#i dont know why but i think u can say something abt the way

[qualityrain]

sorry just the concept of knives naming legato slays me but like. the fact that he didnt even name him a bad thing. like the way knives absolutely hates humans and literally wants to commit genocide to kill them all and. and he names one?? and its not even a name with a bad connotation. like he couldve pulled a lucilus and named him something like belial that means worthless and he doesnt???? that in itself just absolutely slays me. but the way knives names him legato. and the way you could kind of theorise that knives plays the piano in 3max because of that one (1) panel of him in that ridiculous outfit in front of a piano and. legato is a music term. so already knives names this human not something bad, but rather something associated with something that he does??? maybe likes???? enjoys???? and legato has many meanings but yknow its like smooth. and. and connection. connection. you connect two notes together smoothly and thats a legato. the chapter of legatos backstory is two people against the world. haha you could say thats where knives and legato gain a connection- i cant take it here bro

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[itsalwaysdark]

bedtime nowww probably ummm today qas not what i wanted it 2 be but its fine. i dont feel negative just a very very very numb day which is almost worse. but only almost 🙏

[fappellmoan]

something that makes me feel guilty is the fact that seeing that persons face rn literally makes me angry. they walked into class and i nearly winced. and in all fairness they were quite kind to me. outside of the several kind of odd red flags. girl whatever. to be quite frank i am a horny bastard and vocal proud etc but few people interest me enough to actually want to hang out with and get to know And i have deep seated intimacy issues so it's like. we really dont have a shot unless the circumstances r exactly right on a full moon perfect thursday of a month etc like. well and tbh i probably would have fucked around with this person but i dont... care... about some big relationship w them.. and i know i could be a relationship girl like eventually i have it in me to have a muse that's what im built for i think idc but not rn... rn i need to hang out with my friends and do my film stuff and have people that maybe wanna make out sometimes is that so much to ask for. for a lesbian at a bar to want to make out perhaps. ** for there to be lesbians at the bars to potentially make out with.

[saintzweig]

older next door neighbor!reader x stanford!art

– teehee :3 proofread? do you even know me (of course it's not)

– edit: i actually dont know how to feel abt this so please let me know what u think!!

art donaldson has been harboring a big fat crush on the girl next door for years now. you're two years older than him, already well into college by the time he got accepted into stanford. 4.0 GPA, a great volleyball player and you volunteer at animal shelters, his grandmother loves you– heck, every mother in town loves you. you used to come over atleast once a week, having dinner with him and his grandma. when you started tutoring to earn money, he had you over three times a week to help him even though his grades are doing fine. he reckons he can do better but really he just wants to have you to himself, the two of you locked in his room for hours. of course that changed when you left for college, choosing a university miles away and leaving him alone for the rest of his highschool years.

you come home every break which means that art does too, hoping to catch you and maybe show off a little. after all, he's a man now– he's on the stanford tennis team, he's won multiple tournaments and he's no longer the little nerd you've known since you were kids.

you come over one afternoon, bringing over some fresh brownies that you've made for art and his grandma. he opens the door shirtless, telling you he was just about to jump in the pool but really, he saw you walking over through the window and took his shirt off. he asks you if you want to maybe join, the weather's nice and all and much to his surprise, you agree, saying you have nothing going on anyways. you excuse yourself for a while, wanting to change into something more suitable and he prays it's the red bikini he's seen you wear before.

and it is. you come in and he offers you a cold beer. "beer huh? i didn't know you drink now, donaldson." you say with a slight grin, taking the bottle from him. he watches the way your hands wrapped around the bottle, images of your black manicured nails wrapped around his co–

he makes a comment about having done stuff in stanford, stopping himself from telling you that he's been drinking since he was a teenager, at the academy. with patrick. he doesn't miss the way your eyes lingered on his lips as took a swig of the beer, making him smirk subtly. he leads you to the backyard and you help yourself to a floatie while he sits on the edge of the pool. you paddle yourself softly to the water, leaning back and savoring the sunlight on your skin. he doesn't even try to hide the way he's staring at your chest, not that you can see anyways because your eyes are closed. "my grandma's having a poker game at one of her friend's so it's just us" he tells you.

you begin to ask him questions about his first year in college– how was tennis, how were the parties, any girls?

tennis was great, he says his coaches are really helping him improve and prepare to go pro. parties were crazy, it was loud and sweaty but he doesn't let himself get carried away, being an athlete and all. he's gotten on a few dates and he tells you he's been asked out alot, exaggerating a little bit to show off. you say you weren't surprised and he asks what you mean.

"i mean look at you, you're not bad looking. you're tall, blonde, athletic– girls dig that. you've gotten bigger too"

he smirks, "bigger?" and you only roll your eyes, leaning your head to look up the sky. he jumps in, walking over to you, crossing his arms over the floatie, making you shift slightly. his elbow touching your thigh. "what about you? any guys?" you hum, sipping on your beer. "there was one, but I don't know. didn't really work out" he asks why and you tell him you just don't see yourself dating someone on campus, they're all assholes who don't take anything seriously.

"have you ever dated anyone younger?" to which you raise a brow, only for him to tilt his head with a stupid grin on his face. you shake your head, "i heard younger guys can treat you very well." he says, and you knew exactly what he meant.

that's how you ended up sitting on the edge of the floatie, legs apart with art standing in between. you're leaning back on your arms while his hands are on your thighs, pulling you closer as he place kisses on your skin. your bikini is beginning to get wet, not just from the pool water. he looks up at you, water dripping down from his hair down to his face. "you don't know how long i've been waiting for this."

you almost whined at his expression, eyes wide as he looked up and lips plump, aching to taste you. you lift your hair to push back his curls and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes. "wanna show me how well you can treat me?" he thinks he just died and came back to life. in a second, your bottoms are untied and floating somewhere in the pool. fully exposed to him now, your cunt soft glistening in the sunlight. he lets out a soft cuss as he takes in the sight. "you sure about this?" you only nod, smiling down at him.

he kisses your sensitive clit, keeping his eyes on you as you throw your head back. he watches as your adams apple bob when you let out a moan. he begins to circle his tongue around your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. butterflies floating in your stomach as he made his way down, sticking his tongue inside your hole, tasting every bit of you. he moans as he feels your slick cover his tongue, "you taste so sweet, angel." you tug on his hair and he takes it as a request to go deeper and he does. he fucks you with his tongue, lifting his hand to press the rough pad of his thumb on your clit. his eyes are closed, savoring every moment. he pulls away slowly, teasing his finger into your dripping hole before slipping it in, and you tense up. immediately enclosing him with your warm gummy walls, art starts to feel pain inside his swimming trunks. he moves his hips slightly, hoping the water will create a friction to relieve the ache.

he attaches himself to your clit once more, sucking on it this time while he curls his fingers inside you at the same time. your stomach tightens as you feel your climax approaching, making you tug on his hair harder. "f–fuck, how are you so good at this" you gasp, bucking your hips. he chuckles, you feel the vibration against your core. "art– shit, i'm so close, baby" he groans at the pet name, his other hand gripping your thigh harder.

"you like that, huh?" your voice breathless, "you like it when i call you baby?" he nods feverishly, lapping up your juices, his own hips bucking softly underwater. you wrap your legs around his back, "i'm gonna cum, artie– fuck, baby just like that. doing so good f'me" within seconds, you're shaking violently into his mouth. feeling warm fluid ooze out of you, which he immediately takes into his mouth. you struggle to hold yourself up, leaning back on your arms as you catch your breath.

if only you could see the string of white floating out of his trunks under the water.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately. 

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress. 

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule 

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr 

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me? 

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

���Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter. 

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?" 

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold. 

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could—"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision. 

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more. 

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you. 

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light. 

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said. 

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine. 

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?" 

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table. 

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her. 

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike." 

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

[everywherea11thetime]

So High School | ln4 x singer!reader| smau

warnings: mentions of sex

a/n: added a lil espresso bc it was way too short:/

y/ninstagram

liked by 300,405 others

y/ninstagram: New single out now! It’s called so high school. I wanna thank jack for helping produce this and i wanna thank my boy for being my muse<3 You know who you are i love you;).

view all comments

fan63: YESS Y/N IS FEEDING USSSS

fan95: hello who is this about😭

fan24: girlll “you know how to drive i know Aristotle” imma need every person who has a license in the world

fan78: is this abt a race car driver?

→fan75: Nascar maybe??

mclaren: We love the song y/n🧡

→fan35: ariana wyd here?

→fan40: is the song about a mclaren driver?

→fan28: girl no

twitter

fan40: guys I think so high school is abt a McLaren f1 driver and here’s why. Most obvious one, in her song So High School she says you know how to drive i know aristotle, so it’s somebody in the racing world, then on her anouncement mclaren commented saying that they “loved the song” know it might just be that y/n a McLaren f1 fan but also maybe they met at the bahrain gp that y/n was in march. coincidence I THINK NOT.

→fan38: girl im not gonna lie ur kinda onto something…

→fan82: nurse shes out again!

F1wags

Liked by:y/ninstagram and 18,974 others

F1wags: Lando Norris and singer/songwriter Y/n Y/Ln spotted at Club Gascon in London out only a week after speculations of who her new song So High School was about. People said they had their romantic dinner then were spotted walking to the guildhall art gallery. New couple alert?

view all comments

fan64: Y/N IN THE LIKES?????!!!!

fan71: guys maybe that twitter thread was right…

fan49: she dates to many guys, im scared for lando

→fan57: her song abt him is literally how she wants them to be forever bsffr…

fan35: Not my two worlds colliding

fan91: im actually so ready for this relationship

fan86: the next album is about to be so fireee

fan63: @/y/ninstagram @/landonorris care to explain yourselves???

→y/ninstagram: No thanks

→landonorris: no we’re good

→fan63: WE’RE!!!???????

fan54: THEY HIT THE PENTAGON

Texts between lando and y/n

y/n: should we just hard launch already?

landino: I mean they kinda already know.

y/n: alr im making the post, make yours sweet please. I dont trust you

landino: awhh please baby i had a whole caption out😔🤚

y/n: don’t come crying to after mclaren scolding you again babe

landino: YIPPIEEEE

y/ninstagram

y/ninstagram: you know what you wanted and boy, you got her🧡 ft real pic of me on the last slide watching lan and his friends listen to so high school

tagged:landonorris

comments

maxfewtrell: still haven’t recovered from that song…

→landonorris: wanna play gta tonight?

→maxfewtrell: NO

→angryginge13: NO

→martingarrix: NO

→ maxverstappen: NO

→ danielricciardo: NO

→ y/ninstagram: damn, American Pie then?

landonorris: love you babe(i would have chose kill)

→ y/ninstagram: oh what’d you say “no sex for a month”

→ landonorris: NO I SAID I LOVE YOU AND YOUR THE BEST PERSON ON THIS EARTH AND YOUR SO AWESOME AND COOL😍❤️❤️❤️💕💕😘😘🥰(plz lemme eat u out)

fan40: I WAS RIGHT AND U ALL SAID I WAS CRAZY

fan83: the fifth slide!!!!???

fan74: they’re actually so cute omg

landonorris

liked by:y/Instagram and 1,031,495

landonorris: it’s true, swear, scouts honor . Also me n her if we were in gta🤭

Comments

Maxfewtrell:WAIT I JUST GOT THE SCOUTS HONOR LYRIC… GROSS

→ landonorris: sorry💁

→ y/ninstagram: sorry💁‍♀️

martingarrix: I will never be able to look either of y'all in the eye

→ y/ninstagram: sorry💁‍♀️

→ landonorris: sorry💁

Y/Instagram: i told you to make it sweet…

→landonorris: this IS sweet…like you😛

→y/Instagram: blocked and reported

fan57: 3RD SLIDE IS SO MOMMY🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Mclaren: hey can we maybe not

fan10: y/n plz I could treat you so much better

→landonorris: did you not listen to the song?

carlossainz: landos not so little anymore🥲

→y/Instagram: definitely not little

oscarpiastri: guys please tell them to stop making out in front of me I. AM. TIRED

Y/Instagram

liked by landonorris and 2,275,286 others

y/ninstagram: ESPRESSO SONG AND MUSIC VIDEO OUT NOW!

veiw all comments

landonorris: you mountain dew it for me😻😻😻

landonorris: first

landonorris: most beautiful amazing gorgeous person on this earth🤭🤭

→y/ninstagram: 🤭🤭🤭 cmere🤭🤭🤭

→ landonorris: yes ma’am🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

fan45: not Lando being a simp on main

→landonorris: AND I WILL DO IT AGAIN

fan76: why does vroom vroom guy keep getting songs😔

→y/ninstagram: the d is fireeeeee

☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎☺︎

a/n2: sorry this took so long and was so short, collage is not for the weak and I've had tests all week

[hyunsvngs]

lowkey college has been kicking my ass big time 😭

all i can do to stop myself from having 8 mental breakdowns an hour is thinking abt college bf minho <33

like imagine you'd come back to ur dorm stressed after exams and he would just fuck you senseless until all you could think about was him <3

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 - college au!lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 2k

cw: SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: your cutie college student boyfriend agrees to help you into subspace to take your mind off of your stressful exams.

a/n: idk. i just dont know this happened and i’m not apologising. enjoy. smut warnings under da cut as per!! this is just a lil one but i hope u enjoy<3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: d/s dynamics, oral (f rec), mating press position, unprotected sex, creampie, subspace & mentions of domspace, petnames: kitty & jagi, HEAVY dirty talk, mentions of pubes (as per)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You could barely see the streets on your walk home, eyes bleary with tears and giving you absolutely zero navigation skills. The only saving grace was knowing that your boyfriend, Minho, was in your room and readily awaiting your return. He was lucky to not have any exams this term, only assignments, and you were unlucky to have controlled exams in every single class.

The exam you’d done that day had been the worst thus far. You knew nothing. The whole exam you’d been sat there, hand on your temples just trying desperately to remember something, but nothing had come to you. You’d ended up writing absolute nonsense before packing up your stuff and leaving, crying the whole way home.

Minho was perched on your bed when you entered. His glasses were round, perched securely on his sharp nose and he was casual, hoodie and joggers both grey and clean. There was an anime playing on his laptop, and he was staring at it while shoving crisps into his mouth. When you entered, a small sniffle giving away your return, Minho’s eyes snapped immediately to you.

“Oh,” He blurted, immediately rising to sit up. You dropped your bag on the floor and Minho’s hands went straight to your hips, still covered in some salt from the crisps he was eating. He pulled you into his lap, settled on his thick, dancer’s thighs. When he pushed the hair out of your eyes, it almost broke his heart. “Oh, jagi. Jagi, why are you sad? Did it not go well?”

“Hmph, no,” You sniffed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Minho sighed, rubbing your back over your t-shirt. “I knew nothing.”

“You may have done better than you think, y’know? Don’t stress too much,” Minho’s voice was low, soothing, intertwining with the anime still playing on his laptop. “What can I do to help? Do you wanna watch this with me?”

“Mm, don’t have the attention span right now,” What else could he do? Your thoughts immediately went to the sewers. You were settled on top of his thighs, and you could feel them, clenching and unclenching and… yeah. You knew what you wanted to do. “Min. Could you… take my mind off of it?”

“Take your mind off of it?” He repeated, eyes soft when you finally emerged from his neck. He gazed into your eyes, a loving, fond look in his own. Then, the penny dropped. He blinked, and then he was smirking, hands starting to stroke over your hips instead. “You want me to fuck you, jagi?”

“Please,” You nodded, hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie. “Do that thing, the thing where you… make me feel all fuzzy, ‘n stuff. The thing where I don’t think.”

Minho tilted his head to the side. “You want me to dom you, pretty girl? Send you into subspace?”

Well, when he says it like that… “Yes.”

“On your back.”

You were quick to oblige, stretching leisurely onto your back on your little twin bed. The downsides of having a dorm room, you supposed, but at least your flatmates were fine with you having Minho present constantly. Minho shut his laptop, and then he was looming over you, a strong figure of authority despite having such casual clothing on.

“You know what to say if you need me to stop,” He mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Say it.”

“Red,” You felt out of breath already when his lips trailed to your neck, sucking marks into the skin with eagerness. Minho was gorgeous, and he was even better in bed, especially when he got like this - his dom headspace was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen in your life, and you’d swear by that. He was experienced with it. He knew what he was doing.

You were convinced even more so of that when his lips met your earlobe, his tone low as he pulled your jeans down. “I’m going to eat this sloppy cunt, and then I’m going to fuck you until you don’t know your own name. Got it?”

“Oh my God, please-“

“Stop whining like a little bitch, or I’ll treat you like one,” He nipped your earlobe with his teeth, and then he was moving to position between your thighs. Your underwear wasn’t exciting, just a simple white cotton, but the way Minho looked at you made you feel like a supermodel. He was staring directly at the wet patch starting to soak the fabric, and you shifted, wanting his mouth on you, like, yesterday.

As if he could read your mind, his nose pressed into your core and he inhaled. It was such a strong scenting that you could hear it, his lips parting to let out a small sigh afterwards. Then, his tongue was pressing over the cotton, soaking it with his spit.

“Mm, it’s good. Maybe I need a better taste, yeah?” You nodded at Minho, making him chuckle. He reached up and hooked his thumbs into your underwear, pulling it down and exposing you to the room. You knew your folds were wet and could feel as much when the air hit them - your clit was engorged and poking out of your pussy, begging for attention.

Minho clearly felt pity on you, because his lips were instantly wrapping around your clit and sucking. You gasped, hips bucking up into your touch, and he was quick to pin them down into the mattress with one small hand. From this angle, you could see where half of his body laid off the end of the bed, knees planted on the floor to be closer to you. His tongue laved over the button between your legs, and when his dark feline eyes looked up at you, you knew you were done.

“Min- Min, please, can I have fingers, too? I- I need, need to cum, need-“

“Will you shut up?” Minho pulled away, licking his lips. You would’ve been shocked, but Minho knew him being mean was a sure way to send you into that headspace you so desperately needed to be in. “I know how to make this pussy cum, so don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

With that, he was lowering his head back into your core. Both hands splayed across your hips to keep you grounded, and his tongue swiped through your folds, collecting the slick that had accumulated there. You let your hand drop down to his hair, enveloping the dark strands and pulling slightly against them. It made Minho let out a deep, brief noise, and then he was eating you like a man starved.

The way he was licking between your folds and against your clit had your eyes rolling back, fingers gripping the sheets. It was so, so good, you felt so sensitive, and your head was feeling fuzzy already. He was just so good in bed. His tongue started to trace circles on your clit, and you whined, heavy breaths tumbling from your lungs.

“Gon’ cum,” You slurred, licking your lips to try and bring you back to reality. “Gonna- gonna fucking cum, Min, I can’t-“

“You’re gonna cum?” He pulled away, thumb now rubbing your clit to keep you on the edge. “You know you can’t though. Not until I say you can, yeah?”

You whimpered, thrashing around. “I needa. Need to cum, need to be good, good kitty, am I- hng, am I good kitty? I can’t hold it, I can’t! ‘S too good-“

“Be a good fucking kitty and hold it,” He had shifted now, you realised, face now close to you again. His thumb continued to circle your clit and you gripped his arm tightly, toes curling into the sheets. It was too much. You were going to cum. “Fucking hold it. Do as I say. Do you want my cock?”

Your eyes flickered down to the bulge in his joggers, huge and pulsating. You nodded eagerly, trying your best to focus on anything that wasnt the ache in your core and clenching of your thighs. Then, Minho moved, yanking down his joggers and boxers to position his cock at your entrance. You wanted to cry at the feeling of your orgasm dissipating.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Minho said, forearms supporting him above you. “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to cum on my cock.”

“Yeah, I’ll cum,” You mumbled, eyes bleary - although now for a different reason. Minho smiled at you, and then he was pushing in, thick length stretching your hole in the most delicious way. You moaned, hands moving to grip his biceps again as he immediately set a blistering pace.

“Legs up. C’mon, be a good kitty,” Minho pushed your thighs up, and you obediently wrapped your hands around them. He was deeper like this, chest pressing your legs into your body and cockhead ramming against your g-spot. The smattering of hair at his base rubbed against your clit in an awkward, yet satisfying friction, and before you knew it, you were on the edge again.

“‘M close again, Min,” You whined, lips parting. You were drooling, you could feel it, but you had to wait until he said. “Kitty needs to cum.”

“Kitty needs to, does she?” He scoffed, but pressed a kiss to your forehead nonetheless. “Well, kitty better soak my cock then.”

Your jaw dropped in an incoherent moan as you clenched around Minho’s cock, walls pulsating as you let yourself go. The orgasm was white hot, building in your core and travelling down to where your toes curled and up to where your back arched. You could feel it gushing, soaking Minho and the hair that adorned the base of his shaft. Minho groaned, and then he reached down with one hand, squishing your cheeks together to look at him. His pace didn’t falter, still bullying into your g-spot.

“You alright, jagi?” He asked, thumb stroking your bottom lip. You hummed, letting your body be jostled by the forcefulness of his thrusts. It felt like you were floating on a fluffy cloud, even more so after your orgasm - you couldn’t even remember what you’d been so worried about. “There we go. That’s it, you just float like that for me. You don’t need to think about anything, kitty.”

“Need cum,” You murmured, huffing when Minho laughed at you.

“I’m gonna give you my cum, kitty, I’ve got you,” He pulled your hips up, and then he was fucking up into you like you were a fleshlight. You tried to force your eyes open, and you didn’t regret it when they did. Minho’s body was covered in a sheen of sweat, soft dew on his honey skin and his eyebrows furrowed as he ploughed into you. The feeling was almost enough to get you to cum again, if you really focused, but you couldn’t. All you could think was Minho, Minho, Minho. “Let me fuck you like this. J-just, nice and hard, and I’ll-“

“Cum,” You repeated, shifting to fuck back onto his cock. You whined as he gripped your hips tighter, and then he was gasping, eyes widening. He was curled over you, jaw dropped.

“I’m gonna cum, gonna fill this fucking cunt, oh- oh, jagi-“ He was nearly whining, making you clench in approval of the tone of his voice. Minho collapsed over you, hips jolting in a staccato rhythm as he filled you up with his cum. You could feel it in your hole, wet and dripping. He pulled out of you with a now-softening cock, eyes following the leaking of his cum out of your abused pussy. Instead of moving, he collapsed on top of your body, nuzzling at your throat.

“‘M so relaxed,” You giggled, letting Minho kiss your nose.

“I bet,” Minho hummed in response. “I’ll let you float like this for a bit, but then you gotta come back to me, ‘kay?”

“Mmkay,” You chirped. “Cuddles.”

Minho chuckled, moving to lay by your side to pull you close. “Of course, jagi.”

[kisspurins]

mm thinking of how seunghan is known to he the softest and kindest man ever but they dont know his hidden side where he's literally the most deranged guy ever :(( he would tell u how he's doing it for ur safety and he'll also tell u what he's doing is just a way of him showing his love but gosh.. what he's doing is so disgusting but u cant think so otherwise because it makes u feel bad :((

oh nonie you're soooo right 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ hannie is so corruption but in the worst ways possible with how deranged n sick he is :( knows he can manipulate and mold you into his perfect girl bcs you don't know any better!!! he loves you sm and he would never do bad things to you!! ofc not!!!!!

୨୧ warnings｜dubcon，dom seunghan，anal，free use，exhibitionism，humiliation，dry humping，reader gets called princess n pocket pussy，manipulation，scent kink，spanking mentioned，breeding kink，nipple play mentioned a lil

first we have to talk about seunghan and free use!!! loves bending n pulling you on his dick whenever he feels like it!! calls you his lil pocket pussy while hes fucking you and always does it when you're not particularly free!!!! could be working on something n he comes groping n playing with you 🙂‍↕️ always saying how much he needs you :( does it on work video calls and has no shame n loves pinching your nipples n getting them all perk n hard <333 if he was super mean he would suck on your nipples till they're sore n sensitive with the audience :( even when you're so shy n trying to cover the cam he just tells you to pay attention and you always listen to your hannie :((

thinking specifically abt seunghan who records n takes pictures of you in gross positions or doing gross things :( would love having you on your knees n pushes your face in his bush n holds you there until you start tapping his thigh bcs hes pushing you down so hard and hair is poking your cheeks n chin <3 makes you lick n beg him even just to suck his tip!!! n absolutely makes you lick n such his balls 🙂‍↕️ n doesn't let you touch even if you're dripping all over the ground!!!!! takes videos n zooms in on your face n your eyes are all red n teary n zooms in on your wetness dripping n calling you a dumb mutt <333 threatening you saying hes gonna send it to allll his friends to show what a slut of a princess he has!!!!!! even if you ask him later why he records he says hes doing it for your safety!! needs to keep you in your vulnerable moments for himself n hes keeping them alllll safe for him n you don't have to worry abt it at all!! sometimes its confusing bcs he still touches n plays with you like this in front of his friends too n you wonder if hes really telling the truth but he loves you!! hes protective of you!!!!!

is this a safe space to talk abt anal... seunghan would love it sooo much!!! loves flipping you over n slipping in your pussy n hes so rough n mean slapping your ass n pulling you back against him <333 he loves breeding sm too :( wants to breed you n get you all full m round but he doesn't wanna get you pregnant!!! he just wants to fuck you full 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ soooo its only right he switches holes!!! you whine abt how it hurts n you're not ready but he just loves fucking your ass n cumming inside sm you're dripping of it when he pulls out!!!!! doesnt prep you bcs he likes how you twitch n squirm n pushes the cum inside your ass with his fingers n makes you lick them clean after </3

last one i prommy but dry humping <333 this is just one of the things he does to make you feel gross 🙂‍↕️ makes you hump his leg to get his attention n wont look at you until you pee cum all over him <3 has to feel the wet spot n you have to spread yourself out n show him your sticky panties n ask him to plan look :( its so so embarrassing and so humiliating because seunghan doesn't even give into pouting n tantrums!! makes you beg n cry for him to acknowledge you n you have to be a gross girl :( maybeeee then he lets you move onto humping his hugee bulge if he's feeling generous!!!!

[puppppppppy]

i feel shy talking here when i dont have anything worth sharing but i cant help feeling like ive said things in the tags that could be brought up in court

[prosciuttoon]

Toshiro/Shuro is overhated

(mirror of my thread on twitter)

ever wanted to talk abt something so bad but u have so many thoughts so u cant even begin to organize a sentence. thats me abt shuro and its why i cant give my thoughts on him. i NEED to get this out of my system bc its takign up so much memory in my brain i need that space for thinking.

so i was really surprised to find so much hate for him even tho he seems pretty normal and rational out of the whole cast. ive deducted that its mostly abt his laios fight and that the ppl who hate him probably had bad experiences w social cues and relationships w neurotypicals bc of that. theres no way to avoid it bc its pretty much Right In Your Face that laios is ND. but thats not the only factor in why their relationship is rocky. its also the culture barrier. u have to understand toshiro was raised as JAPANESE NOBILITY ofc he would be a little conservative

also culture shock. idk if u know this but jp culture is very Mind Your Own Business like a lot of other asian cultures . ofc hes gonna be weirded out by a stranger invading his space. also his names not even Shuro. its just yt ppl not pronouncing his name right and settling for whats easiest.

img src: fan translation by savaralyn2 , i think its from the adventurers bible Complete Edition bc i dont remember it in the old one

ok you get the gist of the culture aspect of it. lets go into the ND/NT clash aspect of it. yes i understand its pretty hurtful to never be told when youre acting inappropriately. i am autistic too lmao. but you have to understand that shiro is one guy and he even does realize that repressing things is one of his fatal flaws. again. asian culture. non confrontational. that sorta thing. but these are genuine frustrations. if i were him id be annoyed too but id speak out about it. set boundaries. bc im blunt. shiros not. he was taught crazy strict manners (hierarchies, respect, politeness, etc).

his problem isnt ableism its a culmination of culture barriers, how he was raised to behave, and terrible lack of communication as thing caused by "all of the above" plus he just generally keeps to himself a lot which means repressing frustrations that will explode leading to a pathetic fistfight while hes starved, exhausted, and dehydrated. also. if he was ableist he would hate laios. he doesnt hate laios. at the end of the day, they are friends. NT and ND ppl can be friends u know. there will be rifts (like their fight) but you just have to communicate misunderstandings. theyre gonna be fine lol

anyways that was my whole spiel abt it. i think i got everything out that i wanted to? my head still feels a little full so i may add more later when i remember something

also i think its a little unfair to rule out the possibility of laios and him just being 2 very different kinds of ND bc its very common for misunderstandings to occur even then. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT BUT WE NEED TO COMMUNICATE TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER! but for the sake of interpreting the Fight as a commentary on NT social rules and ND frustration, ill say toshiros NT. will we ever know? hes so far in the sidelines... youd really have to dig in the extra content to see the intricacies of his character.... please give him a chance

[abnomi]

random assorted headcanons for Turbo because I like thinking and having fun !!!! 🎉

Read More to Find Out...or are you too scared?... i bet ur too scared ahaha youre too scared Lol! Hahaahaaa!!!

The steering wheel of his kart is covered in bite marks, similar to how one would bite their favorite pencil. he bites things to mark his territory because Nobody is gonna touch that unless they want all of his diseases (150+).

i just know he was fighting to restrain himself not to chew on any of the candy civilians

when it comes to music, he doesn't see the point of listening to it. he doesn't have enough patience to really take it in; to him, it's just a thing that exists and not much more than that ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ∵⁠ )⁠_⁠/⁠¯

adding onto that point, this guy listens to metal clanking sounds and loud engine roaring for entertainment because he likes things that would overstimulate any normal person. turbo is incredibly sensory-seeking and will do anything for The Sensations

someone should take him to a heavy rock concert i think it would change him a little. keep that thang on a leash

related to being sensory-seeking, i think he would absolutely love running his hands over random textures. if anyone has run their hands along a wall while walking alongside it...He does that...If u know u know... he is SO stimmy its unbelievable. Unreal.

very pain-tolerant. he'll whine and complain about it for attention, but physical hurt really doesnt bother him much until it gets in the way of what he wants to do.

funnily enough, he is very picky when it comes to temperature. he can handle getting ran over but if its 1° too hot or cold he'll start nagging and nagging for it to go back to normal. turbo really needs his own enclosure i think it'd do him a lot of good

this is a more popular headcanon and its canon-leaning, but he's an artist :-] he usually sticks to graffiti art because its generally considered more "rebellious and cool" but he also sketches cars, design decals, and other stuff when hes alone!

i would love to see his process of character designing king candy because i dont think he really knew what he was doing

he was just like "ok what does a generic king look like. uhhhhh.... 1, old and jolly like santa claus.... 2.... uhh crown..... 3......... purple.... FUCK YEAH im so good at this!!!!🔥🔥🔥"

i just noticed how his design has like 0 actual candy motifs aside from his bow being a candy wrapper and his shoes having those little gumdrop end pieces. what was he THINKING

while King Candy has a lisp, i think it's a coverup for his actual voice because of how goofy and recognizable it is. Overall its the same as his regular voice, he just gets silly with it. i noticed that he still does retain some of his lisp when hes screaming his lungs out at Vanellope, however, so maybe he genuinely does have a lisp that makes itself known when furious :3

another thing i noticed is how he hisses his S's. very cool very cool the reptilian

@/tasticturbo made a post abt how he has tinnitus from the constant noise in his game and i couldnt agree more

AND THE PRESCRIPTION GLASSES. where did he get those...he needs to See

side note, the aforementioned account has made so many interesting analyses on turbo and theyre all so insightful. i recommend u check them out

i think he gets migraines from stress. constant buzzing or pain flood his head but hes like "IDGAF i need to DO something at ALL TIMES no matter what"

hes like a shark in that way. if hes not moving he'll die instantly. idk a lot about sharks or if thats how it works srry but im going off of what the Worms are saying to me and i dont have much to work with

i think a really big contributer as to why he lacks in the self care department is because he fails to notice that something in his body is wrong. hes far too distracted on something he thinks is more important than remembering to Eat Food or Drink Water or Wash Himself or

he's like "WHY DO I FEEL LIKE SHIT ALL OF THE TIME!!! I HATE MY LIFE" and he hasn't slept in 4 days

hes so me. Sorry.

i dont think turbo is necessarily suicidal, but the way he behaves shows a clear disregard for his own safety and wellbeing. he thinks that he knows what he needs but he really doesnt :-[ i think he has some kind of immortality complex, feeling untouchable and like nothing could get to him. as scared as he was when ralph was about to turn him into sloppy mush, he didnt take the threat very seriously. like it was some kind of joke

his kart regenerates every time his game starts up, so what if he smashed it into buildings for fun. He's the number one fan of car accidents. he is all about that shit

i think his living space would literally be a garage btw. its a place to sleep and a space for his car all in one!! he thinks its very convenient and awesome but i think he is coping. he has some old dingy stained sheetless mattress that he has never washed in his life and its covered in dirt and smoke particles. no wonder he has such heavy eye bags Dude Please

the turbo twins have a garage used in a similar way, and while its still pretty shitty, they still at least TRY to maintain it. they just fight a lot over who has to care of it. nobody taught them how to take turns ever

but this aint about them. maybe another day

i think that turbo would find comfort in garbage and keeping it around because its familiar to him. a big clean empty space would make him so mad and if anyone moves even an inch of scrap off to the side he will throw a fit. he generally doesnt pay attention to his surroundings but when its his personal space he is 1093 times more neurotic

i think the big empty castle he stole wouldve been a big transition for him. maybe it helped him clear his mind a little more to practice his tricky schemes...it helped him get more subtle

thats all i have for nowww ty for reading ^_^ if anyone else has any wacky ideas pleeeease tell me i would love to hear them!!

[faaun]

i feel like im wasting my time but im also in love etc so

does "don't marry for potential" also apply to dating

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

wait damn it i dont think i was anon making that request so HIYA AGAIN 💀💀 (basically this is just restating my request)

foaming at the mouth for peter quill (per usual) so this is a peter req! so maybe smthn abt reader stealing his shirt/s like hes trying to find one and hes like okay where did all my shirts go and then he sees reader all comfy in his shirt and he just MELTS 🥰

Hopefully you can do this soon, ur like famous so u have like 1000 requests LMAO have a great rest of your week/end!

-🪐

hii again🪐!! and dw you were anon for that request😭😭 this is so stinking cute! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 have a great rest of you week too<3 also wanna know something funny? I have 2 of his tshirts, he left them at mine ;)

sharing is caring

Peter Quill x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || none just fluff

masterlist + rules

taglist

There are many great attributes about Quill, and sometimes there are too many to list. But one thing in particular, is his style. Despite his knack for good music and food, there's just something about his clothes that often made you gawk. 

Over the years, Peter has acquired quite the collection of fun and funky t-shirts, most of them bought on various planets as souvenirs after a mission or even as little gifts from you. 

Quill has so many tops that he couldn't possibly have use for every single one, so more often than not, you'd find yourself riffling through his drawers to steal one or five of his t-shirts. His clothes always smell so comforting and homely that you couldn't stop yourself from stealing, even if you wanted to. Your favourite shirts of his are from his slightly chubbier days. They'd feel so soft and comfortable against your skin that you'd often wear them day and night. The bigger the top, the more loved it felt. But you weren't being picky because you loved literally anything he wore. He could wear a trash bag, and as long as it smelt like him, you'd wear that trash bag too.

So today, like any other day, instead of picking your clothes from your side of the closet, you scrounge over to his side, flicking through the hangers to see what you want to wear. 'Happening' upon his grey, long sleeve with white writing, you quickly remove his other t-shirt you were wearing, flinging it across the room into the dirty pile before dressing yourself. Slipping on a pair of joggers, you make your way to the living room, plopping yourself down on the sofa, and wrapping a fluffy blanket over you.

A few short minutes later, Peter is standing in the doorway with a towel draped over his lower half, tiny beads of water covering his chest. "Ahem," he says quietly, a sly smirk on his lips. "Uh- why can't I find any of my clothes?" he asks, sounding like he already knew the answer.

"Maybe they're in the dirty pile," you playfully lie with a deadpan expression, avoiding his gaze. "We haven't done any laundry in a little while. I'm sure there's stuff in there,"

"Hm, okay, right. But the thing is, I was sorta planning on wearing this one top today," sheepishly smiling, ruffling through his wet curls. "Don't suppose you've seen a grey long-sleeve?"

"Nope, haven't seen it," you coyly grin, bringing the blanket to your neck, covering the evidence.

"Yeah?" he hums, making his way over to you. "You sure you haven't seen it?" 

"Nope," you repeat, shaking your head. 

"So if I just..." he says slowly, reaching for the blanket.

You copy him, reaching for his towel, playful eyes as you threaten to tug the fabric down. He looks down at you and shrugs. Grinning. "Do it. I don't care," 

"Okay, alright, fine. I'm wearing it," you cave, ripping away the blanket. "I couldn't help it," you bribe, sweet eyes dancing up at him. 

"How long you been stealing my clothes?" he asks, his tone full of warmth, chuckling.

"Not long," you lie. "But I really can't help it, okay, Pete? It's a problem. I can't stop myself," you say playfully, brushing over your arms as if to show your comfort. "See?"

He stares down at you, his eyes full of admiration. "Yeah? That why I have no clothes left?"

"You have tonnes of clothes. You have so many you didn't even realise they were missing," you say impishly, eyebrows quirking. "They just smell like you," you shrug, a sweet smile on your lips. "You're not mad?"

Shaking his head. "Nah, they look better on you anyway," he grins. "But, have you seen that dark blue one? The one with uh-- the um, light blue circle smile face thing?"

"Maybe... sorry. I wore that the other week," you playfully frown. "But it's clean," you bribe. "I washed it right after. It should be in that pile over there," Pointing.

"Mhmm," he says with squinted eyes and a grin.

He returns half-dressed with the t-shirt in hand, swinging it as he makes his way back to you. "I wanna wear that one," pointing to you. "I wanna smell you," he says quietly, practically inaudible.

"What?" you grin, only hearing fragments. 

"I wanna smell you, now give it," he repeats loud enough for you to hear, his fingers grabbing towards you. "I’m getting cold— look my nipples could cut glass, hurry,"

"But it smells like you," 

He boyishly grins as if he's thought of an idea. He puts on the blue top, rubbing over the fabric as if to transfer his scent before removing it and handing it to you. "Better?"

Sitting up with a smile, you undress from the top, putting on the new one as Peter did the same. He plops down beside you, draping his arm over your shoulder. "You do look cute in my clothes," he grins, kissing your temple.

@annielr @ugh09876554444 @spacetalbot @bubblezuku @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser

[walnutcookie]

ok fuck it rodgerposting HERE I GOOOO

DISCLAIMER: this is a ramble about my own personal headcanons, loosely based off of scraps from the game that im able to make connections to. I do not see any of this as canon. this is not an analysis post, but feel free to use or expand on my headcanons if youd like!!! (i would love to hear abt/see what u do with it🙏🙏)

man. Honestly to start this i should preface that i designed my rodger headcanons to parallel glisten's character, so im going to mainly talk about those two in this post

Despite glistens ego it is VERY obvious that he has a lot of self esteem issues. Just from his twisted form alone we can see how dependent he is on the attention and praise of others, and his notes/interactions reinforce that. hes so deperate to feel loved and appreciated because he doesnt feel confident in himself so he puts up this false ego to try and convince OTHERS that hes perfect because maybe if other people think hes perfect he'll really believe it!!!! (he wont)

the convo he has with toodles is really interesting to me, i mean its kind of vague what "cry and complain" really means but im gonna say that he actively, or has in the past, vented to rodger about some of his self esteem issues

obviously rodger being a detective is right on theme with him being a magnifying glass and yknow. His object and occupation implies hes able to see things in others that others might not. but i also like to think that theres an irony of him being a mystery himself. he doesnt share much about himself - any conversation he has with other toons is mainly him asking questions about them while avoiding questions about himself or giving surface-level information. He's appreciated by the other toons, and is reliable when it comes to solving mysteries for the others ,,, he isnt feared or anything hes just. Unknown. He keeps to himself and others dont know what hes truly like. he doesnt have any close relationships at all, save for toodles

It stems from a feeling of worthlessness. he feels like hes too mediocre - sure, people would appreciate him the way he is, but why settle for that? by keeping nearly everything about himself the things people will theorize and imagine about him would be far more interesting and appealing than any lie he could spread about himself. Why pretend to be something hes not, which could easily be disproven, when he could just try not to be what he is? he wants to just be the cool mysterious polite detective who helps everyone yknow!!!! he WANTS people to be curious about him but never find out the answers. he doesnt want people to know that hes literally just like anyone else

and THATS the thing he has in common with glisten. they both have the same insecurity, that same desire to be loved and to be admired, to be seen as so much more than they really are, but they react to that feeling in opposite ways. Glisten tries to flaunt everything he has and more in an attempt to make himself seem perfect (when he clearly isnt), while rodger tries to push it all down and hide it so that people cant tell what hes really like

rodger knows what glisten is thinking. he knows what motivates his every action. that man can read glisten like a book bro... he can predict glistens every thought because theyre the same person. he knows glistens motives, he can predict how glisten must feel about other toons and rodger himself because he knows what its like to be in that position. and god he wants to help him. he knows what glisten is going through and wants to try to help as best he can ‼️

the problem is that glisten DOESNT understand. he doesnt know anything about rodger. rodger tries not to say much about what he observes so that glisten doesnt Freak the fuck out but then that just makes it worse because rodger will try to comfort him and say everything hes thinking and it terrifies the shit out of glisten because it seemingly comes out of nowhere 😭 rodger is still confused about glisten but less confused than glisten is about himself !!! He doesnt know rodgers motives cause again he doesjt talk about himself so hes just terrified of this guy he doesnt realize rodger is trying to help. he wants to believe he is but its hard to tell </3 regardless though glisten does truly care about rodger just... in a complicated way. Bro wants rodger dead but couldnt live on if he died and rodger knows that

would like to talk about rodger and toodles more but ill do that in a different post .... thank you if you read this far i love you . If u have any questions/comments/thoughts id love to hear feel free to send me asks!!!🙏🙏

[jokerbunn]

Silly Headcanons abt Arthur

𓈈⠀⠀ 𝅄 ⠀᧔◍᧓ ⠀⠀ 𝅄 𓈈

I've been brainrotting abt this man in the past 9 months. (I'm so normal abt him.)

So I'll share some of my useless headcanon of him (if you don't agree, pls do not spread hate. This is just my personal view. If you don't agree, it's definitely fine)

1- He is allergic to tomatoes.

My bro is totally allergic to tomatoes. He can't eat them or come into contact with them.

Which is a shame, cuz Penny likes it.

2- Arthur is a little afraid of birds

Don't ask me why. But I can just FEEL that Arthur is a little bit scared of birds. This man is not afraid of spiders or lizards (His mother is terrified of these things. Every time one of these shows up in their apartment, he takes it out for her.), but put a canary near him and watch the real meaning of discomfort.

3- He is obsessed with curly hair.

He definitely thinks curly hair is beautiful. He would even ask to touch someone's hair. But he is very shy and is afraid of hurting the person.

The only hair he touches is his own and his mother's. They have the same curl. So it's not really a big difference. But I can feel that he thinks afro hair is beautiful.

4- He's bisexual, period.

He doesn't call himself bisexual, obviously. It's the 80s. And Arthur is afraid of sexuality in general. But something tells me, that Arthur likes both men and women. But he doesn't think it's right for him to like men, because that's not the example he has. Arthur is desperate for romance, and all he knows about it is from movies. And in movies at the time, only heterosexual couples were shown. So I think Arthur would feel dirty because of this.

HaHa's has male strippers, and I'd say he's caught himself looking at them from time to time. But he doesn't know if he envies them, wanting to be like them, attractive to women, or if he wants to touch them.

(he wants both.

5- Arthur has dyslexia.

Throughout the movie, we see that Arthur's handwriting is rubbish. And in Joker 2, it is simply proven by himself that he didn't go to high school. However. In the last year of elementary school, you should already be literate and able to write. Which is not the case with Arthur. He doesn't know how to write properly and his handwriting is poor.

People with dyslexia have a peculiar brain functioning for linguistic processing related to reading. Dyslexics have difficulty associating the graphic symbol, the letters, with the sound they represent, and organize them, mentally, in a temporal sequence.

And I think Arthur fits that perfectly.

6- Arthur has level 2 support ASD.

Arthur is (undiagnosed) autistic, and you can't prove me otherwise. (Im autistic myself, so dont come at me☠️✋🏼)

My bro doesn't recognize irony, he's naive, has hyperfocus, do stimming, and doesn't know how to fit in with society, he feels love in a different way, etc.

He is an autistic man with a hyper focus on comedy and Murray Franklin, period.

Anyways, hope u all enjoy!