#this is not about anyone who will read it.

[rafesheaven]

tutor!reader thigh riding frat!rafe's tatted thigh ༉ೀ

warnings — frat!rafe, rafe has a thigh tattoo, thigh riding, dirty talk, praising, groping, nipple play, finger sucking wc — 1.1k a/n — based on this post i made + ty @rafescvntyclubgf for the mention of the champion shorts and backwards hat

the semester nearing its end meant finals were approaching, and while half the class panicked, you were more than ready. the one thing you weren't prepared for was being asked for help by rafe cameron. your declines seemingly did nothing but fall on deaf ears, merely encouraging his pleas until you gave in, which led to the two of you spending time together for the past few weeks. while you took the study sessions seriously, there were countless times when you had to get onto rafe, who shamelessly flirted with you the entire time, to pay attention. 

your patience started to wear thin, but thankfully, it was your last session before finals. “rafe, knock it off,” you warned as he shot the mini basketball into the hoop attached to his bedroom door for what felt like the millionth time. as he was about to shoot the ball again, you reached over, snatching it from his hands, “are you even paying attention?”

“yeah, ‘course i am, it’s kind of hard not to pay attention to a pretty girl like you,” he hummed, removing his hat to fix his hair before placing it back onto his head. he clasped his hands behind his head, spreading his legs as he sat back in his chair. your eyes darted to his spread legs at the sudden movement, causing his black champion shorts to ride up his thigh. your mouth went dry when you caught sight of the ink etched into his tanned skin. 

you never expected rafe to have a thigh tattoo, let alone a tattoo in general, and you found yourself biting your lip as the thoughts your brain conjured increasingly became filthier the longer you stared at the permanent ink. after what felt like an eternity, you snapped out of it, quickly averting your gaze and clearing your throat. “can you please just focus? finals are next week,” you tried to hide your flushed face, hoping he didn’t catch you practically gawking at him, but he did. 

“i am focused,” he paused, a knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “but i think i’ll focus better with you on my lap.” he watched in amusement as your eyes widened at his suggestion, “i-i don’t think that’s appropriate or a good idea.” 

“come on, i can guarantee that it’ll help me focus while you review the chapter,” rafe grinned, “don’t you want me to focus so i can pass this final?” you nervously chewed at your lip, “are you sure you’ll focus if i do?” you questioned, eyeing him reluctantly, “i promise, and i’ll keep my hands to myself,”  he held his hands up. 

“okay, only if you pay attention and keep your hands to yourself,” you jab a finger into his chest, “has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?” rafe muttered, earning a small smack to the chest. “i’m just messing with you, princess. no need to smack me around,” his hands grabbed your hips to pull you onto him till your legs were on either side of his thigh. 

“s’okay if i put my arms around your waist or are you gonna smack me again?” he rested his chin on your shoulder. “as long as you keep them there,” you turned your head to the side, your breath catching in your throat at how close his face was to yours before turning back around. 

your hand trembles as you skim through the textbook to find where you last left off, your nerves getting the best of you at the close proximity. when you finally found the page, you started reviewing the material, reading aloud to rafe, and asking questions to ensure he understood. 

as you reviewed the chapter, rafe started to bounce his leg up and down, “rafe, stop doing that, you’re distracting me—” your breath hitched when his thigh rubbed against your cunt through your panties. “stop doin’ what? this?” he bounced his leg again, his breath fanning against your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. “i-i’m trying to make sure you pass” you stutter, your nails leaving crescent-shaped marks as they dig into your palms. 

“just trying to help my sweet tutor loosen up. you’ve been so tense during our study sessions,” he promises. “besides, i already know everything for the final. i just wanted an excuse to be around you,” he added, stopping his movements. you whimpered at his confession, your resolve crumbling as your hips subconsciously rutted against his toned thigh, seeking friction. “thought you wanted me to stop?” he teased, his hands sliding from your waist to under your skirt, settling on your hips, “p-please don’t” you whined. 

his grip on your hips tightened, guiding you to drag your cunt against his thigh. your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, muffling your desperate moans to avoid the chances of his fraternity brothers hearing you. “make as much noise as you want, princess. s’just us here,” rafe whispered, burying his face into the side of your neck, “wanna hear all those sweet noises you make.”

his teeth nipped at your flesh, “feel good?” he helped you rock your hips. your arousal soaked through your panties, making a mess on his bare thigh, and you nod pathetically. “yeah? want to make it feel even better?” rafe rasps, pulling you till your back is flush with his chest. “please, rafe,” you begged, feeling his hand slip lower, his fingers hooking inside your panties to tug them aside, leaving you exposed. you desperately rut at his thigh, a moan ripping from your throat when he flexes his thigh. 

“good girl,” rafe coos, “trying to get yourself off on my thigh like the needy little thing you are.” your eyes flutter shut, a small gasp spilling from your lips when his tongue sweeps up the side of your neck to nip at the lobe of your ear, “you’re so close, aren’t you? c’mon, princess, make a mess f’me.” he slides one hand up your torso, pushing your cashmere sweater to sit above your breasts.

rafe dips his hand under your bra, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling at your nipple. your brows pinch together at his touch, “rafe!” you squeaked, your jaw going slack. your cries fill the room; your pussy clenching around nothing as you cum, making a mess all over his thigh. 

you pant, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, “shit…look at the mess you made,” rafe groaned. you crane your neck down, your face flushing at the sight of his thigh glistening, “such a messy little thing. maybe i should make you lick it clean, huh?” rafe swiped his fingers across his thigh before prodding them against your lips, moaning softly when you eagerly take his fingers into your mouth.

taglist: @oceandriveab @rafescorpsebride @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @heartsforvin @sturnioloshacker @rafesbabygirlx @fallbhind @zyafics @fae-of-prey @cybersunnie @whytheylosttheirminds @ilovefiction4lmen @jjslaybank @whinyangel @momoewn @kazanskied @saintlike05 @coco-cinnamon @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @littlelamy @carolineisdelusional @6r4cie @lacydollette

[sincerely-yours-jade]

my dream, what in the talent is that??? love this sm 😔

some more pages from my everything notebook 🦇

(with some @petite-gloom stickers)

[quarterlifekitty]

net meet cute

aka: how they start cyberstalking you. Some of these are more on the innocent side, some are slightly more intense.

Gaz sees you pop up in the people you may know section. He most certainly doesn't know you, but you are his type. As it turns out, you have some ridiculously distant relation of people that leads to his circle of connections (you're like his sister's college roommate's wedding photographer's cousin or something). But that one little tether is enough to make him feel tugged.

Soap started following you for your artwork. He follows anyone who even remotely interests him, and he liked what you made. You become a name he looks forward to on his feed-- he feels a bit parasocial about it, he knows your body of work so well now. And one day, he sees you share a post you were tagged in: It's a photo of you with another artist, both holding up the pieces you'd made to trade each other at a convention. He'd known you were talented, he didn't realize you were gorgeous as well.

Ghost sees you in the background of a video Soap shows him. Some disgusting display where people are trying to identify liquids they're drinking. When it's your turn, your face twists and you stick out your tongue, a little patch dyed umber from the soy sauce you'd sipped. He does a little detective work, finds you have a tiny little channel of your own. Nothing with a consistent schedule, clearly just a hobby, but there are a few videos of you restoring old toys, repainting dolls faces and things like that-- usually just showing your hands, but he finds your voice so soothing and you work with such delicate precision. Pretty soon he's obsessed with you, and fantasizing about ending up on your work table.

Price has very few reasons to surf online, but he does have a guilty pleasure: r/AITA. He loves a bit of tabloid level gossip now and again, and its the perfect place for it. He can see the world's most delusional people hard at work. His favorite ones are when both sides are clearly deranged and meant for each other. But then he sees you, posting about your shitty boyfriend, and all too willing to take the blame for the sorry state of things. And he finds himself rather keen on showing you how girls like you ought to be treated, as well as kicking your current man in the teeth.

I've mentioned this before, but I think König meets you in an online game. At first, you never speak on the microphone, and he doesn't either, but you're quite good, and your playstyle compliments his rather well. So he sends you a friend request on a whim, you accept it, playing a few rounds before turning on the party-only voice chat. And once he can hear you when you thank him for tanking damage, or targeting a player who'd been flanking, or pinging a pick-up for you, he's cooked. Looking you up on every social, trying desperately to find pictures of you, because he's sure you'll be as pretty as you sound.

Nikolai find you on a movie review website. He watches movies by the dozen when he gets some time off, but he's admittedly a little bereft of discussion partners, so review suit him fine. He typically disagrees with most of them, partially because he's naturally a contrarian, partially because the majority of online reviews are made by casual watchers and not lifelong cinephiles. And he comes across you, having written one of the only full, multiple-paragraph reviews for the obscure little number he'd just watched. And it straight up made him smile. Your review was punchy, funny, addressed multiple areas including the score, cinematography, casting, and costuming, and he agreed with a surprising portion of it. What he didn't agree with, he was intrigued by. He looks at your page to see what else you've written. You've seen and shared thoughts on many of his favorites, but quite a few things he's never seen, as well. He ends up watching them all, and feels a certain perverse excitement when it comes time to read another review, like he's a teenager taking you on a third date. Before long he's wondering where you are, if you go to the cinema. If they have non-hostile airspace.

Nikto finds you on the staff of some insanely obscure wiki/ID forum. Like, you help run a website/blog that's devoted exclusively to soviet era stuffed animals produced in Sergiev Posad (formerly known as Zagorsk). You help people identify them from pictures, from vague descriptions sent in to you of something from their childhood. He doesn't know why, but he ends up searching up images from others, often from unpopular and defunct listings on marketplace/bidding sites just to send to you. Just to read what you have to say about the stitch markings and stylistic eyes and the little tab of fabric on the leg seam from where the tag was cut. Maybe he'll take it further, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll find out where you are, just to make sure you're safe. Maybe he'll have to keep you safe. People with hearts like yours don't last in this world.

[luv-lock]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ SUNSHINE 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

☆⁠ 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : Robin Jason Todd x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯).

☆⁠ NOTES : 𝘛𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Jason first noticed you during an English Lit discussion when you were debating the themes in Wuthering Heights. Most of the class was half-asleep, but you were animated, speaking with such passion that Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away. He didn’t even care about Heathcliff or Catherine, but if you were this invested, then he’d read the whole damn book twice just to have something to talk to you about. At first, he kept his distance, watching you from afar. You were too kind, too radiant, too good for someone like him. But Jason wasn’t known for his self-restraint. The more he watched you, the more he realized he couldn’t stay away.

Jason started sitting closer to you in class. He’d lean back in his chair, tapping his pen against his desk, waiting for the perfect moment to chime in when you spoke. He wanted your attention, even if it was just a quick glance his way. When you’d drop your pen, Jason would be the first to pick it up, handing it back with a lopsided grin. “Gotta be more careful, sunshine.” The nickname stuck, much to his delight. He quickly learned your schedule. Not in a creepy way (he tells himself), but because he just happened to notice you always stopped by your locker before lunch. He’d time it so he was walking by at the same moment, giving him an excuse to strike up a conversation. Jason’s protective instincts kicked in almost immediately. If anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, Jason was there, glaring at them until they backed off. He didn’t care if it was some senior jock twice his size—no one messed with you.

One day, you stayed late at school to finish a group project, and Jason nearly lost his mind when he saw you walking home alone after dark. He followed you in the shadows, making sure you got home safely. The next morning, he casually handed you a pocket-sized pepper spray. “For emergencies,” he said, trying to play it cool. He started leaving little things in your locker. A book you mentioned wanting to read, your favorite candy, or a handwritten note that simply said, "Don’t forget to smile today, sunshine."

Jason had a habit of “accidentally” showing up at places he knew you’d be. Whether it was the library, the coffee shop down the street, or even the park where you liked to read, Jason was always “just passing by.” He’d flash you a sheepish grin and sit down, secretly thrilled at the chance to spend more time with you. He hated seeing you talk to other guys, especially when they made you laugh. Jason knew he didn’t have the polished charm of some of the rich kids at Gotham High, but he cared about you in a way no one else could. He’d clench his fists and bite his tongue, reminding himself that you deserved someone better—someone who wouldn’t scare you away with how much they needed you. But then you’d turn to him, smiling so sweetly, and Jason would forget everything else. He’d do anything to keep that smile on your face.

One evening, you stayed late at school again, and this time, someone actually tried to mess with you. Jason, of course, had been waiting nearby, as he always did when you stayed late. He didn’t hesitate to step in, taking down the guy with practiced ease. “Jason?!” you gasped when you saw him. He froze, realizing you’d caught him. “You—you were following me?” you asked, a mix of confusion and something softer in your voice. Jason rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping away. “I just... wanted to make sure you were safe,” he muttered. “You don’t know how dangerous this city is. I couldn’t—I can’t let anything happen to you.” Instead of being scared, you surprised him by throwing your arms around him. “Thank you, Jason,” you whispered, and he swore his heart stopped.

From that day on, Jason was even more protective of you. He’d walk you home without an excuse, carry your books without asking, and sit with you at lunch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jason wasn’t the type to ask for permission, not when it came to you. He’d always been bold in everything he did—whether it was picking a fight with someone twice his size or throwing himself into danger without a second thought. But when it came to you, he hesitated. How could he ask you out without coming off as desperate? Without you realizing just how much space you occupied in his mind, how your laugh replayed in his head on a loop every night, and how he couldn’t sleep unless he knew you were safe?

It started like any other day. Jason was walking you to class, his bag slung carelessly over his shoulder as he matched your pace. His usual smirk was in place, but inside, his mind was racing. He’d practiced the words over and over in his head. Just ask her. It’s not a big deal. She likes you, right? She has to. You didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil, chatting about your favorite movie and how you’d been wanting to watch it again. Jason latched onto that.

“Hey, uh... you doing anything this weekend?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his usual cockiness slipping into nervousness. You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Not really. Why?” “Well, I was thinking... maybe we could catch that movie you like? Or, you know, grab some food after. Just us.” Your eyebrows shot up. “Jason Todd, are you asking me out?” His ears turned red. “Maybe. Depends on your answer.” You laughed—a sweet, melodious sound that made his chest tighten. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, you know that?” Jason huffed, trying to regain his composure. “So, is that a yes, or...?” “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, nudging his shoulder playfully. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, you know.”

Jason was a bundle of nerves the entire day leading up to your date. He didn’t want to mess this up—not with you. He even went so far as to ask Alfred (secretly, of course) for advice, which earned him a lecture about being respectful and treating you like a lady. When he picked you up that evening, Jason was... different. He’d ditched his usual leather jacket for a nicer shirt, and his hands were tucked nervously into his pockets. But the moment he saw you step out of your house, his nerves vanished. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look... amazing.” You smiled, blushing slightly. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Todd.” He couldn’t stop grinning as he walked you to his bike. “Hold on tight, sunshine,” he teased as he handed you a helmet. “I’ve got you.”

Jason surprised you by actually being a perfect gentleman. He took you to your favorite little diner, the one you’d mentioned in passing weeks ago. He remembered everything you liked—the exact way you liked your burger, your favorite drink, even the little details about how you always added extra ketchup. During the movie, he couldn’t focus on the screen. Not when you were sitting so close, your shoulder brushing his. He was hyper-aware of every little movement you made—the way you laughed at the funny scenes, the way your eyes lit up during your favorite parts. And when you leaned your head against his shoulder halfway through, Jason thought he might actually die from happiness.

As the weeks went on, you started noticing things about Jason. How he always seemed to know where you were, how he’d intercept anyone who tried to bother you before they even got close, how he’d show up with your favorite snacks when you didn’t mention being hungry. It didn’t take long to piece it together. One evening, as you both sat on a rooftop (because Jason insisted the city looked better from up high), you decided to bring it up. “Jason,” you started, looking at him with a soft smile, “you’re really... protective, you know that?” He stiffened. “Is that... bad?” You shook your head, resting your hand on his arm. “No. It’s sweet. I know you just want to keep me safe.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re the best thing in my life, and the thought of anything happening to you—” “Jason,” you interrupted, squeezing his arm, “you don’t have to worry so much. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with a vulnerability you didn’t expect. “You mean that?” You nodded. “I like having you around. Even if you’re a little... intense sometimes.” His lips twitched into a grin. “You think I’m intense now? You should see what I’d do if anyone actually hurt you.” You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think I’ll take your word for it.” Jason wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. In that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you happy and safe. You were his sunshine, his everything. And now that he had you, he wasn’t letting go. Not ever.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[haru-kuneko]

I kindly disagree 'coz "media can affect real life" could mean causing impressionable audiences to do bad stuff and embrace biased views about a certain group or history. I remember reading about how in the 1960's, a lot of kids end up removing the tuning knobs of their TV's 'coz a cartoon character name Bullwinkle from the Rocky & Bullwinkle show told them so.

He straight up said "It's loads of fun, and that way, you'll be sure to be with us next week!". The network received complaints from parents of an estimated 20,000 child viewers who actually did so. You can't tell me that fiction has no effect on people.

Oh, let's not forget the Slenderman stabbings! One of the perpetrators was a kid with schizophrenia which makes it a challenge for them to tell what is real and what's not. The guy who decided to shoot up a supermarket 'coz of a Danny Phantom character.

I also remember when I was a bit older and realized certain terms were either outdated or insensitive (that's because I've read books that use those terms).

I started learning that Pocahontas isn't actually set in India but a Native American though she and her people are called Indians in the Disney movie. It made me ashamed as I once dressed up as her at school when I was little while holding an Indian flag (blech!). This was in the early 2000's and we didn't have Google then.

Not everyone is gonna have the same mental capacity and upbringing as you do so what seem so harmless may not appear that way to others. Not even disclaimers are enough to stop anyone from committing atrocities.

People really need to realise that “media can affect real life” doesn’t mean “this character does bad things so people will read that and start doing bad things” and actually means “ideas in fiction especially stereotypes about minority groups can affect how the reader views those groups, an authors implicit prejudices can be passed on to readers”

[kkai-zen]

˖⋆࿐໋ dating the blue lock boys!

synopsis: what it feels like to date the bllk boys! + a drabble for each

featuring: [separate] gn!reader x itoshi rin, itoshi sae, seishiro nagi, mikage reo, ryusei shidou, michael kaiser

contents: fluff, implications of marriage (sae), tiny bit of possessiveness (kaiser)

wc: 1.3k

⟢ dating itoshi rin is...

wearing his jersey, forcing him to make tiktoks with you, quiet acts of love, waking up to his alarm, comfortable silence, losing your voice cheering, ice baths & epsom salt, clinging to his arm while watching horror movies, chilly wind, mumbling ‘i love you’

Of course Rin has an overseas match in Paris on Valentine’s Day weekend, you sighed to yourself (with an unfair amount of bitterness), sulking in a corner of a Valentine’s Day party that one of your friends was hosting. Nursing a drink, you unsuccessfully try to drag your attention away from the several couples who were sprawled out on the couches giggling to each other or throwing you pitiful stares every now and then. Scrolling mindlessly through instagram, then the weather app, then instagram again, you sigh and stand up, finalizing your decision to go home early and spare yourself any more suffering.

But before you can even start towards the exit, the door flies open with a bang!, and somehow, your boyfriend—who should still be in Paris at this hour—is standing, chest heaving with effort, in the doorway, holding a bouquet of roses. “How-wha- Rin?” you splutter, voice catching as he starts walking towards you with a certain urgency. “What are you doing he- mmpf!” Your words are cut off as he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, pressing a breathless kiss into your lips. Every pair of eyes are on the two of you by the time he pulls away, but all Rin does is murmur a simple, “I missed you,” into your ear before dragging you out the door. 

⟢ dating itoshi sae is...

an anklet with your initials engraved, beach vacations, flying you out to his games, morning yoga, paparazzi, a vulnerability only you get to see, the smell of the ocean and the sound of seagulls, meditation, writing your initials together in a heart in the sand

On Sae’s rare vacation days, he liked taking you to the beach. Not only does he get to see you in swimwear (because yes, he is a little bit of a perv), but something about watching the salty sea breeze brush through your hair as you walk along the shore next to him feels so natural, so right. Your presence, your laugh, your damned smile drives him downright crazy—so, so crazy because he never imagined he would be so in love with anything besides soccer.

You are absolutely radiant, glowing in the golden light of the sun as foamy ocean waves crash into your ankles. He swears he’s never seen anyone look so beautiful, and ends up silently resigning himself, with half a sigh and a smile, that he wants this to be his forever—you, glowing, smiling, tugging at his hand and pulling him along the edge of the sea. 

⟢ dating nagi seishiro is...

lazy nights at home, takeout, staying up late playing video games, ‘level complete!’ and ‘victory!’ screens, yawns, reading manga together, cuddling with plushies, napping while wrapped in layers of blankets with the fan on, matching video game skins

Watching Nagi’s fingers dance nimbly over the phone screen, you doze off, curling into his warmth. To be frank, you hadn’t expected dating Nagi to be as interesting as it turned out to be, but at some point you began to appreciate the many quiet hours you've spent together. Cuddling under piles of blankets and plushies, falling asleep watching him speed through the hundredth level of some new game he picked up earlier that day, and dropping by the closest bookstore to pick up new volumes of Bonobono, Nagi became the comforting, stable presence you never knew you needed.

“Hey, wake up already,” he mumbled into your ear. “I’m about to clear this level for you.” You stir, eyes fluttering open to squint at the screen of your phone. “Mm, thanks Sei,” you murmur, before turning to bury your face into his broad chest and promptly falling asleep again. He rolled his eyes jokingly, listening to your soft snores. “I could be grinding on my own account right now,” he grumbled. (But he still cleared the level for you anyways.) 

⟢ dating mikage reo is...

expensive dinners, private jets, custom flower arrangements every week, sports cars & leather seats, jealous looks, VIP tickets, ‘members only’ lounges, diamonds on velvet, city skylines, empty art museums, "wear something nice, i’ll pick you up at 8" texts

Reo, despite your hundreds of protests, never hesitated to spoil you. Designer bags, five-figure dresses, jewelry that could easily cover your rent for at least a couple months—Reo showered you in gifts. But more importantly, he showered you in never-ending love and support. Gentle reminders to take breaks from work, an open ear for your (many) rants, and one time, a surprise vacation, flying you both out to Greece for a weekend after a particularly hard set of exams.

Standing on the elegant, white stone balcony of the Greek villa he had flown you out to, you smiled as you felt a pair of warm, strong hands wrap around your waist. “Enjoying the view?” He asked, pulling you into his chest. “Would enjoy it more if you hadn’t dropped a fortune bringing us here,” you joke, leaning into him. Reo huffed out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scolded playfully. “I’d drop a hundred more fortunes to spend this time here with you.” 

⟢ dating ryusei shidou is...

tongue piercings, late night clubbing, neon city lights, hands all over you, calls in the middle of the night, chokers, flooring the gas pedal, smudged eyeliner, skinny-dipping and streaking, kabedons, unhinged instagram reels, PDA, midnight motorcycle rides

The bass of the music blasting in the club reverberated throughout your whole body, clashing with the pounding of your heart. You were far too aware of the vibrant pink eyes and sharp-toothed smile following your every movement as your hips swayed to the beat, and you might’ve felt uneasy if the smirking, pink-eyed man watching you was any less handsome. Through some unknown connection to the Japanese soccer association, your friend managed to get you both into this exclusive club often frequented by famous soccer players—and so here you are, dancing with rising hotshot soccer players and drunk strangers.

Slipping off of the dance floor, you stumble down a dark hallway trying to find your phone right before ungracefully slamming face-first into what feels like a brick wall. Looking up, your heart nearly leaps out of your throat when you’re met with sharp pink eyes and a Cheshire cat smile. “Hey, gorgeous,” he purrs, leaning down barely a couple centimeters from your face. “Gimme your number, will ya?”

⟢ dating michael kaiser is...

staining your fingertips blue, champagne on ice, december frost, feeling each others’ heartbeats, tracing tattoos, pricking your finger on a thorn, kissing bruises, psychology books, late night conversations, testing red eyeliner on the back of your hand, penthouse hotel rooms

“Just like that,” Kaiser hummed, observing your delicate motions as you carefully traced the corners of his eyes with his signature scarlet eyeliner. Sitting on his lap facing him, Kaiser’s gaze was solely and completely focused on you—not that he would’ve been able to focus on anything else, he muses to himself. Trailing his hands up and down your sides, he absorbed every detail of your expression, noting the way your eyes narrowed and your eyebrows worked themselves together as you concentrated.

“There! That should be it,” you announced, sounding satisfied as you stretched backwards. Kaiser shifted his gaze away from you and to the mirror for a brief moment, admiring your work, before sliding his hands around your waist and pulling you into his chest with one swift, smooth movement. You let out a tiny gasp as you and Kaiser press flush against each other, and he chuckles when a soft blush begins to march over your cheeks. “Mihya…” you mumble, looking down to avoid his electric gaze. You are absolutely adorable, Kaiser thinks, before grabbing your chin and tilting your face up towards his. “Look at me, meine Liebe,” [my love], he murmurs, relishing in the way your face flushes even more red. “You are mine.”

a/n: first post, hope you enjoyed :)

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk {3}

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1 // part2 // pt 3//

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4/5 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

f1gossipofficial

f1gossipofficial The plot thickens, just weeks after Lando was seen with Magui sparking romance rumours, Y/n was seen at the Nice airport in a jet we know to be Max’s wearing Lando’s 4 lines necklace, but also a custom hoodie we know to be Oscar’s… what is going on

user45 user62 you seeing this

user62 oh im seeing this

user81 what on earth is going on in the house of commons

By the next morning, Charles and Alexandra had dropped you off in front of the condominiums Max had sent you to. “We will gladly take you in if you need to.” Alexandra said, hugging you. “I hope I won't need to, but thank you.” you hugged her back, then hugged Charles, “Keep us updated, especially Oscar, we know he won’t show it.” You nodded silently. They waved you off as you walked in with two bags. You took the elevator up to the floor and walked down the hallway, there wasn’t many doors, but theirs was the last one.

You knocked on the door, anxiety clawing at your chest. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first time here. You wanted to see their home under better circumstances, with smiles and excitement, not the cloud of pain that hung over all of you. The sound of footsteps on the other side made your heart race, followed by the door swinging open.

“Baby?” Oscar’s voice broke as he stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. He reached for you immediately, pulling you into a crushing embrace and burying his face in your neck.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His grip on you tightened as a quiet sniffle escaped him, then warm tears soaked into your skin. “You have no reason to apologize,” he said, his voice cracking. “We hurt you. We betrayed your trust. You had every right to walk away.”

You shook your head, cupping his face as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, and full of regret. “I know. And we’ll talk about it later,” you said softly. “But you said you needed me, so I’m here.”

Oscar let out a shuddering breath, nodding as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling his tension ease ever so slightly. “Where’s Lando?”

Oscar exhaled shakily, stepping back to grab your bag. “In the game room. He hasn’t come out in days except to grab food. He won’t talk to me, won’t let me in. He’s blaming himself for everything. Saying he should’ve never gone, that you’ll never forgive us. He’s been reading all the comments calling him a piece of shit and liking them. It’s killing me to see him like this.”

Oscar’s voice broke again, and he turned his head away, inhaling sharply as his shoulders shook. “Baby,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. He looked back at you, his breath catching. “It’s so hard seeing him like this,” he admitted, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m not leaving you guys. I promise.”

Oscar’s eyes widened, the relief so palpable it nearly brought you to tears. “You’re not?”

“Would I be here if I was?” you teased softly, earning a faint smile from him.

Together, you walked to the game room. Standing in front of the door, you felt your stomach churn. This wasn’t just about you being hurt—it was about mending what felt irreparably broken. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a small, encouraging nod before knocking gently.

“Lan… can you open the door?” Oscar’s voice was soft but pleading.

A moment passed before Lando’s hoarse voice came through, thick with emotion. “Oscar, please. Just leave me alone.”

“Lando, baby, open the door. Please,” Oscar begged, his voice breaking.

Silence.

Your chest tightened as you exchanged a helpless look with Oscar. Summoning your courage, you pressed your palm against the door. “Lando, it’s me,” you called gently. “Please open the door.”

You heard fast footsteps, a click of the lock, and then the door creaked open, and Lando stood there, a shadow of himself. His normally bright eyes were red and swollen, his hair disheveled, and his face pale and gaunt. You barely had a chance to take him in before he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you tightly, his weight nearly sending you stumbling back.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw and trembling as he clung to you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I messed everything up.”

“Lando,” you whispered, holding him close as his sobs wracked his body. His legs gave out beneath him, and you followed him to the floor, cradling him as though he might shatter.

“I thought you’d never come back,” he gasped, his voice muffled against your chest. “I thought I lost you forever.”

“I’m here,” you reassured him, your voice soft but steady. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Oscar knelt down beside you, his hand resting gently on Lando’s back. “Lan, you’re not in this alone,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

Lando lifted his head slightly, his tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “It’s my fault,” he croaked, looking between you and Oscar. “I should’ve never gone, should’ve never let it get this far. I—I don’t deserve you. Either of you.”

“Don’t say that,” you said firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “Lando, we’ve all made mistakes, but we’re here now. And we’re going to figure it out. Together.”

“But I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice breaking again. “I hurt both of you. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was too late.”

Oscar’s hand slid from Lando’s back to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “We all messed up,” Oscar admitted quietly. “But you don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here, Lan. We’re not giving up on each other.”

Lando looked between the two of you, his lip trembling. “You mean that?”

“Of course we do,” you said softly. “We’re in a relationship. And we’re going to make this right.”

Oscar nodded, his own tears spilling over as he reached out to pull both of you into a hug. “You’re stuck with us, baby,” he said with a watery smile.

Lando let out a shaky laugh, his arms wrapping around both you and Oscar as his tears started to subside. “I don’t deserve you guys,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and self-doubt.

“You do. You deserve us, and you deserve every win, every point, every good thing that comes to you,” you said firmly, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. “And you’ll see that in time. But for now, just let us be here for you.”

Lando leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to your lips. It was soft and full of unspoken emotions—apologies, gratitude, and love. When he pulled back, Oscar tilted your face toward him, his lips brushing against yours in a similar kiss, gentle yet grounding. 

Lando looked up at Oscar, “I’m sorry for ignoring you.” He said softly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to shut me out, ever.” Oscar leaned down pulling Lando into a kiss of their own.

Lando rested his head against your shoulder, and Oscar pressed himself close, the three of you tangling together on the floor. You shifted slightly, allowing them to settle between your legs, their weight comforting against you.

Lando’s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“You won’t ever have to find out,” you promised, running your fingers through his curls as Oscar pressed a kiss to your temple.

The weeks that followed were slow and deliberate, each day a step toward rebuilding what had been shaken. You stayed in Monaco with your boys, carving out a space that felt like home amidst the turbulence. Lando was still fragile, his confidence bruised, but with time, love, and plenty of reassurance, you saw glimpses of the man he had been before.

You focused on the little things—quiet mornings spent curled up together, late-night drives to nowhere, and endless games in the living room. You encouraged Lando to get back on his sim and race again, even if it was just for fun. When he finally agreed, you and Oscar sat beside him, cheering him on as though it were a championship final.

Conversations were heavy at times, raw and vulnerable, but necessary. You talked about the incident, about boundaries and trust. You forgave them, truly, but healing was a process that required more than just words. It needed time, connection, and intentional effort.

Oscar was your steady anchor throughout, always ready with a gentle hand on your back or a soft smile when things felt too overwhelming. He, too, was working through his guilt, but his focus remained on supporting both you and Lando. Together, the three of you found your rhythm again, each day a little easier than the last.

During this time, you also grew closer to Alexandra and Rebecca. Your connection with them blossomed, built on shared experiences and mutual understanding. Alexandra had a knack for making you laugh when you needed it most, and Rebecca was a steady source of wisdom and calm.

One evening, Alexandra and Rebecca invited you and the boys to dinner at Carlos and Rebecca’s place, a small gathering with a few familiar faces: Charles and Alex, Max and Kelly, and little P.

The evening was warm and relaxed, the villa overlooking the glittering Monaco skyline. Rebecca greeted you at the door with a warm hug, while Carlos handed you a glass of sangria with a charming smile.

“Everyone’s out back,” Carlos said, motioning toward the patio.

You stepped outside to find Charles and Alex laughing at something Max was saying, while Kelly helped P set up a small tea party on the corner of the table. The little girl was dressed in a princess dress, her face lighting up when she spotted you.

“Hi!” P called out, waving enthusiastically. “Do you want to join my tea party?”

You knelt down beside her. “I’d love to,” you said, taking one of the tiny chairs she offered. Lando and Oscar followed, Lando immediately slipping into his goofy, playful persona to entertain P, who giggled at his antics.

Dinner was served family-style, with everyone gathered around the long wooden table. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing.

“So, Y/N,” Max started, a playful smirk on his face, “how are you handling these two?” He gestured toward Lando and Oscar.

“Barely,” you joked, earning laughs from the table. “But they’re worth it. Most of the time.”

Lando leaned over to whisper in your ear, his voice low and teasing. “Only most of the time?”

You grinned. “You have your moments.”

Alexandra and Rebecca chimed in, sharing stories about their own chaotic moments with Charles and Carlos, which earned exaggerated groans from the men.

“I’m not that bad,” Charles protested, though his grin gave him away.

“Sure you’re not,” Alex replied, rolling her eyes fondly.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself surrounded by a sense of warmth and belonging. Kelly and Max took turns coaxing P to eat her vegetables, while Lando and Charles got into a playful debate about racing strategies. Oscar sat quietly beside you, his hand resting on your knee, a small smile on his face as he watched the chaos unfold.

After dinner, you, Lando, and Oscar stayed behind to help clean up. Rebecca handed you a dish towel with a grateful smile. “You’ve been good for them,” she said softly, nodding toward your boys. “I can see it.”

You glanced at Lando and Oscar, who were bickering over who had to wash the pans. “They’ve been good for me, too,” you admitted.

By the time you returned home that night, the three of you were exhausted but content. Lando curled up against you on the couch, his head on your lap, while Oscar stretched out on the other side, his hand entwined with yours.

For the first time in weeks, everything felt steady, like you were finally finding your way back to each other. And in that moment, surrounded by the people you loved most, you knew you’d make it through—together.

By the time you returned home that night, the three of you were exhausted but content. Lando curled up against you on the couch, his head resting on your lap, while Oscar stretched out on the other side, his hand entwined with yours. The low hum of the television played in the background, but none of you were paying attention.

Lando shifted slightly, looking up at you with a soft, contemplative expression. “We’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice hesitant.

You raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”

Oscar chuckled, but his smile was nervous as he sat up. “No, seriously. We’ve been talking, and… maybe it’s time we stop hiding this. Hiding us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You mean going public?”

Lando nodded, sitting up fully now, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing a great job keeping it a secret anyway. People are starting to notice how much time we spend together, and… I don’t want to keep pretending you’re just a friend. You’re so much more than that.”

Oscar reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We know it might be a lot, with the media and fans and everything, but we’ll handle it together. We just want to be honest about who we are and who we love.”

You looked between them, your chest tightening with emotion. “Are you sure? It’s going to change everything.”

Lando smiled softly. “We’re sure. We want this—you. And we don’t care who knows it.”

Before you could respond, Oscar changed the subject. “Actually, there’s one more thing we wanted to talk about.”

“Oh?”

Lando straightened up, his expression unusually serious. “After you graduate, we were thinking… maybe you could move in with us. Here, in Monaco.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Move in with you?”

Oscar nodded, his tone gentle but persuasive. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? You’ll be done with school, and being in a sports-centered place like Monaco could open up so many opportunities for you. Plus, we’d get to be together all the time.”

Lando jumped in, clearly excited now. “It’d be perfect! No more long-distance, no more packing bags every other week. You’d have your own space here, and we’d finally get to be a proper team—at home and everywhere else.”

They continued talking, each building on the other’s points, their excitement spilling over as they tried to convince you. But you couldn’t stop giggling, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably.

“Why are you laughing?” Lando asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You shook your head, still giggling. “Because if you two would’ve stopped talking five minutes ago, I would’ve said yes already!”

They both froze, blinking at you in surprise, before breaking into matching grins.

“Wait—so you’re saying yes?” Oscar asked, his voice hopeful.

“Yes, of course, I’m saying yes!” You laughed, pulling them both into a tight hug.

Lando whooped, lifting you slightly off the couch, while Oscar pressed a kiss to your temple.

“We’re going to make this amazing,” Lando promised, his eyes shining with excitement.

Oscar nodded, his smile soft and filled with love. “You won’t regret it.”

As they pulled you back down onto the couch, the three of you tangled together, your hearts full and your future bright, you couldn’t help but think that this—right here, with them—was exactly where you were meant to be.

[lastoneout]

"Rose died to turn into Steven so she didn't have to deal with the repercussions of her actions-" Rose could not have been more clearly operating under the impression that Steven would never have to deal with any of her issues in any meaningful way. Earth was abandoned by gems, and the corrupted ones are clearly more than enough for Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl to handle, her family thought she died, Earth was safe and Steven would get to just be a normal little boy. She didn't fucking know.

"But why didn't she tell anyone about Spinel-" Do you honestly think she really thought that Spinel would take her words so literally? I agree it's niave of her to make that assumption, especially given what kind of power Diamonds have over other gems, but Rose was niave and young and trying to escape and starting a war, and her judgement lapsed, the story NEVER gives us a hint that she truly believed or even suspected that Spinel would sit there for six thousand years waiting for her to get back. Spinel thought that because that's what it felt like to her, but that was not Rose's intention at all. (Also ngl the whole Spinel thing really smacks of sibling dynamics in abusive familial situations, I could write an essay about this it's very "older siblings got out and left you behind" adjacent, so.)

"She could have gone back to check-" Ignoring the fact that all methods of getting to Homeworld were purposefully destroyed after the war and revealing what she knew about Spinel would clearly out her as Pink Diamond to everyone who didn't know, you mean back to the Gems that want to kill her and her family and all life on Earth when it was finally as safe as it could possibly be? Reignite a war that ended what surely must have been billions of lives?? Waste those sacrifices??? Uhuh. Sure. (Are older children obligated to return to their abusive family situations to get their younger siblings out, damn the consequences?)

Some of y'all just cannot look at her mistakes without reading intentional malice into them and it's insane.

[dungeonsposts]

Nah man they don't expect people to read the test BC USUALLY THEY FUCKING WONT. We live in society that increasingly rewards stupidity. For God's sake JOE ROGAN is the number one podcast. ON. THE. PLANET. And people get their NEWS and opinions of news from a guy whose whole thing is to ask people if they've done DMT and basically suck the dick of the Republican party. And yet people think he's a centrist who asks questions bc we're at the point where if anyone just questions common knowledge they see it as ground breaking.

And sure the greatest scientific discoveries came from people challenging long held belief. But coming up with bullshit about the Egyptian pyramids were power plants with no evidence other than trust me bro it's questioning authority. It's just dumb.

We live on a god damn planet where morons are so incredibly stupid they'll watch a 4 hour long movie about how Hitler was just trying to save Europe or whatever. And that undoes MOUNTAINS OF EVIDENCE OF THE HOLOCAUST FOR THEM.

What solutions do I have for this? None.

Wait I got one.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Wow i just found two new articles with headers that fucking completely misrepresent that wat Michael Moore's recent open letter said:

what the fuck man, are you expecting people not to actually read the rest of the article?

do you think people aren't going to read this part?

fuck off with that, the man is 100% cool with Luigi

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Neil Gaiman: There Is No Safeword (via Vulture/New York Magazine)

This new article about NG from Vulture/New York Magazine is so much more damning and humanizing, and so much more impartial and well written, than anything I'd seen last year. I hate that it's necessary but I'm glad we have it now.

[ get over the paywall with archive.is or 12ft.io ]

TW for a more damning retelling of many of the allegations we heard about via various podcasts during summer 2024, plus likely abuse of a child (Neil) and alleged sexual activity in the presence of a child (Neil's). (NG's representatives still deny all allegations.)

Also a more fair discussion of what healthy BDSM actually is (including enthusiastic consent, advance negotiation, respect, communication, and the use of safe words or signals).

Take care of yourself and mind how you go if/when you decide to read it.

Or read this shorter but still official press release/summary from NY Magazine - it's much less explicit/triggery:

My biggest initial takeaway from this - as someone who was already familiar with the previous allegations - is how deeply important it is to address trauma in healthy ways that will help you move towards resolving it. When trauma lingers, it affects you in ways you may not expect or be able to control. This is NOT an excuse for anyone's behavior, and NOT a reason anyone should be victimized; it's just a reminder that we all have a duty as adults to do the work to move towards the best versions of ourselves, and unresolved trauma is lurking, waiting to hurt you or the people who love you. Find a therapist you click with or another healthy outlet and start working through it. Talk to loved ones. Journal. Exercise. Read. Whatever nourishes you and helps you move through the trauma. Please. If not for yourself, then for the people who love you ❤️

And please, everyone, be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways.

Edit: NG posted a response on his website the day after the Vulture article was released:

[parkersbliss]

I just read your story with American!reader and I loved it. It made me want to see the all the 141 boys maybe reacting to Reader saying “I wish British people were real” as a joke they saw on TikTok. I love your writing💗💗

you anons that request stuff are on something bc your ideas are so good??? thank you I love YOU

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x American!reader 

warnings: gaz and ghost is mildy suggestive, um price asking if you're dumb, that's it I think

a/n: life would be so much better if British people were real man

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for call of duty!

—

Ghost:

Simon was painfully British. That much was obvious to anyone who met and got a word out of him. His accent was thick, intertwined with every word that essentially screamed “I am British” in your face. You would be a liar if you said it wasn’t part of the initial attraction to him. The deep grave voice, mixed with a foreign accent. Yeah, you were easy like that. 

And Simon, despite his thick accent, wasn’t a patriotic man. Sure, he cheered for his sports team, measured in metrics, wore the flag patch during combat, etc. but he wasn’t in your face about his nationality. None of that “My country is better than yours” toxic patriotism. Still, that didn’t mean there weren’t things you poked fun at him for. The tea obsession, the way he said certain words, the lack of flavor in some of the food. 

You had your grievances against Britain. So when Simon was watching the news with you on the couch, the news reporter accent heavy across the room, you get an idea. 

With a sigh, you lean back. “Man, I wish British people were real.” 

Simon turns to face you, quirking a brow. “What?”

“I wish British people were real,” You repeated, pointing at the Newscaster. “It’s obviously a fake accent.” 

“What the bloody hell are you on about?” 

You suppress a laugh as you give him a blank stare. “They’re so funny, the accents. I wish they were real, that’s all.” 

Simon narrows his eyes at you, fingers brushing across your shoulder from the arm slung across the back of the couch. “I wish Americans were real.” 

“Me too,” You agree as Simon rolls his eyes. 

“You think you’re funny, hm?” 

“I think I’m hilarious,” You corrected him as he shifted you to sit in his lap. 

“‘M gonna start calling you an American bimbo if you keep spewing such bullshit.” 

You tap your chin in fake thought. “I bet you’d be into that.” 

Simon scoffs, hands moving to your hips. “Glorified idiocy? I think not.” 

You put on a valley girl accent, twirling your hair as you blink rapidly at him. “Oh, my god! You are so hot.” 

“Stop.” 

“Like totally bangable.” 

Simon’s face is turning red as you laugh manically. “You’re done,” he said, lips meeting yours to shut you up. 

“I knew you were into it.”

“Shut. Up.”

Gaz: 

You sat with your back to Kyle’s chest, his chin resting on your shoulder as his hands rested under your shirt. You’re idly scrolling on Tiktok, letting him watch because, really, he was a girl at heart too. Grocery hauls? Organizing my makeup? Day in my life? He was sat. He presses feather-light kisses to your neck occasionally as your thumb swipes across the screen. 

It’s another of many influences doing a grocery haul, and you both pause to watch it. Her accent is light, but still obviousas she pronounces words like blueberries, brekkie, and other British slang. 

You had gotten mostly familiar with it living with Kyle in London, but the accents here were much lighter compared to up north. 

You frown at the video. “I wish British people were real. They’re so funny.” 

“Excuse me?” Kyle asked, pulling his chin off your shoulder to look at you. 

“The accent? The slang? The Chinese food?” You list out. “It’s such a good running joke. Such a shame they’re not real.” 

Kyle’s lips pulled into their signature scowl. “What the fuck am I then?” 

“An ongoing joke?”

Kyle snorts at that. “What the hell, love? You’re taking the piss, right?” 

You shake your head. “See. I know your secret. I don’t get why you insist on still using such British phrases.” 

“I am British,” Kyle said slowly. 

“And I’m George Washington,” You counter. “No point in hiding it.” 

“Love,” he starts gently. That was the best thing about Kyle. He was always so kind and gentle with you. His hands move up and down your sides. “British people are real.”

“I don’t think so.” 

“So what was the American Revolution?” 

“Staged.” You’re testing his patience, wondering exactly when he would either give up or pull up the evidence that Britain was real. 

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” 

His tone of voice strained, and his brown eyes pleading with you. You feel a little bad, stressing him out, so you relent. “I am, baby.” 

He exhales in relief, head falling back to the crook of your neck. “Jesus Christ.”

“Do you think I’m that stupid?” You ask, leaning into him a bit more. 

“Well—” 

“If you wanna get laid tonight think about your answer.” 

“I think if you thought British people weren’t real, it’s a common misconception.” 

You giggle, turning to face him and kissing him gently as he pushes you to the bed. “Good answer.”  

Soap: 

Johnny was a passionate man. He is passionate about his work, his hair, his partner, and his country — as in Scotland.Great Britain was fine too, but he didn’t like being looped in with the British. He made an exception for work though, wearing the flag patch with pride. And occasionally tolerating his British brothers. However, back at home, your front porch has the Scotland flag hanging from it, and he had plenty of blankets of it and sports teams hanging around in the house. Yes, Johnny was a passionate man. And if you gave him the chance to poke some fun at the British, oh, he’d take it. 

“You know, it’s really cool you’re able to find someone who sells all this Scottish merch.” You’re pretending to look at the mug in your hand with some Scottish phrase on it that’s white and blue.

Johnny turns to face you, spatula in hand. “I got it from the coffee shop down the street.”

You nod. “Yeah, that’s really cool they sell this stuff.” 

His brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

You set the mug down on the table, crossing your arms on the counter. “Well, you know, because Scotland isn’t real, but they still—” 

“What did you just say?” 

“Scotland isn’t real?” 

He drops the spatula turning to you with crossed arms. “Yes, it is.” 

“But like the national animal is a unicorn, and unicorns aren’t real…” 

“The national animal is a unicorn because it represents how Scotland is unyielding and remains unconquered.” 

“But I didn’t learn about it in geography.”

“You’re American,” Your boyfriend deadpans. “You only learn the states and the other world powers.” 

You sigh, cupping your chin in your hands. “It would just be nice that Scottish people are real with their silly little accents.”

Johnny drags a hand down his face. “How are we having this conversation? The Kingdom of Scotland emerged in the 9th century, and in 1707 they joined to form Great Britain…” 

That’s how you ended up with a history lesson about Scotland as Soap continues cooking dinner for you both. And you weren’t complaining, after all, with how passionate he was about reciting the history of his home, cooked in a kiss-the-chef apron in your Scotland theme house, what was there to complain about? 

Especially when he sets the plate of food down in front of you, kisses you softly, and says he loves you. Oh yeah, you believed in Scotland. 

Price:

Your husband was a straightforward man, something you had always admired about him. If he didn’t like something (or did) he would tell you. It’s part of what makes him a great captain, that ability to give it you how it is.

Of course, when it came to you, he did turn it down just a bit. If the meat you cooked was a little burnt, that’s okay, he’lleat it. If you prank him by trying some soup with a secret spoonful of salt, his face will give it away despite the “mmm SO good” he attempted to utter. Yes, John tried very hard to not hurt your feelings. It was the next best quality you loved about him. But like anyone else, he has his limits. 

So when you’re both laying in bed, John reading a book as you watch your favorite cooking show, you get an idea. 

They were going over the best way to cook a beef Wellington, a British classic, but not one you particularly cared for. 

“Honey?” You ask. 

Your husband closes his book, moving his reading glasses up. “Yes?” 

“Do you ever wish British people were real?”

There’s a moment of silence before your husband sighs deeply, opening his book once more. 

“It was a genuine question,” You continue.

“Here’s a genuine answer: are you stupid?” He glances at you over the top of his book and sees the smile breaking across your face. 

You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips. “No.”

“Why do you find such joy in tormenting your husband? Gonna give me a heart attack one day.” 

“Stress is good for the body,” You reply. “I’m just making sure you’re healthy. Gotta keep you on your toes.” 

Your husband drops his book once more, gathering you in his arms. “You’re doing a wonderful job, dear.” 

You lean your head on his chest, hearing the deep rumble in his chest as his arm wraps around you. He’s warm as always, like a furnace radiating heat deep in the winter, just in the form of a personified grizzly bear. 

“Soap would like that joke,” Your husband muses. 

“Think I should try it on him?”

John brushes a piece of hair out of your face as you look up at him. “Without a doubt.” 

– END –

Read more, HERE. Never wanna miss a fic? Join HERE.

🏷 COD taglist: @looking1016 @Bitchyzombietaco @lilwinchester67 @crypticlxrsh @echo9821 @trxpslxt @the-kakawshi-bird @gaz-oline

[diaryofawhoretbh]

Hello. I saw you had your requests opened and wondered if you could please write some Nam gyu x reader who likes to call him cute after she saw him take his picture. I was just thinking about how ofter we see koreans say kiowo. thx

i really hope this is what you asked for, if not, please let me know, but enjoy!!!

kiyowo | nam-gyu (player 124)

the air felt thick with anxiety as you stood in line, your heart hammering against your chest. the players ahead of you moved forward one by one, the sound of the camera's flash echoing in the cold, yet colourful room. every step you took felt like it weighed a ton, and your palms were slick with sweat. yet, you couldn’t afford to show it. no one here could afford to show weakness.

you were just about to step up when you saw him. player 124. nam gyu. he was standing a few steps ahead, his expression as calm as ever, his posture straight, shoulders squared. he was... composed. maybe even too composed for a place like this. you didn’t know him, but there was something about the way he stood—so perfectly still and unwavering—that made you admire him.

the sound of a guard’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you realized it was your turn. you quickly stepped forward, keeping your gaze fixed on the camera ahead, trying not to let the overwhelming feeling of dread consume you. the guards were watching closely, their masked faces impossible to read. the flash of the camera was bright and sudden, blinding you for a split second, but you stayed still. just get through it, you told yourself.

as you walked away from the camera, trying to act like this was just another moment in your life, you noticed nam gyu stepping up for his photo. again, his posture was impeccable, as if he had been through this countless times before. you couldn’t help but think about how... cute he looked. the way his serious expression remained even in such an intense moment made him seem almost otherworldly. he was standing so still, like he was in control of everything around him, and for some reason, that made your heart flutter.

without thinking, the word slipped from your lips. “kiyowo,” you muttered softly, the word almost a reflex at this point, but it felt genuine. you weren’t expecting anyone to hear you—certainly not him. yet, the moment you said it, you saw his eyes flicker toward you, sharp and knowing.

“did you just call me... cute?” his voice was low, and the curiosity in it made your stomach flip. you froze, your heart skipping a beat. you hadn’t meant for him to hear that. your mind raced, unsure of how to react. should you apologize? ignore it? say something else?

he tilted his head slightly, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though it wasn’t a full smile. it was just enough to make your heart beat faster. he didn’t seem mad or surprised—just... intrigued.

“uh... yeah,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks warm. “i mean, you looked cute, standing there all serious. i wasn’t expecting that.”

his eyes narrowed slightly, but the way he looked at you wasn’t cold. in fact, it seemed almost... amused. he considered your words for a moment, and the brief silence between you felt heavier than it probably should have.

“serious, huh?” he said, almost like he was thinking out loud. then he glanced around, as if checking that no one else was listening, before speaking again, his tone more playful. “you’re not so bad yourself. i didn’t expect anyone to notice... but you do stand out a little.”

you blinked in surprise. what was he saying? was he complimenting you? you weren’t sure, but it made you feel strange in the best way.

“well, i’ve got to stand out somehow,” you replied, trying to keep the conversation going. “i mean, this place is terrifying. if you don’t show a little confidence, you might as well give up already.”

he looked at you for a long moment, his gaze never leaving yours. something in his eyes softened, just slightly. “confidence, huh? i guess i can see that. most people here would be shaking in their boots by now.”

you laughed nervously, trying not to let the tension of the moment weigh too heavily on you. “well, i don’t know about you, but i’m not planning to be the one who goes out first.”

his expression shifted again, just for a moment. there was something else behind his eyes now, something more genuine. “you’re not bad,” he said, almost as if he was acknowledging you as someone worth remembering. “we’ll see how long that confidence lasts.”

the guard behind him motioned for him to step forward, and nam gyu gave you one last look before moving on. you could have sworn you saw a small, knowing smile before he turned away.

as he disappeared into the next line of players, you felt a strange sense of warmth in your chest. the conversation had been brief, barely more than a few exchanged words, but something about it made you feel... seen. not bad, he’d said. for some reason, those words lingered in your mind as you moved forward, preparing for whatever came next.

despite everything—despite the terrifying reality of what was about to happen—you felt a little more confident than before. maybe you weren’t just another player in the game. maybe you could make it through this. and, just maybe, nam gyu would be someone you wouldn’t forget anytime soon, because little did you know, that one word, kiyowo, would become the foundation of your relationship with him.

[prankprincess123]

At 3yo I was coaching my younger sister to quote Star Wars as her first sentence. From 7-11yo I read nothing but Star Wars books on repeat, some of them dozens of times. Me talking about Star Wars for 5 minutes and sounding knowledgeable on the subject isn't a challenge in the slightest. The challenge is ensuring that my ramble is comprehensible by anyone who knows any less about Star Wars than I do, and not continuing to babble incessantly on the subject for literally hours.

First off, spin this wheel.

You just landed on one of 200 fandoms that have been very popular somewhere on Tumblr over the years. Topics were chosen either from appearing on a @fandom end-of-year recap or from my own long (long, long) site memories before that.

also all of these fandoms are definitely things that really exist in the real world and none of them are Tumblr creations

[burningembers91]

Like a Dog - The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature

On Display

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Crime of Passion

Rare

Gunpowder and Lace

Synopsis: Your grey suited man has finally relinquished control

A/N: well, I did NOT see the story going this way! But, the more I write for him the more I can’t help but see him as a secret sub. He’s so dark and evil during the day, but I can see him being so needy for his woman at night. So yeah, I guess this is now a Sub!Salesman storyline 🤗 but he’s still completely insane

Also, for the alleyway scene in this fic, I was deffo picturing this gif:

There was something so intimate about relinquishing control. It gave him a sense of freedom he’d never felt before, a kind of peace he was sure he’d never know. Since telling you his name, his world had altered, had taken on a new meaning. He was always so sure he’d wanted to control you, to torture you until you broke; it was a force of habit, really. He’d always been good at breaking things, of tearing even the strongest people down until they were nothing but withered shells. But somewhere along the line, his desires towards you had changed. You’d brought something new to his life; love.

It was an odd feeling, one that he’d never felt before. He’d been so sure that he was entirely incapable of feeling anything towards any living thing, and at first it at felt uncomfortable. It was uncomfortable the way his heart physically ached for you, the feeling seeping down into the pit of his stomach in a wave of delicious heat that tied itself in knots around his senses. At first he’d been sure he was having a heart attack, or possibly a stroke, but he was convinced that neither of those things were supposed to feel pleasurable, not like he felt when he was with you. He missed you when you weren’t around, and craved you when you were. He was like a loyal dog, blindly following you whenever you went.

He found it hard to concentrate at work, always wondering what you were doing. He wanted to know how your day was, what you were having for lunch, what time you’d be home, how the kids in your classes were getting on. Love was inconvenient, love was a distraction, but he was beyond the point of caring. He’d almost made mistakes at work, and mistakes in his job were simply out of the question. He had to figure out a way of getting you out of his head, had to find a way to block you from his brain during the day. But no matter how hard he tried, you always managed to worm your way back in.

You were living with him now, his desire to be with you so strong that he simply couldn’t face living apart. He enjoyed seeing your things in his home; your perfumes and lotions next to his cologne, your clothes hanging up next to his in the closet. He found himself excited to come home, to bask in the domestic mundanity of ordinary life. You liked to read, and the two of you would lie across his expansive leather sofa, his head in your lap as you played with his hair, both engrossed in your own novels. He was worried you were making him weak, turning him into the kind of man he enjoyed breaking. There were days he couldn’t make it until the evening to see you, showing up at your school to meet you for lunch, or walking you home after the day had ended.

He allowed you full control in the bedroom, bending to your every will and desire. He was so pitifully grateful on the nights you gave him the power back, allowing him to feel in control again for a brief moment. But you were the one calling the shots now, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t care.

As his love for you grew however, so did his disdain for others. He’d always been the jealous type, had never liked to share. He found it harder to maintain his cool when you were out, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds to see if anyone had the gall to try and undress you with their eyes. There was always someone he could pick out, someone who looked at you the wrong way, who walked a little too close to you. One day when you stopped for coffee, a man had the audacity to queue jump, pushing past you as if you were invisible. That man ended up with a broken nose and two black eyes, left to cower in the alleyway behind the cafe as your grey suited man stamped repeatedly on his ribs until you told him to stop. He’d been a fool to think you were making him weak; you were only making him stronger.

You still had so many questions about the man who worshipped you like you were a goddess. You knew he was dangerous; had seen him take a man’s life and beat another one almost to death because they had disrespected you. He’d gone from stalking you like a cat stalks a mouse to begging for your attention, your validation. He was a man who would crawl through broken shards of glass if you asked him to. You knew virtually nothing about his family, only that he had parents, but he no longer spoke to them. You never met any of his friends, never met any of his colleagues. Your belief about his job in sales and recruitment was dubious. He dressed in custom Versace suits and Prada loafers, and you didn’t know any sales job that paid that well. You were hesitate to quiz him though; he treated you like royalty, giving you everything you’d desired and more, along with an undying, almost obsessive love he showered you in.

As much as he loved you, he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. It was a terrifying word, one that had never left his lips before. He’d never even told his parents that he loved them, because in truth he hadn’t. Until you came along, he viewed everyone with a quiet distaste. People were a nuisance, a waste of time unless they had something you needed. He hoped you knew how much he loved you though, hoped his devotion to you showed through his actions. He showered you in gifts, did everything around the house so you never had to lift a finger, marked your students essays on the nights you were too tired. He was your servant in the bedroom, living only to please you.

He’d been scared at first, scared when he realised he was happy to let you dominate him. He’d always been in control, had always been the one calling the shots, but he’d never realised how good it could feel to be the one treated like a dog. He found immense pleasure in fulfilling your every desire, of letting you use him like a toy. His work required him to always be alert, to always ensure no one bested him. It became a relief to come home at night and allow himself to be told what to do.

He was enjoying this life with you, a life of domestic bliss he never thought he’d crave. You were by no means a conventional couple, but it worked for you.

You knew he had a dark side, had seen it many times. And yet he played the doting boyfriend so well. You didn’t care how dangerous he was, how devilish his desires were when it came to toying with others. With you, he craved nothing but your love and respect. And you were happy to give it to him, your submissive, grey suited man.

[ciderbird]

academic bias is so funny because you’ll be reading about the same historical event and one person is like “Despite the troubles that befell his homeland and near constant criticism of the court King Blorbo remained strong in the face of adversity” and the other one is like “after letting his people carry the brunt of his cringefail decisions Blorbo the Shitface refused to listen to any reason and continued to be a warmongering piece of shit. Also he was ugly.”

[somewhereincairparavel]

"jason is a knockoff watered down percy" NO hear me out, jason actually parallels annabeth immensely, sharing SO many similarities with her personality, not percy, in this essay I will-

edit: my full analysis is out now! here