#i want to know if i should pay more attention to this or if this can remain a silly hobby

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere academic rival who really, really wishes he could just get you out of the way.

Dead dove Do Not Eat! MDNI ! NSFW !

Tw. Dubcon/Noncon, bullying, academic pressures, blackmail, oral sex, explicit photos, mentions of baby trapping, yandere, stalking, forced relationship, AFAB reader

Elias had a certain level of respect for you.

You both attended a prestigious university crammed full of students vying to make connections and nab a cushy position for themselves in the future, and while it was easy for him to be on top of the social and academic scenes, he knew you had to work a bit harder. He came from a very wealthy household, one where needing something was merely a concept and not something he ever actually encountered. You, on the other hand, definitely come from a lesser background than him and his circle. Your scholarship and just above the average academics seemed to have pushed you into a good spot to be hoisted into the same realm as him.

But he didn't really think of you much at first.

You were some nameless face that wasn't really worthy of being around him. Maybe he would catch glimpses of your hair, or someone woud mention you in passing and he'd pretend to be intruiged.

It was really when you started to be compared to him of all people that he started to really pay attention.

You were smart, cunning, and ruthless when it came to your assignments. Just like him. Normally he worked overtime, paid industry professionals to help review his papers, his study materials and poured blood sweat and tears into his academics. And yet you somehow managed to be on his level with less than half the resources. It drove him up a wall because if you were nearly as good as him now, then what could you be like if you had the chance?

Elias was like a man obsessed after your sudden, explosive rise in the minds of professors and lecturers alike. He spent hours studying, shirking his friends and other responsibilities just to make sure he was still better than you, to keep you in your place.

He started to focus in more on your personal life, too.

Where on earth did you come from? He's half convinced that you were genetically designed in a lab to piss him off. But the more he glares at the back of your head when you're not looking, the more he's transfixed. You're like a black hole, or some kind of other abyss like metaphor. Fuck, you had him writing poetry in his head. He hated poetry. He hated you. Or at least, he would really like to hate you, but he couldn't. You had the same amount of drive as him, maybe even a little more. No matter what he did, he was forced to acknowledge you, forced to be aware of every twitch of your hand or every flutter of your eyelids. To him, you were something that demanded attention, even if it was taken from him through gritted teeth.

The only reprieve from his spiraling was the fact that you felt the same way about him. He liked to imagine that you were just as obsessed with him, sitting there in the late hours of the night writing down equations with him as your sole motivator.

But then he finds out that he's not even occupying your mind, and he loses his shit.

"Oh Elias? Yeah I guess he's fine. Huh? Rivals? What the- no way I just want good grades. He has nothing to do with it haha."

You just said it in passing when someone teased you about it, and he knew that he shouldn't linger on your words for too long. If anything, it should make him feel better. You had nothing against him, so it meant everything was fine, right? Wrong. It was so wrong.

Elias was seething, nearly throwing a tantrum. How could you not even think about him. Him! You were some piddling, pathetic excuse for a human being, and you had the audacity to not even regard him when he spent nearly every waking moment thinking about you.

He was fine just watching you from the corner of his eye. He was fine knowing that on some level, the two of you had a respectable if not distant relationship. Just because in some aspect, he wanted a piece of you all to himself. And if you weren't going to let him just have a little bit of your life, your passion, your drive, he would just take all of you instead.

He follows you into the library late one night. You're sitting there, glowing in the warmth of the nearest lamp while your pen makes soft scratching noises against the paper. You look pretty. You've always looked pretty to him. You don't notice him as he approaches, and he feels any vestiges of doubt or restraint float away. Even now, as he loomed over you, you didn't even spare him a glance.

The library was empty. He made sure it was so before hand, and he's glad he did. The quite air was shattered by the sound of him shoving you over the priceless lacquered wood desk. Your eyes go wide as you take him in, and his hands fly up to your throat.

"Augh! What are you-?"

"Shut up." He hisses and narrows his gaze. Your pulse is racing underneath his fingers, and he has half a mind not to crush your windpipe into oblivion so that he can be the last one to feel it. "You have no idea," He mutters and leans in close. Your frightened breath ghosts over his skin, and he shudders. Now that he thinks about it, this is the first time he's ever been so close to you. It feels so right. He never wants to be away from you again. Not when you look so damn alluring with tears rolling down your cheeks and your clothes rumpled on the floor by his feet.

He wants you like this always, with your twitching cunt stuffed full of his fingers and your cries filling his ears. Soft, wet squelching noises met each of his ministrations, and a cruel, wonder filled grin spread across his face.

"You have no idea how much you've driven me wild," He laughs. It's a sharp sound that grates on your ears. "How much you infuriate me," Each word is punctured by a thrust, by a curling motion that has you gasping and seeing stars.

If this is what he has to do so that you notice him, so you will just fucking care about his existence more than you would any other speck of dust on the street, then so be it.

It only gets worse from there.

Elias takes photos of you. So many. Ones of your crying face, ones of your leaking pussy, some of him shoving his dick past your puffy lips. Once the camera shuttered and they were in his hands, it was all over.

He played the role of your boyfriend after that.

There wasn't a moment where he wasn't hovering over your shoulder, whispering threats into your ears. He gets you to start doing worse in your classes and on your assignments, and for once, he's happy. He finally has your eyes on him, and if you ever try to leave him or say anything, then he'll make sure you can never show your face around here again. Don't worry, though. He's kind enough to keep it so you won't fail outright. In fact, he'll just slip some money to some of the professors so you don't have to do anything other than sit on his lap and pay attention to him while he actually works for the top spot.

Elias takes you out on fancy dates as if it's any way to soothe the sting of having your life ruined. He pays for everything and practically preens under the feeling of finally getting what he wants. He's such a brat, and he doesn't even care about hiding it when he's with you. Part of the reason why he likes you is he can be his nasty, awful and conniving self and you have no choice but to accept it. He doesn't mind if you're reluctant or stubborn. In fact, he kind of likes it because in the end, you still gave in to have a chance to graduate from a prestigious school. And plus, now you're living the high life with him! It's kind of a win win if you think about it.

He loves having you sit on your knees (a cushion underneath them of course. He wouldn't want you to ever actually get hurt) and taking his cock in your mouth while he studies. You look so cute like that, with your eyes all narrowed in mildly hidden frustration, and he loves it even more when he thrusts into your throat. You always make these little spluttering noises that just drive him wild, and he clamps his thighs around your head to keep you there.

Elias who soon becomes the university's beloved model student. He's not going to let anyone get in his way ever again, especially not after he has you to provide for now. After all, he's got plans for you. Once he manages to put a baby in you, he'll know that your future family is secured, and he's got to support all of you. There's no way he can fail now!

[autumngracy]

Obviously not everyone is able to do this, but growing some of the produce that are most affected by outbreaks of listeria and such is a really good idea. Of course you still need to wash them thoroughly before eating, but you'd be far less likely to get a food borne illness from something you grew yourself and ate at the peak of freshness.

Tomatoes, lettuce, cabbage, herbs, onions, scallions, potatoes, strawberries, etc. are pretty easy to grow with a limited amount of space and resources. When I had a roomate she grew potatoes out on the apartment balcony. Growing tomatoes in pots is a breeze (just rememberto give those suckers some support).

If you buy store bought produce, try to buy it as whole as possible. Pre-chopped things are far more likely to harbor bacteria and stuff (this goes for meat as well). You'll need to pull apart certain things like celery and lettuce heads to eat them, and you should be sure to wash them really well, especially where they were connected to the base, because that's where the most dirt accumulates. Chopping off the bits nearest to the base is also good practice.

I know there is a stigma against frozen foods, but I need you to know that it's bullshit. Frozen produce may not have the ideal texture or flavor, but it's less likely to have any food borne illnesses (I say LESS because there ARE some things that can survive being frozen).

Frozen food is also nutritionally equivalent (or sometimes even superior to) the "fresh" version. I say "fresh" because a lot of things are picked in a semi-unripe state and have been sitting around partially or artificially ripening for days or weeks during shipping, getting bounced around and bruised. They don't always taste as good or have as many nutrients as home grown stuff that's allowed to properly ripen. But frozen foods are frozen immediately after being picked and washed, and don't go through the same shipping issues, so they're allowed to fully ripen, as the issue of potentially rotting before getting to the customer is no longer a problem.

If you can peel it, like a carrot or an apple, this is helpful from a food safety standpoint, but isn't always necessary. If you're boiling those carrots or potatoes, you don't need to peel them. (A lot of nutrients are in potato skins, so it's healthier to leave them on). You still gotta wash 'em, though.

When you order fast food, you may want to customize the order and take out onions or lettuce as a preventative measure, since those ingredients have been affected by many outbreaks recently and will likely continue to do so (onion rings should be fine though, since they're fried).

It's also more important now than ever to pay attention to news about food recalls, and yes this means actively looking up sites that list recalls, rather than hoping you'll randomly hear about it before unknowingly eating a contaminated product. We are going to have so much more food safety issues after Trump & Co. start gutting the FDA (again).

All this to say, wash your produce (even if it says it was already washed), don't buy stuff pre-cut, don't be afraid to buy frozen, stay up to date on the latest recal news, and maybe try out growing some of your own produce, if you can.

i’m actually scared that food safety is going to get so much worse. of course i expected that it would stay bad - since it’s been basically unchanged for the last four years. but now, we gotta worry that it’s going to get more privatized and lax all over again. people shouldn’t have to live in fear that their food could make them sick or kill them. people shouldn’t lose access to their main sources of food because of an illness outbreak.

[winwintea]

that's okay

PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr

SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!

PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.

You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.  “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.

You were wrong.

You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!” 

“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.

“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”

“No thank you.”

Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones. 

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too. 

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.

“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”

He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”

“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”

“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.

“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”

Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.

Right?

Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.

“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”

“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.

“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.

“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”

“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands. 

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.” 

“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.

And that’s when you realize it.

Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.

Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.

When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin. 

When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.

You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.

You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.

“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”

“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”

“Both.”

His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”

A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”

Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”

You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.

He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”

You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“For what?”

“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”

Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”

Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”

You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.

“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”

“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?

“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”

His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.

For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.

Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.

“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.

“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”

Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.” 

He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?

Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.

“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.

“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.

“I was just—”

“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed it.

“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.

You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?

As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.

“Here.”

You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.

“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”

“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.

You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”

“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”

Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”

“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.

“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.

He smiled softly. “You already are.”

For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.

Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.

You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.

“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”

His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.

“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”

Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.

You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”

He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”

The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung

[wannaeatramyeon]

Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

.

.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

.

.

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

.

.

.

.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?"  you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

.

.

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

.

.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

.

.

.

.

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

.

.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

.

.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

.

.

.

.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

.

.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

[sgiandubh]

When Cait married Tony she said they would honeymoon in Italy when it, meaning OL, was over. Good way to get it paid for by OL related appearance next March. Too bad she has to put up with Sam for a couple of hours. Sam, who said many times how he hated S2 costumes and was teased much by Meril, because he didn't like the feminine look. Too much like his true nature. He will certainly bring one of his prostitutes over past 3 years, Ashley being the latest, if her unnecessary week in UK last week for for anything else. 4 trips to Scotland for her in a year. It's clear which business she's really in.

Dear Business She Is Really In Anon,

I think you should be ashamed of yourself, for writing plain libel with no other arguments than your own twisted, bitter and irrelevant world view. If you consider that Ashley Hearn is a prostitute, just because she traveled four times to Scotland since late May 2024, then you are nothing more than a sad, sad troll, who thinks thousands of other women who happen to work in the marketing and sales sectors, all over the world, are also whores, right? You know very well all her trips have been more than thoroughly documented and you also know they did have a tangible impact, as far as that company is concerned. You should also get your fucking timeline straight before you treat us to your word vomit, because even the hatred you gratuitously spread around must have, technically speaking, at least some modicum of plausibility. She did not start to work for SS one year ago, punk: she started to work for them on May 21st 2024, which is exactly six months.

When C married McGill there is no way for you to tell what she said. You weren't there, you are a damn Social Zero and you just rely on word-of-mouth and ridiculously contradictory press releases and interviews. A honeymoon takes a week-end perhaps only in your shanty town and making the ball's organizers 'pay for it' is beyond ridiculous, including as far as C herself might be concerned (what is she, a cheap profiteer?) - supposing that 'relationship' would be anything more than a mutually convenient arrangement of sorts, of course. Sorry, but not the case.

Yeah, too bad she had to put up with S, against all odds, for eleven years, now. This is what really wrecks your pea brain, right? That, and being proven wrong and embarrassingly dumb, over and over again.

For your next endeavor, I suggest you'd turn your attention to your homeland telenovelas (you misspelled Maril Davis' name like a Brazilian and that is a dead giveaway).

Talvez Escrava Isaura seja uma substituição decente e mais acessível? Há reviravoltas baratas (gaslighting, veneno, delírio) o suficiente para mantê-la ocupada por um bom tempo.

You may wonder why I still answer your tragically ridiculous comments? Well, because it is time for someone to shame you and also show the true, dull and derisory colors of your stupid monomania.

[Later edit]: in no way did I want to imply anything negative about Brazil or its culture. I could have definitely better used one of the bajillion other Globo productions, dealing with Carioca intrigue and/or football wives. If I haven't, it is just because Escrava Isaura was a huge international success even in the Nineties, and remembered as such by many. While I am sensitive to the social and political inacceptable problem of slavery, I maintain that the 1976 adaptation of Guimarães's novel is simplistic and formulaic enough, hence more appropriate for Anon. I am sorry if my poor joke was construed differently and I apologize to all the people who might be offended. If you know me, you'd also know I am probably the last person to disrespect your country and culture.

[wakeup01]

Slip ‘n Slide

(2,000 follower special)

On the floor. Now! Put your face where it feels like it should belong bitch! Fuck, you can’t help doing what you’re told, can you? Good. I could tell by the first message you sent me, you were a needy slut. Message after message, needing validation, my attention. My time. But my time comes with a cost. Now it’s time to pay. Let’s get this done while your mind is horny and numb. Feel your body start to become more pliable. Compressing down, reshaping. Let it wrap around my smelly foot. Don’t resist, just let it happen. Let yourself become what you were destined to be. You don’t need arms, don’t need legs. All you need is an opening for my feet to rest; so open wide and let my foot stretch you out. You don’t need to move, to speak. You just need to exist, to be present. To complete the pair. To sniff and suck for eternity. A simple rubbery form designed to cushion my steps. Covered in a bunch of branding to signify your role as a product, uniform and non-unique. Disposable. A slide.

Size 11. That’s what you are. A size 11, Adidas slide. It’s what your label says. That’s how I’ll refer to you. ‘My size 11 adidas slide.’ What I’ll tell people when they notice you. ‘Yeah they’re new, look well sick, don’t they?’ And no one will question otherwise. No one will ever wonder why you smell of feet, why you don’t move or talk, or why you’re left lying on the ground - it’s just normal. You’re a literal footnote, barely worthy of remark.

No, you don’t belong to me, you belong to my chavvy feet. My toes, my arch, my sole. They own you. And my feet are gonna make sure you know that all too well. Your job is to protect them after all. That’s really the only use a filthy slide like you has. And I wear my slides without socks. How else am I going to make sure you smell like my sweaty feet? My juicy toes pushing into you day after day. Listening as the world goes by without your presence as if nothing had happened. Smelling my intoxicating scent as I hang out. Watching as the floor flies by underneath you while you worship my sole.

You WERE a person - had a name, a personality, and now you’re a fashion item for me to show off. Hate it all you want right now, but it won’t take long until you regard yourself as such too. Your mind irreparably warped by my constant heavy impression. By the bitter, salty musk clinging to your entire length. Soon enough, you’ll be happy to do your job. Feeling privileged for my kindness. Proud of that label sewn into you. That barcode number. Smelling my cheesy boy feet was something I chose for you. It must mean you did something right, right?

And you did. You whiffed my feet and gave up your body for something better. Something smellier.

An assortment of cheap materials. My slide. My latest fucking conquest. Accept my foul foot as your new god and prepare to fucking worship the sweat dripping from it. You’re finished!

Hahaha. Glad to add you to the collection, loser. Why should I ever have to buy footwear when there’s plenty of pathetic foot suckers just dying to stay at my feet. Permanently. You loved sliding into my dm’s unannounced, and now I’m gonna slide my big pungent foot into you. Enjoy, fuckwit. I know I will.

[shewrites444]

pretty [ art donaldson x babysitter/age gap! reader smut ]

[ Hiii me popping up on here for the first time in forever lmao. I've been on a Challengers kick lately, let me know if I should write more on Art perhaps. :D ]

WC - 3.5k (unedited story, so apologies for any errors)

[ Summary - The reader and Art have been having an affair for the past few months after she became the Donaldsons' occasional babysitter. A lot of porn with a slight plot. ]

[ Warnings - Age gap (reader is college-aged, art is in his like mid-thirties), cursing, cheating/affair, oral (m&f receiving), dirty talk, tiny breeding kink mention, unprotected sex ]

-

It's not like it mattered to Tashi, well, anymore, what her husband did in his free time. A year or so ago, when Art found out about Tashi and Patrick's on-going affair at their challenger, he felt crushed, defeated, sickened, all emotions jumbled into one component, knowing what his wife was doing behind closed doors since they were teenagers. No amount of "I love you's" could make her drawn closer to him, no amount of care, compassion.. nothing. I mean, it would only make sense that an affair that lasted over ten years, especially with his former best friend and teammate, would fundamentally fuck up their marriage.

Tashi tried to fix it, she really did, by cutting off all connections to Patrick, promising Art she'd be better for not only him, but their daughter, Lily, and the careers and finances they shared together. She knew all the logic behind an affair was unjustifiable, and it made sense to fix a marriage with someone who genuinely cared for her and the family, careers, and finances they created together.

Art stopped playing tennis that year, and like they had promised each other months before, decided to work on the foundation full time, and with newer responsibilities, came the need for a sitter that wasn't only one of their parents when Art had a game or two.

That's where you came into the picture.

You were an undergraduate student at NYU, about to graduate in the spring with a heavy need for any sort of finances to help you afford your rent the rest of the semester. Knowing that your niece was in class with Art and Tashi Donaldson's daughter, that set up a fairly easy connection to a potential babysitting gig. They were millionaires, hell, maybe even billionaires at this point, so you'd be bound to get a pretty solid paycheck.

You were in luck. They needed an occasional sitter on the weekends, and a handful of nights during the week, and given that they both knew your sister, you were already trusted. Easy money.

You got along with Lily pretty well, too. Not to mention the Donaldsons were kind to you as well, and the amount of money they gave you for watching their one daughter, who was pretty self-sufficient other than needing to have a bedtime story or two read to her each night, was fucking ridiculous. Not like you were rolling in dough, but they surely overpaid you. Not like that was a problem for either parties, though.

Overtime, you talked more to Art when Tashi was starting to have more meetings, interviews, and other miscellaneous tasks that required her attention as they expanded connections to the foundation. At first, it was a bit awkward, given that when babysitting, usually the dad was a bit more absent, or quiet, but he warmed up to you after a few nights. He'd ask you about how Lily was, even ask you about school, or what you wanted to do after graduation, pay you, and that was really it. It was simple, really, until it wasn't.

And here you were, months later, standing at the small kitchen island in your apartment, which was, frankly, a bit inhumane in size for an inhabitant, but it's New York City, and it's what you could afford, even on the Donaldson's payroll. You had a small salad bowl in front of you, sliding the grape tomatoes off the cutting board in your hand into the mixture, as no other than Art Donaldson stood next to you, the tongs in his hand as you handed him the bowl.

Playing house with a married 35-year-old man wasn't on your list of things to do this year, but it's not like you were complaining.

From an outside perspective, it felt wrong, but to you, it felt just right. It was cliche, and well, bad, being apart of an affair for a multi-millionaire last name, and a man that was married, with a whole family, but you tried not to think about it.

Did you love him? You had never been in love, so you didn't really know, but probably not, at least not yet. Did he love you? You didn't think so, but he definitely favored you more than his own wife, and you weren't even thinking that because of the situation, you genuinely knew he preferred you.

"You want me to put a show on?" Art asked softly, glancing down at you as you walked over to the kitchen, rinsing off the cutting board. His eyes averted to your ass, glancing at the sweat shorts that hugged your figure, before looking up to meet your eyes when you turned around.

You knew he checked you out, it's not like that came to a surprise. Art was sweet, really, but it's not like he wasn't a sexual man because he was older. If anything, that made his sex drive higher. You shrugged, sliding past him to open the fridge and grab the salad dressing. "Eh, I'm good with whatever."

You can hear him set the bowl down, and his free hand travel to the side of your waist, over the thick cotton of your sweatshirt, as you grin to yourself, shaking your head while you set the dressing on the counter. "Shouldn't we eat first?"

"Just missed you today." Art muttered, lightly turning you around to face him before giving your forehead a light peck. "Haven't seen you all week, pretty."

Your cheeks redden, and the familiar pit in your stomach follows directly after. Fuck. Art was older than you, yes, but an emotional man at the fact of it, but he was so fucking needy. He'd come see you, not even two or three days between, and act like it had been two months without contact. He'd lay his head on your chest, play with your fingers, tell you how much he missed you, all because you hadn't seen him in not even a week. From the outside, that probably looked pathetic, a married man, who had a wife and child at home, coming to a college-aged girl's apartment, not even the size of his bedroom, cuddling her like he was a teenager. It was fucking toxic, actually, but again, you tried not to think about that part of it.

"Well, why don't we eat, and then you can show me that you missed me later, hm? That okay?" You step back slightly to look up to him, reaching forward to cup his rose-tinted, pale cheeks. You lean up to kiss him, pulling away to slide out of his embrace, your eyes following the meal you had just made together.

Art was pouting, basically, as he frowned at the corner of his mouth, walking towards the other side of you and gently taking the tongs out of your hand. "I'd rather show you now. You can't tell me you don't want me to fuck you right here, sweetheart."

"Art." You purse your lips together, shooting him a glare. You could pretend to be annoyed all you want, but he knew you weren't aggravated with him. It's not like you didn't enjoy him fucking the shit out of you on your kitchen counter, or anywhere, matter of fact. He'd fuck you right in your car when he walked you out of his house after babysitting, he didn't give a fuck. He liked you a lot, way more than he should, even in the given scenario of an affair.

"What?" He tilted his head, looking down at you with that stupid cheeky-ass grin he'd always give you when he knew you were fibbing. You wanted him, obviously. Sometimes, he didn't know why you even pretended to act like you didn't want it right then and there.

Art really wasn't even the most dominating guy, but if that's what you wanted, he'd put on a fucking show. He'd bend you over and fuck the shit out of you if that's what you wanted him to do. He'd make it hurt, if that's what you wanted him to do. But again, he liked you, so he'd never actually hurt you.

You glance down between you, the obviously erection in his sweatpants pointing right at you. You look back up to him, that look of pure want on his face so obvious. You glance to your bedroom. You don't have to speak, he already knows, and he listens so fucking easily.

The chemistry between the two of you was a fucking pain sometimes. You'd be so wet when he'd do as much as touch your back, it would piss you off sometimes, and you would think that after fucking him for a few months now, that feeling of freshness would go away, but it didn't.

You'd do more than just fuck, too. If he wasn't such a public figure, he'd take you out on real date, probably try to pursue you in some way if he wasn't married, and just a more normal-status guy, but that wasn't the case. He would make efforts though, buy you flowers sometimes when he'd come over, order the two of you something to eat, whether it was Chinese takeout or a 5-star review restaurant steak, he didn't care. He just wanted to please you, the best he could. All the time.

Right now, his definition of pleasing you was gesturing for you to lay down on your twin-sized bed, and plant his face between your legs, eating your pussy until you were begging him to fuck you with something other than his tongue.

You wiggled yourself out of your shorts and underwear in one, Art assisting you by pulling them off your ankles and onto the wooden floor. He spread your knees apart, kneeling on the hard ground before his hot breath was planting kisses between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

You gulp, averting your attention to his mouth. You watch him get closer, and you can only gasp when he latches onto your clit. You feel him move his hand onto your thighs, wrapping around them from the back and holding your sides, his pale, calloused hands digging into your skin. It didn't hurt though, not at all.

"Oh my god." Leaves your mouth without a single thought. Art knew exactly how to please you. "Art, you're gonna make me cum before you even fuck me."

He looked up to you, lips still pressed against your pussy, his eyes locked with yours for a moment, before he focused his attention to your body again. He didn't care. Guess that was the point.

You shake your head in disbelief, your back naturally arching as he pressed his tongue harder against you. God, you couldn't even imagine what it was going to be like when his cock was inside you, even though you'd slept together plenty of times before.

His tongue kept pace on your clit, as he moved one of his hands off your thigh and closer to your pussy, gently pushing his middle finger through your folds. Fucking hell, as if he couldn't make you more turned on.

"Art." His name rolled off your tongue. "You're gonna make me cum. I wanna finish with you."

He listened to you, and he obliged, despite how much he wanted you to cum now. Art slowly pulled his finger out of you, and his mouth away from you. He leaned up, motioning himself on top of you, before you moved your hands to lightly push him off.

"What's wrong?" He asked, almost immediately, his eyes dropping, almost disappointed. You knew his cock was aching to be inside you.

You lean up, your hands traveling to rest against the sides of his broad shoulders. "Here. Lay down."

Art wasn't going to fight that. He eagerly nodded at your request, your positions switching in seconds as he laid down on your bed. Your hands began to pull at the waistband on his sweats, and his underwear, sliding them off his body in one.

You weren't one for sucking cock, but with Art, you fucking adored it. You liked to watch him fall apart at just your mouth, knowing that he'd crumble once he fucked your pussy. You liked edging him to the point he was whining, begging, pleading to fuck you, or you to fuck him. Just depended on the day.

"You gonna suck my cock, pretty girl?" Art asked you, softly, a half-smile on his pink lips as he moved one of his hands to cup your cheek, his elbow propping his body up slightly. "Gonna let me fuck your mouth?"

"Mhm." You murmur, nodding as you move down to spit on his cock, wetting the tip before you peck a few kisses against his tip, glancing up at him as you laid on your stomach towards the end of your bed, front of your body aligned with his middle. "Gonna let you fuck my throat, Art."

Art's grin followed the rest of his lips, his cheeks dark red as his mouth hung open. He watched you lean down, his cock enveloped by your mouth. You had pretty, plump lips. Pretty and full lashes you'd bat when he fucked your throat. He could watch you suck him off all day. He could just be with you all day.

"You're so beautiful, [Y/N]. My pretty girl." He praised you, his hand still glued to your cheek, bits of spit against his thumb as you bobbed your head, his cock hard and full in your mouth. "Gonna let me fill your mouth up, hm? Or should I fill your pussy instead? What do you want, baby?"

It's not like you could answer the question. You keep sucking him off, looking up to his blue eyes, before you force him down your throat, muffling any sort of gag that your body desperately wanted to let out. You wanted him to know you could take his cock.

"God." He moaned, his eyes never leaving yours. He rubbed your cheek. "Your mouth feel so good, but I really wanna fuck you. Please, baby. I wanna cum in you. That pretty pussy, please."

It didn't take you much convincing to slide his cock out of your mouth and lay down on your bed. It made you feel embarrassed, desperate even, with how eager you were to have him stuff his cock inside you. Not like he judged you for that at all, just internal thoughts you'd have occasionally.

He sat up, his cock hard and straight, as his knees dug into the mattress. He took his shirt off in one pull, tossing it into the pile of your combined clothes before he moved you more towards the middle of the bed. He aimed his cock at your pussy, your legs spread wide for him, before he leaned forward, slowly pushing himself inside you, the both of you moaning at the raw feeling.

Art could be rough if you wanted him to, and you'd do the same for him, but typically, he savored the moment he entered you each and every time. He'd told you several times, that you were no where near in comparison to any woman he'd been with. No competition. You were it. In every way. Part of him wished he had met you earlier, maybe at Stanford or even grade-school. God, he would've worshipped you back then, all the way to now, and the future. You checked off all his boxes, physically, emotionally, sexually, everything. In a different narrative, he would've married you and had a life with you. Fuck tennis. Fuck everything. He'd rather whatever life he could've had with you.

"You feel so good, pretty. You always do." Art leaned down to press a hard kiss against your lips. He pecked your cheek, his lips moving to your ear. "I'm gonna fill that pussy. Gonna make you mine, baby, my sweet girl.. You want that? You like that?"

You nod, your mouth open as you moan, rather loudly as he picked his pace up the more he talked to you. "Y-Yes, baby, fuck yes, fill me up. You're so fucking sexy.. You fuck me so good, Art."

Art groaned at your response, moving his head back to align above yours, his overgrown curls bouncing with his movements, the bed squeaking underneath you. He'd let his hair grow out a bit more lately since you complemented it awhile back.

"Gonna fill this pussy, pretty girl. Gonna give you my cum." He muttered, almost to himself, as he looked between your bodies at what he could see, watching himself fill your hole. It was obvious you were fucking a former pro-athlete. He could fuck you for hours if he wanted to with the amount of stamina he had, regardless of his age. It was fucking hot, how much, and how long, he could fuck you.

You could feel your orgasm increasing the more he penetrated you, the more he pulled his cock nearly out of you and forcing it back inside you, sending jolts through your body. You were already overstimulated enough from just slower sex, him fucking you like a bunny was almost too much for you to take. Not like that was a bad thing though.

"Come on." You talk to him, watching between the two of you, too. "Make me cum, baby. I wanna finish with you, Art. Please, baby. Fuck me so good."

He nods, his body rocking against yours, your legs moving up to wrap around his hips, keeping him closer, and more inside you. You wanted him to fill all of you, not missing a drop of his cum. You wanted him to make you ache when you woke up tomorrow morning.

"Fuck." He groaned, moaning into your mouth as he kissed you, his tongue sliding against yours as he came inside you.

You felt your body jolt, finishing at the same time, as he filled your pussy up. It felt so good to be on the same level, the same energy, as him. So fucking good.

He gave it a few seconds before he pulled out of you, sitting back up, making sure he fucked your right. He rolled to the side before he pulled you closer to him, his hand running through your frizzy hair, kissing the side of your forehead.

You smirked, looking up to him, a small laugh leaving your lips. "What? You can't be shocked, we've had sex so many times I can't even count it at this point."

"I'm not shocked." Art laughed, playing with your hair as he looked up to the ceiling. "It just feels so different with you. You know how much I like you, [Y/N]. Just feels good is all."

"Hm." You watch him look up. You wanted to bring something else up, more emotional topics, but, as much as you knew he did fancy you, you didn't want to fuck up the moment. "Feels good to me, too." Is all you say in return.

Art looks down at you after a moment. "Yeah?" He grins, moving closer to you as he kisses your lips. "Good."

"Yeah." You return his kiss, slightly leaning up as you look to the door. "You wanna eat now? Got your energy out?"

Art shrugs, sitting up. He pecks your bare shoulder. "Maybe not. Maybe can let the rest of it out later."

"God, you're hornier than me." You scoff, pushing him off with a red face, laughing to yourself at the man before you. "Let's eat. I'm starving."

"What you say." He smirks, clearly teasing you, before stepping out of the bed, grabbing his clothes and tossing yours to you.

And that was what was odd about you and Art. It was casual, but not in a hookup sense. Casual in the way that you could sit down and eat with him, make a meal with him, watch shows and movies together, like a normal couple. It drove you insane sometimes. He felt the same way, but how the hell could he tell you that, when he could never actually be with you? He'd have to mask it some type of way, and usually that was through sex. Not like he didn't enjoy it solely for sexual reasons, because, god, he enjoyed fucking you, but he also enjoyed you.

He watched you finish your plate as you sat on the sofa together. You were gorgeous, the perfect picture of the woman he'd want to be with for more than just this. But that was something you'd have to figure out later.

[mejaemin]

who cooked here?- na jaemin

wc: 1k

summary: jaemin wants to pick your next nail design, but why the sudden interest?

warnings: crack, fem reader, getting nails done, suggestive themes at the end

an: maybe the nail tech in me felt like yapping a little about my knowledge because i wrote this in like 40 minutes which never happens.. anyways the design nana picked is the middle photo !!

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it’s been two weeks since your last set, and honestly you hadn’t really paid attention to how they were holding on because of how busy you were. thankfully, you didn’t have to worry too much because jaemin definitely noticed.

you were sitting in the mall’s food court with your boyfriend, sharing a plate of food while you took a short break from walking. you’re about to reach for another bite when jaemin grabs your hand, gasping as he calls your name. with an unfazed look, you wait for him to share what he’s so shell shocked over.

“angel.. your nails are so grown out.” he turns your fingers that rest in his palm, examining the old and grown out design.

you playfully roll your eyes. “i can’t really afford to re-do them right now, so i’ve just been waiting for them to come off.���

jaemin softly shakes his head, looking up at you. “you really should’ve said something. i mean, i would’ve paid for you to fill them, get something cute put on. i still will, but- what’s that look for?”

with a raised eyebrow at the fact that he knows what a fill is, you shake your head and gesture for him to continue.

“well anyways, i’ll pay for your next appointment because you look so cute when you have your cute little designs on there right? and the babies seem to like it too when you scratch them with them on.”

with your free hand you pull out your phone and begin messaging your nail tech about another appointment. thankfully, they’re free two days from now so they ask for a design. “well.. since you like them so much, what design should i get? i just asked my nail tech and we’ve set a date but i need to send a design.”

at this jaemin perks up, his signature smile showing as he grabs his own phone and begins scrolling. “i’ve been waiting for this for so long, you have no idea. so first, i was thinking you could get almond because you just did square ones. and of course, i already saved a photo and the design is a pink one. everyone’s gonna know i picked it out for you.”

he pulls up the photo he saved of his design of choice and flips the phone over to you. “it’s cute right? i love how there’s chrome and the pearls are almost in the shape of a french tip. they would look really good on you. what do you think?” he smiles, looking at you expectantly.

it was hard to tell whether to laugh or cry at your boyfriend’s knowledge on nail art terms, your jaw dropping a little more the longer he talked about his design. obviously there’s nothing wrong with him learning about such things, but it’s a little random since you never shared them with him and he hasn’t expressed an interest in them at all.

you pulled yourself out of your thoughts to finally respond, “sure, they’re cute and we can do that, but why the fuck do you know so much about nail art?” you ask, letting out a bit of an awkward laugh.

“oh! well i remember i came and watched when i took you to get them done for your birthday and it looked cool so i looked it up a little and learned some about it because i wanted to pick for you one day.” he explains simply, leaving his photos app and showing you his tiktok search history which was full of ‘nail art’ ‘pink nails’ ‘cute nail art’ ‘nail art tutorial’. when you look back up at him you see his flushed cheeks and his gaze set off into the distance.

“that’s so cute nana, of course we can do your design. thanks for taking the time to learn about this stuff for me.”

he huffs, leaning back in his chair. “please, any good boyfriend would learn about the topics you care about. and this is nothing. you should’ve seen the lengths i went to before we met so i could find something to talk to you about..” before you can question him, he takes a forkful of the food you were sharing and pushes it into your mouth.

—

when the time for the appointment comes, jaemin’s elated and absolutely begs to come with you. your nail tech was a little apprehensive being that they had policies about visitors but he swore he wouldn’t talk the entire time so you were able to come to an agreement and brought him along.

the nail appointment starts and jaemin is sitting next to you, watching intently as your old design gets filed off and your new growth gets prepped. thankfully he stays true to his word and keeps quiet, but when you look at him you can see the gears turning as he studies the tech’s techniques.

once the nails are filled and have been shaped correctly, his smile grows as they begin being painted and his photo starts coming to life. he’s not being necessarily disruptive but he does start asking questions about the process and is truly watching in awe as your nail tech replicates the design with ease.

once the set is done, jaemin pays for the set and you leave. it makes you laugh how he’s nearly more excited than you are with the outcome, with your fingers locked and his hand swinging yours back and forth. once you leave the nail studio he lifts your intertwined fingers and begins snapping photos of your new set with a bright smile. once done, he lifts the phone camera up to your face, recording a video.

“so, angel.. i may have lied a bit about why i researched all this nail stuff and im ready to tell the truth now.” his smile turns into a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“don’t tell me, na jaemin, that you were talking to other females about this stuff or i swear-“

“no, no! i promise it’s not bad. just listen.” he laughs before continuing. “i really do think the designs are cute and i did want to pick one out just for fun.. but i also really wanted you to re-do them just because a fresh set on you looks so hot when you wrap your hands around my-“

“oh my god jaemin shut up!”

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[toolonely1]

Goodbye

Professor! Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Angst, one mention of the reader as a girl, teacher/student relationship, if there's anything else, let me know

Word count: 1.4k

(please be nice I never write)

The beginning of the semester is usually stressful; the combination of finding your classes, meeting professors, and getting used to the workload can be a lot. But nothing could have prepared you to see your boyfriend of three months at the front of the class, greeting students as they walked in.

When your eyes meet, you freeze, realizing Professor Reid and Spencer Reid are, in fact, the same person. He starts walking towards you in an awkward manner, the same shyness he had when you first met. But before he can reach you, you dart towards a seat in the back of the class, unable to handle that conversation just yet. His eyes follow you, and you can only hope he understands why you can’t speak to him. It isn’t every day you find out you’ve unknowingly been sleeping with your professor.

See, you met months ago, right at the beginning of the summer. You had been reading at a table in your favorite library; it had a cafe in it, and the employees were always great. The rest of the tables were full, and you happened to look up as he was looking around for an empty seat, with a coffee in one hand and a book in the other. It was almost out of the movies, the way your heart stopped as your eyes met. He had to have been the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, then he gave you this shy smile, and immediately you were done for. You offered him the empty chair at your table, and by some miracle, he accepted the invite.

As he was sitting down, you took the opportunity to introduce yourself, to which he smiled and replied with his own name.

“Well, Spencer Reid, I don’t know why it’s so busy today. Usually, the place is pretty empty.” He didn’t seem like the type to enjoy crowds.

Proving my guess, he replied, “The last time I came in, most of the tables were empty. I figured it would be the same now." His eyes flickered from your eyes to the rest of you. “Though I’m starting to think it may not be such a bad thing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “And why’s that?”

Almost like a switch was flipped, his demeanor changed. No longer was he shy and awkward, now he was exuding confidence. “I have an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.”

You didn’t do any reading after that. Instead, you and Spencer spent the rest of the day chatting (flirting) about your favorite books, hobbies, and everything in between.

In the next couple of weeks, you kept meeting at the library, both acting as if it were an accident. Eventually, though, you started meeting outside of the library, starting with walks around a local park, where he told you about his job as a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, explaining he would be gone for days to find the “unsub,” as he called it. Walks turned to trips to the movies; he had a thing for films in foreign languages, and you didn’t mind him translating everything in your ear (though you were not paying much attention to anything other than the feel of his breath on your neck).

One night, after dinner, you asked him to kiss you, wanting to be more than the sort of not stranger we became. He took the hint, and for the rest of the summer, as long as he was in the city, you were inseparable.

Until now.

The lecture went fast, as the first day usually does. Professor Reid only went over the syllabus, not that you were paying attention to a thing he said; you were too busy thinking about the impossible situation you had ended up in. When he finished going over the syllabus, he dismissed everyone early. You wanted to leave the class quickly, but as if he knew what you were going to do, he met you at your seat. You didn’t stand a chance.

“We should talk.” Though he was not physically holding you, you could not move. You knew you would either talk about it now or would never talk again.

The class finally cleared, and you were alone. This is something you would usually relish, but this time, being alone with him feels dirty, like you’re doing something wrong.

Avoiding eye contact, you fidget with the strap of your bag. “So when you said you worked as a profiler, were you lying?” It's certainly not the most pressing issue, but you had to find something to say.

The sound of his chuckle was both music to your ears and nails on a chalkboard. “No, I teach as a side job when I'm not on a case. I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to mention that.” It’s confusing how he can find humor in a situation like this.

“Yeah, it would have been nice to know. especially when you heard me complain about my college classes.” You don’t blame him, never could, but you have to be upset about something. When you finally get the courage to look at him, the look he gives you tells you he knows this.

Having spent the last thirty minutes thinking, you already know what you have to do. Tears began filling your eyes as you really, truly took him in.

“We have to break up.”

“What?” He looks devastated.

“It's the most logical option, you have to agree.” you can’t look at him anymore, too scared to see his reaction. You start pacing. “I mean, this is putting your job in danger, and there’s no way I’m letting this jeopardize my education. Not to mention how cliche it is for a student and her teacher to be together." You take a glance at him while you take a breath and continue, "Do you know what people would say about me if they found out?" you then wait for a response, but instead, his mouth is ajar as he takes in everything you just said.

Unable to handle the silence, you continue, trying to convince both of you that this is the right choice. “So we break up. It doesn’t matter how either of us feels, it’s what has to be done. No matter how much fun I had. No matter how much I care about you. It doesn’t matter.” The tears are starting to flow now, but the word vomit will not stop. “Nothing matters because I can’t be the girl who sleeps with her professor for a good grade. Even if it will kill me to see you three times a week and not be able to hug you, kiss you,... or even talk to you.” That’s what breaks you, the reality of the situation finally getting to you.

Your sob is what finally breaks him out of his trance; he rushes to you as if his only job is to calm you down. His hands cup your face faster than you can process. “You’re right... we should break up. For my career and your education.” His eyes are tracing your face like he’s trying to memorize every detail of it, as if his eidetic memory could ever fail him. “But this summer has been the best thing to happen to me, and I will always remember it as that. You taught me how to live again, not just survive.”

Your breathing starts to calm again; he seems to always know how to do that. Just another thing you will miss about him.

As you take in one another, you realize how much you don’t want to lose him. Not if you don’t have to.

“I can drop the class, and we’ll avoid each other on campus. We can do that, right?” But he’s got that look in his eyes, the one that says he’s made up his mind. It may have started as your idea, but it’s ending as his final decision.

“You need the class to graduate, and I’m the only professor who teaches it.” His sad smile mocks you. “And we both know I can’t stay away from you when you’re mine.”

The tears start up again as he reminds you that you won’t be his anymore. That he won’t be yours.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“Goodbye,” the final whisper of your name before he walks away feels like a knife to the heart.

[asharasasylum]

Warnings: non con. dub con. incest. (house of the dragon) smut. 18+

Read with caution!!

Frat boy! Aegon who had been flunking all his coursework and had been told he needed to get his grade up otherwise his parents would stop funding his awful lifestyle. He doesn’t have anyone else to turn to, they’ve given him a small allowance to live on so he can’t pay someone else to do it and all the girls in his class he’s pretty much already slept with. There really is no point going to them.

You’re the perfect solution and you’re his niece he’s obviously not going to get distracted by you while you tutor him. Clearly.

His grades start going up for the first time and all of a sudden his parents are adding more funds to his bank account. He really just needs to keep it up and he does…until he doesn’t.

Fuck! You’re both related, he shouldn’t be getting distracted by the way the pen flicks over your bottom lip whenever you concentrate. Or the way when you lean over the desk to show him something, you end up pressing your tits together with your arms.

Really he should stop the tutoring and stop seeing you for a while until he gets his head together. And he does, making it his first mission to get laid and to not think of you ever in that way again.

But then after a week of him not replying to your texts and calls you show up at his frat house with genuine concern on why he suddenly doesn’t want to do the sessions anymore. And why he couldn’t tell you of all people the reason.

He’s not good with words, or communication. Before you know it he’s dragging you up stairs, pressing his lips to yours and shoving you onto his bed. Let’s be honest, he’s ignoring any sign of protest from your lips, swallowing them with his own sighs as he presses his body to yours.

Nothing matters once he’s inside of you, it’s heaven to him. You’re so wet and in need of his attention, I mean you’re clinging onto him with your nails digging into shoulders unable to do anything but whimper underneath him.

Genuinely he thought that he’d hate himself after, that there would be shame and guilt over what he had just done. But it doesn’t come. He’s too happy peppering kisses all over your wet cheeks, soothing you as he tells you everything’s going to be fine.

The tutoring sessions are back onto normal, even though you practically tried to do everything to keep him out of your place. He’s just so insistent and you cant tell your friends or family what happened because some sick part of you enjoyed it and another part of you would feel horrible to see him get in trouble with his parents again. So he’s in your room, saying he just wants to study when he’s at the door but then twenty minutes later with himself buried deep inside of you, practically begging you to look at him as he comes close to cumming.

Eventually you do get some tutoring done, only when you warn him of the consequences of his parents pulling him out of university if he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t want to leave now, not when he has such a great arrangement going on.

[harrowing-of-hell]

Harrowhark fully intended to go back to her body and consume Gideon's soul at the end of HtN.

I think the first time through, the ending reads otherwise, especially after what Dulcinea tells Harrow about something— potentially Gideon— controlling her body. But paying attention to some key details in that final section very clearly tells us otherwise:

I do think that she genuinely considered staying in the River as the Canaan house bubble collapsed, but instead she says no. She declares to herself that she's going to leave, as if almost to give herself the strength to do so.

She's already considered the options she has if she wants to avoid destroying Gideon's soul. None of them even slightly guarantee that she won't just end up back in her own body and destroy Gideon's soul anyway, because of the fact that a soul is naturally drawn to it's own body.

So, in spite of what Dulcinea tells her, she chooses to go back to her body because there are genuinely no other options left to her; it's either go back to her own body, or potentially go mad in the River and end up back in her body anyways. From what she knows, there is nothing else for her body to inhabit. There are no other known options but the two presented to her by Abigail.

That's why I think that if it was genuinely Harrowhark's intention to stay in the River and give her body up to Gideon, the narration at the end of HtN would've been very different.

It'd be weird if the narration didn't fully and clearly acknowledge— with all the repercussions that come with the choice— that yes, she was choosing to subject herself to the madness of the River to give Gideon's soul a chance.

So she chooses to go back, but when she leaves the Canaan house bubble, what happens next isn't something she expects. She's not buoyed up and out of the River and returned to her body.

Instead, she ends up pulled somewhere else:

She ends up pulled to the Locked Tomb. Or rather, some River dream bubble version of the Locked Tomb. There is a very obvious detail to show that this is not the real, physical tomb.

The altar is empty. Alecto's body is missing, even though we know for certain that her body should still be there.

So we know this is another dream bubble or something like one. But why doesn't Harrow awaken in her own body, if that's where she actually intended to go?

Because someone else is already in it:

Harrowhark couldn't wake up in her own body because Alecto had already taken her place.

We know this both because Gideon literally sees Alecto and knows she's come to take control of Harrow's body, but we also know this because Alecto's body is absent from the Locked Tomb bubble.

The chains being snapped and broken in the dream bubble represents the fact that Alecto's soul has escaped its prison, even though her physical body still lies in the real version of the Locked Tomb on the Ninth.

Importantly, her body is taken over by a soul much larger and much more powerful than hers, so Harrow can't necessarily force it out even if she wanted to. So with Harrow's body already occupied, Harrow's soul follows the only other link it could, which is the link that she's already established with Alecto's soul. That's how she ends up in the Tomb bubble.

But it is important to make it clear that Harrowhark's soul is still attached to her own body and she's not completely unmoored in the River. The final paragraph of the chapter hints to this:

While we don't know the specifics of the fight or how it even happened in the first place, we do know that Blood of Eden fights the Nine Houses. This is when they lose Gideon's body, and come into possession of Harrowhark's.

The side-to-side rocking like an explosion is mimicking what her body is experiencing in the physical world during the fight, and "faraway in a land she had never traveled" is meant to represent how her body is now on New Rho.

I'm convinced that what's going on between Harrow and Alecto in NtN is similar to what's happening with Palamedes and Camilla.

Harrowhark's body is still hers, and she's still there in some manner. But she's being superseded by Alecto, and for some reason unknown to even her, she's content to let it happen:

Personally, this course of events is a lot more interesting than Harrow purposely deciding to stay in the River.

In fact, the survival of Gideon's soul is only really possible because of some unpredictable quantity that no one was aware of— Alecto.

Alecto taking control of Harrow's body and giving Harrow's soul something else to inhabit in the meantime is quite literally the third option that Harrow was desperately trying to look for, and maybe that's why Harrow subconsciously decides to let Alecto stay in control and instead she goes to sleep in the Tomb!

It's just a more interesting read that more readily incorporates all the details the text provides us with. It paints a clearer picture of what's happening at the end of Harrow the Ninth, rather than just saying "Harrowhark chose to abandon her body for Gideon and remain in the river. Somehow, in the process of doing this she ends up in the Locked Tomb completely by accident."

My final read of it is that Harrowhark really did intend to go back. But as a consequence of Alecto's interference (whose interference was possibly to keep Harrow alive), she was given another chance to save Gideon's soul.

[bouquet-of-flow3rs]

!Pairing: Loser!Jake x Cheerleader!Reader!

Genre: Strangers to lovers, mutual pinning, fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, make outs. [Let me know if I missed anything!]

Jake Sim loves a lot of things.

He loves his dog, Layla.

He loves his family. 

But he especially loves School Spirit Fridays, In fact, those are the days he looks forward to most on school days simply because It means he gets to see you all dolled up in your cheerleading uniform.

You are [Y/n] [L/n] the cheer captain you were the kind of girl that guys wanted and girls wanted to be. Jake believes you came from another planet simply because you were able to pull off the hideous school color combination of red and yellow, now normally, these colors together would be fine but the problem was all people could think about was McDonald's when looking at the cheer team. While you managed to pull it off others looked like they should pull it off since it didn't suit them. On these specific days Jake makes sure to show up in rooms or hallways he knows you walk down simply so he could catch a glimpse of you and if he was fortunate enough he’d catch a whiff of your strawberry-scented perfume. Naturally, his friends make fun of him for this and tease him relentlessly, especially Niki the youngest of his friends, “Dude, you really need to stop with the [Y/n] obsession.” The tall boy teases, “It's seriously embarrassing for you.” He finishes but Jake just brushes him off “You don't understand Niki.” He sighs blissfully, “It's not an obsession, it's love.” Jake states, staring at you with heart eyes as you walk past him once again, “Listen, Jake,” Niki chuckles at his hyung, “You should try just talking to her,” Niki shrugs, “Besides the worst that can happen is she’ll reject you.” This makes Jake whip his head towards the boy with a scowl on his face, “What! No way dude!” He refuses, “What if she thinks I’m weird or something? Or what if she laughs in my face!” He spirals his fingers tugging at his hair in worry.

Meanwhile, you walk into your next class and search the room for the familiar head of your friend Mina. Once you find her you quickly rush over, “Mina!” You squeal, “Guess who I saw again!” You giggle girlishly, and she rolls her eyes, every Friday you do this. you walk down the same hallways so that you can see the boy you for some reason think is cute. She sighs, “Was it your little hallway crush again?” She guesses gruffly, you sequel again and nod your head violently, "Yes, I saw him again!” you smile widely, she laughs at your actions and pats your head making you pout, “You should seriously just go up and talk to him.” she tries to reason with you “Besides no guy could turn the cheer captain down.” She encourages but this just makes you pout more, “But what if he only says yes because I’m the cheer captain?” you cry out “Nah, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.” She tries to comfort you.

Later you’re sat in class staring at the clock as the minutes tick down until lunch begins. You groan and place your head on the cold surface of your desk glancing over at Mina who is paying attention to the lesson up front. “Psst!” You hiss out trying to catch her attention “Mina!” You whisper shout in her direction finally gaining her attention from a few seats away, she side-eyes you before rolling her eyes and finally paying attention to you, “I'm so boreddd~” you moan out quietly so you don't get in trouble with your teacher, “And what does that have to do with me.” She whispers out sharply, and you groan again, shifting positions “Nothing, I guess but I need you to cure me of it.” You say your voice muffled by your desk, she chuckles at you before turning back towards the front. After she stops paying attention to you you start thinking of random things like what your next cheer choreography should be, and the one you spend the most time thinking about, your hallway crush. 

On Fridays you always see him heading down the same hall as you and your heart skips a beat, you’ve always thought he’s rather cute and you like the glasses he wears, not to mention his accent, gosh do you love a man with an accent. When you stop daydreaming you glance up at the clock and see there's still a whole five minutes before class ends, groaning you place your head back on your desk and jump at how cold it is you hate how cold this teacher leaves his classroom so you try to pull your skirt down lower on your legs to try and stay warm, your saving grace being your long-sleeved uniform top but even the fabric was rather thin and didn't fight well against the elements, but you always made sure to wear it on School Spirit Fridays since you are the captain. You somehow manage to fall asleep and abruptly wake up when you hear the bell go off as you jump to your feet and rush out of the classroom and towards the cafeteria unfortunately for you, you're not watching where you’re going, and end up crashing into some poor individual sending you both down crashing to the cold tile floor. When you look down to who you’ve crushed underneath you you’re mortified to find it's your hallway crush.

Jake’s eyes widen as he sees the incoming floor after somebody had rudely shoved him, when they both fell to you floor the person had somehow managed to fall on him, I mean the nerve of some people, but when he glimpses over his shoulder to see his attacker he catches a whiff of perfume he could never forget, his eyes trail up and land to see your blushing face. No. Fucking. Way. He nearly combusts, but before he can even say anything you’re quickly rushing to get off of him spouting out intelligible words and all he can catch is “I am so, so sorry!” He smiles at you and pushes himself up too before speaking, “N-no worries.” He tries to calm you down but keeps stuttering over his words, you giggle at how cute the boy in front of you is but you immediately regret it because his face looks scared and you immediately apologize again “Sorry, sorry I promise I’m not laughing at you it’s just you look really cute.” You accidentally blurt out the last part, at hearing your words Jake’s face feels like it’s on fire, he can’t seem to get any words out of his mouth, you being the overthinker you are think his wide eyes mean he’s taken offense to your rushed compliment and you immediately try to apologize but his face begins to show a large grin and he starts to laugh you stand there confused but you then join him laughing at the ridiculous moment you shared. Jake’s laughs slowly die down as he wipes an imaginary tear away “Sorry I didn’t mean to laugh it's just that I think you’re really cute too.” He smiles at you and suddenly it feels as if your whole world is brighter, you shyly thank him and offer to buy him lunch as an apology, Jake swears he's dead and has  gone to heaven, “Oh, Uhm sure.” He agrees trying to act nonchalant but you can still see the flush on his face, you then grab his large hand in yours and walk off towards the cafeteria leaving both your friends and his standing there in disbelief at what just happened.

Back at the cafeteria you and Jake sit and start to get to know each other, you talk about a lot of different things, and he ends up showing you a picture of Layla and you instantly fall in love with her, “Oh my gosh!” You squeal, “She is so adorable!” you take his phone from his hand and start admiring the photo up close, Jake laughs at your reaction and grabs his phone from your hands brushing his fingers against yours in the process, causing the both of you to blush, “Uhm, If you want I could introduce you to her someday.” He says shyly avoiding eye contact with you and rubbing the back of his head, You quickly grasp his free hand leaning over the table and pressing it against your chest “Really? You’d do that!” You ask excitedly, his eyes dart down to where his hand is and immediately looks away nodding his head, “Y-yea.” He gulps, and you smile brightly at him, “Oh,” you gasp, “I forgot to introduce myself, I’m [Y/n}.” you say sweetly, he smiles back and you mumble a quiet “I know.” you ask if he said something but he shakes you off and says “Oh, I said I’m Jake.” You mentally congratulate yourself on figuring out your hallway crush’s name “You have a nice name, Jake.” You compliment, he stutters out a meek “You too [Y/n].” causing you to giggle.

After that day you would always seek the boy out during lunch so you could talk to him more, the more you got to know him the more you fell for him, little did you know he felt the same way, he couldn’t believe the girl he’s been crushing on since sophomore year was actually talking to him, he knew you were pretty but you also had a great personality on top of that? God, he's in love. You’ve been hanging out for a couple of weeks now when he finally offers to have you meet Layla. 

Jake stands there next to the gate of the school waiting for your cheer practice to end and for the two of you to walk to his house together, he waits there for a few more minutes before he sees your figure in the distance jogging towards him and shouting his name, he thinks you’re so adorable your school uniform is neat and you somehow still look perfect even though you've just finished jumping around for an hour, when you finally reach the boy you practically jump him wrapping yourself around him like a koala, as he rushes to catch you, you both stand there for a moment giggling to yourselves before you finally let go and grab his hand to start dragging him away from the school, “Come on Jake, we can’t keep Layla waiting.” You laugh out, he smiles at you as you drag him away chuckling at how perfect he believes you are.

After Jake stears you the correct way to his house he pulls his keys from his backpack and unlocks the door, the first thing you’re greeted with is the golden border collie jumping up onto Jake and the sweet sound of his laughter, you coo at the scene and immediately drop your things to rush over and start babying the good girl, she definitely enjoys the attention and starts to jump onto you making you laugh as she tries to lick your face, Jake is nervous that you won’t like that so he tries to assist you in getting her off of you but you glare at him and he puts his hands up in surrender and lets the puppy continue to tackle you. After playing with Layla for a few hours you both decided to watch a movie, you wanted Barbie movies but Jake insisted you watch the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies, after playfully arguing and a game of rock paper scissors to see which movie you’d watch the winner came out to be Jake, so as he opened the app to watch them, you sat on his living room couch cuddled up with Layla laying over both of your laps.

You were now on the second movie and you had shifted over closer to Jake and laid your head on his shoulder, Jake felt that he needed to stay perfectly still but that made you more uncomfortable so you looked up at him and when you did, you noticed him already looking at you. Your faces are inches apart, he could feel your breath fanning over his face, your noses brushing against each other, Jake’s gaze drops to your plump lips and he gulps his Adam's apple bobbing, you stay there staring at him for a couple of seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips against his, you can feel his glasses bump into your face and your nose brushing against his flushed cheek,  your lips splitting as you hear a wet pop, all the color drops from your face and you start to sputter out an apology “I’m so so sorry oh my god,” You panic, “I should definitely not have done that I’m so sorry I-” “[Y/n]” Jake tries to butt in “I’m so so-” you’re suddenly cut off by Jake placing his hands on your flushed cheeks and pulling you in for a second kiss, this kiss is more passionate than the one you shared before and it pulls you in deeper and deeper, it's dizzying the way Jake kisses you it's messy and desperate but more than anything it perfect.

After kissing for a few minutes you finally pull apart from each other and Jake rests his forehead against yours both of you stilling trying to catch your breath eyes closed but holding each other tightly in your arms, After catching his breath Jake finally works up the courage to ask you out, “Uhm,” He breathes out his voice hoarse, You stare at him with your foreheads still connected, “c-can I be your boyfriend?” He asks, his voice hesitant but filled with hope, you quickly pull your forehead away before tackling him to lay down on the couch, your arms wrapped around his neck and your face on his chest breathing in his cologne, “Only if you’ll let me be your girlfriend.” You giggle out, “It’s a deal.”

Please Like and Reblog if you enjoyed this!

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

What about sleep token x reader where they know reader has feelings for them, but reader doesn't know that they know it! How would they treat you or teasingly hint that they are aware of your feelings before they confess their own? x

(sorry if this is silly. love love your work)

Uuuuuuuuuuuuu I love this!!!!!

Vessel

Look, I think you both would be helpless. If there would be a blueprint for - clueless and blissfully unaware- it would be you and Vessel. So at first, he’s honestly missing all the signs himself. Convincing himself that there was no way that you could like him. But then it’s the rest of the boys that start hitting him with the “So when are you bringing your girlfriend over?”, “off to see your misses?”, and he’s red like a tomato, denying all the comments.

But they make him start looking. Pay attention. And he realizes that you look at him the same way he looks at you so surely you have to have feelings for him. But he’s so afraid to make a fool out of himself so instead he starts humming parts of the songs that hint at his personal feelings. From “My arms belong around you”, to “and you make it more than I could ever feel before”. Watching you bite your lip as you watch him.

“I like this line”, you would whisper, making Vessel hum, “Do you? Why?” You’d shrug, trying to keep your cheeks from turning pink, “Just reminds me of the love I want”. And it’s so loud the implication within your words. The reality Vessel had painted within his mind, slowly unfolding. “It’s the love I want to”, he would breathe out, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

iii

It’s iii… I mean he would be a tease. But just because he’s a sucker for making you smile. It’s like someone is getting him high every time he hears your laugh. More specifically you laugh at something he said.

“Okay one more, one more”, he’s pulling you by the hand. It’s a post-show green room celebration. Everyone is slightly tipsy. He’s been by your side all night. “iii, i will piss my pants”, you grunt but end up giggling as he pulls you back onto his lap.

“I sold my vacuum yesterday”, he nodded all seriously. “Did you”, you bite your lip, “All it was doing was collecting dust”, iii shrugged, but here you were snorting once more at the lamest joke he could muster. “You are diabolical”, you pushed at his chest. “But you love it”, iii wiggled his eyebrows, “Correction - you love me”, he jabbed your chest leaning in. “Oh, shush you… silly goose”, you quickly turned his face to the side. “Don’t wound me. At least kiss my cheek”, he whined, “Payment for all my hard work”. You would roll your eyes leaning in only to meet his lips instead. Quickly pulling away as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Eyes growing big. “That’s more like it”, he smirked, “Don’t be shy, I know you wanted to do that”.

ii

Hmm… ii… ii… ii… see I didn’t know… I don’t think that he’s one for games and teasing. Or maybe…He is guarded and if he loves he loves. It’s straightforward. So when he caught feelings for you, i think he would try to keep it just between you two but it would be the boys that would get the job done. Going out of their way to tease you.

“Yn, drooling again, love”, iii would call out, “ii put a shirt on a girl can’t work”, your cheeks going pink as you instantly rushed to deny that you had been looking at him. “It’s okay, ii likes it don’t you man”, Ivy would smirk. “Get your heads out of a gutter”, ii would grunt. Watching as you quietly busied yourself around the room, cheeks still crimson.

“Hey, sorry about them”, he would stop after the rehearsal, “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable”. You would quickly shake your head, “I should be saying this. I don’t want you thinking that I’m gawking at you”. ii would nod slowly, “are you, though?” He watches as your face falls, draining off color before bursting into flames. A slight smile spreading across his face, “It’s an honor to be gawked by you”, pushing his thumb beneath your chin, lifting your head up, “Let’s just say you have my permission to do so”.

Ivy

He’s a shameless flirt. You never really took any of his gestures seriously. It was ivy. Ivy thrived on attention. So it killed him honestly. Seeing you brushing it off. That made him scale down on his gestures when it came to other girls. No more playful banter. A joke here and there but that was his personality.

Quite frankly he had lost hope to win you over. You had denied his offers for a date for weeks. But he never backed away. Sending you flowers. Little treats. He was doing anything he could to win you over and it’s a pissed off look at him that gave you away. He had simply walked up to the bar to refill his and the boy's beers when a bartender reached out for his hand. Slipping a note with a phone number into his palm.

Ivy had walked back to find you looking as if someone had shat in your morning coffee. “Missed me so much that your night went sour”, he nudged your shoulder. “Well, your night sure seems to be going great”, you nodded toward his palm. A smirk spread over his face, “You’re jealous, darling?”, he mused making you roll your eyes. “I don’t care what and who you mess around with”, you tried to brush it off but he could tell that you had been upset over it.

“Well, I do”, Ivy stated, showing you both of his palms. Both empty palms. You frowned slightly, looking up to meet his eyes. “I threw it away the moment I turned around”, he pointed out, “Already got my eyes set on the target”, he winked at you. “Asshole”, you huffed, “I could be your asshole”, he chirped leaning in to take your hand.

[reverieblondie]

What about Raphael monologuing and/or being his smug self only to be surprised by "his" little mouse interrupting him by grabbing the collar of his clothing and dragging the cambion in to a searing kiss before she says something like 'You talk too much' or 'I got the gist, thank you' and gracefully striding off before he can even think to react? (your choice if Tav does this when it's just her and Raphael or if she pulls this stunt in front of a group of her companions who would likely be left there stunned for a few moments as well)

I took forever to get this done but I did your request with a bit of a twist I hope you enjoy!

Warning: last step is NSFW! MDNI! 18+ only!

How to shut a devil up in 5 easy ways

If you had to describe Raphael, you would say he is dangerous, mysterious, and admittedly very pleasing to the eye… the only problem? Raphael doesn't know how to shut up… is it a bard thing or a devil thing to have the inability to shut up? Personally, you wouldn't mind listening to him talk all night; he has a magnificent voice… But you're busy; you can't always sacrifice your time to entertain him. Though he doesn't always get the hint, so you will have to get creative… 

Be honest, 

It's been… What 30 minutes? 30 long minutes of you and your party standing outside of the abandoned village's gate listening (without interruptions, mind you) to Raphael go on and on about some cryptic warnings and strange tales. Honestly, you stopped paying attention ages ago when you had to tell Lae'zel via tadpole that, no, she can't cut his throat. Hells, even Gale is getting impatient, and he's as long-winded as they come. Everyone was over it, so putting on the leader pants, you go to silence the chatty cambion… of course, it didn't work when you, being a person of few words tried to subtle approach and he was still trying to make his poetic points. Then your patience snaps. "Alright, we get it! Could you shut up already?!" Raphael goes silent from your burst of bluntness; it was rude and coarse… but he couldn't help how it made the slight smirk tug at the corner of his lips, something you immediately noticed. "Well, what kind of decorum is that? I try to give you sage words of wisdom, and this is my thanks, mouse?" he tsked his lips with a smile, his eyes lightening up at your annoyance… You roll your eyes, pushing past him with your party in tow. "Fuck off…" is all you udder before hearing a smooth laugh and a rushing flame. Seems like honesty worked. 

2. Catching him by surprise, 

You are completely exhausted; your head and body scream and ache as you try to stretch your worn-out muscles. All your other companions have gone to rest for the night, something you are egar to do but the viscera and sweat that cling to you are too uncomfortable to ignore. So, gathering your things, you head down to the river for a cleansing soak to finally relax. However, as you head to your destination, a familiar figure leaning against a tree catches your attention and makes you roll your eyes... Raphael... "Well, mouse, you look completely worn down, not your usual bright eye look. You look miserable in fact." his voice purs as he walks beside you. With a sigh you continue on with him in tow mocking you. You don't need to look up to see that he's smirking at your annoyance. "I wouldn't say miserable, just not to be tested." you snip back, but Raphael only chuckles further, "I guess I should be careful when teasing you then..." He can tease you... but not with his words; you would want him to tease you with his hands... With his body... No, you can't be thinking like that for the annoying devil. Raphael starts his usual long-winded speeches, but not being in the mood, you ignore him. Finally getting to the river bank, you begin to undo your shirt, and as the fabric hits the ground and you undo your underclothes, that is when you hear silence? Turning, you See Raphael looking a bit surprised, and that just fuels you, more. Stripped down you finally step into the water keeping your eye contact with him, he's finally quite and you can't help but feel smug. "Want to finish your rambling in the river with me?" You ask with a broad smile, perhaps showing off your access just a bit to taunt more. Raphael thinks for a moment. as his eyes drinking you in before responding, "Sorry, mouse, but I am afraid I have lost my train of thought... another time, though..." With a snap, he's gone, leaving you to soak in silence. It's a bittersweet victory.

3. Interrupt Nicely 

You're in the middle of a celebration, one step closer to the city and another successful job of saving those you've become close to. Everyone in last light has been drinking, and you are feeling tipsy as you continue to drink more from the goblet filled with dry wine. then a familiar voice, "You're looking quite flushed, mouse... Careful not to indulge too much; your journey is far from over." Even drunk, you can tell whose voice it is without looking, but you do (he's too pretty, not too...) Turning, you meet his smirk with a broad smile; when you feel this warm and giggly its hard not to, you can't help but feel unintimidated by him in this drunken haze. "If it isn't my stalker. Come to try and trick me out of my soul again." Amused Raphael sits next to you, "I wouldn't dare try and take it from you in this state; it would be far too easy..." You giggle, leaning in close to him, taking a second to bask in his warmth and the curves and lines of his face before placing a finger to his lips, shushing him. "shh, stop flirting with me, or I will think you're falling for me, devil." Raphael chuckles as he moves your hand and kisses your knuckles and your wrist. "Don't get cocky mouse... that's what gets you mortals in trouble..." You lean in closer, resting your head on his chest, "Fine, Fine, I won't be cocky; that's a better look on you anyways..." Raphael just lets you lean on him as he softly plays with your hair. He would never say it... but you might be right…

4. Interrupt Rudely 

He helped you... Why would a cambion like him have helped you? Of course, you knew his interest in your soul and aid in getting the crown, but you had been clear that you were not taking his deal... yet here he was, burning the wretch you were fighting to a crisp before they got the upper hand on you; he said he could be a savior of sorts, but this should be against his nature... Now, as everyone is tending their wounds here you are listening to his monologuing in of course the most flowered language. You start to wonder if this is always how he always talks... Surely not; he must crack sometimes... Everyone has a weakness. Looking at his distinguished face, listening to his rich voice; you realize that he has a weakness for you, a weakness that has slowly grown on you as well. So, in a moment of impulse or maybe just wanting to shut him up yet again, you grab him by the collar, causing him to look down at you confused as you drag him closer and press your lips to his. It takes Raphael a moment to realize what's even happening before he's leaning back into you, running his fingers through your hair. Then, when you slip your tongue through his lips to lick against his searing tongue, he groans, pushing you closer to his body as he takes in your taste (Finally). After a few moments letting the passion absorb you, you pushing him away. Looking up at the shocked cambion, who seems to be at a loss for words. Smirking, you pat his cheek, "You talk too much." and though part of you want to walk him back to your tent you say good night a walk away. Raphael watches as you go to your tent, leaving him gawking at you. Mean while your companions watch with mouths agape at the scene that has just played out. "What the fuck is going on?" Karlach says while Gale looks unblinking, "I don't have the faintest clue..." Raphael eventually leaves, amused and eager to see you again. 

5. Keeping his mouth busy

This has to be the best one out of all your ideas to shut Raphael up. His dark wavey hair is held in a tight fist, as your back arches from the intense feeling of his tongue licking slowly against your folds, before swirling on your clit, its utter bliss. His tongue before was constantly being used, but now having it licking against your wet sex is much better employment for his mouth. When you first meet the half devil you had to admit you found him quite a fearsome sight but then later he just turned into an annual annoyance. Now here you are, your talkative cambion lapping and diving his hot tongue into your cunt as your thighs shake, almost as if he was tamed. Raphael looks up at you with his brown eyes practically black as he swirls then nips at your clit, making you moan his name like a song. He will always agree to eat you out for hours, his thick fingers stretching you out as he licks down your arousal as long as you're singing his name like a prayer. "Rapheal... ah! Gods!" Raphael breaks away from your cunt, smirking down at you, "Gods? Mouse no gods can help you now that you're within my cl-" Before he can finish, you're pulling his mouth back down with a whine. Raphael smiles, flicking his tongue over you again in quick licks, making you keen, "My mouse...so demanding..." he whispers into your pussy, his hot breath making your tremble and quiver against his thick fingers. You can hold back any longer, grinding your hips against his face, whining for him, "Please just shut up and let me cum!" Raphael has to hold back his laugh as he takes out his fingers and fucks you with his tongue; you can shut him up anyway you want as long as, in the end, you let him devour you.

[yanderes-galore]

How would yandere Ace from OP get rid of his rivals ? 

ACE! I love Ace sm, ngl....

Yandere! Portgas D. Ace getting rid of rivals

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Burning/Burning others alive, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Murder, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Blood, Dubious relationship.

While Ace is similar to his brother Luffy, He's more mature.

He's still impulsive but way less oblivious.

He's intelligent and polite... yet can still be reckless and impulsive.

He's like a... more controlled Luffy?

He's oblivious occasionally, like when he acts too clingy or perverted.

Yet he's aware of his own jealousy.

He knows why he's on edge with others around you.

Ace no doubt has a better understanding of romantic attraction than Luffy.

Inexperienced... But he understands what feelings you stir within him when he sees you.

He knows you're an addiction, one he watches every single move of.

He's strong, charming, and a loyal fighter.

Although... He has a temper like Luffy.

He has a tendency to get into fights.

He doesn't want those close to him hurt and is easily set off by it.

Ace would originally try to rein in how he feels.

It shouldn't be his business... You deserve better and should talk to others.

Meanwhile he's over here being clingy or watching you from afar.

Although... Ace is capable of being terrifying when jealous.

Sure, with you it seems cute.

He plays it off as being petty pouting to try and get you to pay attention.

It works more than you think.

To others?

He's the devil.

Due to his parentage, many already see him as the spawn of the devil.

It's no surprise with his Devil Fruit powers that he looks like a demon.

It's small at first.

Ace is the type to insert himself into conversations.

He always seems to be watching over you like some twisted guardian.

When he feels he doesn't like the person you're talking with, he slips in.

He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his head either on your shoulder or head.

He grins at the other person, yet his gaze isn't welcoming.

It's threatening... Ironically cold.

Ace is someone who can seem subtle with threats.

He's grinning with barely restrained irritation, seeming all happy with the other person.

They have to leave at some point, right?

Although eventually he's going to try and push them away, annoyed they're with you.

Ace, while easy to provoke, tries not to harm someone when you're in sight... Much.

But if someone was flirting, too close, threatening, etc...

It's enough to set Ace off.

Ace, like Luffy, is brutal.

He can be blinded with rage.

What makes him worse than Luffy?

The fire.

Jealousy and rage course through Ace's flames.

If you're in sight and some poor fool sets him off, at least you can stop him from searing them.

He gets to the point of his fists covered in blood before you stop him.

When you notice his skin heating and beginning flames licking across it...

You get his attention, sparing the person.

They've no doubt learned their lesson.

Other times... They aren't so lucky.

Other times, Ace is destructive.

He's used to being in the shadow of others, to being treated as unwanted.

We've seen him destroy whole ships with his power.

One measly person?

A rival?

Someone who hurt the one who saw him as something other than the Pirate King's son?

Ashes.

Ace doesn't even really feel bad about it, viewing said people as scum.

He isn't much better... but he views it as sparing you from the worst people of the world.

Ace wouldn't mind punching someone's lights out... watching as his flames consume them like kindling.

They should've known better in his mind.

Ace is infamous and pirates have to kill at some point.

Removing a challenge in his way is no issue.

Especially a nuisance in your life.

No one can touch you with him around.

He gives warnings and subtle threats to others before he does anything rash.

It's their choice if they continue in his mind.

Their punishment is becoming a fine ash to be whisked away by a strong gust of wind.

Afterwards, Ace acts like nothing happened.

He could probably burn someone and their life out of existence...

Then come back to you with a smile, nuzzling into your hair with a relaxed exhale.

It feels pleasurable knowing you're only his.

He simply goes back to clinging and watching over you.

You give him purpose... He needs you...

Yet the moment he sees a new threat to the obsession he has over you...

The process repeats all over again, with little regret if it means he has you.

[ceratedfish24]

I’m once again here to talk about Scottho because something is WRONG with them.

We love to joke about Etho’s obsessions with Bdubs and Joel, but we don’t talk enough about the fact that Etho is SO comfortable with Scott for someone who doesn’t hang out with Scott much as far as we get to see. If you look at the escape room videos he’s in and some of his life series videos, you can hear that Etho’s very confident that he knows Scott well. He really enjoys joking around with Scott and doesn’t act as embarrassed around Scott as he sometimes does with other people.

Scott is not someone who a lot of the lifers pay close attention to, seeing as he’s not as hostile as a lot of the other lifers tend to be, but Etho very clearly pays close attention to Scott. He recognizes how good Scott is in the Life Series. He knows that Scott is a threat to be taken seriously. He has known that Scott’s a threat for a long time relative to the other life series players who got to know Scott through the life series. Additionally, I don’t think Scott has noticed this?? He always seemed a little taken aback whenever Etho read him like a book during Secret Life.

Etho has a lot of respect for Scott, which does make a lot of sense considering that Scott and Cleo are very similar and Etho has a lot of respect for Cleo. Scott is also close with Gem, who Etho has been roasted by enough times to know not to cross her, and I think he kind of applies that level of respect to Scott, too? Scott’s very witty and loves to tease his friends, but he very rarely teases Etho, yet Etho always seems to want to impress Scott. He approaches Scott with the same playfulness that he treats Cleo and Gem with, which is strange because Etho and Scott so hardly interact. They must talk a lot outside of videos or something, because they’re just so comfortable towards each other.

Additionally, it did something to me when, after Limited Life, where Scott and Etho were neighbors, Etho requested to be put on an MCC team, and Scott put Etho on his own team. Scott was so determined to make sure that Etho had a good time that he put the matter in his own hands, and Etho did have a good time. My gay little heart. Killing them with my mind.

P.S. I think Etho should get more obsessed with Scott. I think Scott should throw his hat in the “homosexually obsessed with Etho” ring, because Joel knows Scott too well and would make great competition while Bdubs is TERRIFIED of Scott for a thousand reasons. It would be so funny. And Scott is neutral about horses. He would be a perfect middle of the road addition to the “there is no heterosexual explanation for this” Etho obsessed men. Scott’s not on Hermitcraft (though he honestly is qualified to be in my opinion but I understand if he would rather focus on the many mini series he likes to partake in), but he is a chronic stream lurker, especially in the chats of people “he canonically had a qpr with” (Martyn’s words not mine)(don’t talk to me about majorwood stream moments)(i’ll get a nose bleed).