#i admit i was not that crazy about this at first

[jungwnies]

roommate from hell - oscar piastri (1/5)

୨ৎ : pairing : oscar piastri x gn!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : forced into an accidental roommate situation, oscar and you struggle with clashing habits, sarcastic banter, and unexpected tension…until frustration turns into something much deeper.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy & light angst (barely...) ୨ৎ : tws : forced proximity, mild conflict, emotional tension, and mutual pining. ୨ৎ : wc : 1140

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

The apartment listing had sounded too good to be true.

"A modern two-bedroom in a great neighborhood! Affordable rent! Recently renovated!"

You had jumped on it. Places like this didn’t stay on the market long, and after what felt like a lifetime of apartment hunting, you were ready to sign a lease and never look at another rental website again.

So, you scheduled a tour, packed a mental list of negotiating tactics, and prayed to whatever higher power existed that this would finally be the one.

Across the city, Oscar Piastri was doing the exact same thing.

Unlike you, he hadn’t even bothered looking at multiple listings. He had sent his assistant a simple message: Find me an apartment. Quiet, good location, no crazy landlords. He wasn’t picky, he just needed a place to live between races. Simple.

At least, that’s what he thought.

One Hour Later – At the Apartment

The moment you walked into the leasing office, you knew something was off.

For one, the landlord, a middle-aged man named Greg who looked permanently stressed, was nervously shuffling through papers like he had forgotten how to read.

For two, there was already another person standing there, signing a stack of documents like he had just secured the place.

You blinked. “Uh, what is happening?”

Greg looked up, his face immediately twisting into an expression that screamed oh no.

The guy next to you, a very casually dressed guy in a McLaren hoodie and cap, barely glanced up. “I’m signing my lease,” he said simply, like this was his apartment and you were the intruder.

You frowned. “No, I’m signing my lease.”

Greg audibly gulped.

McLaren Hoodie Guy finally looked at you properly, his eyebrows pulling together. “That can’t be right.”

You turned to Greg, arms crossed. “Okay, Greg, what’s going on?”

Greg inhaled sharply through his nose. “So, funny story..."

You knew it was not going to be a funny story.

“...there was a bit of a mix-up, and it looks like I… um… may have accidentally leased the same apartment to both of you?”

Silence.

You blinked. "What?"

McLaren Guy squinted at Greg. “You may have?”

Greg winced. “Okay, did. I did lease it to both of you. But in my defense, I didn’t realize it until just now, and I already spent your security deposits, so I really can’t refund you until next month.”

Your jaw dropped. “You already spent...!?!? Are you kidding me?”

McLaren Guy let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what are you saying? That neither of us can live here?”

Greg let out a nervous chuckle. “Well… I could cancel the lease for one of you, but…” He glanced between you two. “Do either of you have another place lined up?”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “No.”

McLaren Guy sighed. “No.”

Greg’s face paled. “Right.” He rubbed his hands together, clearly dying inside. “So, um… what if you two just… shared it?”

You and McLaren Guy turned to each other at the exact same time, both shaking your heads.

"Absolutely not."

"Not happening."

Greg held up his hands. “Okay, okay! Just hear me out.”

You shot him a look. “You literally just admitted to scamming us.”

“I didn’t scam you—"

McLaren Guy scoffed. “You spent our deposits.”

“Okay, I accidentally scammed you.” Greg sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, I’ll cut the rent in half if you both agree to stay. Just for the first few months, until I can sort this out.”

You turned back to McLaren Guy, fully expecting him to shut it down. Instead, he looked like he was considering it.

You frowned. “You cannot be thinking about this.”

He shrugged. “Do you have another option?”

“…No, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with some random—" You gestured at him vaguely. “—McLaren fanboy.”

McLaren Guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Fanboy?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, motioning to his hoodie and cap. “You’re decked out in McLaren gear. You look like you’re about to go meet Lando Norris.”

Greg made a strangled noise.

McLaren Guy just stared at you, something unreadable flickering across his face. His mouth opened for a second, then closed.

Then he exhaled, shaking his head. “You know what? Fine. Let’s do it.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait—what?”

He grabbed the lease papers, signing his name at the bottom with zero hesitation. “I don’t have time to find a new place, and I’m not about to couch-surf across Australia.”

You turned to Greg. “You cannot expect me to live with a stranger.”

Greg gave you a deeply exhausted look. “I expected to lease this apartment to one person. Life is full of disappointments.”

McLaren Guy grinned. “You’re lucky I’m an excellent roommate.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

Two Days Later – Moving In

You were right.

Oscar Piastri was not an excellent roommate.

The first issue became apparent when you opened the fridge and found nothing inside except for a can of Monster Energy, a half-empty bottle of water, and two whole heads of lettuce.

You turned to him, arms crossed. "Do you… not eat real food?"

Oscar barely looked up from setting up his PlayStation. "I eat at the McLaren hospitality tent most of the time."

You squinted. "McLaren hospitality—" You let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh my god, you’re a team employee, aren’t you?"

Oscar blinked at you. "Huh?"

"You work for McLaren," you said, pointing at his hoodie, the McLaren duffel bag by the door, the literal McLaren keychain hanging off his keys. "That’s why you’re obsessed with the team."

Oscar stared at you for a long moment. Then, very carefully, he said, "Yes. That’s exactly it."

"Called it," you muttered, going back to unpacking.

Oscar smirked to himself but said nothing.

The second issue? He was too quiet.

You were used to some kind of background noise. Either it was music, TV, literally anything, but Oscar? He just moved around the apartment in silence, which somehow made you more on edge.

Then, later that night, you really reached your breaking point.

You had been winding down, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, scrolling through your phone when you suddenly heard a deep sigh behind you.

You turned your head slightly, only to see Oscar staring at you from the other side of the couch, arms crossed, looking very unimpressed.

You blinked. "What?"

Oscar sighed again, slower this time, louder. "You chew really loud."

Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You’re, like, aggressively loud."

Your eyes narrowed. "I will throw this popcorn at you."

Oscar smirked. "You wouldn’t dare."

Without hesitation, you grabbed a handful of popcorn and launched it at him.

Oscar gasped, dodging the attack. "Greg was right! This was a terrible idea!"

You grinned, grabbing another handful. "Welcome to hell, roomie."

taglist : comment to be added

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[ryomensdoll]

roommate!sukuna x reader smut

Uhhh I'm so down bad for this man. This is something I just quickly threw together ...and yes I kicked my feet the whole time you can shut up now. I'M OVULATING OKAY!? Also this is my first time ever writing smut or any fanfic for that matter so if it sucks oop- > Warnings: 18+, smut, somnophilia mentioned, fingering, sukuna makes reader clean his fingers, choking, creampie, dom-kuna/sub-reader, nothing crazy just typical sukuna behavior, it's short and rushed, there is context but it's lazy, horny ass writing, uuhhh yeah, sukuna is an asshole but what's new? reader is the shy and easily flustered type, but she's also naughty. if I forgot any lmk > Word count: 4.2k (holy shit I didn't even know I wrote that much wtf) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ roommate!sukuna x reader smut

Being Sukuna’s roommate was a nightmare.

Not in the typical “he leaves dishes in the sink” way. No, that would’ve been way too easy. Ryomen Sukuna was an entirely different kind of problem, the kind that came with a towering frame, a voice like sin, and a cocky smirk that made your stomach have those stupid butterflies in a way you’d rather not acknowledge.

He was your own personal tormentor, hell-bent on getting under your skin. And, to his credit, he was damn good at it.

It started off small: stolen food, flicking your forehead when you ignored him, ruffling your hair just to piss you off. Then it escalated. Coming up behind you while you were making coffee, his chest pressing against your back. Making lewd comments just to watch you get flustered. Walking around shirtless, knowing full well you’d glance, against your own will, before tearing your eyes away.

And when that didn’t get the reaction he wanted?

He started touching your stuff.

He’d rifle through your books, pretend to read them, then get bored and leave them open to random pages. He’d steal your pens. Your hair ties. One time he stole your tube top and wore it as a headband. Like, you can't make this shit up.

You swore up and down that you hated him.

But that wasn't really the truth, was it? Because in reality, you liked his silly antics, in a way that wasn't quite healthy.

And that's what you actually hated.

You tried to be strong, to fight it. To roll your eyes and shove him off, to pretend you were immune to his bullshit. But late at night, when you were alone in your room, the thoughts would creep in. His hands. His mouth. His voice.

You’d tell yourself it was just frustration, that it would pass. That he was just a stupid frat boy, not someone you actually wanted.

But then you started writing about him.

It was meant to be a way to vent. Or just to stop yourself from being shameless enough to masturbate to the thought of him. To get the thoughts out of your head and onto paper where they couldn’t haunt you. But what started as frustration quickly turned into confession.

Page after page, you spilled out every filthy thought, every desire you refused to admit out loud. The way you wanted him to ruin you. The way you wanted to stop resisting. The way you wanted to wake up with him already inside you, stretching you open before you even had the chance to tell him no.

That had been your life for the past few months, but now? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's like any other night, and now Sukuna was standing in your bedroom, surmising what his next ploy would be.

You were dead asleep on your bed, having been exhausted from your studies that day. He’d crept in like he had a dozen times before, purely to fuck with you. He never stole anything important. He would just rearranged your books, unplugged your phone charger, flipped your alarm clock upside down. Just enough to annoy you, to make you storm into the living room the next morning with fire in your eyes, ready to cuss him out. He lived for that look, for the way you spat his name like a curse, for the challenge that simmered beneath your irritation.

Tonight was no different.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the room for his next crime. Maybe he’d hide your laptop charger. Or dump your neatly folded laundry onto the floor.

Then his eyes locked onto something near your nightstand. A book? No, a journal.

Sukuna knew he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But you had made it too easy, leaving it right there, tempting him. If you truly didn’t want him snooping, you would’ve locked it up somewhere, right? He walked over to the nightstand slowly, careful not to wake you.

The first page was harmless; just scribbled thoughts, a few mundane entries. Boring. He nearly tossed it aside, more than eager to get back to his antics.

Then he saw his own name.

Right there, inked onto the page in your familiar handwriting, mere inches from where you lay sleeping.

Sukuna’s smirk twitched, curiosity sparking. His fingers tightened around the worn edges of the journal as he flipped the page. Then another. And another.

The more he read, the more his grin faded.

He expected to find complaints. Stuff like, 'Fucking Sukuna won’t leave me alone. I hate him. He’s such an asshole.'

But instead—

'I think about him too much.'

His breath slowed. His eyes flicked toward you.

You were still, chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths, lips parted slightly in sleep. Completely unaware of the way he stood looming over you, flipping through your darkest, filthiest thoughts.

He turned another page.

'I don’t want to want him, but I do.'

Another.

'I want him to pin me down. Hold me there. Make me take it.'

Sukuna went still for a moment.

A slow heat coiled in his gut, sharp and electric. He let out a quiet exhale, gripping the edges of the journal just a little too tight. Fuck.

He had spent months toying with you, always testing, always pushing, waiting for the moment you’d finally snap. But this? Resisting something you desperately wanted.

His gaze dragged over you, slow and unhurried.

Your delicate, exposed throat. The way your body curled slightly into yourself, vulnerable, unaware. The rise and fall of your chest beneath your thin sleep shirt.

His lips curled into something darker. You had been fighting a losing battle this entire time.

Sukuna closed the journal, exhaling a quiet chuckle with a manical grin. "Let's see how you look when confronted with this..." He mutters to himself.

Sukuna walks over to the door of your bedroom, journal in hand, and he closes it shut, pretty damn hard. Hard enough to wake you.

You wake up immediately to the sound of your door slamming, the soft lock clicking after, and you sit up instantly. As your eyes flutter open, you catch the silhouette of a man standing at the foot of your bed.

Your insufferable, cocky, completely unpredictable roommate Sukuna.

Your stomach tightens as you register the way he’s holding something... your journal. His lips are curled into a lazy smirk, fingers thumbing through the pages with blatant amusement.

“Didn’t take you for the kinky type, sweetheart,” he drawls, flipping a page. “And yet… look at all these filthy little confessions.” His eyes gleam in the dim light as they flick up to yours, predatory and unreadable.

Your heart stammers in your chest. “What the fuck, Sukuna?” you snap, scrambling to grab the journal from him but he pulls back.

He merely tilts his head, unimpressed by your flustered reaction. “Tsk. Don’t act all shy now. You wrote this for someone to read, didn’t you?” He steps closer, the air between you thick with his presence. “Or were you hoping I’d find it?”

Your pulse pounds in your throat as he reads aloud, voice dipping into a mocking purr:

“‘It would be a dream come true to wake up with him sinking inside of me…’”

Your breath catches, shame burning through you like wildfire. “You’re an asshole,” you hiss, lunging to snatch the journal from his hands.

But he’s faster.

Sukuna grabs your wrist, yanking you forward with effortless strength until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He leans down, lips grazing your ear as he hums, “I’d say you have two options, princess.” His grip tightens, just enough to remind you of how easily he could overpower you.

“One… you can keep pretending you don’t want this.” His free hand skims up your thigh, pushing the blanket away as his breath fans against your neck. “Or two…” He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, dark and glinting with something sinister.

“…You can let me make that these little dreams of yours come true.”

His lips hover over yours, waiting, taunting. Daring you to make the choice.

And fuck—your body is already betraying you. You're so turned on it must be unfair.

You shudder as his grip tightens around your wrist, his body heat pressing into you, suffocating in the best way. Your heart pounds as you meet his gaze. He’s waiting, daring you to push him away, but you don’t. You can’t.

"S-Sukuna I-" You're unable to finish as he harshly grabs your cheeks, squeezing your face a bit, enjoying the sight of a bright red, blushing idiot.

He laughs amused. "You gonna choose or what?" He says smugly, knowing full well you're already unraveling for him. Your face is on fire and the heat pooling within you is too much to handle. You'd never give into his antics so much, but under these circumstances, within his grasp, the last thing in your mind is denying him.

"I-I want the fantasies t-to come true..." You shut your eyes tight after admitting this, unable to look at him after saying such an embarrassing thing.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

The journal slips from his fingers, landing forgotten on the floor as he shoves you back onto the bed, the motion jolting your breath but leaving no time to protest. Sukuna is on you before you can even think, moving with the deliberate, unhurried confidence of a predator that already knows its prey won’t run.

The weight of him pins you down, broad and unyielding, caging you beneath him. It’s suffocating in the best way, stealing the breath from your lungs, making your head spin. You’ve imagined this—god, you’ve imagined this, but reality is something else entirely. The way his body presses against yours, the solid warmth of him, the intoxicating scent of his skin—cologne, smoke, something darker, something undeniably him and full of sin.

“You wanted to wake up with me inside you?” His voice is a lazy murmur, the barest hint of amusement lacing his words as his fingers ghost down your body, tracing over the fabric of your shirt, barely touching, just enough to make you need. “Should’ve told me sooner, sweetheart.” His breath is hot against your ear. “Would’ve made it happen every night.”

A shiver rolls through you. You can’t tell if it’s from his touch or the weight of his words... every night... As if he has no intention of this being a one-time thing.

His mouth finds your throat, his teeth scraping against sensitive skin before he bites. Not gentle, not careful. You gasp, pleasure sharp and electric, the sting of it sending heat pooling low in your stomach. He chuckles against your neck, pleased, his tongue flicking over the fresh mark, soothing what he just ruined.

“You’re already so easy,” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin as his hand slides under your shirt, his palm rough, calloused, searing against the softness of your stomach and moving up slowly and teasingly to your breasts. “Didn’t even have to try, did I?”

A flame within you still wants to fight him, to not surrender so easily, but what’s the point when your body is already betraying you? When you’re already arching into his touch, already gasping at the feeling of his fingers dragging lower, teasing, tormenting?

Sukuna shifts down, dragging the blanket off you completely, exposing you to the cool air, and to him. His gaze is molten, hungry, as his fingers skim down your stomach, inching lower, pressing between your thighs.

A pleased growl rumbles in his chest. “Fuck.” His fingers stroke once, testing, and he exhales a quiet chuckle. “Soaked just from me reading your little fantasies out loud?” His tone is mocking, but beneath it is something else, something darker, satisfaction, possession. “You’re filthier than I thought.”

You whimper, hips shifting, desperate for more than just his teasing touch. The tension is unbearable, the fire in your veins turning molten, burning for something only he can give. You grab at his shoulders, nails digging in, frustration boiling over. “Sukuna—”

“Say it.” His voice is firm, a command rather than a request. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and expectant. “Tell me you want it.”

The words catch in your throat, not from embarrassment, but from sheer need. Because he knows. He knows you’re already too far gone, already wound too tight, already at the mercy of whatever he decides to give you.

Your pride wants to fight it. But your body is already surrendering.

Your breath shudders as you exhale, the last of your resistance slipping away. “I want it.”

Sukuna’s grin turns sharp, feral. “That’s my girl.”

He rewards your honesty by pushing two fingers deep within your throbbing cunt. Your moans are already lewd and embarrassing and this is just the start.

His pace with his hand is maddening as he works on you like he's done this for over a thousand years. The pressure building up within you is already immense.

He pulls his fingers out suddenly, forcing them into your mouth, making you taste. As soon as he orders it you're obediently sucking all your lewd juices off of him. He finds it cute the way you're submitting to him so soon.

Suddenly, his hands are on you again, gripping, claiming. The fabric of your shirt bunches in his fists before he tears it upward, dragging it over your head in one swift motion. His gaze drops, raking over your newly exposed skin, and something dark and hungry flares in his eyes.

A low growl rumbles in his chest. “Look at you.” His fingers trace the lines of your body, slow, possessive, making you shiver beneath his touch. “Been hiding this from me all this time?”

Heat sears your cheeks, but before you can retort, his mouth is on you. Hot, demanding, teeth scraping against the delicate skin of your collarbone before his tongue soothes the sting. His lips trail lower, claiming more of you, sucking new bruises into your skin, marking you as his.

His hands move with ruthless efficiency, unclasping, unzipping, removing layers of clothing vanishing between gasps and stolen breaths. Every inch of exposed skin is met with his touch, his mouth, his teeth, until you’re left bare beneath him, your body trembling with anticipation.

You should feel vulnerable like this laid out under his gaze, utterly exposed, but the way he looks at you? Like he owns you already? It only sets you on fire.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself, as his hands roam, fingers digging into your hips, thumbs brushing over sensitive skin. His voice is lower now, rougher. “You’re perfect.”

Your breath catches, but Sukuna doesn’t give you a moment to recover. His lips crash against yours. Hard, devouring, leaving no space for air, no space for thought. His tongue parts your lips, claiming your mouth the same way he’s claimed the rest of you, making you feel just how much he wants this.

One of his hands slides lower again, teasing over your thigh before gripping it, yanking your legs open so he can settle between them. His fingers toying with your soaked clit, it's not enough for you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your hips arching up in silent demand.

He chuckles against your mouth, breaking the kiss to murmur, “Impatient, aren’t we?”

You glare, but the effect is ruined by the way you whimper when he presses his knee between your thighs, applying just enough pressure to drive you insane.

“Fuck you,” you manage, breathless.

“Oh, I intend to.” His smirk is pure sin, and then his fingers are back on you, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him. His voice drops to a low, taunting whisper. “But I like watching you squirm first.”

And god, he does exactly that. He doesn't let up on your clit, flicking and pinching your sensitive bud in a way that makes you shamefully moan into his mouth. His mouth finds your throat again, trailing lower, his tongue flicking over your pulse before he bites, harder than before. You’re a mess beneath him, every nerve alight, every teasing brush of his skin against yours making it harder to think, harder to breathe.

“Shit,” he mutters, as if the feeling of you slick and desperate around his fingers is enough to test even his patience. His other hand tightens on your thigh. “You’re so fucking ready for me.”

You whimper, rocking against his hand, your body begging, pleading.

And then he’s shifting, positioning himself against you, his weight pressing down, suffocating in the most intoxicating way.

A smirk curls at his lips as he watches your expression—the anticipation in your eyes, the way your breath hitches, but then he pauses. Not to tease, not to be cruel, but to strip away the last barrier between you.

He takes his shirt off in an effortless motion and then his fingers hook into the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down with an unbearable slowness, the fabric slipping past his hips, down thick, muscular thighs, until he’s finally bare before you.

And god you think he’s perfect. Cause, I mean, he is.

The room feels impossibly hot as your gaze rakes over him, over the sharp ridges of his abs, the inked patterns that stretch across his skin, bold and carnal. The tattoos that you’ve seen glimpses of before, from his moments of teasing you while shirtless, are now on full display, and they only make him look more dangerous. More like something you were never meant to touch, but desperately want to.

Your eyes dip lower, and- fuck.

A shiver runs through you at the sheer size of his cock, thick and intimidating. The breath catches in your throat, thighs instinctively pressing together, but Sukuna notices. Of course he does.

His smirk turns downright sinful. “What’s the matter, princess?” He leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, reveling in the way your body reacts, the way you squirm beneath him. “Having second thoughts?”

You shake your head, barely able to form words, because no, this is exactly what you want, what you’ve wanted for so long it hurts.

That’s all he needs.

Without warning, he aligns himself with you. You can feel the tip pushing teasingly against your needy pussy. You're impatient, but feeling how massive he is against your tight hole makes you second guess again. "W-Wait 'Kuna-AAH!" You choke on your words as he starts pressing inside, inch by agonizing inch, stretching you, filling you completely.

A strangled moan rips from your throat, your fingers digging into his back, your body aching from how deep he is. Your face bright red and eyes starting to water, you beg for mercy.

"'Kuna f-fuck ss'too much!" You whine against him.

Sukuna groans, his head dropping for a fleeting second. “Fuck-” His voice is rough, strained, as if even he wasn’t expecting you to feel this good.

He pulls back slightly, just to thrust in deeper, forcing a whimper from your lips.

“Been thinking about this, haven’t you?” His voice is a low murmur against your ear, his pace slow, torturous, drawing out every sensation. “Fantasizing about me fucking you like this while you lay here, pretending to hate me?”

You bite your lip, refusing to answer, but Sukuna isn’t having that. "Aww don't wanna talk? That's okay." You think for a moment you'll catch a break from him, that he'll slow the pace a little, but you're so wrong. Oh so wrong.

"Guess I'll just—have to—make you—talk—" He says between thrusts, bottoming out into you each time, and oh does it work. You're practically screaming his name now. "Ah, mmph! Ah-! Su-ukuna f-fuck umph- ah!" Your desperate moans are music to his ears. He grins devilishly as he enjoys every moment of you like this.

As you try to suppress your moans out of embarrassment, Sukuna's eyes flicker with a cruel look.

His fingers wrap around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a silent reminder of his control. His thumb drags over the delicate line of your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burn into you, daring, demanding.

“Don’t think you can hide your sounds from me.” His grip tightens, just enough to make your pulse race, just enough to make your breath hitch in anticipation. “Do you really want this?”

Your head tilts back, surrendering. “Yes—fuck, yes.”

His smirk is pure satisfaction. “Good girl.”

And with that he ruins you.

His pace turns brutal, merciless, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs, forcing broken moans from your lips. His name spills from you in gasps, in desperate, helpless cries, and he devours every sound, every reaction, like they were made just for him.

“You take me so fucking well,” he groans, his teeth grazing your jaw before biting down again, claiming you in every way possible. “Just like you wanted, huh? Just like you wrote in that filthy little diary.”

Your mind is unraveling, your body helpless against the overwhelming pleasure. His cock slamming into you relentlessly makes your head feel dizzy. You swear you can feel the tip bullying your cervix. It’s too much, too good, too consuming, winding you tighter and tighter until you’re on the verge of shattering.

"'K-Kuna please-"

Sukuna feels it. Senses it. His smirk deepens, sharp and knowing.

“Come on, princess,” he rasps, his fingers slipping between your thighs, rubbing just the right way on your clit as he continues to rut into you. “Cum for me.”

And you do. Would you really disobey him now?

The pleasure crashes over you in violent, blinding waves, your entire body tensing, trembling beneath him. A cry tears from your throat, your vision going white, your nails digging into his skin as you fall apart.

Sukuna doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, drawing it out, making sure you feel every second of your unraveling. And when he finally follows, burying his cock deep within your poor aching cunt as he groans into your neck. The warmth of him flooding you only makes the pleasure linger, dizzying and all-consuming.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy rhythm of your breaths. You cling to him lazily, your mind and body still in a whirlwind from moments before. Then Sukuna chuckles, low and satisfied, his lips tracing lazy, possessive kisses over your shoulder.

“Guess I should sneak into your room more often,” he muses.

You groan, too spent to shove him off. “You're still an asshole 'Kuna”

He smirks, pressing a kiss to your jaw, smug as ever.

“And you love it.”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Omg i love your stories so much!

Can i make a request of Teen daughter of Charles of (do you remember that picture where Charles was standing on the side cause the fans were taking pictures with Alex? His face still makes me laugh) basically like that, maybe they are in Monza, and as we know Charles is the Ferrari prince, but the fans giving all the attencion (asking for pictures, pictures, yelling for her) while Charles stands on the side (all the drivers + wags are probally cackling at this kkk)

A Weekend to Remember

The sun was already shining brightly over the Autodromo Nazionale Monza as Charles guided the car through the bustling entrance, a familiar excitement buzzing in his chest. But this time, the nerves and anticipation weren’t just about the race. This year, his daughter, Yn, was sitting beside him, her eyes wide as she took in the chaos and beauty of the Italian Grand Prix.

"You okay?" Charles asked softly, stealing a glance at her while maneuvering through the crowds.

Yn turned to him, her face lighting up with a smile. "I still can't believe I'm here," she admitted, her voice full of excitement. "Mom almost didn’t let me come."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "I know, believe me. I had to beg for hours. Your mom worries too much."

"You do know you’re like, insanely famous here, right?" Yn teased, raising an eyebrow.

Charles sighed dramatically. "Ah, so you think I’m famous now, do you? I’m just doing my job."

Yn laughed, the sound bright and warm. "Come on, Dad. These people love you. It’s crazy."

As they pulled into the paddock entrance, the crowd’s energy was palpable. The sea of red—Ferrari caps, flags, and scarves—was impossible to miss. Even after years of driving, the love from the tifosi still amazed Charles. But today, all of it felt different. Better. Because his daughter was finally here with him.

When the car came to a stop, Charles exhaled slowly, glancing toward Yn again. "Ready?"

She nodded eagerly. "Let’s do this."

As soon as they stepped out of the car, the noise swelled. Fans cheered his name, waving banners with his face plastered across them. Charles instinctively placed a protective hand on Yn’s shoulder as they moved toward the entrance.

A group of fans rushed toward them, phones in hand. Charles smiled warmly, greeting them with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. "One at a time, yeah?" he said, already posing for selfies.

Yn stepped to the side, watching with a mixture of awe and pride. It wasn’t the first time she had seen her dad in this environment, but seeing the fans’ adoration up close was something else entirely.

"You okay?" Charles asked between pictures, his green eyes checking in on her.

"I’m good," Yn assured him. "It’s just… wow, Dad. They really love you."

He laughed softly, squeezing her shoulder before turning back to the fans.

When they finally made their way toward the pit lane, the crowd seemed to grow louder. Charles kept Yn close, guiding her through the familiar chaos of Monza. But just as they approached the Ferrari garage, something unexpected happened.

A group of fans rushed toward them again—but this time, their attention wasn’t on Charles.

"Yn! Can we get a picture with you?" one of them called out, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Yn blinked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Me?" she whispered, looking up at her dad.

Charles looked just as surprised, his mouth twitching in disbelief. "They’re asking for pictures with you," he murmured, almost to himself.

Another fan beamed at Yn. "Please? You’re amazing!"

Yn hesitated for a moment before glancing back at Charles. "Is it okay?"

Charles chuckled, still processing the situation. "Of course, if you want to."

She smiled and turned back to the fans, posing with them as they eagerly snapped selfies. Charles stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he watched the scene unfold. His daughter—his little girl—was out here, posing for pictures like a natural.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

"Problem, mate?" a familiar voice teased from behind him.

Charles turned to see Pierre approaching, a knowing grin on his face.

"Not a problem," Charles replied, though his expression gave away his confusion.

Pierre clapped a hand on his shoulder. "My goddaughter’s an icon. What did you expect? She’s got the charm—it runs in the family."

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. "She’s not even supposed to be the famous one," he mumbled.

Pierre laughed. "Good luck with that. I think the Tifosi just adopted her."

After Yn finished taking pictures, she skipped back to her dad, her face glowing with excitement. "Did you see that? They actually wanted pictures with me!"

Charles felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest—a mix of pride and nostalgia. For a moment, it was like she was little again, running toward him after spotting something exciting. He reached out, pulling her into a hug before he could stop himself.

"I’m proud of you," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity.

Yn tilted her head in confusion. "For what? I didn’t do anything."

Charles shook his head, hugging her a little tighter. "Just for being you."

She laughed softly, leaning into his embrace. "You’re such a softie, Dad."

"You’re going to give him a heart attack at this rate," Pierre teased from the side, clearly enjoying the show.

A few more drivers had gathered, and Charles could hear the quiet laughter behind him. Max smirked from a few steps away. "You okay, man? Need a minute?"

"I’m fine," Charles shot back, though the fondness in his voice was undeniable.

Carlos strolled up with a grin. "Your daughter is stealing your spotlight, mate. How does it feel?"

Charles just shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "I don’t mind. She deserves it."

Yn beamed up at her dad, squeezing his arm. "I still can’t believe I’m here. Thank you for convincing Mom."

Charles softened, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anytime. I wanted to share this with you."

As they stood there—surrounded by the noise of Monza, the teasing of friends, and the love of the tifosi—Charles realized something. No matter how intense the race weekend got, this moment with Yn would be the one he’d hold onto.

And if the fans wanted to adopt his daughter as their newest icon… well, he couldn’t blame them.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoy reading this. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[sxdisteez]

☸ Dorm Series: Part- Eight | 최종호

| series masterlist | previous |

✦ summary: you and jongho decide to spend your day together playing your favorite video games. fun banter is a part of the fun until you take it too far. ✦ pairings: idol! boyfriend jongho x fem! reader ✦ genre: smut!, idol boyfriend au ✦ word count: 1.6 k ✦ warnings: smut!, dom jongho, reader doesn't like to lose, oral sex (m receive), punishment, rough jongho, face fucking, sloppy head, gagging, hand job, reader loves to be praised, face painting (with cum), slight hair pulling, praise kink, cussing from Jongho ✦ a/n: the end of ateez dorm series is here😭. this was my very first series it feels a bit bittersweet that it's over but I truly enjoyed writing and reading this. I hope you all enjoy it just as much as I did!💗

this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be a realistic representation of any of the real people mentioned.

nsfw content below. 18+ - mdni

After weeks of planning with many failed attempts to see each other, you and Jongho finally found the right day to spend some quality time together. Since you were busy with your studies and he was in the middle of preparing for a new comeback it was harder for you both to see each other lately. So here you were sitting crossed legged in his bed, clutching the game controller tightly in your hand on the brink of winning in Mario Kart. 

“Ha! I win again!” You squeal happily, playfully sticking your tongue out at Jongho who’d only rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah yeah. I was going easy on you.” He replies.

“It’s okay to admit you lost fair in square. Three times in the row might I add.” You smile cheekily at him.

Rolling his eyes again, Jongho just shakes his head at your response refusing to feed into your delusion.

 “How about for the next round whoever loses has to do what the winner wants.” A mischievous grin takes over Jongho’s face.

“That’s fine I’m gonna win anyways. You’ll be calling me queen y/n for the rest of the month.” You respond with a smug look taking over your features.

“We’ll see about that.” Jongho mumbles to himself, his mind already set on playing the game properly to put you back in your place.

⬦⬥⬦

“What was all that you were saying?” Jongho laughs at the stunned look plastered on your face. He’d beat you in less than 5 minutes, giving you no room to even catch up with him.

“You cheated!” You whined not believing the results.

“How could I cheat babe? You saw me, I did nothing different.” 

“Whatever cheater. You only won one game so you’re still a loser.” You bite back, rolling your eyes refusing to accept defeat.

Jongho cocks his eyebrow at your words not liking the attitude you were giving him. He stands walking over to your sitting figure, a slight smirk playing on his lips. 

“Since I won it’s only right, you do what I want.” His hands grip your legs gently unraveling them, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. You peer up at him not knowing what crazy ideas were running through his head.

“You know babe, that mouth of yours always gets you in trouble. Do you know what happens to bratty girls who run their mouths? ” He tsks. You immediately cower at his words, remembering what Jongho had done the last time you did something that he’d deemed as bratty.

“I- I.” You stutter out completely lost for words feeling his heated gaze bore into your face.

“Shhhh. The only sound I want to hear is you choking on my dick.” He growls lowly, pulling you off the bed.

“B-but the members. T-they’re in the other room.” You stammer out stunned at his request.

“What they hear is all up to you sweetheart. Now kneel down.”

Without another word you position yourself comfortably on your knees between Jongho’s legs coming face to face with his already large bulge. Hooking your fingers in the waistband of his briefs you pull them down bit by bit until they fall to his feet. His thick length springs forward, tip already slightly red showing his arousal. You couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of his cock, doing your best to prepare for whatever Jongho might do. Taking your time, you grip the base of his dick giving it a few tugs watching as small beads of precum spill from the slit. You quickly lick the essence before it could fall, a small moan sounding off at the taste. 

Jongho releases a breathy gasp at your actions waiting eagerly for your next movement. He watches carefully as your mouth fully engulfs around the head of his cock, sucking gently at the sensitive flesh. His knees buckle at the sight of your saliva trickling down his shaft, spreading with each stroke of your hand. Feeling impatient with your deliberately slow actions Jongho takes matters into his own hands.

“Move your hands.” he growls lowly. You remove your hand, eyes widen, feeling Jongho’s hands grip your head keeping you in place.

He forcefully thrusts into your mouth, his thick length gagging you in the process filling your mouth completely. Jongho stills his hips, relishing in how wet and warm it felt around him before pulling out fully. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s plunging his cock back into your mouth forcing it even deeper before. 

Your eyes close at the force, tears brimming your eyes, feeling his tip graze the back of your throat harshly. Jongho’s grip on your head tightens as he begins to fuck into your mouth. His strokes are rough and precise as he mercilessly uses your mouth for his own pleasure. 

“Shit. You feel so fucking good.” He mutters, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sensation.

You can’t help the muffled moan that spills from your mouth at his words, finally relaxing in his grasp with each thrust. Wanting to please him even more you hollow your cheeks, suctioning his cock perfectly. Jongho moans loudly from the sudden action, his hips bucking even more at how well you sucked his dick. 

“Keep doing that and you're gonna make me cum quick.” He groans, pulling out of your mouth. He watched as thick saliva spilled messily down your mouth, covering your shirt and his floor.

“You look so sexy like this. Taking my dick like a good girl.” He whispers softly, stroking the sides of your head.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, basking in the praise he was giving you. Jongho knew how much you enjoyed being praised by him especially in your most intimate moments.

“You still have to be taught a lesson for being naughty.” He sighs mockingly.

“Open up.” He says. You open your mouth once again sticking your tongue out, feeling a slight ache start to form in your jaw from his previous assault.

Jongho grabs his cock giving it a few small strokes before tapping his tip on your tongue.

“After today you’ll think twice before you speak.” He says pushing his cock back into your waiting mouth. 

You close around his length taking him down inch by inch until your nose is pressed completely against his pelvis. Fingers tangling in your hair, he holds your head down rutting his hips forward in small circles, a feral growl emitting from his chest as your moans vibrate through his cock.

“Fuck you’re so good.” He moans, the hold on your hair relaxing a bit. 

You eagerly begin to bob your head, desperately wanting more praise from Jongho. Your hands find their way back to his length, working the rest of him with both your hands.

“Look at me.” He commands

Your eyes flit up to meet his eyes, a fiery glint shone behind them. Jongho felt his orgasm slowly creeping up on him with each movement. Seeing how eager you were to please him, the cock drunk look that glazed over your eyes, how messy you were around his cock. He felt weak in the knees at the sight of you like this wanting nothing more than to paint your pretty face with his cum.

“Fuck keep going. I’m so close.” He groans, head falling back as you pick up your pace. His grip tightens in your hair, hips thrust matching your rhythm perfectly. With each thrust you feel Jongho’s cock twitch in your mouth, the taste of his precum coating your tongue spreading through your mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna cum!” Jongho moans quickly pulling out of your mouth. He begins to jerk his cock swiftly, desperately chasing his orgasm. You watch as his face scrunches up tightly, mouth falling agape, pleasure wrecking through his body as he hits his peak. With a loud moan, his cum squirts out wildly, splashing all over your face. You moan at the warm sensation, feeling his release trickle down your face.

He pulled back pulling you up from the floor, Jongho’s lips encompassing yours. His tongue exploring your mouth greedily moaning at the taste.

“Good girl. You look so pretty with my cum all over you.” He coos, coaxing a wide smile to grace your face.

“Anything to please you.”

“I hope you remember this next time you think about getting smart with me.” Jongho gazes pointedly at you. You only nod in response, refusing to show how much you enjoyed his way of “punishing” you.

Jongho’s hands find their way to the hem of your skirt, pushing the fabric out of the way before carelessly ripping your panties off. A surprised gasp leaves your mouth from his abrupt actions. 

“Now for your reward.” He guides you to the bed, spreading your legs wide. 

Jongho eyes your pussy wanting to cum again just from the sight of your glistening pussy, longing to be touched.

A knock sounds at the door interrupting Jongho’s thoughts.

“Uhh s-sorry to interrupt, but how much longer are you gonna be. I’m trying to sleep.” Yunho’s low voice rings out from the other side of the door.

“Sorry hyung, I'll keep it down.” Jongho a smirk playing on his lips. Without another word Yunho walks away back to his room.

You look back to Jongho who removed his clothing in the process picking up your ruined panties.

“Open.” He says, bringing your panties to your lips.

You open your mouth feeling the soaked lace fill your mouth.

“If you want to cum you better keep it down.” He teases making his way down to your pussy, finally giving you what you longed for.

—taglist: @spicxbnny @dawn-iscozy @st4ytiny @nopension @ateezswonderland @jiminssluttyminx @sunnysidesins

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it like, reblog with tags, comment, and follow!

[littlestl4mb]

you should make a little blurb about jealous lu!

PS: I love your work you are so cutesie

thank you dear anon!!!! i will put this under the cut because i kinda wrote more than i meant to lol oops

okay so i was thinking about this heavily. at first i thought hmmm luigi doesn’t strike me as the jealous type idk… he’s so intelligent and he’s an engineer so like… you know that mf is as logical and solution-oriented as they come. for better or worse. but then... i thought about it again and i went no YEAH lu definitely gets jealous... i think college lu FOR SURE would. and it drives him mad bc he knows his jealousy is stupid. it’s a foolish feeling, he probably thinks. yet one he can’t shake himself free from. especially when you’re first seeing each other but it’s not completely exclusive yet. when things between you are casual because you’re just getting to know each other?? yeahhhh his brain is going wild 24/7. he can’t stop thinking about you. he can’t stomach the idea of you spending your time with another person that isn’t him. he hates it too because he just knows he’s being too obsessive, that he’s being way too much. he has a lot of self awareness— he knows how to rationalize his heart with his head. but… he can’t stop the compulsive bitterness he feels towards anyone that shows you any sign of affection!!! the hormones just go crazy in that man’s head. he tries to keep a cap on most of his feelings, but when it comes to you it’s nearly impossible. and it only drives him more mad because he’s soooo aware of his jealousy and how futile such a feeling is, but he literally cannot save himself from it. 

he sees you walking down the sidewalk with some guy, and he hates the way his stomach drops. he acknowledges the fact that he has no autonomy over who you see or hang out with, and still he can’t stand it. loathes it. feels so powerless to an emotion that is eating him alive inside and out. the worst part is he kind of knows the guy you’re walking with too. not very well but enough. the kid isn’t even that bad— has exchanged some kind words with luigi before in passing. but all it takes is for the guy to be in the place that luigi has self righteously already claimed as his in his head, and now luigi fucking detests the guy. 

he rants about it to his friends the moment he sees them, “i just don’t fucking get it. the guy has no hobbies. he can’t write. have you seen the books he chooses to read around campus? horrible taste. i don’t see what she sees in him.” — and all his friends are telling him he needs to cool it because it’s out of his control. 

don’t worry though, luigi does not believe in cooling it. in fact, he calls you up on the phone and leaves you a 3 minute long voicemail. he’s not afraid to say how he feels so he lets it all out. he’s telling you how “you’re wasting your time with whatever-his-name-is.” says something like, “does he even do anything? i mean it. does he? at least i started the video game development club.” 

luigi is going OFF in his little voicemail. you listen to the full thing when you’re out of class, generally surprised by how out of the blue it is. the thing is, you didn’t even see luigi earlier when he evidently saw you. he must’ve spotted you and then slipped out of sight immediately.

you have another class to attend to, and not enough time to deal with whatever melt down the man is having. so all you can text him is ‘luigi, he was walking out of class with me and we were talking because we just got put together for a group project.’ it’s the truth too, there wasn’t anything nefarious going on between you two. 

of course, luigi calls you right away. you can’t pick up, but that doesn’t stop him from calling about 5 more times. when he finally sees you later, he probably stands by his word. he’s got too much pride to admit his wrong doing. or the fact that he jumped to conclusions so fast. 

…and then i think once you’re in a proper relationship, the way in which luigi gets jealous shifts. it’s not so much over the simple and stupid stuff. not the silly little things that you get jealous of when you’re young and think you’re the center of the world. when you’re finally exclusive with each other, he has no insecurities that you’re all about him. but … he is a taurus man and every taurus man i’ve ever known is jealous in the most covert way. and in my experience it’s in a very specific way too?? which i would call the “i have to know i’m important in your life” kind of way. 

it’s not so much about being jealous of you hanging out with others. no, in fact he likes that you have your own ways about you and you’re independent. but there’s still a part of him that needs the reassurance that he’s very much important to you. i hope this is making sense. like, he wants to know when you think of him, and he wants you to admit when you’ve missed him. he’d straight up tell you this too. “can you just admit when you think of me? i can’t just know it. i have to hear it in person from you.” 

also, i think he’d have this strange kind of possessive jealousy, where he has to know you through and THROUGH. he has a need to know you as much as humanly possible. he needs to be closer to you than anyone else. he gets jealous and bitter at the thought of others knowing you better than he does.

he’s observant, yes, and knows you that way. but he likes hearing you talk about everything and anything too, so that he can understand you more than anyone else ever has. he needs to know the memory you have of being a little girl and walking down the street, and how the people and buildings were just so tall. something so mundane that you never bothered telling anyone else, he has to have that knowledge like it's a drink of water when he's been walking through the desert for months. and i’m telling you right now— that man wants to know the block you grew up on. he wants to go there by himself and walk down it. he tries to see what you saw as a little girl, wants to see things how you saw them when you were young. thinks that if he does that, he can fathom your thoughts a little better. maybe be able to think your own thoughts himself— that he might know you so well that he becomes a part of you. 

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: february 2025

I can't believe that with all the bullshit nonsense of this year I've managed to read ten book a month for two months in a row. it's not on purpose but it's crazy that it's happened twice!

what have I been reading?

The Art of Frugal Hedonism: A Guide to Spending Less While Enjoying Everything More (Annie Raser-Rowland w/ Adam Grubb, 2017; audiobook read by Alice Ansara, 2024) - this was my first audiobook, and it was a doozy. the short version is that this book sucked and made me so, so mad. I really hoped to have my scathing haterade-fueled review up on patreon by now so that I could link it, but that hasn't panned out because I just have too much to say about these out of touch cunts offering the world's least qualified financial advice. "just take a leisurely twelve hour hike to a train station instead of going on vacation" kill yourself!!!

The Age of Magical Overthinking: Notes on Modern Irrationality (Amanda Montell, 2024) - I quite liked Montell's previous book, Cultish, but unfortunately I fear Magical Overthinking was a bit of a flop for me. I can't help but feel that the ideal target demographic is extremely anxious women in their teens and early 20s who need a compassionate explanation of why they should spend less time on Twitter and TikTok, and I'm afraid that shrimply isn't me.

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World (Robin Wall Kimmerer, 2024; audiobook read by the author) - this was, unintentionally, a lovely little counterpoint to Frugal Hedonism. where Raser-Rowland and Grubb focus deeply on individual consumption habits and have a bad penchant of commodifying human interaction, Potawatomi botanist Kimmerer emphasizes the need for structural environmental change that can come by embracing Indigenous models of viewing the earth and its resources as members of crucial members of the family deserving of respect. a thoughtful and lovely balm to the bullshit!

My Year of Rest and Relaxation (Ottessa Moshfegh, 2018) - a book about the original queen of giving us nothing, as our protagonist goes to increasingly drastic lengths to spend as much time as possible asleep and disengaged from anything more complicated than acquiring more prescription pills. what can I say? I love books about miserable rich white women rotting in their own self-absorption.

Don't Want You Like a Best Friend (Emma R. Alban, 2024) - this was my patreonites' pick for my romance novel of the month, and I'll admit I went in nervous - historical romance novels are often not my thing, and the Taylor Swift lyric for the title was a red flag. but you know what? this was a romp. I was entertained. dare I say I was even charmed. sure, it falls into the common historical queer romance pitfall of emphasizing the vague threat of period-typical homophobia while assuring us that every important character just so happens to be startlingly cool with homosexuality, but whatever - I didn't come here to see these girls get hatecrimed by their own parents, alright? I wasn't planning to read the sequel, but it turns out it's a VERY direct follow up where the girls from this book hatch an INSANE plan to (SPOILER ALERT) get their male cousins to fall in gay love so that they can lavender marry each other's cousins and live happily ever after. INSANE! I love it here.

Dawn (Octavia E. Butler, 1987) - on the one hand, I'm a little heartbroken. this marks the beginning of the last of Butler's series that I haven't read; after Adulthood Rites and Imago, I'll have read everything she published in her too-short life, with no new works to look forward to ever again. but on the other hand: MAN, am I glad I saved this one for last. this book has it all: humanity's near-extinction. aliens. psychic tentacle threesomes. maybe the biggest L that any of Butler's heroines ever took. it's wild out here! cannot wait to see where we're going with this.

Iron Widow (Xiran Jay Zhao, 2021) - this was a reread to prep for the sequel, Heavenly Tyrant, which came out in December, and MAN am I glad I decided to check back in with the first book. I really thought I remembered the broad strokes of the plot well enough, but I really did not remember just how blood-spittingly bugfuck viscous Zetian and her two boyfriends are. of the three people in this throuple, the nicest one is the guy who murdered his brothers and dad in cold blood. and I think that's awesome! cannot wait to see what these absolute freaks are up to now, and my hold cannot come into the library quickly enough.

Pardon My Frenchie (Farrah Rochon, 2024) - okay. listen. on paper I shouldn't like this book. the male love interest is boring at best and a full-blown shithead at worst. the biggest driver of the plot is the love interests' dogs going crazy levels of viral. the sex is minimal and nothing to write home about. and yet. AND YET. our female lead, Ashanti, is simply so charming and earnest and plucky that I adored her immediately. girl lost both her parents on the same day, had to drop out of veterinary school to raise her twin younger sisters, and is struggling to run the world's most plush doggy day care AND run a successful side business selling homemade dog biscuits. truly I just want anything to go right for her, ever. she's never even been eaten out prior to this book, and that makes me so, SO sad for her. I may not like her boyfriend, but at least he'll get her off, and that counts for something. overall, it's Ashanti's storyline about learning how to prioritize what's important to her and let some obligations go instead of clinging madly to everything that really got me through and won me over. plus, this book bypassed by usual kneejerk dislike of obnoxiously cutesy plot device pets in romance novels by making the dogs actually completely integral to the story and the characters - Ashanti is hugely defined by her adoration of every dog she meets - in a way that I really enjoy. will I read the upcoming sequel, Pugs and Kisses? fuck it. maybe.

White Feminism: From the Suffragettes to Influencers and Who They Leave Behind (Koa Beck, 2019) - Beck's book falls in a really sweet spot of building very well on a lot of feminism 101 to actually meaningfully discuss new concepts without being redundant. okay, yes, you've heard "white feminism" is bad, but do you know why? Beck has some of the most well laid-out explanations I've ever encountered, thoroughly detailing the ways in which white feminism reject collectivist anti-capitalist action in favor of individual advancement within the status quo. plus there is, as promised, a great historical throughline, contrasting the actions of historical middle and upper class white feminists against those of actions largely headed up by women who are Black, brown, Jewish, and/or immigrants who served entire communities. the takedown of "lean in" office girlboss culture is particularly killer.

Acts of Service (Lillian Fishman, 2022) - a short novel, ideal for reading in a couple hours if you love mess and happen to be trapped in various airports and flights with not much else to do! I was expecting another entry in the obnoxiously disaffected young woman genre and was pleasantly surprised by how curious and engaged our protagonist, Eve, actually is! much like Edie of Luster, I think she's gonna be alright once this deranged throuple situation blows over. ultimately I don't know if the conclusion of the novel hit for me as well as Luster did, and when I got to the end of the book I did kind of find myself going damn... and what was the point of all that? I have no idea, but it was well-crafted and I'm glad that I didn't read this like six months ago because it probably would have killed me with toxic horny poisoning at that point in my life. I'm normal now.

[brainddeadd]

would you ever do Charles Leclerc x hughes reader?

Absolutely I would

I realised too late this wasn't done in typical y/n format. Forgive me, I'm too lazy to change it 😅

I will write more if you'd like, so please send in requests

Caffeine and Coincidence

The coffee shop smelled like freshly ground beans and caramel drizzle, the kind of warm, comforting scent that made early mornings feel less painful. Y/N had tucked herself into the corner, scrolling through her phone while waiting for her drink, completely unaware that the man standing beside her was about to change everything.

Charles glanced at her, intrigued by the fact that she hadn’t given him a second look. Normally, people recognized him instantly, especially in places like Monaco or Italy. But here? Nothing.

“You come here often?” he asked casually, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N glanced up, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I like their caramel lattes. You?”

“First time.” He nodded toward the menu. “Didn’t know what to get, so I just pointed at something random.”

She laughed. “That’s brave. What if you hate it?”

“Then I suffer in silence,” he joked, making her laugh again.

Their drinks came, and neither of them moved to leave right away. Instead, they ended up talking for almost an hour, bonding over travel, their crazy schedules, and how nice it was to meet someone without expectations attached.

Not once did his name ring a bell for her, and Charles found that incredibly refreshing. She wasn’t trying to impress him or ask for photos—just treating him like a normal guy. And when she introduced herself as Y/N Hughes, it meant nothing to him beyond the fact that it suited her.

Before parting ways, he asked for her number. “For coffee recommendations,” he added with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Sure, Leclerc.”

—

A few weeks later, Y/N was sprawled out on the couch at Quinn's apartment, half-paying attention to the Formula 1 race on TV while waiting for him to finish getting ready.

“You good with ordering sushi?” Quinn called from his room.

“Yeah, sounds good,” she responded, eyes flicking up at the screen just as the cameras zoomed in on the Ferrari driver stepping out of his car.

The name bar at the bottom of the screen read: Charles Leclerc – Ferrari #16

Y/N nearly choked on air.

No. Freaking. Way.

The Charles she had been texting and meeting up with for coffee was that Charles? The one who was currently taking off his helmet and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, looking like an international heartthrob?

Luke walked into the room just in time to see her gaping at the TV. “Uh… you good?”

She pointed at the screen, words failing her. “That—he—that’s Charles.”

Luke blinked. “Yeah?”

“No, that’s Charles,” she emphasized.

Realization dawned on his face. “Wait. Leclerc? That’s the guy you’ve been hanging out with?”

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “Oh my god. I had no idea. I thought he was just some normal, ridiculously attractive coffee guy.”

Quinn burst out laughing. “Y/N, he’s literally one of the biggest names in motorsport.”

Her phone buzzed with a text.

Charles: Are we still on for coffee tomorrow?

Y/N groaned again. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Quinn smirked, crossing his arms. “Or… you could just admit you’ve been unknowingly dating an F1 driver.”

She threw a pillow at him.

[whatonearthisgoingon]

Demon Giyuu AU

I've been obsessing over Demon Giyuu and SaneGiyuu, so have a little rant/fic about the idea.

There is also some past SabiGiyuu mentioned, but it's minor. Word Count: 2,151

Okay, so Giyuu is on a standard mission against a Lowermoon or minorly powerful but not ranked demon, when out of nowhere someone in the Upper 3 comes along as a reinforcement for the first demon.

Giyuu tries his absolute hardest to kill the demons, to the point where he unlocks the mark. In the end, with the combination of the Uppermoon and lower ranked demon, Giyuu eventually looses, but he's not dead yet, barely conscious and struggling to move. The Upper demon he's against, is pretty impressed with the fight Giyuu gave, and gives him blood, Giyuu too weak to fight back against it. The two demons leave, not waiting to see if Giyuu survives.

Giyuu, feeling the changes, calls Kanzaburo to send a message to the Master and the Hashiras, before eventually passing out from exhaustion as the transformation starts.

Eventually the Hashiras find Demon Giyuu where he's relatively calm for a recently turned demon. He found a stream nearby and is calmly sitting in the water. He found out pretty early that he can control the water, so he's making it form into a multitude of pretty shapes. The Hashiras approach with caution, but their guard is soon dropped as Giyuu brightly talks to them, stating how he's happy they found him.

The only Hashiras who aren't convinced are Sanemi and Obanai. So what does Sanemi do? He walks up to Giyuu, and slashes his own arm open, the Marechi blood dripping down. Sanemi: "You're still so human, right? So surely this has no effect on you, huh? Go on, you know you want it!"

Giyuu is trying his hardest to resist, backing away as Sanemi merely gets closer, taunting him with the blood. Giyuu's eyes are transfixed on the wound, and his breath is becoming more labored as he tries to resist the demonic urges. Eventually, he's able to turn away from Sanemi, refusing the blood; that's enough to convince the other Hashiras of Giyuu's trustworthiness, just as it worked for Nezuko.

As the night is still high, they bring Giyuu back to the Water Estate, where the Master is waiting. They have a long discussion over Giyuu's new condition; how he can't be in the sun, the Blood Demon Art, how missions with non-hashiras should be avoided, a supplementary beef and pork diet to hopefully substitute any cravings for human flesh, etc. After the big topics are discussed, the biggest question arises; who will stay with Giyuu, and make sure he doesn't go crazy and hurt anyone for the next few weeks or months, as he has only recently transformed? Who is strong enough to keep him in check? All eyes turn to Sanemi.

Sanemi: "Why is everyone looking at me?" Obanai: "As much as I hate to admit it, that prick is stronger than all of us, minus you and Gyomei. But I think we can all agree that Gyomei won't be the best at watching a demon." Sanemi: "I'm not watching over the demon fuck- I hate him! There's no way that I'll be taking care of him-!"

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

Giyuu watches as the door shuts when the last Hashira leaves, leaving him and a fuming Sanemi in a room alone, after the Master commanded Sanemi to stay with Giyuu. It's quiet for a minute, when Giyuu finally speaks.

Giyuu: "Do you have a certain type of tea you like? I can make a pot-" Sanemi: "Shut the fuck up, this is all your fault." Giyuu: " ...... I'll just make myself one then.." He says as he stands up and walks out.

Sanemi eventually joins Giyuu, because he has nothing else to do, and he's stuck with the damn idiot, so why not have some tea while he's at it. The two sit in silence, drinking tea, until Giyuu speaks.

Giyuu: "I don't have much set up in my estate, so we can live together in yours." Sanemi: "Excuse me?" Giyuu: "Well the Master said we had to stay together, so you can watch me- so I presume we'll be staying in the same estate?" Sanemi: Loudly sighs. "Whatever you dumb shit, sure. My estate or whatever. Just don't make a mess, you hear me?" Giyuu: "Of course."

Giyuu goes quiet again, just drinking his tea, but he has a small smile. He doesn't know how to explain it, or why he's feeling it, but he's really happy that he gets to hang out with Sanemi now.

When tea is over, they pack up some of Giyuu's clothes, and they go to Sanemi's Estate before the sun rises. While Giyuu is putting his stuff in the guest bedroom, Sanemi goes around his Estate, making sure all the windows are shut and covered with curtains. There's no way he'd let Giyuu see him doing something nice or caring for him like that, so he rushes to get it all done before Giyuu is done unpacking.

Later Sanemi goes to bed, as does Giyuu, as they had been up all night dealing with demon nonsense. The next night, they go on their first mission together.

As they are now eating meals together, going on missions together, and living together, the two start growing closer together. The animosity and tension is still there, but it has become to change. Rather hating Giyuu's whole dumb face, Sanemi specifically hates that dumb, stupid, disgustingly pretty, blue eyes. Giyuu's opinion on Sanemi's anger has shifted from one of irritation to a minor annoyance with a small hint of fondness to it; it's what makes Sanemi, Sanemi.

One night, Giyuu is calmly sitting in his room, reading something, when he hears a yell and a crash from Sanemi's room. He gets up and goes to Sanemi's room, finding him freshly woken from a nightmare.

Rather asking questions, Giyuu just sits down, gently taking the shaking Sanemi's hand. He's quiet, and just sits there, being a comforting presence as Sanemi's racing heart rate slowly lowers. Sanemi squeezes and relaxes his hold on Giyuu's hand many times, Giyuu's presence grounding him.

After a few minutes, Sanemi does something surprising. He hugs Giyuu. Giyuu is shocked at first, but doesn't fight against it, hugging Sanemi. They sit like that for a few minutes, until Sanemi mumbles a quiet "Thank you."

That night, Giyuu lays back down with Sanemi, holding him in that hug, his hands wrapped around Sanemi's waist. The two fall asleep together as the sun rises, and they are still holding each other when they awake in the evening.

They have a meal together, acting like nothing happened, then go on the night's mission. When they return they do their usual routine of a meal, getting ready for bed, etc. But this night, Giyuu follows Sanemi to his room for sleep. Sanemi, although confused at first, doesn't argue, letting Giyuu lay down with him. He would never admit it, but last night was the best he'd slept in years.

This routine continues, neither man willing to bring up the developing intimate relationship between them. It's easier to stay quiet and let it happen. But over the next month, they grow even closer. Hugging and hand holding around the house is becoming common. They pick food off each other's plates. They cook their meals together in the kitchen, or over a fire on missions. They spar together at night when they don't have a mission.

A few times when the two are talking and are close together, there is a want for more, when the two's faces are only a foot or so apart. Sometimes when they hug, the hands trail a little lower than they're supposed to.

Sanemi is pissed at these feelings. Giyuu is a man- and he's not even a human man. He's a demon. A relationship like that would be an abomination on two levels. They'd be executed for this shit, Giyuu much more instantly than Sanemi would. Sure, they could run, but neither of them want that, do they?

Giyuu on the other hand, is less mad that he likes a man, but that that man is Sanemi. Because he knows why its Sanemi specifically. Sanemi... Sabito... The aggressive personality, the purple eyes with so much emotion behind them, the scars formed in battle from strength and courage. He fell for the same person all over again. And just like all of the other people Giyuu loved, Giyuu is scared that something drastic will happen to Sanemi.

The two continue their "friendship," while both holding these feelings inside of them, refusing to speak to each other, too scared of how the other will feel, and how the world will react.

Some of the Hashiras started noticing the shift in the two's relationship. Iguro notices that Sanemi isn't irritated by the mere thought of Giyuu anymore. Shinobu notices that Giyuu's fascination over Sanemi has only increased into a shared friendship; she is very happy for Giyuu. Mitsuri is happy that there is less tension in Hashira meetings now, because they are getting along.

The only Hashira who really notices that the two men long for more, is Tengen. And he's pretty sure he is more accepting of that idea, than the two men infront of him are.

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

Ubuyashiki: "I trust Giyuu to be by himself now. He has been a demon for about 5 months now, and has proven that he is safe to be around, and safe to be on missions by himself." Looking at Sanemi and Giyuu "Sanemi does not need to watch over Giyuu constantly anymore." He pauses then smiles. "If the two of you.. wish to separate, Giyuu can return to his own estate."

Ubuyashiki says that with a certain tone, and a soft smile on his face, suggesting that he knows the two will most likely not want to separate. He makes it clear that this is an option, not a requirement. He dismisses the meeting, and Sanemi and Giyuu return to the Wind Estate.

Sanemi: "So? Are you staying or going?" Giyuu: "Well.. I mean, all my belongings are here anyway.." Sanemi: Nods a little "Yeah, they are.. but.. you want to stay here still?" Giyuu: "Do you want me to leave?" He says with a slightly sad tone Sanemi: "No!" Realizes he was way too quick and loud with his answer. "I mean, you make my life easier, help with cooking and cleaning shit.." Giyuu: Smiles a little. "Well, I'll go get started.. I'll make sure there's some ohagi for dessert.." Sanemi: "Yeah whatever, I'm getting a shower.." He walks off, not letting Giyuu see the smile on his face, now knowing that Giyuu wants to stay. After living together, fully on their own choice, for a few weeks, Giyuu decides that it's finally time to talk about what the two of them are. On a night without a mission, Giyuu takes Sanemi outside to the backyard of the Wind Estate, at around 11:50 pm. They're sitting quietly looking at the scenery under a full moon, when Giyuu speaks up.

Giyuu: "Sanemi, what are we?" Sanemi: Confused. "What do you mean?" Giyuu: "Well.. we've been living together for a few months. We go on almost every mission together. We eat meals together. We hug and hold hands. We sleep in the same bed. Is it wrong of me to assume there is something more than friendship between us? We are acting like a couple." Sanemi: He freezes up for a minute, not responding. His first instinct is to tell Giyuu off, 'How dare you think of me as a fag.' 'What on earth are you talking about.' But he doesn't. Instead he thinks about his words, before responding. "What do you think of our relationship? How would you react if a name was put on it?" Giyuu: He's quiet while he considers, then sighs. "I.. I wouldn't mind the title.. But if you do mind the title, then I think we should try to distance ourselves into a normal platonic relationship, because that is not where we are at right now." Sanemi: He considers Giyuu's words, then softly whispers. "I wouldn't mind the title.. saying we're.. together" Giyuu: He finally looks at Sanemi, then takes Sanemi's hand in his own. "Well, can I say 'I love you' then, Sanemi?" Sanemi: Laughs a little as he turns red in the cheeks. "Maybe give it a day, but sure.." He smiles, still avoiding eye contact with Giyuu; if he met his gaze, he would probably explode. Giyuu: "Alright.." He stands up, letting go of Sanemi's hand as he does, then turns to the door. "I'll be in bed. Take as long as you need." Looks inside and sees as the clock strikes as midnight. "And, I love you.." He says as he walks inside. Sanemi: Laughs "You're a fucking dick, Tomioka!" He smiles fondly at Giyuu's antics, before quietly whispering once Giyuu leaves. "I love you too.."

[concretejunglefm]

coming to you on this fine Sunday because sub priest!Noah? corruption kink goes crazy 😵‍💫

I’m thinking you come to the confessional booth knowing he’ll be there, admitting your sin which is unholy thoughts about him ( pretending that you don’t know he’s the one on the other side ). he coaxes said thoughts out of you — without having to try too hard — all of which end with him on his knees, worshipping you. little do you know, you’ve already been his greatest temptation. and he’s not much further to claiming you as his god.

hm. I wonder what tips him over the edge 🤭

I think it’s time for him to confess to you now. lord knows there’s a lot of quality compost up there. bet he’d be such a fervent follower if you let him serve you ://

you know, I think his current necklace would also make a pretty decent leash.

I mean. AWOOGA

- @somebodyels3

all I can do is apologize, but if a man is already subservient to a god, why not make him subservient to you?

Pairing: sub!Noah Sebastian x dom f!reader.

CW: includes mentions of handjob, corruption kink, religious themes, undertones of sub/dom dynamic, kind of power dynamics, blasphemy, priest kink, slight manipulation.

NSFW below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

You’re both his greatest temptation and his greatest weakness.

If only you were aware of the power you possess to make him unravel.

Sometimes, he swears that you do, like now as you slip into the confessional booth. He knows it’s you without even seeing you. He’s heard the familiar sound of your footsteps against the stone floor as you approach, and the scent of your perfume wafts in his direction after you take your seat.

For a moment, there’s silence, and he holds his breath before hearing you clear your throat. He only releases it the moment he hears you beginning to speak.

“Forgive me, Father, for I am going to sin.”

Noah doesn’t believe that he’s heard you right, that you’re serious. You’ve attended church regularly and confessional enough to be familiar with the formalities. You must be teasing him.

You are. You're testing him.

“A preemptive sinner seeking penance? I don’t quite believe that’s how the Lord operates.” He chuckles softly and smoothly, amused by your antics enough to be desperately curious to learn more.

“Isn’t it, Father?” There’s an inflection in your tone, and he can picture the way your tongue flickers across your lips as you utter those words. The suggestive smirk that graces your lips is one he’s seen before—an image he tucks away for those lonely late nights when he believes he can hide from the eyes of God.

He can’t, not even in the privacy of his own room or a cold shower.

“No,” he says, his voice coming out strained.

“That’s unfortunate,” you giggle, and it’s an unholy sound because it only brings more unholy thoughts to his mind. “I had always hoped that by seeking forgiveness first, I could outsmart my sinful nature. Such a shame it doesn’t work that way.”

Usually, he would have a scripture he could recite, words of wisdom that would help him even in the most difficult temptations. However, he feels the urge to speak isn’t stronger than the pressure of his teeth currently pinching against the tip of his tongue, which he is using as a tactic to refrain from making a profane comment.

“Aren't you going to ask me about my sin?”

He wants to say no because you’re tempting him. He notices the breathiness in your voice and realizes that the moment he submits to you, the moment he says yes, he’ll be completely lost.

He fails.

“Yes, tell me, what is your sin?”

He knows your lips curl into a smile even without seeing you. He can hear it in your voice when you begin to answer, “I’ve been having thoughts.”

You’re not shy; you’re deliberately holding back, and he gently coaxes you, needing to hear you say it. “What kind of thoughts are you having?”

“Inappropriate ones,” you say so innocently, as if you’re not presenting yourself as the serpent who deceived Eve in the Garden of Eden into consuming the apple.

Noah takes a bite.

"Thoughts of a Carnal nature?"

“Yes”, there it is again—the breathiness in your voice. He can’t deny that it doesn’t go straight to his dick, and his slacks grow tighter around his crotch.

You continue your confession, this time without prompting. “They’re about someone I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about.” Your confession only makes his head spin further, intensifying the possibility that you could be referring to—

“Who?” He dares to ask, his heart pounding in his chest, leaning closer to the window that separates you, obstructing both your view and his chance to be closer to you.

“I shouldn’t say. He’s a man of the Lord, and it’s so very wrong.” Your tone doesn’t suggest that you’re convinced it’s wrong; in fact, you sound almost delighted in confessing it. Perhaps he’s imagining it.

It’s easy to infer who you’re referring to unless you’ve suddenly developed an interest in the other priest who attends, who is nearly 50 years your senior. Naturally, he assumes you mean him.

He attempts a different approach. “What do you…” He clears his throat, attempting to control his enthusiasm, though he already senses his cock pressing against the zipper of his slacks, yearning for release, yearning for your touch. “What do these thoughts relate to?”

“I desire him to worship me, as he does his God.” Your confession nearly makes him choke, but you persist, your voice low, soft, and breathy as you vividly describe your desires. “I yearn for him to kneel before me, to taste my divine, and to be the only one occupying his thoughts.”

Noah can't confess that you already are, that he’s seconds away from releasing his cock and fisting it right here in the booth, in the middle of your confession, which feels far more untactful than he's willing to admit.

All falls silent.

“Father?” He notices the concern in your tone, as if you’re worried you’ve scared him away. Instead of answering, he stands up and steps out from his side of the booth.

The hour is late, and there’s no one else here except you two. It wasn’t planned, but he should’ve known that his catching you hanging around the church long after service and when everyone had left would only lead to further temptation.

Opening the door to your side of the booth, his eyes scan you, admiring your Sunday best dress, a choice you always made. It’s far more enticing than another skin-tight, revealing outfit. It resembles a sundress, flowing down past your thighs but revealing enough when you sit down, adorned with thistles—another sign that you’re leading him straight into temptation, straight towards his sin.

“Father,” you look up at him, your eyes wide with curiosity, while Noah steps forward.

“Noah, please,” he offers you his name, already shifting the power balance between you, granting you more influence than anyone else in his congregation.

Your eyes wander over him, taking in the sight of his impeccable all-black ensemble. He exudes a sense of self-assurance, and as your gaze reaches the front of his slacks, you notice the bulge. In response, Noah simply clears his throat.

When your eyes meet his face once more, he’s certain you must have noticed the blush of red, the overwhelming sensations of embarrassment and shame threatening to engulf him. Yet, you remain silent, not even as your hands instinctively press to the front of his thighs, curiously ascending them and over his bulge until your fingers trace the outline of his cock.

Your gaze locks onto his, and he can’t tear his eyes away from yours. He feels your fingers gently popping the button of his slacks and the slow, deliberate unzipping of his zipper. Even if he had the willpower to stop you, he doesn’t bother. Instead, he lets out a quivering gasp when your hand finally wraps around his shaft as you slip into his underwear, your touch slow and methodical.

Your name slips from between his lips, and this is wrong—so wrong in every way possible. Yet, he can’t bring himself to stop you or pull away.

“Tell me, father, what do you have to confess?” You’re taunting him, coaxing him, and he doesn’t hold back the groans that are currently building up in his throat. They rises up and escape with every slow, teasing rub of your thumb over his sensitive tip.

There have been countless nights spent fantasizing about you in the most blasphemous ways, and he has envisioned this scenario countless times. He never imagined that it would come to fruition.

“I-I’ve had impure thoughts about you,” he stammers, and you hum in acknowledgment, as if encouraging him to elaborate.

“What kind?” As he gazes into your eyes, he perceives the flicker of heat, sensing the exhilaration as your hand tightens its grip around his cock with each rhythmic stroke.

“About you… about worshipping you.” The words burst forth from his lips before he can even pause, confessing his own impure thoughts and desires to the one who has been tempting him relentlessly.

As your hand releases him, he whimpers, while you slip free from his underwear.

Your fingers, curious, trace the cross of the rosary beads he wears around his neck. As he senses the gentle tug, testing their durability and his own, he draws nearer and falls effortlessly to his knees before you.

It unfolds so systematically that it almost seems deliberate. He drops to his knees, prepared to worship you, while you raise your dress with your free hand, exposing your already damp panties. It’s a sight that takes his breath away, his eyes soft and pleading as he gazes up at you like a dog eagerly awaiting its first meal.

“Worship me, Noah,” you purr, tugging at the rosary like a leash as you guide him closer between your thighs. He follows obediently, ready and willing to serve and obey you.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens @I-love-the-smell-of-you-blood @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades 

[maxdibert]

Random hcs you have for Sirius?

Ah, Sirius Black, the walking contradiction. Yes, I have a few thoughts about him, even though I make fun of him a lot, deep down I appreciate him. This is going to be long, but that way I can compile it all in one post.

Walburga is a Scorpio like him, which is why they clashed so much. Scorpio is one of the most intense signs of the zodiac, and both Scorpio men and women are ruthless, but Scorpio women are the alphas of the zodiac and always dominate Scorpio men.

I like this idea because I think that deep down, the reason he and his mother got along so poorly is precisely because they had terribly similar personalities, the kind that don’t let anyone control them. Sirius wasn’t going to be tamed, and Walburga wasn’t going to let her authority be questioned, so they constantly clashed.

Sirius didn’t start having problems with his mother because of any blood purity ideals or that nonsense. Sirius is much deeper than that. He started having issues with Walburga because she was very dominant and imposing, and he had a naturally rebellious character that wouldn’t accept orders from anyone. As a child, he would do the opposite of whatever his mother told him, just to annoy her.

His idea of going to Gryffindor didn’t come about until he met James on the train. I mean, he knew he wanted to annoy Walburga, and thought that becoming best friends with a “blood traitor” would be a good way to do it. Plus, James was like him: rich and from a good family, so they would get along. If he ended up in Gryffindor, even better, because that would make his mother lose a lot of hair.

His rejection of his family’s ideals wasn’t ideological at first, but stemmed from the need to rebel against his mother. Over time, he rationalized those ideas and turned against them, but he never delved deeper into this aspect. That’s why, even though he said blood purity was wrong and that the Blacks were rubbish, he still had attitudes very similar to those of his relatives, just on “the other side.”

As children, he and Regulus had a fairly close relationship typical of older and younger brothers, where the older one always annoys the younger one, and the younger one tells them to piss off. But Regulus never forgave him for taking his rebellion to such an extreme and always thought he’d gone too far with the whole hanging out with Potter and going to Gryffindor thing.

He didn’t have major issues with his brother until he realized Regulus was getting close to Death Eater circles and was considering joining their ranks. They had a terrible argument about this, where Regulus accused him of spending years ignoring everything and everyone because he was too busy acting like an idiot with “his dear Potter,” and now he wasn’t in a position to lecture him on morality, basically telling him to fuck off. Sirius would never admit that this hurt him deeply; he just told Regulus to fuck off too, and they never spoke again.

Orion Black didn’t have much of a role in that house. He just watched what happened without saying anything because he was afraid of his wife, and Sirius always resented his father’s attitude, considering him a useless puppet.

His biggest goal in life was to annoy his mother, which is why he covered his room with everything that could drive Walburga crazy, while Walburga would give him all sorts of orders and punishments to make him do things he hated, just to annoy him. It was basically a competition between them to see who had more power.

People often speculate that he was abused and other nonsense, which is why he left home, but I think he made the decision for something much simpler: maybe they tried to betroth him to some pure-blood woman, maybe it was at a family gathering when they announced that Regulus was going to start joining Bellatrix’s circle to join “the cause,” or maybe it was a way to punish his mother after a big argument. Either way, I don’t think he intended to leave forever, but once he went to the Potters’ house and discovered what a functional family was like—rich, where he wouldn’t lose any comfort or privilege—he stayed.

Walburga spent years sending him threatening letters to come back, and he spent years secretly responding, telling her to fuck off. Eventually, when he finished Hogwarts, the letters stopped arriving.

He always said his brother died because he was an idiot and got involved where he shouldn’t, and repeated that he was stupid and had it coming. But when he found out about his death, he basically had one of the biggest drinking binges of his life, and obviously told everyone at the pub, while drunk, that his brother was an idiot and deserved to be dead, while crying uncontrollably, because that’s how Sirius Black confronts his cognitive dissonance.

He never told James that he’d done that.

Speaking of James, Sirius had a terrible dependence on him, very similar to Severus’ dependence on Lily. James was Sirius’ moral compass, and he looked up to him as an example of how he should be because, to Sirius, James was everything a pure-blood wizard should be.

He also had a crush on James that he wasn’t even aware of because he told himself it was just a brotherly attachment. In reality, he was totally obsessed with James, to the point that he got angry when James finally started dating Lily, claiming that “he’d become less fun,” which was basically a way of saying he was really resentful because they no longer spent all their time together, but Sirius was too in denial to admit it was jealousy.

He probably couldn’t stand Lily at first, but since Sirius is a loyal dog, he ended up being the third wheel in their relationship and came to care about her a lot because he wanted everything James appreciated by association.

Contrary to popular belief, Sirius didn’t give a shit about Remus or Peter. He only hung out with them because James did, but if he could use them or manipulate them for any of his Machiavellian plans, he wouldn’t hesitate. He didn’t truly start appreciating Remus until he got out of Azkaban, and even then, he did it in a very utilitarian way, basically because he felt lonely and James was dead.

Sirius had a very classist background. He knew the theory of equality, but didn’t apply it. He never questioned his privileges and never deconstructed the elitist and sadistic mentality his family had taught him since childhood, which is why he treated Severus like garbage or was pretty inconsistent between what he said and what he actually did.

Sirius did project onto James in Harry, just like Severus did, but while Severus projected hate, Sirius projected affection. However, he was also a dysfunctional adult who couldn’t see the kid as an independent person in himself, and anyone who denies this doesn’t understand how trauma works, sorry folks.

Sirius was bisexual, though he probably didn’t even realize it, because he never wanted to admit he had a massive crush on James.

The one who got on his nerves the most was his cousin Bellatrix, who ironically, was the one who resembled him the most in terms of personality.

He said he hated Snape because he was disgusting, liked the Dark Arts, and sucked up to people like his family, which seemed inconceivable to him. But the truth is, he subconsciously hated him because an aristocrat like Sirius Black, who reveled in abandoning that world for the “good,” couldn’t stand to see a working-class guy daring to climb socially to the sphere he had rejected. His internalized classism made such a thing inconceivable, so he projected all his frustrations onto Snape.

James was the one who started the bullying, but Sirius was the most sadistic and violent of the two. Sometimes James had to remind Sirius that there were certain limits he couldn’t cross because no one had taught Sirius limits; in his family, sadism was encouraged.

One of the reasons he was so disturbed by being locked in his childhood house with his mother’s paintings yelling at him all the time was because he had to face the reality that she saw him (even though it wasn’t really her) as a failure. He had to come to terms with the fact that, at 36, he was only a shadow of what he once was, and his mother, the one he’d always confronted and bragged about being better and doing better without, now saw him as a wreck. That was too much for him.

Sirius Black was a smoker and died a smoker.

He had problems with alcohol in his later days.

He kept telling himself to blindly trust Dumbledore and convinced himself it was the right path, but deep down, he’d been questioning a lot of things about the old man for a while, though he never said anything out loud.

Had he been a father, he’d say he’d prefer to have a boy, but deep down, he would have been the typical “girls’ dad” at heart.

Had he ever settled down, he never would have done it with a Muggle or a Muggle-born, he would have done it with a pure-blood witch from a rich family with a personality strangely similar to his mother’s. But he would have never admitted that, not in a million years.

If he’d gone to therapy, every single session, without exception, would have revolved around Walburga.

[unserenedreaming]

Yellowjackets rankings

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE FOUR

I have decided to update my rankings weekly, and here they are for week four:

WILDERNESS

I would die for them

Jackie: I am still Jackie's number one soldier. She haunts the narrative across both eras and I love that for her. Every time she's on screen my life expectancy increases five years, my skin clears, and nature begins to heal.

Akilah: The way she holds onto her bunny for comfort during the trial scene made my heart ache. She's just a soft girl stuck in a terrible, awful situation. Still praying that she makes it back to civilization.

Coach Ben: He lives to see at least one more episode, thank fuck. My guy is a self-admitted coward, but I know he didn't set that fire and is either being framed purposefully or unintentionally (see below)

Travis: Continues to be traumatized by the Wilderness & Lottie but he's managing to hold onto his sanity...mostly

Misty: It's a shame Misty never went into law (though she is certifiable so I understand why) because DAMN she had almost everyone convinced, even Tai, of Coach's innocence.

Nat: I felt like this was the first time we actually saw genuine emotion from Nat this season, which reminded me of just how talented sophie thatcher is

I care about them but not as much as the others:

Tai, Van, Mari, Lottie, the others

IDGAF:

Shauna: I get it. She's got pent up issues from Coach being a coward when she gave birth. Maybe she blames him for her baby dying, an understandable anger but it's directed at the wrong person, since it wasn't anyone's fault. I think she knows that he didn't set the fire or at least has her doubts, but she needs someone to blame since it's very likely that it was set by accident (I'm looking at you, Van's vision from ep 3). But bullying everyone into agreeing with you doesn't make you a good leader, it makes you a tyrant.

Melissa: little piece of shit instigator. Girl you gotta understand Shauna is just using you for validation.

PRESENT DAY

I would die for them:

Jeff: Jeff the rizzler, Jeff the charmer. I love this man. He tries (and fails) to have enough empathy for the two of them, honestly believing that he needs to do good things because of karma. If he dies this season I'm gonna throw up

Shauna: I've said it before and I'll say it again: I would die for Melanie Lynskey. Her portrayal of Shauna is so real and wonderful and messy and toxic and hilarious. I love her.

Misty Watching her fantasize about stabbing Shauna before telling herself it wasn't a good place for herself to be, and then stealing that old lady's puzzle pieces was so wonderful. I hope she never changes

Lottie: IT'S GOTTA BE A FAKEOUT RIGHT?? THEY WOULDN'T DO THAT TO YOU RIGHT? She's gotta come back, she's so weird and a little scary but so so enchanting

Tai: Crazy gay disaster with a good memory for romance

Van: Dying gay disaster with shaking hands I'm worried about

I care about them but not as much as the others:

Walter, Callie, Randy (I forgot about him, but he was fun this episode!)

IDGAF

everyone else

Anyways if you made it this far thanks again for reading my rambling. If you agree, congrats. If you don't, also congrats.

[overnightheartbeats]

Somewhere in her sleepy daze, she edged closer to his open arms, "I agree," she admitted with a sigh. "We can do it." After tonight, surely they could do anything. He kept it vague, so did she. The omission of their previous relationship spoke volumes. If there was anything salvageable here, it was their friendship. Nothing more. At the end of the day, his mom had been right. She was not the one for him. It seemed he knew that now too. Blame it on the cold or on her feeble heart, but in the middle of the night, she snuggled closer to him.

Sunlight began creeping into the room, and it was a wonderful way to wake up, except for the fact that she wasn't ready to start the day. Ivette felt her head pounding, just a dull pain in the background. Beginnings of a hangover, but nothing crazy, thankfully. As her eyes fluttered open and she adjusted to the brightness of the room, she quickly looked to her side, memories of last night rushing in. Right. But, he wasn't here anymore. So, she was right about the one night stand. Makes sense. But, she swore she felt his warmth all night? Probably part of her dream, that she did remember a bit. The one place she could be truthful about her feelings.

It wasn't long before she got up and snuck upstairs to her room to shower and put on some fresh clothes. Ivette's curiosity was piqued - Nate had run off sure, but where? Maybe back to his room. Probably washing away any trace of their encounter last night.

Before anything else, she sat on her bed and began typing up her message to Javi. He could help her make sense of all of this, or give her the advice she sought to snap her out of it.

You were sort of right about returning home. I did miss it a lot, but I also made a mistake. I wrote to you that first time, asking for advice on how to get over someone. Instead, I fell back into his arms. You know that I missed him, I mean how many letters and messages have I sent saying the same things...and I haven't told him anything about that. Yesterday, I got so close. So badly, I wanted to tell him everything I have felt for years. Forgetting the abandonement, I just needed him to know. But (and you won't be proud of me), but it was just a one-time thing. Thankfully I didn't spill anything, but these feelings are consuming me. it's even harder knowing I'll continue seeing him after today. You any closer to discovering that elixir to getting over someone? Need it more than ever!!

Hope you're having a great day!

With that, she signed off her email and sent it off. She hoped that amidst her admitting last night's actions, he'd find their inside joke amusing. The elixir to getting over someone, something they both desperately needed. After sending the message, Ivette made her way downstairs and out to the back of the hacienda. She needed fresh air to clear her mind, taking a seat on one of the chairs to look down at her phone, hopeful he had replied. Instead, when she looked up, she saw Nate putting items in trash bags. Stuff from last night's event. It wasn't smart, but he'd see her in a matter of seconds anyway. Besides, hadn't she suggested that clean start? "Did the cleaning crew leave you hanging this morning?" She called out to him as she stood up from the chair to walk in his direction.

His arms opened enough to welcome her to the shared space and smiled. He had gotten his pants back on in the meantime and grabbed the extra pillow off the back to give to her. "I want us to be in a better place. We've known each other for so long." A diplomatic answer he knew that but he couldn't actually tell her what it was that he wanted. Not when he was afraid of her answer.

He'd felt his phone vibrate effectively waking him up. Not giving him a chance to truly process her i love you he had heard in his sleep. Something that made him want to believe was in response to his own he let out last night.

He turned to look at her sleeping form and took a mental picture. This would have to suffice for him to survive the month seeing her in the hacienda. As his eyes adjusted to the small light coming in from the window, he leaned over and covered Ivette's body with a second blanket. His hand caressed her hair and pressed a small kiss to her forehead before he got up slowly and got dressed to go out into the hallway. Closing the door gently he made his way out and up to his room.

His room that had been decorated to resemble his flat in Miami. Books surrounded the shelves and there in the corner laid his computer. The thing that kept his second job active. He quickly got a shower and changed into his sweats and flannel. He took his glasses and put them on. Freshed faced he was ready to work. Taking his keys with him he went downstairs still noting everyone was still asleep.

His first pit stop was the stables, he opened the stalls up to get the horses to come to the edge ready to feed them. Then went to get the rest of the gates unlocked. Four in the morning gave him peace being the first one to see the sunrise over the horizon. It was the first time he had loved waking up in the hacienda. As he left the food out for the animals, he went toward the front of the hacienda where bottles and trash had been left.

He began with the edges and started cleaning up the area, black trash bag on his side as he added plates and bottles to it. Time had sped on as he worked on cleaning his home up. After a while, he had started seeing the cherry pickers walk inside from the front. With a smile and a wave he laughed as they greeted him as Chavo. It was normal for them to see the crowned prince around mucking stalls or helping with more than just the oversight.

[whateverthedragonswant]

I've seen so much discourse about the look of Dean in the finale of The Winchesters and why he looked that way, but I think the bigger picture is being missed here.

I'm speaking purely from the SPN character/story perspective here (and not discussing The Winchesters one way or the other or Jensen or Robbie or any of that in this post) but are we really surprised that at Dean deciding to go and find an AU version of his family that would not only be able to make their own choices but possibly get to have a happy ending?

Michael: "Think of a million random acts of chance. That let John and Mary be born. To meet, to fall in love, to have the two of you. Think of the million random choices that you make and yet, how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it's not random. It's not chance. It is a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will's an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes." "You can't fight city hall."

Dean: "She's going to walk right into that nursery."

Michael: "Obviously. And you always knew that was going to play out one way or another."

Dean's expression:

So is it any wonder that Dean started knocking down dominoes? That he meddled? That he "gave it a nudge"? While he's also been trying to protect Sam who's still on his Earth? Or that Jack (his family/son and the new God) told him to finish what he'd started aka gave him his blessing by giving him the Colt and Dean's journal?

Nope.

Dean's always been fighting for his family.

And it makes perfect sense to have had Jack there (and if they had been able to make it happen, Cas, that line of "I was looking for my family" is multi-faceted, I see you Robbie; and no that's not looking through the Destiel lens, Cas is family regardless, Dean said it himself) along with Bobby (while Sam is mentioned) for this scene:

And that is what makes Dean's death in 15x20 so tragic (and why so many people were happy to see Dean in this context again). Dean broke free from the narrative (the expected ending for Dean - being a killer, dying violently on a hunt) and exercised his free will in 15x19 only to be sacrificed to it in 15x20 (aka losing his free will). Here, he is given some of that agency back while it also sets up The Winchesters crew to be free for their own narrative (if the show continues) and helps set Dean and Sam up to come back in the future to reclaim both their agencies and their free will. (just because Sam got out of hunting, got married, and had a kid doesn't mean he got his free will; like both J's have said, Sam was able to live his life for his brother but I guarantee if you gave Sam the choice 'aka his actual reward' between that life and having his brother back, we all know which choice he'd make; he lost everyone in his family to get that ending which was no reward for his own arc)

So regardless of whatever happened behind the scenes for the spinoff, whatever Jensen and Robbie had planned or didn't plan ahead of time, whatever blunders that occurred in the actual story of The Winchesters and the production/final airing of the show, THIS was very on brand for Dean.

Bonus:

Dean was no longer wearing the peacoat or looking so much like Jensen when he finally speaks to the AU John and Mary and all is revealed aka exposition, exposition, exposition.

He looked a lot more like Dean with slightly longer hair and some more scruff than we've ever seen Dean have before (plus this scene was obviously shot at a different time compared to the bus station scene). He was dressed like Dean; he finally sounded like Dean; he was Dean. So can we please stop talking about the peacoat and the turtleneck now? Or why Jensen had to keep those looks? It really overshadows the importance of the fact that once Dean was physically present in this episode, it not only complemented his SPN characterization but also his SPN story that sets him up for future SPN story telling. And regardless of where you stand with this show as a whole or Jensen as a celebrity/one face of two of the SPN brand, Robbie and Jensen did accomplish this tie-back to SPN Dean in a very beautiful way that doesn't in any way diminish the Dean we've come to know and love for 15+ years.

[glowsticcc]

there is an upsettingly small amount of pissa outfit swap content and i won’t stand for it any longer

[saym0-0]

i love mechs x tma aus and i love jmart but i dont love jonny x martin,,, the dynamic is just so slightly off,, like,,,,,, i cant articulate it its just wrong 2 me,,,,,,,, okay actually the tags r vital to this one read those

[cordelianewman]

There was almost a relief in Cage's eyes when she said she wasn't going to make this into some kind of thing they planned every single bit of. Maybe if they hadn't conceived in six months to a year they would consider talking to a fertility doctor and tracking at least ovulation but there was no need to go that way until they had to. They had the knowledge to know that Cordelia could get pregnant, it was just more about being the right time and hoping that it actually stuck around. Everything he said made sense, "No I get it, I don't want sex to become a business transaction, something we're strictly doing to get me pregnant. Kind of takes the fun out of it and I don't think we need to do that when we have a pretty great sex life as it is." Which was true, why ruin a good thing? Giving a roll of her eyes, "I didn't mind the bruises on my thighs and hips, I liked it." Looking at him a grin tugging at her lips, "I mean it, I enjoyed it, more than I wanted to admit because I was angry, but angry sex, kinda hot. Maybe a lot hot." she pointed out, because it kind of was, "And it's not some sadistic karma that caused all of this, it was the fact that my body wasn't ready to be pregnant. Maybe stress played a factor into it but no one knows the exact reasons, it wasn't like I fell, it wasn't like I got hurt or did anything crazy it just wasn't the right time. There's nothing wrong with how our first would have been conceived but I get wishing you had been more excited and I won't pretend that I wished you had been happier but I also understand that you weren't there yet." It was hard that for him to realize what he wanted he had to lose that very thing and then have to live with it as much as she did, only experience a different type of guilt feeling. Though neither one of them were guilty of anything. They had done their best with what they had been given, and now moving forward all they could do was try and hope for the best and that it wouldn't become a stressor to them personally or their marriage. Honestly, Cordelia was just happy that Cage was opening up about how he was feeling and everything that had been on his mind. Maybe getting away from Merrock for their anniversary had been the best thing, a place to openly talk away from everything, memories and just get it all out on the table and now look where they were? Communication was at least far better right now, not that she didn't expect there to be hiccups at times. "I can promise you that you will not catch me attempting to pick up hay bales prior to getting pregnant either." After losing the pregnancy so early she wasn't going to risk doing anything too crazy in case she got pregnant, and like what happened didn't know and cause any potential issues, but she also knew she'd go about a lot of her normal every day life like she had before. "Think that sounds fair, Twix and I will give you scores on how good you are at moving the bales, I'll get her her own little score board too." she offered a grin pulling to her lips, "But remember she may love you but she's a harsh critic."

Reaching out she shoved him gently, "Oh shut up, I could have cravings without being pregnant." Which was very true, Cordelia loved food and there was always a chance something could pop up in her mind that she would want, and it didn't mean she was pregnant. "Just buckle in, that's all I'm saying, because who knows I could have wicked cravings, or I could be horribly sick and threaten you to keep all food far, far away from me." Might sound a lot like her saying keep it out of the house and dramatics being her favorite form of emotions she might come up with some kind of crazy thought of get rid of it all, but she wouldn't actually mean it. They had four kids to keep fed, two of which were growing teenage boys that she was convinced were actually trying to eat them out of house and home. "No I agree, I was worried about telling them." When she had been expecting, the way her gut would drop remembering they had to break the news in a way that was kind of like, well here this is, without even having a conversation that they had or hadn't been considering this. Talk about the worst proof of non-safe sex to say it just happened to two teenage boys. "Know that that is where we're at that we can give this new little one, when he or she is ready to you know.... happen, the love and time they deserve. Deep down I think Colton and Shawn would love to have a baby sibling, I know Colton got to be around Rosalyn once she was almost a year old but think he would have enjoyed her as a baby baby, and like you said, Shawn loved having Cienna." she pointed out, maybe it wouldn't go so bad if they pointed out the fact that it was because of the four of them and how much love they proved in their family that gave them the ability to know one last child would be given that same amount of love, respect, and care needed. As she saddled up towards the few cases of jewelry it didn't take long to feel Cage behind, press up against her slightly, hands on her hips. "You know I've always loved the idea of a vintage piece, something that had history even if we don't know the history." Of course her ring was technically going to eventually fall into that category given it had been his mother's diamond. A woman approached them with a soft 'hello' and how could she help them. "Oh we're just looking, we're here on vacation for our anniversary and I kind of wanted to take a peek at a few things special maybe." The woman was kind and generous, asking them how long they had been married, them taking turns to explain the finer parts of their relationship from high school to reuniting, maybe leaving out their difficultly at first reconnecting and the whole soup debacle. "I was hoping to look at some bands maybe? For my left hand. Something antique, maybe pre-1940's if you have anything?" The woman nodding happily before returning with two trays of rings. "Oh!" Cordelia's eyes sparkling seeing all the pretty rings in front of her, definitely obvious that they were dated given the looks of some of them. Trying on a bunch the woman took the time again to explain each ring, the period it was from, Cordelia holding her hand up for Cage to see, knowing he was mostly there to oh and ah, before she picked up a particular ring, this one slipping onto her finger with ease. The woman explained it was from the 1920's, with miners cute diamonds, 7 to be exactly, and Cordelia knew it, the second it fit on her finger and held it up, the seven stones sparkling in the light, she had fallen in love.

There was a sense of relief that filled Cage as Cordelia talked about not wanting to schedule this pregnancy, knowing that it was something that had weighed heavily on him. This couldn't be scheduled or planned, not like her school, his work, their childrens' day to day lives, this had to happen when it happened, naturally. When the time was right. "I don't want to have sex to make a baby," Cage chose his words carefully, narrowing his eyes as he thought it over, "I want to get pregnant because on a random Wednesday night, you looked at me a certain way and I kissed you a little too long in the hallway and it just happened, you know?" His voice was softer as he said it, almost a little shy, but he didn't want or need the fanfare. If they couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that they had made a baby because it was borne out of the love between them, then that was more than enough for him, and he paused for a moment, emotion thickening his tone the tiniest amount as he pulled his teeth from the lip that he had bitten onto while thinking and spoke, drawing in a breath, "as sad as I am about what happened and always will be, there's a part of me that's relieved that I can do this right." It was tough to admit, and he didn't want to say it out loud, but felt like he needed to, felt like they had to go through every step of this honestly with one another. "You know that I will love our baby, no matter what, but there was a part of me that was… ashamed, that -- I don't know, that I left those bruises on your thighs and hips and got you pregnant when we were angry at each other and then reacted the way I did, that I couldn't just be happy, even though I wanted to. It's part of why I felt like it was my fault… that we lost the baby. Like maybe it was some sort of sick karma." Cage knew better, but it had still stuck in his gut, twisting beneath his ribs when he thought about it. And he had admitted it to her, but he hadn't been able to put words to it until everything had finally settled. Until he knew it wasn't true, until he had digested the news over and over again. He lifted his free hand to brush at the corner of his eye, not realizing that they had become wet, blaming it on the slight breeze that day before he let out a laugh, shaking his head, "no, nothing like that. You know better than anyone what you can handle, but I'm going to step in and put my foot down if I catch you trying to carry around hay bales at eight months pregnant, and I think that's fair. Instead, you can watch me haul around the hay bales and spend time with your best friend Twix. How's that?"

Cage's face scrunched up as Cordelia talked about the possibilities of cravings, making note of what she would and would not want, and how fast that could change, holding his breath before letting it out. "Too late to change my mind, I guess?" But he was only joking, knowing that nothing about her cravings would ever push him to take back the decision that he had made, even if she woke him up at three in the morning with an elbow in the ribs and wanted pickle flavored something or other that made him gag at the thought of it. He'd find a way through it. "I think that's part of why it's important to talk to them now," he squeezed her hand as he said it, "to understand how they are going to feel about it, and have the time to talk to them and make them understand how we feel about it -- or try. It's better that we're all able to talk than to just drop it in their laps." Telling the boys that Cordelia was pregnant, that they were having a baby, without giving them any indication that they were trying might have come across as though they didn't care about their opinions, that they were moving on with their lives. "I think…" he wet his lips, "maybe telling them that we want to have a baby because we feel like we have the perfect family to love them, to help raise them and take care of them will help them realize that they're a part of it, does that make sense?" he looked down at his wife, "that the only reason we feel like we can do this is because we know how good they are, how much they love each other, and we feel like it's the right environment for them to love another little girl or boy." That was the catch, that this wouldn't just be Cage and Cordelia's biological son or daughter, that this little one wouldn't be any better or more important than any other Newman or Austin or Browning under that roof -- but it would be Shawn and Colton and Cienna and Rosalyn's little brother or sister, it would be as much a part of them as it was their parents. He rolled his own eyes playfully as she talked about the clothes disappointment, and then stole another kiss, before he found himself browsing the little shop, enjoying a few items here and there, but ultimately letting her lead him back down the sidewalk, until… oh no, shiny. "Wait up," he groused on a laugh, heading in after her and knowing that she was going to make a beeline for the sparkly things, coming to a stop behind her with both hands gently resting on her hips, body brushing against hers from behind as he looked over her shoulder at the pieces she had been drawn to from outside.