hear.

Nanami's glance strays over to you for only a second, long enough for you two to make eye contact, and long enough for him to look away. It was a glance of simply acknowledging the fact that you're there-- not even the kinda glance where he's checking you out.

The look he gave you and the one you initially received from Toji are similar, it's like neither of them was even interested in you-

Holy shit.

You think you know why too. The way they look at you is nothing compared to Geto's first glances at you, even though the situation and setting are much different.

That's when you realize...

That asshole Gojo never told you what level of difficulty these men are considered to be.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[gladiatorcunt]

- GUESS | XIII.

you wanna guess the color of my underwear, you wanna know what i got going on down there

cw: kinktober prompt (ass worship), yoga trainer!oikawa, fem reader, rimming, body hair, scent & piss mentions, light implied yandere, public sex (?), hinted possibly one sided iwazumi x reader, light dub con, mentions of fisting, implied that oikawa’s been into reader from the start, semi obsessive behavior, porno plot, self degradation, food play mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Mmh, just like that cutie, lift those hips up for me.”

You’ve been coming to the new yoga class that just opened up at the gym for a while now, a couple months a few times a week, you’re a bit of a homebody otherwise and yoga is the one physical exercise you don’t mind doing often. You like being flexible, able to bend your body in shapes and ways another person would have a harder time doing. And you’re not having sex, so any physically strenuous activity that leaves you sore until you’re put back together by your healing body does wonders for you.

Plus you like the way the leggings hug your well endowed assets, so do a lot of the men in the gym. You wear the form fitting workout clothes for yourself first and foremost, but you can’t lie that a little attention from afar (sometimes too close up by one of the trainer’s usually steps in to help you) boosts your ego. If there’s one thing in life you have to be proud of, at least you have your ass. Squishy and round, jiggles when you walk and never disappoints you unlike everything else in your life.

The same ass that’s raised high in the air in front of your yoga trainer, a more than handsome man in his late 20’s with wavy milk chocolate colored brown hair and a smug twinkle in his eye that’s connected to his smarmy always on his face (even when he seems pissed) grin. You’ll never forget the confidence in his posture, standing tall at the front of the class and introducing himself. Tooru Oikawa, just moved here from japan, his best friend owns the place so it wasn’t too much trouble to get hired, and SO excited to start this journey with you all!

You’ve stayed at the back since then, anxiety swirling in your belly when he’d make the rounds to correct your forms and check on you all. But he’d only pass by with a brisk touch to your back and a ‘good job’, maybe a semi solid pat if you were one of only ones who had a good form, and not to brag, but that’s been the case on more than one occasion.

Now you’re undergoing a little one on one session, he asked you to hang back, noticing you’ve been holding yourself back. You’ve never made much of an effort to talk to him and despite the fact that you’ve never needed this kind of focused attention, he’s been feeling a bit bad that you keep to yourself so much. He doesn’t bite you know, not unless you want him too.

It’s an odd flirtation, something you’ve noticed he never does with anyone else in the class. Oikawa’s attractive enough that you’d balk at him abusing his privilege to drown himself in quickies in the gym’s showers, as off putting as it’d be. But he’s very professional, chuckling at one of the older women making a pass at him and politely turning her down.

So you got in your own head and knew that since there was always room for improvement, surely there must be something he could help you with. So here you are, going through basic poses first before he pushes you into the more advanced ones. You told him that other than increasing your flexibility, you weren’t really sure what other areas would be best for you to get better at.

Oikawa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, no worries, he’ll walk you through a little assesment mini program. Since you mentioned not having done yoga seriously until now, there could easily be something you didn’t even realize needed to be attended to!

“Remember, we want to really feel that stretch, arch your back and lower your head. Breathe in, breathe out.” He instructs, settling a wide palm on your lower back. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’s so close, if you backed up to regain your footing your ass would press up against his bulge. Not that you can tell if he has one right now, but you’re kind of hoping he does. It’s just another part of the fantasy, that’s all this is, you tell yourself. You’re going to soak up the attention, make more small talk as you gather your things and leave, and sit at home suffocating your vibrator until your legs turn into jelly.

“Am I doing this right? My legs feel stiff.” You shift your weight from side to side, your hips gently sway, you could be too in your own head but having Oikawa’s pretty eyes scrutinizing every detail of your body is fucking with your confidence.

He hums, a trail of heat sizzles down your back as he slides his palm down to cup your hip. “If something seems off then it probably is, just widen your stance and put your feet further apart, loosen up your hips. You’re definitely a little tense, cutie.”

Okay so he’s definitely flirting with you, but you don’t startle and shoot back up so you can get out of here. Instead you internally cringe at the squeaks your yoga mat produces, adjusting your ankles to line up more with your shoulders. You keep breathing, in and out, letting your energy flow through your limbs as you maneuver them into the different positions.

Oikawa Tooru burns like a furnace in hell, you realize. Despite having a firm grip on your hip, he’s standing a respectable distance away from you as you bend over. You can still feel the heat radiating from him, his sleeveless muscle tank and his black shorts.

“I think that’s better. Sorry, it's hard for me to relax, I guess.”

“No worries, I totally get it, you do seem like the type to be wound up but that just means we get to unspool your thread and unravel you so we can get to the start and rebuild.” His free hand curls around your other hip, his thumbs absentmindedly stroke the crease where they disappear into your thigh.

This private coaching session is steadily becoming what you’re afraid of, and so horny for you could shoot off into the sky like a soda bottle chocked full of mentos. You didn’t notice when Oikawa got even closer, his blunt hip bones cradling your ass in between them. Could he just be weirdly, and grossly in most people’s eyes, friendly? Does he even see what he’s doing as being the tentative first step into fucking you in a public gym yoga studio?

“Um, yeah, thank you by the way. I’ve felt so much better since I’ve started taking your class, you’re a lifesaver even if I still have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, we all do, including me, believe it or not. I remember you from back then you know, so shy and fidgety, like a baby bunny.”

“You’ve really filled out too. Excuse me for saying this but I know this ass wasn’t always like this, so pretty and plump.” Toned hands drag over the swell of your cheeks, not digging in and kneading the globes, only ghosting their touch along the clothed flesh.

You subconsciously wiggle your hips, Oikawa’s breath hitches behind you, and that is perhaps the most monumental thing you could have achieved today. Flustering the man who gets hit on a billion times per day and gives it back tenfold, a competition of who can keep their cool, that’s how he operates in most things you guess. Like he’s always competing against somebody even if they don’t know, and he just has to win or it’ll be an ugly spot on his record. A record only he keeps and only he sees, but you sense that that’s more important to him than anything else.

“Oh, thank you. I just do a lot of squats every morning and every night after class, nothing crazy. Yoga’s the only other kind of workout I do consistently, anyway.” You're still in what feels like a perverted version of downward dog, briefly taking stock of the strain in your legs now trying to hold the position.

Oikawa makes a surprised sound, “Really? You have such a great body, I’m shocked you’re not a gym rat like me and all my buddies. Some people are just lucky, huh cutie?”

He says it, humble and charming, like he doesn’t also consider himself one of those people. Your cheeks heat up at the idea of a musclehead like Oikawa complimenting your curves, your chubby gathering of fat even in places some people would find ugly, your wideset bones and plush tummy.

A pin drops, “Alright. I think you’ve been in that position long enough, why don’t you go ahead and lower your knees into the table top pose, bring your head up slowly and remember to breathe. In, out, good girl.”

His hands guide your hips down, he steps back to let you settle your knees on the mat. You hear the foam sink behind you, he’s sort of kneeling too, halfway sitting on his legs, the backs of his feet facing the ceiling. Oikawa looms over you like this too, he has a presence you can be lost in before you actually see him, which you definitely can in the wall to wall mirror in front of you. The yoga class was a dance studio before Iwa decided it didn’t fit with his vision, you remember Oikawa telling you all on his first day.

He must feel your wide eyed stare, because he looks up too and suddenly you’re locked in a charged moment.

Neither of you says anything as his feather light touches on your ass become firmer, he’s outright groping you and pulling you back to be flush against his crotch.

He grinds his half hard bulge against you, keeping eye contact with you through the mirror.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice me, cutie. Been wanting to do this for so long, you have no fucking idea.” He huffs, adjusting his clothed cock to rest between your cheeks. “You’re so hot, every time I saw you bend over I wanted to cancel class and take you right then and there.”

You gasp and rock back into him, shaking your hips and digging your knees into the mat. You have half a mind to look around the room for the camera and porn filming crew but reality is clearly stranger than fiction, your hot yoga trainer’s stiff cock is sandwiched in your ass crack.

He takes his sweet time dragging his length up and down, the tip catches in the divot of your leggings where your hole is, you’re a little disappointed that he’s not humping you like a rutting dog but you suspect that that’s part of the fun. Oikawa knows you want him so bad that he’ll restrain his urge to fuck you through the floor all the way to the center of the Earth just so you can endure some teasing. You’re so shy and withdrawn but those girls are usually the best kinds of freaks, all he’s doing is bringing it out of you, call it another one of his famous coaching methods.

The door’s locked, so if Iwazumi catches on to what’s happening and tries to rain on your parade, he’ll have to listen to a symphony of moans and slick sounds of bare sweaty flesh slapping against bare sweaty flesh. Oikawa laughs and tells you that Iwa’s been eyeing you too, when you check in at the front desk, when you’re getting water, when you head into the changing rooms to get ready for his class, it’d be helplessly cute if you weren’t already taken. Or, you’re gonna be, at the very least.

“When we’re done, I'll clean you up with my tongue and we can go on a little date. I can take you out properly this weekend but I'd hate for you to think that I was just trying to hit and quit it. I’m not the type to pump and dump, not anymore.” He speaks into the divide of your ass cheeks, having sunk to floor fully and doing some bending over of his own to be at eye level with your lower half.

You bite your lip when he starts nipping at you through your leggings, he smiles into the fabric and bites down harder, soothing the sting with slow licks. Oikawa kisses all over the swell of your behind, sniffing the scent of your perspiration and your body oil in between, medicinal vanilla and natural musk. You can see him hump the mint green yoga mat as he reaches up to hurriedly tug your leggings down enough to expose your ass. Your black thong frames it perfectly, but Oikawa pulls them off too and stuffs them under the waistband of his shorts.

He groans at the sight of your bare skin as it bounces free to say hello, taking a handful of each cheek and squeezing the life out of them, the thick flesh bulges between his fingers so he swiftly smacks each one, for tempting him and making his cock so hard it could explode into a blood filled mess of cum and sticky pubes in his pants. You cry out, rocking forward only to be immediately pulled back so he can keep kissing your ass.

He dotes on it like he would your face or mouth, almost giggling before and after quick pecks that develop into long slurps at your rim. He runs the tip of his nose over the hair on your crack, wetting it in messy swipes of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, better than pastry i’ve ever had, and believe me, you don’t even want to know how much money i spend at the bakery across the street from my apartment. You’d love it.” He moans, saying hello to your winking hole by dotting barely there kisses right in the center before toying with you, dipping the tiniest bit of his tongue in your walls, then dragging his saliva all over your pucker. “It’d be fun to eat something off you, we could make a date out of it. Go up to the counter and pick which ones would taste the best when I eat it off your fat ass, but I think they’d all be amazing, don’t you?”

You nod rapidly and throw your ass back on his tongue, burning in shame with every smug laugh and grunt as Oikawa beats around the bush so to speak, doing everything under the sun with your ass but properly eating it. You wish you were in your shitty apartment, sitting on his face and drowning out the sound of your arguing neighbors with your slutty moans. He looks up from behind you to check on how you’re doing, and thank heavens because he finally buries his face in your ass and slurps at your puckered hole.

You lose yourself to the experience, feeling his wet tongue fuck into your ass hole and carve out little pieces of you for himself. He pays zero attention to your pussy, which is why it’s so wet and dripping onto the mat beneath you, it’s like he’s too obsessed with your thick globes to even notice, but you don’t hate it. It’s hot to have a guy be eye socket deep in your ass but also have him neglect where you really need his attention, there’s a dichotomy between being the mousey way you’ve gone about your life and the whorish behavior this man is urging you to consider.

You looked fucked out already, hair all over the place from how much you’ve messed with it and lips dropping open on drawn out squeals and whines. Oikawa is eating your ass out like it’s his main job, the one he puts in overtime for and goes above and beyond to be employee of the month at. He thrusts his tongue a few more times before apparently deciding that’s not enough and slipping in one of his absurdly long fingers alongside it.

You whimper, clenching around both as you just sit there in that damn table top pose and let a man you barely know play your ass like a well oiled fiddle. He shakes your cheek in his hand as he digs his tongue into you, delicately fingering your hole until it goes slack enough for him to insert another. You’re impossibly tight, as much as your clit is howling for it you know perfectly well that any serious penetration isn’t possible. From the impressions you got, Oikawa’s packing enough to tear you until you bleed if you don’t use lube or prep thoroughly beforehand, which you’d do anyways but it’s a shame.

Your clit throbs painfully but Oikawa pulls back with a gulp of air to level you with a warning look in the mirror, which only gets you wetter, you twitch again because he’s one of those. There’s a brief flicker of defiance, you could pout and touch yourself anyway, you don’t owe this ridiculously attractive man anything and he’s the one motorboating your ass cheeks and not the other way around, so shouldn’t you be the one in charge?

Then his eyes darken, you get another sharp smack and you table the discussion for some far off occasion.

Oikawa smiles, gently kissing the apple shaped swell of both of your cheeks, “See, I know from your time here that you can be such a good listener, you’re so sweet for me, I know it. You can’t hide that from me just because you want to throw a fit, I said we’d get to know each other afterwards, didn’t I?”

You scoot your ass back in apology, silently begging him to get back to it. He must really be horny too because he dives straight back in, groaning into your rim and french kissing your hole. The hand not doing its best to push its entirety into you kneads your fleshy ass cheek, molding it like dough and separating it from its twin, giving him easier access to your pucker. He ‘tsks’ not even a second later, crooking his two fingers and letting go off your cheek, humming in contentment when it bounces against his face and he’s smothered again.

He wonders if you’ll let him fist you, give you a unique one of a kind rose to swoon over and keep tucked away inside you later, the perfect first date gift from your future boyfriend.

You can even do couples yoga in the morning after your first night together!

“Let’s see if you can cum just from getting your ass played with.” Punctuated by a fourth finger sliding into the knuckle in your ass, he scissors his fingers to stretch you out and playfully acts like he’s gonna sink his whole fist in, pulling out his fingers to curl them into a ball.

The barest hint of blunt pressure on your hole sends a flood of your juices down his arm, smelling somewhat pissy which gives Oikawa truly the most impish grin imaginable.

[stacy-fakename]

I’m sorry, but my type-a ass cannot be against the Rat Grinders. They’re essentially the kids that couldn’t get the special treatment from teachers and get by on stumbling through tests and happening to get an A without studying. The Rat Grinders feel less like people who cheated the system, and more like the kids who aren’t naturally gifted or lucky, and have to spends hours on end studying, doing extra homework and extra credit, losing their social lives and free time to catch up with the kids who can just breeze through it. Fig never went to a single class or did any homework but gets away with it because the coach, lunch lad, and vice principal are her dads, Kristin and Riz did literally the worst thing their respective class can do, Gorgug actively works to avoid using the main feature of his class whenever possible, Adaine became the Oracle through seemingly happenstance, and Fabian’s rich family bought his way into the extra curricular he’s now the captain of, and all of them skipped half of freshman year! Obviously we, the audience, know that they worked their asses off to get through school each year and to get where the are today. We know they earned every little good thing they have! Fig has worked so hard to become the rockstar she is! Kristin literally brought back a god! Riz in a supergenius detective! Gorgug is an incredible barbarian and artificer! Adaine works so hard to help all of her friends survive a toxic system! Fabian slaved away to earn his achievements himself instead of letting his father’s legacy be his identity! But think of it from an outside perspective, without all the knowledge that only the audience has! These random kids stumbled into three adventures that let them skip grinding for XP, got to miss half a year with no consequence, get special privileges and quests because they are related to or friends with the faculty, never do their assignments or go to class, became popular because of their privileges, and now randomly start spouting micro aggressions towards halflings? If I was one of the Rat Grinders, I’d be pissed off too! I’ve been both the gifted kid, seemingly effortlessly breezing through classes and befriending the entire faculty while secretly going through terrible struggle and stress, and the kid desperately trying to game my way through a system built to harm me while being furious at those who seem to thrive in it, and I can’t help but feel empathy for both. I don’t think the Rat Grinders are evil, cheating monsters who plan to destroy the Bad Kids out of spite. I think they’re just kids in a harmful toxic school system that have a lot of righteous anger at their lot in life, that has sadly been misdirected. Idk if this ramble made sense, sorry for the wall of text!

Edit:Introducing Ivy Embra, the first Rat Grinder to actually be antagonistic to anyone in any way! Also introducing Oisin Hakivar, a super nice guy who’s willing to take advantage of his generational wealth in order to help a fellow student! So the first Rat Grinder to actively be nice to someone too! He likely did something with the ice mephits, but he still seemed genuinely sympathetic and helpful to Adaine!

[eclecticwordblender]

i know this aunty who happens to be a homemaker and perhaps she is the only woman in my parents' social circle who is not financially independent. apparently she has never been very good academically and "chose" to be a homemaker. but her street smarts are absolutely off the roof. she has the highest emotional intelligence that i have ever encountered. she has a great sense of aesthetics. she has amazing people skills. her home is always impeccable. she’s a brilliant cook. her husband also has absolutely no idea about the functioning of the household because she has handled it so well. might i add she is also naturally very conventionally attractive. even at the age of around 50 she looks like she’s in her early 30s at best. this woman is the ideal tradwife by any standards.

her husband is also quite nice to her. always acknowledges her role in taking care of his household and his children. he’s generally one of the nicest and kindest men i’ve ever come across tbh. but despite all his niceness and kindness there is the occasional wife joke. and after all the emotional and unpaid labour she has put into their lives, it is his house after all. there is an obvious power dynamic where she constantly acknowledges her husband as someone she depends on, which is obviously true because she has no monetary independence. also, despite how smartly she manages the household, there are always jokes about how dumb she is in every social gathering and it is extremely humiliating to say the least.

this couple has a daughter who is in her late 20s now. she refuses to get married. now this aunty's in-laws refuse to get off her back because apparently she has failed as a mother because her daughter refuses to get married. aunty is often insulted about this in gatherings. her father in law once reprimanded her saying that she had one job staying at home and she couldn’t even do it properly. obviously, she was pissed off and answered back saying her husband was an absent father altogether. surprise surprise the husband started yelling at her in front of everyone saying that he had to break his back working for his wife was too stupid to get a job.

i’m sure these fights have escalated in private because recently aunty had a talk with me saying that i must earn my own living no matter what. this is the first time ever. we’re pretty close and she never said anything of this kind. she has also stopped pestering her daughter to get married and recently admitted that she is right about not wanting to get married altogether. i have also witnessed a recent drastic change in her personality lately. she isn’t as chirpy as she had always been.

now i do not know what is going on with her behind closed doors. but what i do know is that she has nowhere to escape because she has no monetary support.

if you think being a tradwife is a great choice, THINK AGAIN. perhaps your husband treats you right, but remember your life is at the mercy of how he treats you.

in an ideal world, money does not have the kind of power it does in our world. but unfortunately, we do not live in such a world. we as women, must, first and foremost secure financial independence for ourselves. money buys everything, even emotional and care labour. as educated and employable women, we also have a moral obligation to women who do not have the same privileges as us. we have a moral obligation to do whatever we can to offer them avenues to access whatever freedom we can bring their way. we owe it to the women who came before us, to the women who live with us, and to the women who will come after us.

YOU ARE A WOMAN BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE. ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT.

YOU OWE IT TO YOUR SEX CLASS BEFORE ANYONE ELSE. ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT.

[octuscle]

Student Fare

"According to my system, you have booked a ticket for economy class in the student fare… And it says Mason and not Martin Harper. I'm sorry, but I'll have to make a few adjustments." Annoyed was not an expression for what Martin felt. He had had a successful, but also very exhausting week. And he was now looking forward to a quiet flight to Chicago. Not in economy class. In business class. And he certainly hadn't booked a student fare. Well, not him anyway. His secretary normally took care of the bookings. But she was on vacation. And the replacement was clearly incompetent. And she would be fired on Monday morning.

"Give me your luggage, please. Actually, I should send you to an economy class counter. But I'll make an exception," said the ground staff lady. Martin wanted to reach for his suitcase. But instead of the expensive aluminum suitcase from Rimowa, there was an old, worn sports bag. Martin was about to call the police when the lady told him that it was okay, she had had to adjust the luggage because of his fare. Martin nodded understandingly, but inwardly wondered what was going on. Did he have hand luggage? Martin wanted to reach for his laptop bag. But there was only a rucksack. Completely irritated, he held it up and the lady smiled, gave him his boarding pass and wished him a good flight. But he should hurry, the queue at security was long. Martin replied that he could use the fast lane. The lady smiled wryly and just said "Student fare!"

Martin picked up his rucksack and, cursing inwardly, headed towards the security checkpoints. When was the last time he hadn't used the fast lane? He had probably really been a student then. He hated crowds. He loved flying primarily because his money and his success allowed him to travel privileged and away from the crowds. It was no fun that way. It was crowded, the people around him were sweating, pushing and shoving. Martin took off his jacket. He wanted to loosen his tie knot. But apart from his cool necklace with the pendant he'd brought back from spring break in Acapulco, there was nothing there. Shit, that was hot. Matin took off his cap and wiped his forehead. His hair was soaked with sweat. Even though it looked silly, he tied his jacket around his hips. He rolled up his sleeves. His hairy, muscular forearms were also glistening with sweat. The various bracelets he wore looked cool, but they were a nuisance in this sweltering heat. Masin smelled his wrist. Shit, the bracelets really stank to high heaven.

Finally, the security checkpoint was in sight. It was just as well, boarding started in half an hour. Masin threw his rucksack into the plastic tray, added his belt and cap and had himself x-rayed. Although nothing had beeped, the crisp security officer demanded that Masin be checked. It was probably no accident that he was able to get right up to his nipples through the large sleeve holes of Masin's tank top. Masin had to restrain himself from reflexively grabbing the bulge of the Latino in uniform. "Hey, college boy, is that your backpack?" Shit, the weed, Mason thought to himself. The face of the officer standing at the security checkpoint with his backpack looked menacing. "My bro is clean, let him pass!" the Latino shouted to his colleague. Shit, he really deserved a firm grip on his cock, Mason thought to himself and blew the Latino a kiss.

Boarding had already started. Nevertheless, Mason urgently needed to take a piss before boarding. Fortunately, there was a toilet right opposite the gate. The businessman in the navy blue suit at the urinal next to him looked at Mason's cheesy uncircumcised cock with a mixture of disgust and lust. Mason didn't miss it. He hinted at a wank. The guy next to him immediately started too. Mason laughed. What a pathetic faggot. He lifted his right arm, tensed his biceps and let the guy inhale the smell of his wet armpits. Normally Mason took ten dollars for that. Or at least an invitation to a beer. Shit, beer! He had to get supplies for the flight!

"Last and urgent call for Mason Harper, booked on American Airlines Flight 241 to Chicago," Mason quickened his pace a tiny bit. Beer and protein bars in his backpack. Whichever poor devil was sitting next to him was either going to have a lot of fun or none at all. The young man at the boarding pass control was playing fate. "I'm afraid we're overbooked," he apologized. The only seat available is in Business Class. Would you mind? Business Class! Bloody hell, Mason had never had that before. He boarded the plane. In the seat next to the last available seat was a businessman in a navy blue suit. Mason stowed his rucksack in the overhead compartment, took out two bottles of beer and sat down. This could be a fun three hours.

[jayflrt]

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐒 49. #STARBUCKS_FIRST_WIN

IN A MATTER OF HOURS, YOUR COWORKER PIZZA PARTY HAD TURNED INTO A FULL-ON GATHERING. 

Not only had Heeseung and his group joined you, but the employees from Peet’s had dropped by, too. Soon, Chan and Renjun’s apartment was packed with everyone sitting in a circle and scarfing down the boxes of pizza. You thought it would just be Chaewon and Aeri coming over, but you knew things were getting serious once Jungkook, who Chaewon told you was notorious for never doing anything that required energy, showed face.

Obviously, no one expected the number of heads to double, so the pizza ran out soon after Heeseung arrived. Sunghoon took the liberty of exercising his Papa John’s employee privilege to pick up more pizza. It was even better than the pizza you all previously bought, and it was plenty for everyone to enjoy.

“Is this, like, a Starbucks-finally-burned-down party?” Wonbin asked before Aeri sharply jabbed him in the side. “Sorry, I meant an oh-no-Starbucks-burned-down party.”

“That wasn’t any better, Wonbin,” Aeri deadpanned. 

“We got our customer connection score report today,” Chan answered, finishing chewing the last of his pizza before continuing, “and we got the highest score in the district. We’ve never gotten a score over thirty before, and today our score was in the eighties.”

“Maybe they felt bad for you,” Jungkook suggested.

“Shut up.”

Heeseung turned to you, wide-eyed and breaking into a grin. “You guys got best in the district?”

“Yeah—number one! I was gonna text you about it.” Although you two were sitting next to each other, shoulder-to-shoulder, you still slid your hand into his. “We were almost tied with Starbucks in second place, so your survey really helped us.”

He squeezed your hand. “Totally worth the mermaid cosplay.”

Renjun raised his voice to say, “Riki, you should give us a speech, since you've been losing your mind over our customer connection score.” 

Minjeong, who was sitting between Jake and Aeri, let out a snicker. “Yeah, you’re the one who almost failed trigonometry over Starbucks.”

“I didn’t fail, for your information! I got a passing score,” Riki said with a huff.

Sunoo leaned back on his hands. “Yeah, a D.”

“And D’s get degrees, Sunoo,” Riki fired back before standing up. He raised up his glass of water, clearing his throat. “I was but a mere child when I first joined Starbucks. I didn’t know much about the world around me or the tribulations I’d face in my journey to becoming the best Starbucks in this district. However, today, I’ve become a man.”

(Sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck. “This kid makes me feel like I smoked a pack whenever he opens his mouth.”)

Riki continued, “I wanna thank Chan for always looking after me and being, like, my second father, even when I pissed him off every single shift, or when I used his credit card to buy LED lights, or when I made a weed frappuccino past closing hours, or when I forged his signature to get out of class, or—”

“You forged what?” Chan interjected, distraught.

“Anyway, moving on.” Riki waved off the store manager’s concerns and said, “I also wanna thank Jay for always being on my side, even when the odds were against me. And Renjun, I wanna thank you for always giving me credit when it’s due. Sunoo, you’re the best shift lead I could’ve asked for, even though I’d probably throw you under the bus for your job. Minjeong, I think you’re insane, but I appreciate that you strike fear in our hearts when necessary.” 

At that, Minjeong gave Riki a high-five, which was a little too forceful and left the kid’s hand stinging. 

Riki’s eyes then met yours and he softened his gaze. “Y/N, we all had our doubts about you when you joined, but you’re totally part of the Starbucks family now. I just really wanna thank you especially for letting me cover your shift so that I could get a bonus.”

Your smile dropped. “Man, fuck you.”

“I’m just here for the pizza,” Anton admitted, “but that was sweet… I think.”

Jay seemed to be wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. You were surprised that his eyes actually seemed to be glistening.

"That was a beautiful speech, Riki," he praised the high schooler.

“Thank you, Jay. I’ll miss you guys when I go to Harvard,” Riki finished.

“Your ass is not going to Harvard,” Jake said flatly.

The rest of the night was spent eating, talking, and watching the Harry Potter movies together. While some of the boys went outside for a smoke sesh, you and the girls discussed plans to get an apartment together for the next year. Since you lived alone, you figured it was about time you experienced living with your friends. Chaewon shared a Pinterest board with everyone to start pinning interior decoration inspiration. You and Minjeong were completely useless in that area of expertise, so you offered to help with picking out more practical things, such as kitchen and bathroom essentials.

You already knew that Heeseung was going to continue living with Sunghoon for the next year, but you were content with that. You weren’t sure you were exactly ready to move in with your boyfriend or anything, so you thought it was best that you two lived separately for the next year. The student apartments were close, anyway. 

When your boyfriend returned, his eyes slightly glossed over, you tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. He leaned down so that his ears were by your lips. 

“Ask them if they wanna watch the Mario movie,” you whispered.

He shot you a wary look, whispering back, “No! They’re gonna make fun of me. You ask them.”

“No, they’re gonna make fun of me, too.”

“Well”—his lips curled up in a smile—“guess we’ll just have to watch it on our own, then.”

After a while, everyone started to disperse, except for Jungkook, who decided to crash on the couch. It was nearly midnight, anyway, and Riki’s mother had called him about twenty times to get home soon. He was strangely at ease while everyone else was anxious for him.

Chaewon and Aeri left first, claiming that they had to go to bed early because they both had 8 a.m. classes. Wonbin and Sunghoon were discussing going to a party that one of their friends was hosting, and Jungwon and Sunoo immediately shot down the idea when they were asked to tag along

Sunghoon held his phone up to show everyone a Snapchat story of a guy in a Barney costume double-fisting two beers. “Bro, Vernon’s at the party.”

“We’re going home,” Jungwon insisted. 

“C’mon, it’s just for a few hours. We’ll bring you guys back home safe—or, like, we’ll try to. No guarantees. If your safety's compromised, blame Jake or something.”

“Hell no,” Sunoo deadpanned. “I have a paper to finish.”

“Also,” Jungwon added on, pointing an accusing finger at Sunghoon, “I don’t trust you.”

“The fuck? I’m trustworthy.” He turned to you and asked, “Y/N, you think I’m trustworthy, right?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “In fact, I was gonna tell Jungwon and Sunoo to save themselves.”

“Yeah, I can’t get spiked today, dude,” Jungwon said. “I have a fluids test tomorrow.”

After saying your goodbyes to Sunoo and Jungwon, who took a while to figure out where they parked their car, you turned your attention back to Sunghoon and Wonbin. Beomgyu walked up to your group after being occupied with talking to Jisung and Anton for a while. 

“Let’s just go for an hour or something,” Wonbin told Sunghoon. “Are Jake and Beomgyu coming?”

“I’ll join,” Beomgyu said. “I think Jake’s being dragged somewhere by Minjeong, though. Heeseung, are you coming?”

Heeseung started, “No, I—”

“Oh!” Sunghoon bursted out, grabbing his two friends by the shoulders and tugging them away. He turned on his heel quickly, muttering something along the lines of, “Let’s just leave them alone.”

You raised a brow. “What’s his deal?”

You were just able to catch Heeseung’s expression under the dim lamplight, noting how he shied away at your question and averted his gaze. You swore the tips of his ears went scarlet, although you weren’t able to properly discern whether your mind was playing tricks on you or not. 

“Uh, he’s probably just zooted,” your boyfriend said offhandedly. He shot you a glance once you two started walking in the direction of his apartment. “Are you cold?” Before you could answer him, though, Heeseung was already taking off his sweater to hand it to you.

You giggled. “Thanks.” After a few moments, you bit your lip and told him, “Hey, so, about the survey, I thought you should know—”

“—that Minjeong sent me the link?” he finished for you, a grin growing on his face. You stared at him, nonplussed. “Don’t worry, I already knew. When I showed Jake the text, he recognized her number immediately. I figured you guys were just being nice.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Why’re you apologizing? That was, like, the nicest thing they’ve done for me.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “You really turned my life around there. I would’ve probably just been permanently banned from Starbucks by now if it weren’t for you.”

Your cheeks went hot. It was true that you and Heeseung growing closer definitely changed his relationship with the employees, but you could say the same for him, too. You were admittedly reserved before you met Heeseung, and dating him opened your world up to so many new people. You wouldn’t have had all these new friends if it weren’t for him.

“You’ve done so much for me, too,” you told him. “I’ve never been able to just spontaneously hang out with so many friends before. I never even approached people before, and now I’m gonna room with Minjeong, Chaewon, and Aeri.”

He smiled down at you. “They like you ‘cause you’re fun to be around. Give yourself some more credit.” When you two reached the door of his apartment, Heeseung stopped in his tracks instead of opening the door. You noticed the flush of pink dusting his cheeks when he mumbled, “By the way, I sort of got you a surprise for your Starbucks thing.”

“Really?” You beamed up at him. “Hee, it’s really not that big of a deal for you. You didn’t have to get me something over that.”

“No, it is a big deal,” he insisted. “If it’s something big for you, then it’s big for me, okay? So, close your eyes.”

“Okay.” You placed your hands over your eyes, and your chest felt hot when Heeseung moved his arm to place his hand over your hands from behind, too. Your back was against his chest, and you could almost make out how fast his heart was beating. After you heard the sound of the door being unlocked, Heeseung took small steps forward to get you to walk inside. “Ow. You stepped on my heel.”

“My bad. Step on my feet.”

You did as he said and proceeded to laugh as Heeseung awkwardly walked you further into his apartment after shutting the door behind him. You leaned back against his chest and stumbled a little once he had you step off of his feet. 

“Okay, stay right there,” he instructed, “and keep your eyes closed!”

You swayed back and forth as you waited for him to return. He didn’t take very long, but you were brimming with anticipation. You stilled once you realized he was right in front of you again. You were just about to remove your hands when Heeseung stopped you again.

“Don’t!” he warned, and then asked, “Remember when I stole that baby goat for you?”

Your smile was quickly replaced with a disapproving frown. “Lee Heeseung, do not tell me you still have the baby goat.”

“No!” he exclaimed. “I miss him every day, though. But… I remembered you said something about how it would be nice if we raised a pet together one day, and I know we’re not living together yet or anything, but I thought it’d be nice to share… something…” He trailed off, clearly flustered. “Er, so—yeah, you can open your eyes now.”

You removed your hands and a gasp fell from your lips almost immediately.

Nestled in Heeseung’s palms was the cutest baby kitten you had ever seen. You cooed as you reached over to stroke its plush, white fur. The mewl that came from the kitten nearly had you falling to your knees from how adorable it was.

“He’s a Ragdoll,” he told you. “I thought we could parent him together.”

Heeseung let you hold the kitten in your hands, and you held him close to your chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I could seriously kiss you right now,” you breathed out. 

“Don’t kiss me yet.” He grinned. “I have something else for you.”

You could’ve died of happiness on the spot. Your boyfriend really was completely unfair. How could he spoil you this much and expect you not to combust?

Heeseung dug into his pockets for a moment before pulling out a silver key. You were confused as he took the kitten back from you and placed the key in your hands. After you weighed it in your palm and inspected it for a moment, the dots started connecting in your head. You could almost feel the tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

“That’s our spare key to the apartment. It’s all yours,” he said. “I talked to Sunghoon about it, obviously, and he was totally chill with you having a key to our place. You can come by whenever you want, and you don’t need to wait for me to get out of class if you wanna come over and see our cat.”

“Heeseung,” you murmured, “I don’t know what to say.”

He seemed to visibly panic. “It’s totally cool if you don’t want it. I wasn’t sure if I was moving too fast with that or not, uh… Sunghoon and I just keep it under the doormat if we accidentally get locked out, so it’s really not—”

“I love you,” you breathed out.

His eyes grew wide. 

He quickly became a stuttering mess, scrambling to fit words together into a sentence, but nothing was coming out coherently. You almost wanted to laugh because his distress was so cute, but you decided to show him how you felt instead.

The words died on his lips as soon as you wrapped your arms around Heeseung’s neck and kissed his disquiet away. And this time, it felt like you were able to pour your entire heart into that one kiss because there was something that stirred deep within your heart as your lips moved against Heeseung’s soft ones. 

You never thought one person could move your heart like this, never thought someone could make you feel like you were made of magic, but Heeseung managed to wriggle his way into your heart so effortlessly. One of his hands moved to hold the back of your neck, deepening the kiss slowly—at your own pace. 

When you two finally pulled away after what felt like forever, Heeseung didn’t pull away from you. His nose nudged yours, then grazed your cheek, peppering several more chaste kisses to your lips before you were a giggling and blushing mess. 

Your boyfriend grinned. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

It was then when your kitten mewled from where it was resting on Heeseung’s free hand, seemingly wanting attention. You stared at it for a moment before realization dawned across your face.

“Yoshi!” you exclaimed. “We should name him Yoshi.”

He gasped. “I wanted to name him something Mario-themed! But I thought Mario or Luigi sounded stupid.” He snorted and held the Ragdoll properly again, using his knuckle to gently stroke his head. “Yoshi sounds perfect.”

You giggled. “Yoshi should watch the Mario movie with us. It’s only tradition.”

“I’ll get the popcorn ready.” 

He saluted and handed you the remote so that you could pull up the movie. You took the kitten in your hands and curled up on the couch, placing Yoshi on your lap. When your boyfriend returned, he wrapped an arm around you and started the movie, petting the kitten every now and then. 

And after your umpteenth rewatch, you were definitely going to brag about your new kitten to all your friends; you were going to start looking into applying for apartments for you, Minjeong, Chaewon, and Aeri to move into; and, most importantly, you were going to tell Heeseung you loved him over and over again until there were no doubts in his mind about your feelings for him. 

It was around three in the morning when Park Sunghoon stumbled to the front door of his apartment. He, Wonbin, and Beomgyu somehow ended up getting crossed to the point of nearly blacking out at the party. Thankfully, though, after sitting on the curb of a sidewalk for thirty minutes and having Beomgyu forcing Gatorade down his throat, Sunghoon seemed to sober up enough to walk back home.

Beomgyu insisted on walking him back after they dropped off Wonbin (who hardly remembered his own name at the moment), but Sunghoon was determined to brave the journey back home. 

He patted down his pockets and realized he only had his phone and wallet. No keys. He must’ve left them at home since he was out with Heeseung earlier in the night. 

But no worries. Sunghoon and Heeseung always kept a spare key under the doormat in case of emergencies like these. Sure, he and his housemate often got themselves into crazy situations from time to time, but the smartest decision they had ever made was keeping their extra key ready. 

However, when Sunghoon flipped the corner of the doormat up, there was nothing there. He paused and lifted up the doormat completely, but absolutely nothing was underneath. 

Fuck, he remembered, that motherfucker gave Y/N the stupid spare key.

He honestly couldn’t blame Heeseung because he agreed to letting Y/N have the key, but now he couldn’t get in the house. Couldn’t Heeseung give her the key at a normal hour, like tomorrow afternoon? This situation was fucked.

Sunghoon groaned and dialed Beomgyu’s number. After a few rings, his friend picked up.

He asked, “Weed Guy Beomgyu, can I crash at your place?”

“Use the doormat key,” was his friend’s curt response. 

“Heeseung gave it to Y/N.”

A couple seconds of silence rolled by before Beomgyu answered, “Fine. I’ll pick you up in a few.”

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ thank you for supporting a stoner's guide to starbucks all this time !! :') it has been a JOURNEY and i feel so so bittersweet about it ending but i very much appreciate all the love and support you guys have shown this smau <3 i am also very much content with this ending and i hope you guys enjoy it as well 🥰 the next chapter will be the epilogue and then i'll post some uncuts !! #LIGHTONEUPFORHEESEUNG

[1800ratfuck]

what really irks me is when upper middle class people act like artificially adopting the so-called “crust aesthetic” exempts them from the politics of the subculture, and, y'know, actually giving a shit about poor people.

i saw someone on pinterest say that they want to wash their crust pants, but don't because "it's part of the aesthetic"...

the reason why crust pants were unwashed to begin with is because the first crust punks were(and many still are!!) homeless and/or transient folk who literally did not have access to consistent methods of cleaning themselves or their clothes. and for some reason now people think looking or being "smelly" is the most important part of the subculture, more important than listening to the music or engaging with their scene and community.

obviously i don't care about people who don't wash their pants because they don't have the energy or spoons to, or who simply don't want to, but the idea of someone struggling to keep themselves from washing their clothing so they can be more "crust punk" really pisses me off.

these are people who have never known financial or housing insecurity. they dare to call themselves a crust punk when they still scrunch their noses at the smell of need, or feel threatened by the sight of homeless people on the subway.

i just have to wonder: do they think choosing to be “crusty” absolves them from the guilt of their financial privilege? does it make the differences between themselves and the lower classes less stark because, hey, they can “dress like a hobo” too!

it absolutely doesn’t. if you want to be a better punk, donate to mutual aid, pick up trash in your neighborhood, volunteer at soup kitchens and food pantries, give food and money to people you see sleeping on the side of the street or scrounging in the trash for a meal. find some grindcore artists on bandcamp, go to a local show, do anything other than posing as something you're not.

[maxdibert]

Hello!

Fistly, I love your content <3

Secondly, do you think there were other reasons besides the difference in wealth, class and power as to why James and Sirius treated Severus the way they did?

They mock and humiliate him and reduce him to a toy, a doll to have fun with. But if that's all there is, they should torment him and leave, right? However, that does not happen. And this is the part I find odd. The way they watch him during the exam in the flashback (what business do they have watching someone write their paper?), the way Sirius' eyes follow him like a preditor to a rabbit when he spots Snape under the tree. James promises Lily to stop pranking people, but goes behind her back to get to Severus anyway. He dies for the tiniest chance that this woman may leave, but he betrays her trust that easily just to torment Snape more? It seems a bit obsessive to me, not just the typycal bullying,worse, something a bit off. Obsessive from James' side and then Sirius would follow his lead in any case. Ofc, I could be wrong about all of this.

What do you think?

<3

Oh, this is such a juicy question, and thanks for the kind words! ❤️

Buckle up, because we're diving deep into the murky waters of school bullying dynamics and why James and Sirius’s treatment of Severus isn’t your average schoolyard torment. (I love to made these type of meta because analyze violence is my cardio lol) This is gonna be looooooong:

At its core, bullying thrives on power imbalances. James and Sirius had every advantage: wealth, status, looks, charisma, magical talent—you name it. Severus, on the other hand, was everything they weren’t: poor, socially awkward, a loner, and unkempt. People like James and Sirius often prey on someone like Severus because he represents a threat to their sense of superiority. He’s smart, talented, and doesn’t bow to them, which means they can’t control or dominate him the way they can others. For people like James, that’s an itch they have to scratch.

But with James and Sirius, this goes beyond garden-variety bullying. It has this weird intensity to it that’s worth unpacking and as you said before, there’s something almost compulsive about the way James and Sirius target Severus. This isn’t just "let’s embarrass the nerd for laughs and move on." It’s fixated. Watching him during an exam? Catching sight of him under a tree and zoning in like a predator? Going out of his way to break his promise to Lily just to torment him again? That’s next-level, and here’s why that might be:

Severus was different: Beyond class, wealth, and upbringing, Severus was a challenge. He didn’t back down, didn’t beg, and he didn’t play the role of the "grateful victim" who might humor them to escape more torment. Instead, he fought back (verbally or with magic), which probably pissed James off even more. Bullies hate it when their victim refuses to crumble.

Insecurity masked as dominance: James, despite his wealth and privilege, could still be deeply insecure. Think about it: someone like Severus, who came from nothing, could rival him in magical skill and intelligence. That’s a big bruise to James’s ego. Bullying might have been his way of proving to himself—and everyone watching—that he was "better."

Additionally, let’s not forget that canonically, James’s animosity toward Severus began because of his relationship with Lily. It’s likely that, until he managed to date her and ensure any bond she had with Severus was completely severed, James experienced jealousy, anger, and even the insecurity of thinking they might have something more.

For someone like James—accustomed to being handed everything by his doting parents, who gets what he wants with the snap of a finger, and who’s probably never been told “no”—insecurity wasn’t something he’d know how to handle. The idea that someone like Severus, from a rival house, who held beliefs James had been taught were “wrong,” who was poor, scruffy, unattractive, could possibly achieve what James wanted, or spend endless time with the girl he liked, must have been inconceivable. Unthinkable.

Once again, class and status come into play: the wealthy kid who’s had everything can present himself as a fighter for social justice, but deep down, in certain situations, that intrinsic sense of superiority and entitlement always surfaces. After winning Lily over, James probably thought he had every right to treat Severus however he wanted. By that point, he’d dehumanized him to such an extent that he no longer saw him as a person.

On top of that, if you consider that James likely justified his bullying by convincing himself it was legitimate because Severus was hanging around with dark wizards, it all makes sense. It’s the classic psychological mechanism of rationalizing harmful behavior: “I’m not doing anything wrong; he deserves it.” It’s actually a pretty logical progression when you think about it.

Sirius’s role: Sirius is a complicated mess of a character. Growing up in a family where dominance, control, and punishment were the norm, Sirius might have channeled that energy into his dynamic with Severus. If James was leading the charge, Sirius probably saw joining in as a way to solidify their bond while also exercising some of his own unresolved issues. But the predatory way you describe Sirius observing Severus? That’s chilling, and it checks out.

I’ve mentioned this in another post, but Sirius is a Black, and his rebellious persona and attempts to distance himself from his family rested on two fundamental pillars: being a Gryffindor and defending Muggle-borns. However, at the end of the day, Sirius was still a boy raised in an aristocratic family that believed they were superior to others for absurd reasons. This superiority complex led them to treat an entire group of people as “the other,” dehumanizing them to justify their marginalization and even their extermination.

These are the values Sirius grew up with, and like many rich kids who rebel without bothering to deconstruct the behavioral patterns they’ve inherited, he thought that simply rejecting blood purity and getting Sorted into another house was enough to absolve him.

But Snape’s presence challenges that belief. Sirius’s relationship with Severus reveals that, deep down, Sirius isn’t so different from his mother or his cousin Bellatrix. Sirius sees Snape as “the other.” He dehumanizes Severus in the same way his family dehumanizes Muggle-borns—but for being a Slytherin and for desiring the things Sirius himself has chosen to reject. This cognitive dissonance makes Sirius feel justified in tormenting Severus, much like his family feels justified in their bigotry.

In the end, Sirius is just another hypocrite with a different spin—like so many others.

I’ve also pointed out several times that Sirius has a sadistic streak. Maybe not to the same degree as Bellatrix, because she’s clearly far more unhinged, but Sirius does have that violent, bloodthirsty impulse typical of the Blacks. Since he can’t channel it the way his family does, he chose an easy target—someone disliked by many, someone who didn’t fit in, who was isolated, and, most tragically, someone who no one cared about, not even his own parents. Sirius used Severus as a means to vent his anger and sadistic tendencies, fully aware that no one would step in to defend him.

Furthermore, as a wealthy boy from an aristocratic family with progressive ideas, it’s no surprise that Sirius relied on James as his moral compass when he struggled to discern right from wrong. If James believed it was entirely justified to bully and torment Severus, why would Sirius think otherwise?

James embodied everything Sirius wished he could be: a boy with the same privilege as him, but from a family without extremist beliefs. James’s parents treated Sirius like a son. They believed in “good” things. They were the “good” ones. If James was convinced that bullying Severus was the right thing to do, then Sirius had no reason to question it.

It became a way for Sirius to justify and validate his own awful behavior—a pattern that’s sadly all too common among bullies.

When we look at how James and Sirius treated Severus, it’s clear they didn’t just see him as someone to mock and forget; they actively sought to dehumanize him. This process of dehumanization is deeply rooted in power dynamics. Severus wasn’t just the “nerd” they bullied—he was someone who challenged their place in the social order. He dared to stand up to James over Lily and, as a highly capable student, constantly reminded them that they weren’t untouchable. Even if they had reached the top of the social and academic hierarchy, Severus was proof that someone outside their circle could match or even surpass them. In their eyes, Severus became the "other," someone who had to be eliminated to keep their world intact.

Dehumanization in bullying has devastating effects on the victim. It’s not just about causing temporary physical or emotional harm—it’s about erasing the person’s identity, reducing them to nothing more than an object for entertainment or a pawn in a game of power.

In Severus’s case, James and Sirius didn’t just want to make him miserable—they wanted to strip away his dignity, his individuality, and his sense of self-worth. They needed to prove, not only to Severus but also to themselves and their peers, that he didn’t belong. This is why their actions go beyond mere pranks or teasing—they were asserting their dominance and ensuring that Severus could never challenge the status quo they benefited from.

The relationship between James, Sirius, and Severus is a reflection of how power dynamics, insecurity, and the struggle for control can lead to psychological abuse far more complex than simple schoolyard rivalry. Throughout the story, James and Sirius don’t just try to humiliate Severus—they do it to prove something about themselves, about their place in the world, and about the relationships they maintain with those around them. This isn’t just bullying; it’s a demonstration of how children raised in a dysfunctional value system, with a limited understanding of others, can wield destructive power over the more vulnerable.

That’s why, when we look at Severus and understand what he endured, it’s not just a matter of “he joined the Death Eaters because he was bad.” There’s a context of pain, abuse, and a desperate search to belong to something or someone. What James and Sirius did wasn’t just cruel—it was one of the cornerstones that pushed Severus down the path he later followed.

[rebecca-arielle]

hello have not been on here in literal years and reactivated simply to post my modern bridgerton hcs that came to me as i was falling asleep would not let me go until i wrote them down! enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

the entire family is still very much british upper class - they regularly interact with the royals and attend all the family event like wimbledon and ascot. they are regularly featured in the pages of the tabloids much to their annoyance. they also went to either oxford, cambridge, or st. andrew’s (franny)

- anthony - still who he is, took over edmund’s position in the family business. huge company either a law firm, business like real estate or holdings. he’s ceo and damn good at his job. still viscount but it is really in name only.

- kate - still very much who she is, i can see her either going very much a lawyer or the artist route but i like to think of her as leaving her art as a hobby that she does simply for the pleasure of it.

- benedict - artist can do either painting or photography but has become very famous for it, initially it was because of the family name but then people started seeing his talent for what it is. his photos have been featured a bunch of times in british vogue and he is one of their go to photographers.

- sophie - very much a primary school teacher because of her experience with araminta as a child she was determined to not let that happen for other children so she makes damn sure that while they are at school in her class they know some one is looking out for them.

- colin - travel writer. he works for some magazine and has his own column. the magazine is owned by like some big media company that has their own building.

- penelope - pen works for a different magazine that is owned by the same parent company as colin’s so they work in the same building when colin is not on assignment. she secretly still runs lady whistledown that is like deux moi and once she gets outed she starts her own mini media empire. still besties with eloise.

- daphne - she is very much the perfect socialite philanthropist that is so perfect she seems like she would be a bitch but truly is that nice. is still married to simon after they fake dated due to some media scandal. lives her absolute best WAG life and has the season down to a science.

- simon - is a huge sports star, think david beckham. technically was still the duke but officially gave up the title to piss off his father. this man was born to be girl dad.

- eloise - once she realized just how much privilege she has, she put her money where her mouth is and is constantly going to protests much to anthony’s annoyance (not because he doesn’t agree with the cause just because she is giving the family a bad name in the press, he actually super proud of her.) el went to school for a degree in women and gender studies and is super involved in academia when not getting arrested.

- phillip/a - a botany professor at the university where el is based out of. still has the kids from their previous relationship with marina but they were able to get a divorce because it is the 21st century and co parent the twins quite well. their gender honestly doesn’t matter for this, they love plants and eloise - the order of that is not important.

- francesca - autistic, it is important to me that you know that. she is a film composer, she loves getting to create the score for movies and that it doesn’t require that much human interaction.

- john - still unfortunately passes away, but prior to that was some kind of finance guy. was generally the nicest guy and loved fran with his entire heart.

- michael/michaela - hot. like the most beautiful human being you have ever laid eyes on. they work as an actor because it’s fun but secretly are insanely smart and like build computers for fun.

- gregory - anthony’s mini me and he wouldn’t have it any other way. he works for the family company and loves it. generally small bean like but is insanely tall, like taller than benedict much to everyone’s annoyance but no one more than hyacinth. he worships the ground lucy walks on but they only have three or four kids because they have access to birth control.

- lucy - a mini kate. also a lawyer who’s family firm got bought by kate’s and then started working under her where she eventually met greg when he was visiting his favorite sister kate for their monthly lunch date. has ocd.

- hyacinth - a child prodigy, started university at like 15 (which she never lets greg forget) works as a ta (or whatever the uk equivalent is) for agatha who is an old family friend through whom she meets gareth. her field is like archeology or some other super niche thing. (agatha does not have to teach, she does it because if she doesn’t how else will the new generation ever be taught the right way to do things)

- gareth - is so fucking chill but absolutely matches hyacinths freak. no one is quite sure what he does, he has explained it many times but no one truly knows even hyacinth.

- violet - was besties with princess diana (old money england) she unfortunately passes around the same time as edmund and she just loses it. luckily it is the modern days was able to get help but it took a little while. though once she is back on her feet she is a force to be reckoned with. she runs the family foundation which focuses on mental health and allergy awareness.

thank you for reading this! i will take no criticism at this time but welcome any addition thoughts!