#and perfection is boring and infuriating

[thelostconsultant]

Instant dad - pilot

pairing: Oscar Piastri x ex!reader

summary: You have no choice but to tell Oscar he has a five years old son. Now he wants to be a part of his life to make things complicated...

note: A little warmup chapter. Oscar is in his early 30s, so yeah, there's a time jump.

[part 1]

“We would like to meet Oliver’s father. His biological father,” the principal clarified as he glanced over at your boyfriend. You’d been together for three years, he had been by your five-year-old’s side for over half his life, why wasn’t he enough?

But he insisted on meeting him, saying if he was dead and you could prove it, or if your boyfriend was your husband, they would move on with the enrollment, but you had confirmed that you weren’t married and the biological father was alive, so now they wanted to have a chat with him. He didn’t even care about the tiny little detail that said father had absolutely no idea he had a child. What a bunch of morons.

In the evening, while your son was reading a book about cars in his bed with your boyfriend, you sat by the dining table with your phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. This fancy private school was perfect, they knew how to handle intelligent kids like Oliver, and you wanted the best for him. You wanted to make sure he didn’t get bored, that he would get the kind of intellectual challenge in school that he needed.

At the age of five, he could read on his own just fine, he even learned some Spanish from your boyfriend, and he was a quick study in general. It was infuriating how he was a mini version of his father, from his intelligence to his looks, everything reminded you of him. And if you met F1 fans together, someone surely went, “He looks so much like Piastri at his age!” Sadly, that wasn’t a coincidence, and the poor kid picked up on the whole you-look-like-him thing and chose him as his favorite driver.

Sometimes you consider telling him. Oliver, not Oscar. God, there was no way you would ever tell him the truth. He had his own, certainly busy life and he probably didn’t need a child in it. Yes, you saw the photos, he was good with kids, but meeting one for a few minutes wasn’t the same as having your own. Your son on the other hand could find out when he got old enough to understand why you had left and went no contact with his father. That was over ten years away, of course, so you had time to figure out what to do. Until then, you made sure the few photos of you and Oscar were stored somewhere safe in case he wanted to see them when the time came.

Now you were cornered, your hand forced by that damn principal. You had no idea if he was still using that old social media profile of his, but you had to try. So, you took a deep breath and started a call, deep down hoping he wouldn’t answer. You weren’t ready to talk to him, not yet, but you had no choice. And then his face showed up on your screen, the sight bringing back memories you’d been trying to forget for years.

“Hey. Are you sure it’s me you wanted to call?” he asked, although there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Nodding, you let out a sigh. “Hi. Yeah, um… I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning?”

Silence followed his words, your brain in overdrive as it tried to find the best way to start. But maybe being straightforward was the right answer. “I have a son. He’s five,” you added, hoping the meaningful look you were sending his way could be seen over the screen.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, you could see the wheels turning in his head as he did some math. “Wait, five? We… That was a bit over five years ago. Could he…?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “He’s your son.”

His face was emotionless for a while as he tried to process the news, but this was nothing new, he was the king of hiding emotions. But then, just as you thought he would end the call, he let out a sigh. “Why now? What do you want from me? Money?” he asked, although you could tell he was unsure about this whole situation.

The fact he assumed you wanted money only made you angry. “It’s not your money I need. Hell, I don’t even want you to meet him,” you snapped. “The thing is, there’s this private school I want to send him to, and they have this stupid rule to have both parents present at a parental interview. Since my boyfriend and I never got married, they want to see the biological father. That’s all I want. A meeting with the principal.”

Oscar put up a finger as he bit on his lower lip, his eyes focusing on something behind his phone’s camera. “Let me get this straight. After all these years, you say I have a son, but I’m not allowed to meet him?” he then asked, looking back at you.

“Yeah.”

“One meeting,” he then stated, his voice serious. “You let me meet him once and I’ll talk to that principal.”

“Oscar, come on.”

“That’s the deal I can offer.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that. If he didn’t do it for Oliver, he would have to go to another school. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you nodded. “But we don’t tell him that you’re his father. He watches F1, and since he looks a lot like you, he decided that you’re his favorite driver. That’s all you’re gonna be, nothing more.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I,” Oscar began hesitantly, and you could see as he sat down on his couch and looked up at the ceiling. “You just told me I had a son. What do you want from me, to forget it? I want to meet him. I want him to know who I am.”

“He’s five. If he finds out, he’ll want to see you again. He will want you to be a part of his life. I don’t want that.”

You could see he was uncertain about this. He probably understood that becoming his father would mean he would have to regularly visit the two of you, and even if you all kept it a secret, there was still the risk of the truth slipping out and making it into the headlines. “Is he anything like me?” he suddenly asked, his eyes softening as he watched you. 

A smile crept on your lips as you thought about this, because it was so painfully obvious to you that you couldn’t deny it, no matter how badly you wanted to do that. “He’s a highly intelligent little smartass, just like you. And his looks… A mini you, no doubt.”

Oscar nodded. “Then I want to be a part of his life. Let me spend time with him,” he asked, seeming relaxed. 

“Two hours.”

“No, I’ll stay for a week, and I want to see him every day,” he was quick to clarify. “I can look out for him while you’re at work.”

Whatever happened to the idea of meeting Oliver once? That’s not what you had just discussed, and now he was changing his demands? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” was all you said in the end.

“You said it yourself, I’m his favorite driver,” he pointed out with a smug smile. “We’ll be fine.”

You were doing this only because of the school. You remembered what Oscar could be like; if he made up his mind about something, he definitely wasn’t about to let his plan go. Now he wanted a week with his son, and you knew that was the only way he would do what you needed from him. “All right. Can I send you the school’s number so you can make an appointment? I told them you travel a lot, so they’ll need to be flexible.”

“Sure, I’ll call them as soon as I can.” You thanked him, and were just about to say goodbye when he spoke up again. “Wait, can you send me a photo or a video?”

“Yeah, I have a few hundred of those,” you replied with a smile.

Oscar remained silent, but he let out a sigh and you knew something was on his mind, something he wanted to tell you. “I still have a hard time believing it, you know.”

“You seemed pretty confident when it came to getting to know him.”

“I wanted to use my chance to corner you,” he admitted. “But this? That I have a son? Hard to believe.”

“Well, he’s yours. You’ll understand it when you meet him,” you told him kindly. 

After you said goodbye, you went up to check on Oliver and your boyfriend, but by the time you got there, they were sleeping soundly with the open book resting on your son’s chest. With a smile, you took the book and leaned down to give both of them a soft kiss. You couldn’t help but wonder how your little family’s dynamics would change with Oscar’s presence. 

Well, it wasn’t really your son you were worried about, the main issue was your boyfriend. Oscar was a famous F1 driver, someone your son idolized, of course he felt threatened. You told him it would be okay, that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, but he didn’t seem convinced. Maybe if they met and he saw you were indifferent, he would finally trust you a lot more. One can hope, right?

[moonfireshadow]

Rewatched Saltburn and I'm obsessed with Farleigh and Oliver's tutoring scene. The essay specifically. For those who don't remember: Oliver did his homework and all his assignments and genuinely gave a well thought out essay for their summer assignments. Farleigh shows up hungover and late and didn't even read the books. But the teacher immediately loves Farleigh and is chatting him up with an interest he barely tried to show Oliver. Even after Oliver gives his presentation and shows that he's clearly a much better student than Farleigh. Obviously this is the real start of their rivalry. But it's also such a beautiful look into their characters and how they mirror eachother. Farleigh understands Oliver's essay, I believe. But like the teacher he's bored by it. The knowledge and work is there, but the presentation of it is boring and strange. Academic and correct, but lacking the appeal to the audience. (Which, can we talk about the fact Farleigh was genuinely listening at all? The teacher zoned out and switched channels, but Farleigh was interested and paying enough attention to know the exact number of times Oliver used the word "thus" in his essay. They respect each other truly even if they despise eachother at this point, and refuse to acknowledge the grudging respect.) So Farleigh does what he does best, he gloats over Oliver. He picks apart the style of the essay and it's presentation rather than addressing the central argument or topic. This delights the teacher and frustrates Oliver who is like, "so you're going to critique the style of my essay rather than it's substance? Seems a bit lazy" and that's the core component of these two characters.

Farleigh is ALL about presentation. He knows how fragile his pedistal is placed up and in view for everyone to see. He's a charity project, just like every other rando of the month. Sure he has some familiar connection, and that's given him a leg up in this world. But it's still shakey at best. He always has to give the correct performance, say the right words, keep his audience on HIS side. Unless he wants to get knocked down with the rest of the common rabal that he knows he's belongs with, but can't stand the idea of. So yes, of course he picks apart the one thing he knows Oliver is failing at. He takes his one advantage over Oliver and uses it mercilessly to both entertain and secure his audience on his side. (I wonder if the positions had been different some how, if Farleigh would have had anything to say about the substance of the essay itself. He was paying attention to it, did he want to have a real academic conversation? Did he possibly want to try and connect to Oliver in that way? A real and non performative way with someone who's so similar to him?)

As for Oliver, obviously his character is intelligent. He does the readings. He does the research. He puts the time and effort in to *learn* in the way Farleigh never does. And it must infuriate him that his essay is so easily pushed to the side for a cheep critique that doesn't even address the central argument of his essay. Of course he would hate Farleigh from the start for that. It's such a quick negation of all that Oliver has to offer and give just because it's not wrapped up in a pretty bow. And that's just his character. The substance is there, the intelligence is there. But it's not enough. It will never be enough. Because Oliver doesn't know how to translate it to his audience in a way they'll care about. He learns and tries to mimic, but it always falls short because he just can't seem to figure out the way to blend in and present himself so seamlessly as Farleigh.

And that's why they're such perfect mirrors of each other. They're both intelligent and clever. But they've found different ways of getting what they want and proving themselves. Farleigh is the face and the presentation, Oliver is the substance and body. In another world imagine what these two could have done and been if they hadn't been pitted against each other for the same prize. And the fact Oliver definitely deliberately shoved Farleigh out at the perfect time so he wouldn't get hurt and killed? Oliver and Farleigh respect and admire the other. But their tragedy is they can never be on the same page or team because the world they're in says there is only room for one. And they'd both do anything to get that title.

[rosemaeridream]

hate is no better than love. | (M)

Mature content (18+)

fashion-designer!aeri x photographer!fem reader

warnings: inevitable hate fuck?, strap, bottom!aeri, top!reader, a little bit of roughhousing from both sides, intense back scratching, nude/pornographic photography, do they actaully hate each other or is the sexual tension too much???

A/N: whoever asked for this BEFORE armageddon i'm so sorry lmfao + this hasn't been beta'd mistakes will be present

word count: 4.6k

Uchinaga Aeri is not a woman you love.

She’s rich. She’s popular. She’s arrogant. She’s manipulative. She has a fucking smirk soldered onto her lips at all points of time. It’s infuriating. 

Wholly.

Completely. 

Utterly.

It makes perfect sense why Aeri isn’t your kind of person. She’s everything you’re not–both the bad and the good. 

And yet, God be damned, she’s always nearby. 

It’s not like you’re trying to seek her out. She’s studying fashion (or something you couldn’t be bothered to figure out) while you’re doing some arts degree. It didn’t matter, just as long as you weren’t in the same course.

And yet, God be fucking damned, she’s always nearby.

You’re on your way to the station, and she’s giggling with her friends behind you, somehow loud enough to pierce through the noise-cancellation of your headphones. 

You’re studying outside one of your lecture halls, waiting for your next class, and she’s checking her appearance in the window’s reflection thirty steps away.

You’re on a fucking walk at the beach, kilometres away from the university, and damned Uchinaga Aeri is there, laying back in a chair, sunglasses shielding her eyes and only clad in a bikini.

You could easily not love Aeri. Not loving just meant not caring. But when you see the woman four out of seven days a week when you have no reason or wish to; resentment stews in your gut.

Especially now, as she’s sitting down in front of you – with that stupid fucking perpetual smirk and an undescribably huge iced coffee – and closing the lid of your laptop mid-keystroke.

“What?” You break the silence between you, not at all happy that she’s here and seizing your precious study time. And you know she can tell; she’s even enjoying your irritation – it’s evident in how she rests her jawbone on her fist while lazily swirling the straw in her coffee.

“I heard from a certain somebody that you take photos.” She preens under your gaze and leans in a fraction like she’s telling you a secret. It comes off haughty; she thinks she’s better than you, and you have no idea why she’s doing it.

That’s debatable. But what isn’t debatable is that you do take photos.

“Yeah, what of it?” The jiggling of the ice in her coffee is getting too much, and you’re this close to throwing it against her head and walking out of the cafe. At least you’d get a moment of silence while she sits in shock.

“I have some outfits to model. I want a photographer.”

“Me?” You raise an eyebrow, already put out by the idea of having to take photos of her. Not that it’d be hard. She’s gorgeous, from head to toe, quite literally the definition of photogenic. Maybe that’s the problem — it’s too easy, there isn’t a challenge for you.

“Duh. You have like… good skills or whatever, Park.” Her tone turns bored and she lets go of her straw to check on her metallic-chartreuse acrylics. They’re so long those things would fucking suck to type with. Or fuck with. Or do anything but gouge out the eyes of your enemies with.

“You’ve seen my work? I’m surprised, Uchinaga; I thought you’d only ever care about leather straps and sequins.”

“Mmh. Funny… But no, I appreciate a piece of artwork when I see one.” She examines you from your hair to where your torso ends at the height of the table. Then she lifts her coffee an inch, just enough to wrap her tongue around the straw and sip. It makes an annoyingly loud slurping noise, which is a feat considering the cup is 80% full. 

To say it pisses you off is an understatement.

“I only work for a commission. $100 an hour.”

Aeri’s eyes almost bug out, the slurp stutters and you relish in the noise, pleased that you could break her intrusive behaviour. 

“A hundred. An hour? You’re literally a student.”

“I’m literally a photographer.” The itch to grab your phone and pull up your IG account to name and gloat about how much each photo is worth is immensely strong. But you’re better than Uchinaga. That’s something that she’d do.

You can’t let her win…

And you’re better than her.

“Fuck you, I could take the pictures for free.” Her nails dig into the table and you wouldn’t be surprised if there were chips in the paint when she removes them. Fuck, those things are talons. “And that’d be like wearing a Shein shirt on a runway.” You copy her signature smirk. “Get your head out of your ass, Uchinaga. You want professional quality photos; you pay the professional price.”

“$50 an hour.” And she’s fucking turned to haggling. It’s not surprising – she’s wealthy scum. If this were France in the 1800s, you’d be breaking out the guillotine right about now.

“No thanks.” You grab your phone, shoving your laptop into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Eat shit and die, Coco Chanel.”

You make it 20 steps down the street before you can hear her heels clicking on the footpath behind you. You huff, knowing she isn’t going to call out for you. No, that’s too gaudy for her. Instead, she’ll just menacingly click behind you until she inevitably catches up at a stop light – her irritatingly long legs make her stride feel like she’s an olympian and her persistence can be equated to a bloodhound.

You whirl around, knowing that her perpetual smirk will be present, even when she’s about to grovel for you to take her back. Or something. 

“I’ll pay your stupid commission.” Her tone drawls like she’s bored, but the twitch of her brow is a sure sign of her own irritation. “Tuesday, I’ll DM you the address.” 

Then she turns and strides off without a confirmation.

At the last possible moment, she swishes her hair over her shoulder, sending you a smirk so smug that only one thing is clear.

She wins.

The address she messages you ends up being an old warehouse in a former train shed. The rails are still embedded in the concrete; its steel a dirty grey from wear. There’s a lot of light in here despite the tall corrugated iron walls and high ceiling due to the skylights and high windows. Aeri sits at a makeshift desk on one side of the shed, scribbling away in some kind of notebook as she waits for you. She’s clad in a pink robe and heels – add a sleeping mask and she’d be some kind of Blair Waldorf reincarnate. 

“Uchinaga.” You grumble, finding yourself in the position she was in last week, sitting down across from her and interrupting her work. Instead of a tall iced coffee and a smirk, there’s your short coffee cup and an expectant expression. 

She looks up to you, slight bags under her eyes and a bleary redness to them. Most notably, Aeri’s missing her usual arrogant demeanour. 

“Mmhf.” She immediately goes back to her sketch. “What the shit are you here for, Park?”

It takes you everything you have not to stab her in the eye with her pencil.

“Photos. You commissioned me.”

“It’s not Tuesday. Get the fuck out of my face.” She waves a hand fleetingly like you could float away and leave her in peace if she cared more.

“It’s Tuesday.” You even check your phone, sliding it close enough to her on the table so she can see that you’re not an idiot.

15:05.  Tuesday, 25th June.

And she reads it. 

And she stills.

And it’s quiet.

Then she narrows her eyes.

“Get your shit out then, I’m not paying you more than an hour.” She slides from her stool, stalking over to a rack of clothing. Before you can even move, she lets it drop, pooling around her feet while she flicks through the pieces.

Your mouth dries up and you can’t even move, just staring at the soft sway of her hair and ass as she searches through her clothes. Her irritatingly long legs look so much longer when the only thing stopping them are lacy black panties that are most definitely out of your budget.

The only reason you pick up your jaw and start to unpack your ‘shit’ is that Aeri swivels ever so slightly so that you can see the slight turn of her lip. She’s smirking. She’s fucking smirking.

You look around the place, grateful that the natural lighting is dramatic enough in places to get some interesting images. If Aeri wants that, of course… she hasn’t exactly made it clear what she wants. You’re extra grateful that you wouldn’t have to hike back up the street to get your lighting equipment. 

As you continue to unpack, Aeri changes. The first she shimmies into is a wide legged pair of jeans with frayed and ripped holes up the thigh. It doesn’t help. Then a tube top with a baggy tank over the top. It really doesn’t help. Especially when she passes fingers through her hair and pulls it up into a messy half-up half-down style. 

You blink and she’s apparated in front of you with a hand on her hip, her acrylics curling into the denim.

“Hurry up.”

You pop an SD card into the slot then wave her away to where she wants to begin. Aeri struts over to the side of the train shed and leans against the corrugated iron.

And it starts.

Photographing Aeri is effortless. She’s far too practised in her motions and poses. Even when she gets bored and leaves without a word to change her outfit, it’s efficient. Genuinely, you might be able to get this done in under an hour which is both a relief to your sanity and her bulging wallet (even if it wouldn’t miss the $100 note).

However, as easy as this photoshoot is going, the silence is starting to get to you. 

“Too poor to get your own models?” Apparently pissing her off is the appropriate way to fill in the quiet space. Aeri scowls and you make sure to capture a photo of it. 

So? She looks good when she’s mad.

“I prefer to do it myself. I know what angles the clothes look best at.” She points, guiding you into her next pose. “And no one knows my creative vision.”

“Yet, you trust me to photograph your creative vision.” The viewfinder fogs after your last breath. You hadn’t even realised you were using it instead of the screen. It was just a natural feeling, framing her using a more analogue method felt… right. Lowering the camera from your eye to wipe the fog, you take a second to breathe.

“...Your style. It isn’t so bad.” Aeri finally answers. Then she scowls again. “You’re slacking.”

“And you have fifteen minutes left.”

She scoffs and stalks away to swap her attire.

Wiping the viewfinder again, you put it back to your eye, checking for fog. It’s gone, but all that’s left is a half naked Aeri, perfectly framed and positioned. The line of her back draws your eye to her ass which is slightly pushed out as she bends to step into a new dress. Instinctively, you take the shot.

And then another for good measure. 

“You know I can hear the shutter, perv.” Aeri turns in the viewfinder as you snap another picture. She’s in a swampy green to black gradient which compliments her nails. You figure this is what she had them done for.

“So? Maybe you’ll enjoy these more.” She prowls closer and closer until she’s out of focus and pushing your camera down.

“What, after you rub one out to them?” She sneers, her talons piercing into the skin of your hand where it circles the camera lens.

“Like I’d ever jack off to you.”

Aeri twists the camera out of your hand, opening up the previews to look back at your photos. She keys through the half naked ones, expressionless, and starts to look through the others. 

It’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking. Usually, Aeri wears her disgust on her face, never hiding when she thinks something is complete garbage. And everything is garbage to Aeri.

She grimaces once or twice but it’s never the heavy pull of the lip or the slight scrunch of her nose that you’ve learnt to associate with her disgust.

“Even I would get off on these.” She flips the camera back to you, showing off a preview of her, mouth half open, eyes lidded and hair messy from just swapping outfits.

She does, you have to admit, look like sex on a stick. Or whatever that term is.

Aeri turns, still with your camera and clicks over to a set of chic looking beanbags – however chic a beanbag could look. She lounges down, crossing a leg over the other and lazily stares up at you. 

“Hurry up. You’re wasting my time.” She dangles the camera from its strap. You move forward immediately, reaching to snatch up your camera, your precious baby, back into your hands. 

And Aeri, being the person she is, moves it out of your grasp and above her head. Sick amusement dances across her features when she locks eyes with you. 

“I told you to fetch.”

Neither of you are budging and Aeri’s a fucking immature child. A fucking spoilt immature child. You know that by the time you skirt the beanbag’s circumference, she would move the camera back to where it was before. Her limbs are too long for you to compete with, and her smirk, her damn perpetual fucking dumb fucking smirk, is back on her lips.

Both of you know that there’s only one way for you to get your camera back.

With a clenched jaw, you settle a knee on Aeri’s left side, then her right as you hover over her body to rip the camera out of her hand.

Aeri lets go too early. The camera slides through your grasp and as you focus all your attention on grabbing the strap, Aeri flips you over to pin you against the beanbag. It’s this weird twist and grab, but your baby is safe in your hand. 

“What the fuck, Uchinaga?? Do you know how goddamn expensive this camera is? It isn’t something you can just pick up at-“ The complaint is halfway out of your mouth before it’s smothered by her lips, thick and cushioned.

The kiss is unexpected, a slight moan slipping out when she moves to reposition herself. One hand at your hip, the other sliding into your hair. Her thumb brushes against the hem of your top, lifting and taking fabric along with it until there’s a dense heat branding your skin.

It’s almost nice for a moment. You almost lose yourself in the sensation. Almost.

Aeri yanks your hair downwards, taking advantage of your gasp and forcing her tongue inside. The wet muscle glides across your own, taking its time to thoroughly explore. After an extended moment, she extracts with an audible pop!, daring to stare at you like she’s just blown your mind.

“What…” You struggle to breathe as your brows pull into a frown. “The fuck?”

“You didn’t like that?.” Her tone is blasé like she’s studying her cuticles or waiting for her damn iced coffee.

It’s not a matter of whether you enjoyed it. That, you’d never give the answer to. 

“You can’t just kiss someone when they’re saying things you don’t like! How fucking immature can you be?” 

There’s half a beat of silence, then Aeri measuredly leans forward until she’s a centimetre away. It’s with a controlled precision that you hadn’t really expected. Yes, she’s a fashion major or whatever and that causes a level of elegance, but Aeri’s always been raw and nasty in your eyes.

I mean, she just kissed you, for fucks sake!

Aeri doesn’t say anything but her mouth morphs back into that stupid fucking smirk that looks too good on her lips — you understand why she does it so much but fuck is it annoying — and your stomach twists until you find yourself closing that centimetre and rolling around to push her back against the bean bag. 

You can’t think while you’re kissing her. You can’t even ask why you’re doing this because Aeri’s hiking up your shirt and throwing it on the floor somewhere. You shiver slightly at the change in temperature and her acrylics resting on your back.

She giggles at how crazed your kisses are. In the back of your mind there’s a drifting thought about how you’re proving some point of hers right. You just can’t pin it down. It was the one about… about…? Oh, nevermind. It doesn’t matter.

It especially doesn’t matter when she shoves you off her lap. Hard. It sends you tumbling back, your butt hitting the hard concrete. The impact clears your mind immediately and you send Aeri a ‘what-was-that-for?’ glare.

Aeri leans the side of her head against her palm as she lazily smirks at you. She sits like a maniacal god controlling her creation and it pisses you off. Everything she does fucking. Pisses. You. Off.

“And that one was for…?”

“You were slobbering.” Then she waves to her desk in a careless flourish. “Bottom drawer. Hurry up.”

For a second, you debate walking out of the shed. Denying Aeri’s requests would put you down on her level of bratty pettiness; it’s only natural for you to dish it back to her. Not to mention, this is pretty fucked: You hate the woman. You think she’s rich and nasty and spoiled and far too hot to behave like she isn’t one of the nine muses.

God fucking damn it.

After a moment of rubbing your butt, you push to your feet and wander to the desk. Your camera is left on top of the desk while you squat to open the drawer and yank it open.

“…”

“You are not fucking me with a strap.”

When you turn around, you’re surprisingly not facing her smirk. It’s like a lion without a mane. Instead, Aeri is sitting there looking at you like prey.

“Whoever said I was gonna be fucking you?” She curls a finger for you to come back. It’s clear that she means now. Not in a minute, not in a second. Now.

Mindlessly you grab the harness and your camera, already with the silicon attached and you meander back to her. It’s your way of fighting back, making Aeri feel some of the irritation that follows her. When you arrive, you drop the harness in her lap with a sour expression and place the camera safely on the ground next to the beanbag.

There’s a lot you could ask. Why are we about to fuck? Did you organise all this for me to fuck you? Is this weird or kinky? Why do you have a strap in the bottom drawer of your desk? Is it sanitary? 

“Why am I doing this?” You ask instead.

Aeri hangs the harness over a finger and gives you an eye to step into it.

“Because you think I’m hot and this is your chance to get laid.”

Despite the fact that you hate admitting you’ve had a lack of partners to sleep with recently, you still step into the buckles. She sinches it over your clothed thighs, amazingly efficient despite her nails. The straps are tight but you don’t really mind.

“Come on, baby.” She coaxes you back to your position on top of her and the beanbag. When you look at her rather blankly, she rolls her eyes. 

“God, you’re more idiotic than I thought. Fucking a plushie would be better than this.”

The words are a slap to your face. Although you’re still confused as to why you’re sitting on her lap, with a strap, you find yourself getting angry again. She had that strap in her drawer – just waiting. Is this a normal thing she does? That she paid you to come and fuck her?

Aeri looks fucking pretentious like this – hair mussed, stupid smirk, stupid lips – all dolled up in a horribly vapid and careless way. Her stare sends waves of anger down to your core. It roves over your body, no doubt sizing you up, prepared to dig her nails into your arteries at the first sign of weakness. 

Or maybe the first sign of arousal.

Aeri’s right. This is your chance to get laid, and this is your chance to fuck her. In the fuck you sense, not in the… well, okay in the fuck her sense too.

You hike up her dress, struggling not to make it crinkle and crease at her waist with the thought of keeping it integral for the photoshoot, you expose her upper thighs and… and…

“Those photos really made you this wet?”

It’s obscene. Purely obscene how wet her panties are. When you look up to inspect her expression, Aeri has enough shame to have a dusting of red over her cheeks.

“You narcissist.” You sneer, pushing the strap against her clothed pussy and gliding the head over her clit. It smears your arousal on the underside of the cock, creating a sheen of wet. Apparently, it feels nice enough, good enough, that Aeri clutches onto your shoulders, sinking her nails into your skin. It draws a grunt from your chest and only helps to build your irritation.

“Stop being such a whiny bitch and fuck me.” Aeri tugs your shoulders, ensuring that her lips brush the cup of your ear while she whispers. 

Funny, how she could pretend to be in control when she was holding back her moans and twitching whenever your head bumps against the swollen nub of pleasure. For good measure, you smack it against the soaked cloth twice before deciding that you could torture her better without the layer of protection.

Aeri, on the other hand, leans back. There’s a sort of dazed smile on her lips like she’s a child being rewarded for good grades or some other menial shit. Wanting to wipe the smile off her face, you buck the strap in. 

All the way in, her wet cunt filled to the brim.

She shrieks, her nails scratching harshly down your back, almost getting a line of curses from you.

“And I’m the whiny bitch? You’re the one who wanted this.” You drag your hips back, her pussy squeezing so tight that it actually takes effort.

Moans blossom out of Aeri as you start a sturdy pace, her breasts bouncing with every snap of your hips. The squelch is loud in the warehouse, almost echoing off the walls. Deciding that she deserves a treat, you lean down to suckle under the curve of her boob.

“I bet that was all an act when I arrived.” You purr against her skin. It turns pink under your touch, hot with want. “You were in that robe on purpose, just waiting for a chance to take it off.”

Aeri shakes her head, nails biting into your back. It’s hot white pain, you realise. She’s breaking through layers of skin.

Fuck, that’s filthy. Your eyes find her cunt. The ring clenching rhythmically against the strap. It’s so clear that you could almost feel it yourself. Aeri’s cunt on your cock.

“Are you gonna say something?” She’s too quiet. You’d do anything to hear her say some prissy shit into your ear. To be bratty and deny you. “Or has this dick got you acting on your best behaviour?” 

Your hands are a mess, switching between pinching and kneading her breasts, holding yourself up (or holding Aeri down), and keeping her legs spread wide open. 

Still no answer. Maybe you’ve actually won.

A laugh bubbles up and you double your efforts, making Aeri screech and claw further down your back. She’s already started to roll her hips to meet yours. It’s messy, filthy fucking. Your clothes are crumpled, bottoms stained with her juices, making them look like you’ve wet yourself.

“You just wanted me to fuck you. God, what a slut, paying $100 for a quick fix.”

Aeri shakes her head, she’s trying to fight for her composure. “You were taking pictures of me first.”

Her words bring an idea to your mind. “Because you paid, whore. You expect me to believe you didn’t want this when your pussy is this tight around me?”

The camera you had discarded next to the beanbag. You flick it on, and yank the strap out of her cunt. It flutters indiscriminately. Aeri’s hands flash down to the strap, trying to coax it back inside, her hips scooping like if she tried hard enough she could be filled again. Focusing on the wet mess of her crotch, you manage to capture a photo.

Shiny and slick, pink, swollen with want. Her hand in the corner, wrapped around your stick cock. You can’t hold back a groan. The photo is purely pornographic. 

“Look at you.” The camera is flipped, pushed into her face. “Your slutty cunt needs this.”

Aeri’s unfocused eyes take a moment to zero in on the picture. Almost immediately, they blow out along with a filthy fucking moan.

“More.” She yanks on the strap, ungracefully grinding it on her clit. “I’m fucking paying you for photos.”

Her eyes lock onto yours. “Take. More.”

She doesn’t have to ask again.

It’s clumsy from then on out. You only have one hand to keep her legs split, one hand to hold yourself up. The other is for photos.

Anytime her cunt gushes and your head gets dizzy with arousal, you line up a picture. Anytime she sucks in a moan and you smear your thumb against her clit, you line up a picture. 

She’s so pretty and pink. You’re obsessed. Even the prickling pain of her nails sinking into skin and leaving pulsing red lines aren’t enough to make you stop.

You don’t even notice when she starts to squirm, completely and utterly overstimulated.

“Park. Fucking…” A pained moan. “Stop- Hurts.”

You snap a final picture, creamy arousal dripping down onto the beanbag, a wet spot underneath, big enough that she’d have to wash the entire thing to cover it up.

Aeri pushes a foot into your stomach, forcing your centre of gravity off place and pushing you onto your butt. The strap pops out of her hole and she slaps a hand to her mouth, muffling a cry.

Her cunt is swollen, creamy and so so so pinky raw. It’s impossible for you not to scramble back to your knees, one hand already pulling her folds apart to get the best shot.

The shutter clicks and it’s stored away in the memory card forever.

Then there’s a breath of air and you loosen the harness, letting it drop to the floor. 

Hypothetically, not that you had thought about this before, you would have pushed Aeri over and found some part of her body to grind out your own orgasm on. It was only fair — 1-1.

But you don’t feel the need to. It was relieving just to get her to shut up for a moment and let you take all semblance of control. Even if it meant she was 1-0. Plus, you hadn’t even noticed when she had finally cummed on the strap.

Fucked that you were letting Aeri not pay you back. Then again, $100 was payment enough.

Oh.

Your phone is empty of notifications when you pull it from your pocket, but the time blinks back at you. 

16:07.

You can’t help the bark of laughter that falls out. It’s past the hour. Another paycheck for you.

“What are you laughing at?” Aeri’s mumbles are clear enough for you to decipher. She lifts her head just enough to let you glimpse her half-lidded eyes.

Crawling back, you shove the phone in her face.

“Seven past.” You grin. It takes a moment before she groans, sinking her head back into the beanbag.

1-1.

You win.

NOTE: is this finished? mmhhhhhhhh not really (i was gon write them fucking another round but i wasn't horny enough rah rah blah blah) goddamn it

[byoldervine]

Writing Tips - Beating Perfectionism

1. Recognising writing perfectionism. It’s not usually as literal as “This isn’t 100% perfect and so it is the worst thing ever”, in my experience it usually sneaks up more subtly. Things like where you should probably be continuing on but if you don’t figure out how to word this paragraph better it’s just going to bug you the whole time, or where you’re growing demotivated because you don’t know how to describe the scene 100% exactly as you can imagine it in your head, or things along those lines where your desire to be exact can get in the way of progression. In isolated scenarios this is natural, but if it’s regularly and notably impacting your progress then there’s a more pressing issue

2. Write now, edit later. Easier said than done, which always infuriated me until I worked out how it translates into practice; you need to recognise what the purpose of this stage of the writing process is and when editing will hinder you more than help you. Anything up to and including your first draft is purely done for structural and creative purposes, and trying to impose perfection on a creative process will naturally stifle said creativity. Creativity demands the freedom of imperfection

3. Perfection is stagnant. We all know that we have to give our characters flaws and challenges to overcome since, otherwise, there’s no room for growth or conflict or plot, and it ends up being boring and predictable at best - and it’s just the same as your writing. Say you wrote the absolute perfect book; the perfect plot, the perfect characters, the perfect arcs, the perfect ending, etc etc. It’s an overnight bestseller and you’re discussed as a literary great for all time. Everyone, even those outside of your target demographic, call it the perfect book. Not only would that first require you to turn the perfect book into something objective, which is impossible, but it would also mean that you would either never write again, because you can never do better than your perfect book, or you’ll always write the exact same thing in the exact same way to ensure constant perfection. It’s repetitive, it’s boring, and all in all it’s just fearful behaviour meant to protect you from criticism that you aren’t used to, rather than allowing yourself to get acclimated to less than purely positive feedback

4. Faulty comparisons. Comparing your writing to that of a published author’s is great from an analytical perspective, but it can easily just become a case of “Their work is so much better, mine sucks, I’ll never be as good as them or as good as any ‘real’ writer”. You need to remember that you’re comparing a completely finished draft, which likely underwent at least three major edits and could have even had upwards of ten, to wherever it is you’re at. A surprising number of people compare their *first* draft to a finished product, which is insanity when you think of it that way; it seems so obvious from this perspective why your first attempt isn’t as good as their tenth. You also end up comparing your ability to describe the images in your head to their ability to craft a new image in your head; I guarantee you that the image the author came up with isn’t the one their readers have, and they’re kicking themselves for not being able to get it exactly as they themselves imagine it. Only the author knows what image they’re working off of; the readers don’t, and they can imagine their own variation which is just as amazing

5. Up close and too personal. Expanding on the last point, just in general it’s harder to describe something in coherent words than it is to process it when someone else prompts you to do so. You end up frustrated and going over it a gazillion times, even to the point where words don’t even look like words anymore. You’ve got this perfect vision of how the whole story is supposed to go, and when you very understandably can’t flawlessly translate every single minute detail to your satisfaction, it’s demotivating. You’re emotionally attached to this perfect version that can’t ever be fully articulated through any other medium. But on the other hand, when consuming other media that you didn’t have a hand in creating, you’re viewing it with perfectly fresh eyes; you have no ‘perfect ideal’ of how everything is supposed to look and feel and be, so the images the final product conjures up become that idealised version - its no wonder why it always feels like every writer except you can pull off their visions when your writing is the only one you have such rigorous preconceived notions of

6. That’s entertainment. Of course writing can be stressful and draining and frustrating and all other sorts of nasty things, but if overall you can’t say that you ultimately enjoy it, you’re not writing for the right reasons. You’ll never take true pride in your work if it only brings you misery. Take a step back, figure out what you can do to make things more fun for you - or at least less like a chore - and work from there

7. Write for yourself. One of the things that most gets to me when writing is “If this was found and read by someone I know, how would that feel?”, which has lead me on multiple occasions to backtrack and try to be less cringe or less weird or less preachy or whatever else. It’s harder to share your work with people you know whose opinions you care about and whose impressions of you have the potential of shifting based on this - sharing it to strangers whose opinions ultimately don’t matter and who you’ll never have to interact with again is somehow a lot less scary because their judgements won’t stick. But allowing the imaginary opinions of others to dictate not even your finished project, but your unmoderated creative process in general? Nobody is going to see this without your say so; this is not the time to be fussing over how others may perceive your writing. The only opinion that matters at this stage is your own

8. Redirection. Instead of focusing on quality, focusing on quantity has helped me to improve my perfectionism issues; it doesn’t matter if I write twenty paragraphs of complete BS so long as I’ve written twenty paragraphs or something that may or may not be useful later. I can still let myself feel accomplished regardless of quality, and if I later have to throw out whole chapters, so be it

9. That’s a problem for future me. A lot of people have no idea how to edit, or what to look for when they do so, so having a clear idea of what you want to edit by the time the editing session comes around is gonna be a game-changer once you’re supposed to be editing. Save the clear work for when you’re allocating time for it and you’ll have a much easier and more focused start to the editing process. It’ll be more motivating than staring blankly at the intimidating word count, at least

10. The application of applications. If all else fails and you’re still going back to edit what you’ve just wrote in some struggle for the perfect writing, there are apps and websites that you can use that physically prevent you from editing your work until you’re done with it. If nothing else, maybe it can help train you away from major edits as you go

[thisreadswhatever]

Only Mine

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.4k

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, jealous overprotective Jax, angst, short fight scene (if you can even call it that), car sex, oral f receiving, teasing, unfinished sex

[authors note]: I had this idea floating around for awhile and then this request inspired the rest! thank you!

“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” 

You were along the bar, chin in palm, blinking your lashes at the man sitting beside you. He smiled back wryly. He was pretty perfect. Clean cut, slightly muscular, no tats covering him from top to bottom, no bike sitting in the parking lot. He was a little cocky, aware of his good looks, and in all honesty, any other day he’d be the type of guy you’d usually find pretty boring. But for tonight, he’d be a welcome distraction. 

“So you’re really here alone?” the man asked, looking around as he took a sip from the glass in front of him. 

You smiled back, twisting a strand of hair into your fingers as you sipped your beer, “that surprise you?” 

“Someone like you doesn’t come around here often. Can't imagine you haven’t been snatched up yet.” 

Technically, he was right. Jax and you hadn’t spoken in days, and although the mutual silence was a regular occurrence, you somehow always found a way back to each other. It never had been made ‘official’, but it never really needed to be. You both stuck to each other like the end poles of magnets, impossible to keep apart yet impossible to stay together. You and Jax were a burning flame amongst a sea of trees condemned to an endless drought. Your love was toxic and infuriating, and it pained you both how hurtful you could be to one another. Yet for some reason, you always went back. You’d reconnect, one of you would fuck up, and then it was back to square one all over again. 

“Haven’t found the one yet”, you teased. 

He gestured to the bartender with his hand, “can I buy you another beer?” 

You smiled politely back at him, “you can buy me as many as you want.”

You picked up your drink and pulled his hand with your other as you led him to one of the quiet booths settled at the back of the bar. You spent the next hour cosying up to your stranger, soaking in the attention he gave you. He was overly attentive and extremely polite, almost a little too nice for your liking. No roughness on the edges, no fight in him. Just a gentleman through and through. You sat inches from each other, tension building as the drinks continued to appear. 

“Can I kiss you?” The man asked as he leaned in, hovering above your face. It wasn’t often you were asked to be kissed. You stared into his eyes through your long lashes, nodding in approval.

He smiled shyly into your lips as they pressed against his. He was gentle, his hands slowly moving to your waist, never straying further. 

He laid back into the bench, taking a sip from his beer. “You know I never did catch your name.” 

You didn’t want to share anything with this stranger, the anonymity bringing less questions and expectations. 

“Later.” 

You cupped his face in your hand, grazing his jaw with your fingertips as you brought his mouth to yours again.

He was nice, but the longer you spent kissing your gentle stranger, the more you yearned to be in the hands of your depraved biker. Jax was urgent and desperate for you each time you were in his arms. There was a mutual desire that turned you both into crazed maniacs when you were together. It was something you’d searched for every time you were with someone else, because nobody you’d ever come across had given you that same feeling. 

Jax had a way of turning you into the only girl in the world. Until he was fucking the next croweater who threw themselves at him the following day. 

Tonight, you were going to allow yourself to enjoy the gentlemen in front of you. You leaned back into the bench, trying to edge him on top of you as you sunk into the bench against his lips.

You were so entangled in your stranger that you never even noticed him arrive with half of The Club. It wasn’t until you were interrupted by the break in your lips as he was pulling the man off you by his shirt, forcing him to the floor as he was knocked flat on his back. 

“Jax!”

“Dude! What the fu-“ he tried to stand up, but Jax placed his shoe directly on his chest, crushing him to the ground. The man grunted under the weight, failing to pry the shoe off of him. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He pressed down into the man’s chest harder, restraining himself from crushing his rib cage all together. 

The stranger looked at you with wide eyes, trying to speak through the force compounding his lungs, “she said she was alone!” 

Jax smiled at him as he laid spread out on the dirty bar floor. 

“I don’t give shit what she said. Your time is up, pretty boy.”  

You were ashamed to admit that you thoroughly enjoyed watching Jax furious with envy over you, but you did feel bad for the innocent guy beneath his sneaker. 

“Get the fuck off him, Jax.” 

He glanced up at you, taking a long look at your flushed pink cheeks and swollen lips.

The crowded bar was now zoned in on your table, watching and entertained by the drama unfolding. Chibs, Juice and Bobby guarded the table, ensuring no onlookers got in the way of Jax’s jealous fuelled rage. 

He picked the man up by his collar, pulling him to his feet as he threw him against the wall. Jax gripped at his jaw, lifting his chin to force his eyes towards you at the bench. “I suggest you apologise for bothering my girl.” 

“Jax don’t be ridiculous-“ 

He ignored you, glaring at the man in his grasp, tightening the grip on his collar. 

“I’m sorry, okay!” 

“Not to me, asshole. To her.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching as he tormented the innocent stranger you had set yourself upon.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.” His voice cracked from the hold Jax had on his collar, draining the circulation from his neck.

Jax shoved the man off the wall, releasing him as he was once again flown across the laminate. He stumbled to regain his balance before he started running, bolting for the exit. He disappeared at the speed of light, chuckles from Juice and Chibs echoing through the bar as he ran. 

You stood up from the bench, storming off in anger for the door. 

Jax followed you into the empty, dark car park outside the bar. His hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched you slump against the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the pavement. You put a cigarette to your mouth as you searched for a lighter in your bag. You hadn’t felt tipsy until the air hit you, realising your head was spinning.

He paced over to you, crouching forward with his lighter, igniting the cigarette between your lips. 

“You’re such a prick sometimes, you know that?” 

Jax slid down the wall beside you, his legs bent slightly at the knees as he sighed to himself, lighting his own cigarette. “Not gonna argue with that.” 

He exhaled a large cloud of smoke as he spoke, “but you were basically fucking that guy in an open bar, y/n.” 

“First of all, no I wasn’t.” 

He chuckled, amused by your irritation. 

“And second of all, what the fuck has that got to do with you? You’re the one who decided to get knee deep in Ima last week, again.” 

“I told you I was drunk.” 

“And now I’m drunk too”, you protested.

He shook his head as smoke escaped his lips, fingers twirling the silver lighter in his hands. “That isn’t going to happen again.”

Your head fell back as you groaned at his promise, leaning against the hard brick behind you. “Yeah, ‘cause I haven’t heard that one before.” 

He smiled, nudging your leg with his playfully. “You know I mean it. Doesn’t matter who I’m inside, there's only one face I see.” 

You turned your head towards him, leaning your face on his shoulder. “I’m tired of this, Jax. You and your mommy issues are giving me whiplash.” 

“Yeah, well your baggage ain’t so easy to handle either.” He placed a hand over the back of your head, stroking your hair as he spoke.

You responded with a punch to his knee, swaying his leg. “You can’t just keep beating men up because they’re interested in me. That guy was actually sweet.” 

He threw his cigarette across the pavement before he grasped his hands into your hair, entangling his fingers between the strands. He crushed his lips against yours, his tongue lapping into your mouth. His fingers smoothed against your face, the feeling of his cold rings brushing against your cheek. Your foreheads connected as your eyes closed, resting silently along each other. “I can be sweet too.” 

You chuckled, playfully biting his lip. “You’re a sweet, jealous prick, Teller.”

He pulled into you once more, pecking your lips slowly before escalating into your lips, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him there in the lot, surrounded by empty parked cars in the dead of night. His hands gripped at your waist, pulling your body tighter to him, the feeling of his erection pressing into your jeans. Your hands twisted into his hair, holding his head against yours. He smirked against your lips, trailing his hands lower to your ass, as he secured his hands in your back pockets. He stroked your cheek with his nose, kissing the pink tinted skin.

“I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.” 

Your mouth found his as you raised your eyebrows, mumbling into his lips, “then take what's yours.”

He grinned, lifting you in one swift motion from his lap, standing you up against him. He pulled you across the parking lot as you stumbled drunk, trying to keep up. He led you to your car, opened the back door and pushed you flat against the back seat. 

Jax laid above you, planting himself between your legs. He angled himself between the seats, crushing his mouth against yours. His touch was ravenous, ripping the buttons from your jeans waistband as he pulled the denim from your ass. You giggled as he struggled to get them off entirely between the leather of the flat seat. You lifted yourself up, helping as he removed them. He pulled at your shirt, lifting it higher to expose the skin around your stomach as he leaned into you, gnawing at the skin in short pecks from your navel to your now exposed panties. You grasped at his hair as he claimed you with his warm mouth, suffocating himself into the fabric that covered your mound. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking soaked for me.” He groaned at the taste of your slick pooling into the cotton, pulling your panties to the side. He circled his tongue against your clit, watching you, utterly mesmerised as you whimpered at the sensation. He rolled his thumb against your dripping fold, “this pretty cunt is mine.” 

Vibrations filled your entire being as he nuzzled into your mound, lapping his tongue repeatedly against your slick, his hands lifting your ass to push deeper into you. You tugged at the roots of his blonde hair, drunken moans of his name filling the car park as you struggled to keep quiet. He pulled away, his face glistening from your juices as he smirked at you, caressing his fingers against your pussy. “You want your sweet guy to finish you off?”

Your head fell back at the taunt, “c’mon Jax, don’t- stop-”

He pulled your panties down your ass, exposing your cunt entirely. His tongue stroked you, prodding at your swollen nub, before hesitating again. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“Fuck, Jax- I’m- yours. I’m only yours.” The words trailed slowly from your gritted teeth, your head swirling from the feeling and the beer. You chased for his mouth, drawing your hips up closer to his face.

“Look at me when you tell me.”

You used all your might to lift your head from the seat, finding his eyes staring into yours, fire blazing within them. You spoke between your sharpened breaths, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I said- I’m yours.”

“I can’t hear you, darlin’. You’re only what?” 

Your head collapsed into the leather seat, cries escaping your lips as you squirmed your hips higher to find his mouth again. “I’m yours- Jax- shit-”

“That’s my pretty girl.” 

He stoked his tongue against your clit, enjoying every moment as you pleaded through your moans for him to take you to your climax. He was revelling in your anguish as he teased at your cunt. He played with your folds again, his fingers caressing the soaking skin. 

“No other man comes near my pussy, isn’t that right?”

You groaned in response, his claim on you sending you further into spiral. “No- no one else.”

His lips reconnected to your cunt, whimpers of desperation pouring from your lips. His fingers finally found your entrance, rewarding you as he slid into your seam, pushing you towards your release. 

He muttered into your mound, “you only cum for me.”

Your body exploded at his instruction, collapsing onto his fingers as they curled against your sweet spot, his mouth soaking in your orgasm. He delighted at your unravelling, his hands travelling your body as he found your breasts, kneading into the soft skin.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let go for me.” Your thighs shook around his face uncontrollably, squeezing his head into your cunt.

He released his hand from your mound, hovering over you as his lips laid flush against yours. He danced around your mouth, forcing you to taste your slick that covered his tongue. Jax straddled over your hips, holding himself up against the headrest of the seat as his throbbing cock found your entrance. He positioned himself, sliding between the folds, a squeal escaping your throat as he filled you entirely. 

Before he could fuck you senseless, a loud repeated bang was heard against the hood of the car, startling you both.

“Jackie boy! We gotta go!”

Jax collapsed against you, groaning in frustration. If you weren’t so drunk from Jax and the beer, you would’ve been furious. Instead you giggled, amused by the interruption, “Chib’s and his impeccable timing.” He sighed, his head resting against your chest. 

He pulled out from you, as you rushed to put your underwear back in its place. He smirked against your mouth as he kissed you one last time, parting your lips between his, "guess I’ll just have to finish claiming you later.”

read part two here

[deadbeat-motel]

ᐯᗩGGIE ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᒪIE ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

These two are simpler than the angel dust design I did since I didn't have a lot to go off of. Posted on Valentine's Day because yes I can.

I don't think Charlie is significantly different from her Pilot design because I genuinely think it was the best design from the cast (before the redesign).

Thoughts below, though TW for the creepy charlie image at the end:

My issues with their Original designs:

Vaggie:

The giant "X" over her eye is really distracting and even world-breaking because

1. Why had no one put 2 and 2 together that the only character in Hell who has a visible 'X' mark on her face might be related to the angels who also sport that X mark on their faces.

2. Why is it shaped like an X? Her eye was taken out via a single slash.

3. If the hair's purpose was to cover it, why would it show through it? What's the point of the hair then?

The hair that was supposed to cover that wounded eye looked so ugly and confused as to what it should be doing. I mean every shot that showed that thing in a sideview shot of Vaggie felt like the animators had to make their own guesses as to how that was supposed to look like. It was distracting for me personally and I hated it so much.

It's been said over and over again, but her clothes look like she works at McDonalds. I get needing to change her outfit so that she looks like she works at the hotel, but it's just been poorly designed.

Why change her clothes' colors from white to red? the white helped her stand out from Hell and the Hotel's majority red background. (In the finale, she at least has a non-red attire)

She's also one of the very few women in HH and she falls under the skinny stick side of it despite being an angel exterminator.

Her hair is kind of hard to visualize looking at in any way other than what it is when it's static. However, when it changed into a ponytail or a bob, it's actually really nice to look at.

Unsure of what that bow's purpose is for the design.

Charlie:

Charlie is a simple but very confused design. The pilot design was a lot more coherent than the current show design

It's disappointing to see the bouncy Pilot hair go and be replaced by that boring bubble braid of all things.

Her undershirt peaks out of her tuxedo.... why???? to separate the top jacket and the pants? You wouldn't need to do that if her pants were a different color like the pilot design.

Thought about it and was confused, as a demon with an angelic father, why didn't she have wings as well? She didn't need the 6 wings like Lucifer but maybe a pair of one would appear?

Out of all the characters for the show's redesign, Her's was by far the MOST infuriating to me. Her pilot design wasn't perfect but it was good, they had to downgrade her for some reason.

I didn't have much to say about Charlie. it basically sums up to "the Pilot design was better".

On to the thought process for these two:

Valerie the fallen:

Yes, she got a rename. Sue me.

I had to remove the moth aspect of her design because it doesn't seem like it makes sense for a heaven-born to follow the sinner's rule of "gaining features based on the life you lived" since she basically never lived right?

In this redesign (and eventual rewrite), Valerie is not ashamed of her exterminator background. In fact, she was known as the most recent "fallen" in hell. her short stature doesn't make her less of a threat to the demons.

She's also visually thick with muscle because why not let one of the show's women have a body type that isn't stick-thin?

She's using the wings that were torn off of her as both an interesting article of clothing and as a way to remind others and her that she is (or more accurately 'was') an angel who could kill them if she wanted to.

Her clothes are pure black underneath the pale feathers to show that while she is an "angel", deep down, she is far from a good person.

She's also getting an actual skin color because from what I gathered myself from the show's heaven. Most of the souls there still retain a human appearance (Adam, Lute, St. Peter, and the other random human angels up there still look human..... but just don't mind the fact that most of them are white.)

Her hair is that ponytail she had in the finale because as much as I didn't like that episode, some designs looked actually decent.

Also, her hair actually covers the eye scar properly.

I wanted to keep her ribbon as a splash of brightness on her design but the OG ribbon looks a little out of place on a warrior so It became that (Plus it pays homage to her OG moth influence with its shape looking like the fluffy antennas of the moth)

Gave the spearhead a little bit of detail on it plus a chipped side so that it has a bit of charm as an old weapon she still decides to keep around.

A note about Valerie's design is that I haven't tackled the armor of angels yet so I was unsure of what pieces of the undesigned armor to give Valerie as of now.

Charlie:

I honestly actually enjoyed her Pilot hair, so I tried to put it back and also simplify it a bit so there are not a lot of strands for me to keep track of. Plus it was a genuinely cute design for her. (There's a reason that version was used in the Verbalase video.) <- I'M JOKING

Replaced her button nose with a goat's because a friend has commented how it looked like the noses of the women in a Goofy Movie and I will never be able to unsee that.

Her hair is also a lot brighter compared to her washed-out blonde color.

She has the same design thought process as Valerie, Covering the darkness of her true nature with white fluffy fur which is stylized like feathers at its ends. She has pitch-black skin underneath and looks like a proper nightmarish demon like the image below.

I ditched the tuxedo look, since almost all the cast has a similar outfit already, and gave her a jumpersuit instead. (Idk what it's really called but that's what I think it is). It's a light grey because she's a mix of bad and good (though a bright grey because she prefers to be on the good side)

Her horns are there and visible because yeah it's cute but also helps her read as the half-angel/half-demon character she is.

Tiny goat tail because can you imagine every time Valerie holds the rare angel smile of approval, her tail is visibly wagging in glee and excitement???? My heart would die. I love these lesbians with my life.

Has wings from her father.

Anyways, those are my thoughts and redesigns... I wanted to add more details to them but I didn't really know what to add that didn't feel unnecessary.

Also bonus! Concept art of Charlie's true form:

[muniimyg]

3: the favourite snacks // series m.list

note: ohhh... it's kinda cute here ;) how are we liking them? lmk ur thoughts! oc's moment to shine is coming soon !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

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//

As usual, Jungkook interrupts your reading time. Before, it didn’t mean much. Before, he would quietly sit beside you and mind his own business until he got out of his mind bored. Then, he would bug you and you would have no choice but to put your book down. You didn't mind it before. Before, it was whatever.

However, the scene is different today.

Today, he ran to the library after his lecture and couldn’t find you. Disappointed, Jungkook turned his heels to head home… But as fate would have it; he found you along the way.

At the sight of you, right then and there, Jungkook decided that this was his favourite season. 

The season of you.

How could it not be when this… You… Are just so beautiful? As you sit on the grass, leaning against the tree trunk, the wind gently blows cherry blossom petals around you. It’s beautiful. It looks magical.. Like it was fake. I mean, it had to be right? You look so perfect. It looks like those made-up scenes in movies. Jungkook rubs his eyes to make sure it isn’t. This is real life. 

This is you. 

However, his dream-like state of mind is shaken awake when he approaches you, and you refuse to give him the time of day.

First, he stands in front of you and greets you warmly. You ignore him. Then, he sits down beside you and nudges you. Even though your body moves to his push, you still remain silent. Now, this is his last attempt before he loses his mind. 

Jungkook inches closer to you. You sit still, doing your best not to move away. You have to stay put. You have to stand your ground! But life gets 10 times more difficult because he smells so good. As he leans forward, he fixes your hair, and you're awestruck. He tucks your hair behind your ear, sending chills down your spine. You swear it’s just the cool breeze, but you know in your heart it’s him. 

He makes your heart race. 

He smells good.

He looks good, too.

It's no wonder your body betrays you. You squirm from his touch, unable to hold yourself still. It’s gentle and light—but it’s just so ticklish! As you react, Jungkook offers a smug smile. In return, you push his hand away and huff at him. 

“I’m not talking to you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops. 

“What? Why?” His mind spins with confusion. Meanwhile, you keep a straight face and go back to reading. “What did I do?”

Keeping your book up, you answer him without really answering him.

“You know what you did.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What could he have done? The last time he saw you was a few days ago. You two met up to have a quick study session together. It was the same routine! What could he have done wrong since then? Rather, what did he do wrong then?

“... I’m not really sure what I did wrong… Can I have a hint or something?” His tone is genuine and curious, making it harder for you to dish-out your anger.

So, you don’t respond.

Impatient and annoyed at your pettiness, he grabs your book and lowers it to see your face. 

Infuriated, you whine. “Hey! I’m reading—”

“—And I’m trying to talk to you.” Jungkook snaps. "Come on, ___. What's going on? Talk to me, please."

You glare at him, completely baffled at his audacity. Does he seriously think that he can play dumb? He can't. You won't let him.

“Well, I’m not talking to you.”

With an eyebrow raised, he speaks out his thoughts. “Why not? I don’t think I did anything wrong—”

“You lied to me!” You blurt. “You lied to me, and you know it. I looked so stupid!”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry. 

Lied to you?

About what?

He tries to run everything he has ever said to you back. He tries to remember everything from the moment you two first met to this very moment now… Every story he has ever said and every tiny side comment—yet, he can’t think of a time he was dishonest. He had no reason to lie to you! Talking to you is so easy because you’re such a good listener. If anything, talking to you has compelled him to be more honest… Jungkook reflects and concludes: no. He is not a liar. Besides, it’s not like he was hiding anything—

“You can skate,” you reveal. 

Jungkook blinks.

“Who told you?”

Fed up, you shove your book to Jungkook's chest. He lets it hit him and drop before reaching for your hands. Quickly, you swipe them away from him. No way is he holding your hand! Not after all the crap he just pulled.

Crossing your arms, you begin to confront him. “Yoongi and Jin were drinking last night. They called me and teased me about how dumb I was… How naive I was because you knew how to skate the entire time! I took the time to teach you how to skate because you kept falling—a-and to what? Find out you were pretending the entire time? W-why would you do that? Why would you lie to me?” 

Oh, it’s bad. 

It’s pathetically horrible how Jungkook is so into you right now.

It melts his heart how you could be this serious and hurt over this little fib. This has to be the cutest thing you could ever do… Be mad at him for wanting to hold your hand just because he was mischievous about it. 

He wants to laugh. He wants to tell you that you’re cute and the entire thing was just a stupid boy-coded play… But, considering how bruise-hearted you’re acting… Jungkook thinks twice about it. 

Then, he decides to give in and abide by your needs. 

Answers.

You want answers and answers is what he’ll give you. 

“First of all: you’re not dumb,” Jungkook reassures you. You make a sour face and shake your head at him.

Groaning, you tell him: “Yes, I am! I looked like a total idiot trying to teach you how to skate when you’re literally a hockey player—”

“Second, I’m not a hockey player,” he chuckles. 

With a half smile, you return: “Right… You’re just a liar.”

Okay. 

… He deserved that. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or do… Honestly, what are you supposed to say or do? The issue is ridiculous but at the same time, he understands you feel deceived. So… now what? 

Honesty. 

“Okay… I admit it,” Jungkook sighs, accepting his defeat. “I lied to you about not knowing how to skate. I’m a liar. I’m sorry—”

“Ah ha!” you point your finger at him. Then, you poke his chest. “That's why I’m not talking to you—”

“But I’m apologizing—”

You shush him. “Doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. Like... Oh my goodness, Jungkook! I’m so embarrassed! It’s bad enough that—”

“—That I like you?” Jungkook interrupts you. You’re tongue-tied, unable to find words to deny or confirm. With shaky eyes, he does his best to look at you with the sincerest gaze. “I refuse to apologize for my feelings."

"It's not about your feelings—"

Jungkook plays smart. He's all in anyways. "Okay. Fine, it's not about my feelings. It's about yours, okay? ___, I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to hold your hand… Is it that bad? Am I that awful for wanting to hold your hand?”

Slowly, you shake your head. You didn't meant to make him feel bad about his feelings for you! That wasn't the point. The point was... Well..

Oh, god.

What was the point again?

Your words beat your thoughts. “N-no… I just… I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Jungkook looks at you softly, and it makes your heart stumble. Booping your nose, his lips curve into a smirk.

“It’s called flirting, dummy.”

“Hmph,” you pout, turning your face away from him. Under your breath, you mutter, “... So you’re calling me dumb too, huh?”

Jungkook panics. “W-what? No! That’s not what I—”

Without much thought, he grabs your hand and squeezes it. You turn to him, eyeing the way he’s holding your hand. You send him a look, and immediately, he drops your hand and puts it up in surrender. Then, he reaches for his backpack and unzips it. 

“Look! I know my apology doesn’t mean much to you right now, but it’s true. I am so sooo sorry, ___. I’ll deal with the guys. I’ll tell them to shut up and drop it. You’re not dumb—okay?” Jungkook digs inside his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag filled with various items. “Snacks! I was at the convenience store... Then, I suddenly thought of you. So, I bought your favourite snacks. Then I headed to the library but then you weren’t there… And now I’m here—a-and there’s so many! So many snacks, ___! There’s banana milk, some Yakult, and oh, I even bought that cup with the fancy ice—”

“... Is that pocky?” You shift, taking a small peek.

Jungkook’s eyes light up. He nods, shaking the bag in front of you. “Almond crush… Cos I have a crush on you—” You sit up and send him a warning look. Jungkook leans his body back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay! Sorry! Almond crush is for me… The strawberry pocky is for you… Your favourite, cutie.”

Biting your bottom lip, you give in.

Your heart can refuse Jungkook, but it remains powerless against strawberry pocky. Jungkook takes out your strawberry pocky first. You’re drooling at this point… Before you can hold your hand out and ask for the pocky, Jungkook already opens it for you. When he successfully gets through the box and rips the wrapper, he offers the pocky to you as a peace offering. 

Unspoken, he knows he’s forgiven the minute you take it from his hands. 

Yet, he plays it safe. He waits for you to get a few bites in and for the smile on your face to appear. Once it does, he smiles cheekily at you. 

“Still mad at me?”

Between chews, you reply, “Let me think..."

"Whatever you need to do, my smart girl."

You shove a few more pieces of pocky in your mouth. After you chew and he laughs at you, you voice your decision.

"Nope... Not mad at you anymore. We’re good.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he reaches for the top of your head. He ruffles your hair and continues to laugh to himself… Perhaps, it wasn’t just about the lie. You were hangry. Mentally, he notes to always keep strawberry pocky in his bag. In case of future screw-ups or of hangry ___ moments. 

When he’s sure your mood has improved completely, he opens his pocky. 

You watch as he does so. Jungkook takes a bite out of his pocky stick and moans in approval. As he eats, he takes a moment to look out at the view of the rest of the field. Jungkook takes it all in. Other students are sitting on the grass, under the other cherry blossom trees, and even playing. It's a calm late afternoon, and he can't help but think about how much he likes this moment.

How the raspberry lemonade sky is peering over the horizon. How you're beside him. How cool the spring breeze is... It just feels so good to be with you.

“This is a nice spot!" He tells you. "I like the view. I like you—"

"You're ruining my peace," you complain. Shutting your eyes, you focus on the pocky. "But yeah, it's a nice spot. I found it while I had that whole week of avoiding you."

Jungkook laughs. "So I found your new hideout? Sorry, not sorry."

You shrug and point at the Yakult inside the bag. He digs in the bag and takes it out. Like the pocky, he prepares it before giving it to you. When he hands you the drink, you take a sip.

"Can this be our spot?"

You choke.

Jungkook's shoulders drop, finding it hilarious and also a little offending at the same time. Was it really this hard to flirt with you? Are you this childish? He never noticed.

It's annoying that his feelings only grow even more.

"Oh my god," he moves closer to you and pats your back. You take another sip to help relieve your throat. As you recover, he lectures you. "Fine. You can have this damn spot."

When he moves back to his spot, you sit and stare at him. Jungkook continues to eat his pocky. Moving on, he pushes the conversation forward.

"Ahh, I forgot how good this is. Almond is the best.” 

You tilt your head at him, wondering what it’s like to be completely wrong about a simple thing. It's like all your pressing thoughts dismissed themselves.

“Strawberry is better,” you claim. You say it rather simply. You say it honestly.

Jungkook copies your head tilt. 

“Strawberry is overhyped,” he argues with you. “Almond is more expensive. The ingredients are more worth it. It’s not just a fruit-flavored cream—”

You huff at him. “Strawberry is not overhyped! Just because it’s cheaper doesn’t mean it’s worth less—”

“Actually… It does.”

The anger that you had earlier? The one that went away? Yeah… It’s back. 

Fuming, you begin your rant. “Strawberry is classic. Almond was made because people got bored of chocolate, so they added almonds to trick people into thinking it was completely different… It's the same thing! Strawberry is an original flavour like—” As you explain, you put another stick in between your lips and suck on the cream. “Mhmm! It’s the best—”

Your words cut off. 

Not because Jungkook retaliates. 

Not because you’re chewing your pocky. 

No. 

It’s because Jungkook dips his head low and takes a bite out of the other end of your pocky stick. He pulls away rather quickly, but it happens… 

It happened. 

His lips brushed against yours. 

Oh my god. 

Jeon Jungkook kissed you! 

Wide-eyed, you pause for a second. Then, you panic. “W-what—”

“Mhmm.. I guess it’s okay,” Jungkook swallows his bite. “I think I still like—”

“Y-you kissed me!” you exclaim, bringing your hands to your lips. 

Jungkook blinks at you.

“No, I didn’t.”

“J-Jungkook," you breathe, “are you gaslighting me? You literally just kissed me!”

Your mind is spinning.

How the heck did that just happen? One second you’re defending strawberry pocky with your life, and the next… You feel more alive than ever. Jungkook has always been sneaky, but you never expected this. It was so innocent yet so mischievous—you have no words!

Perhaps, your inability to explain how you truly feel is what frustrates you and causes you to sound so naggy. 

On the other hand, Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. He has no issues facing the repercussions. In his heart, he knows he’s just following it… So, why does it matter? This is him taking a chance. This is him… Winning. 

This is you folding. 

“___, that was not a kiss.” Jungkook reasons with you. “Why? Are you upset because you wanted it to be?"

No words. 

"It's okay to be disappointed," he adds. "I'm disappointed you don't want to share this spot with me. The library is boring as fuck so I don't really want it to be our spot, you know—"

“Y-you’ve got to be k-kidding me!” you cry. “Leave the library alone, you hater."

"... Okay?" Jungkook snickers. "You're greedy today. Do you always have to be right? Is that a thing I should know about you, future girlfriend?"

"Future what?" your eyes bulge. "O-okay, fine. Fine! You win. It wasn’t a kiss. It was horrible anyway. I expected more—”

Jungkook squints at you. “We didn’t even kiss, and you’re already accusing me of being a bad kisser? Damn, at least let me prove you wrong.”

Shaking your head profusely. “T-that’s not what I’m saying! I’m sure you’re an excellent kisser—in fact, I should brace myself, right? B-because you’re probably going to kiss me one of these day, and I’ll—”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You pause. 

“W-what?”

“You heard the question,” Jungkook inches closer to you. In your mind, your body stiffens… In reality, you’re melting. Your body slightly leans in towards him and Jungkook has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Y-you already did.”

“You said it wasn't a kiss... Who's the liar now?"

You stay silent. Partly because you have no words and partly because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't speak.

Jungkook presses on. "You’re not answering my question…”

Silence.

Then, as he speaks again, you realize you're stuck either way… You’re too shy to actually say the words, but he will take your silence, and find the truth. Or... You can say it for yourself. So, okay.

Fine.

You give in.

“Y-you can do what you want. I just… I thought you already kissed me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you for the second time this afternoon. “No, silly… If I kissed you, it would’ve been like this—”

Before you know it, it happens. 

It really happens. 

Soft, slow, and sweetly—Jeon Jungkook kisses you.

He kisses you under the cherry blossom tree with the raspberry lemonade sky above, and the spring breeze. He kisses you until you can't breathe, and your heart falls for him. Jungkook kisses you in your spot.

The spot.

Yours and his.

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re a gym rat… (some 18+)

… price

- gets back into it. has always had a certain level of physique he’s had to keep up being in the army, but he isn’t the young sergeant he once was anymore. still, he usually jogs twice a week and lifts some weights when time allows.

- that is, until you start pulling him along. early morning leg sessions with the sunrise and lighthearted planking contests during the footie halftime. equally enjoys getting back into the workout game, spending time with you and getting to look at your body in the tight gym wear. especially loves the the soft pudge at the bottom of your stomach and the way all of you jiggle when you do burpees.

- showers with you after the fact. long, steamy showers in each other’s arms. no sex in there (you’re both sore and the floor is slippery), but it’s not necessary. you’re content with the hot water massaging your spent muscles and the feeling of your solid lover around you.

… kyle

- hypes you up. already spends more time in the gym than you do, so he knows every exercise and machine in and out. eagerly teaches you everything and anything you ask him about. never lets anyone else spot you, always does it himself. especially likes spotting your squats.

- follows your pace, whether that means exhausting himself for you or slowing down for you. will join you on hill sprints and long distance runs, but is thankful he gets to hold the stop watch and blow the whistle when you do beep tests.

- thinks the act of exercising together can be as intimate as sex itself. getting to observe and explore each other bodies, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. half of it is a mental game and not too unlike kink, he thinks, as you groan and contort your face while pushing your feet into to ground, tensing your muscles into the belt to help with the deadlift. he nods approvingly when you straighten your back and breath out at the top of the lift. ‘one more for me, baby.’

… johnny

- eggs you on. like kyle, always helps you go harder, faster, longer, but does it by way of teasing. ‘that all, then? come oan, ye had more in ye last night.’ always toes the line between encouraging and infuriating, but to his credit he also tricks you into lifting the bar one more time instead of putting it down.

- jogs become races and walks become dogwalks. johnny is restless even if you’re both coming straight from an intense hiit-session. if you’ve decided on a leisurely pace, johnny will run ahead and circle back, take detours to look at interesting buildings and natural features, and constantly weave left and right on the path ahead or behind you, like a border collie.

- does not mind the sweat after a session. will eat you out in the parking lot until the car windows fog up. eventually pulls your panties back up and pat your belly over them, only to drive back home and do it all over again in the shower.

… ghost

- never leaves you. you’d think he keeps up a pretty strict routine with that pure strength he possesses, but he will drop anything if you suggest going hiking or practice a specific form. nothing is too boring, basic or easy if he’s doing it with you. that includes yoga, where you are actually leagues ahead of him in balance and flexibility. the only thing he has going for him is his sniper’s patience.

- effortlessly lifts the bar up when spotting your bench presses and you hit failure. leans down over the bar to kiss your nose while you catch your breath. ‘look at tha’. i’ll take ten kilos off, let’s end this on a high note.’ won’t hear your protests about how that’s not how it’s done, and make you do another rep with less weight, to keep the muscle memory of perfect form.

- ends each session with you practicing grip, which is something you both need to work on, you’ll hang face to face on the power rack and simultaneously try not to laugh while also gripping the bar for as long as you can. having an excuse to look you dead in the eyes is simon’s favourite part of each session.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:) Corporate: You work in R & D at a major corporation. You’ve been here for the last 4 years, in the same position as when you started. So when Jeon Jungkook, your old mentee from graduate school, starts working with you it shouldn’t bother you. Except he’s two positions higher than you, it infuriates you, and he can’t seem to understand why. https://yslkook.tumblr.com/post/633181521429331968/corporate-masterlist

Almost: Jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right? https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/645171463303970816/almost-m-jjk Right Now: Coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before Jungkook decides its time to move on? https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/652117962178904065/not-yet-almost-right-now-pairing-jungkook-x

Be Your Fantasy: Jungkook doesn’t have a lot of time before he needs to enlist for the military, so what happens when his best friends decide to set him up with the girl he’s had a crush on for longer than he’d like to admit? And what happens when you feel the same way about him?  https://www.tumblr.com/bubbaboae/748073194291904512

Beer: Jungkook comforts you after a bad date and then... https://www.tumblr.com/mikrokosmoslove/760181660804415488/beer

Done With Me? “Done with me, huh ?” Jungkook gruffs against your lips. The flavor of mint and some berry-flavored candy mixed with the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. He rolled his hips against you, spreading your walls with inch after delicious inch that you would never admit you missed. https://www.tumblr.com/breezybangtanbebe/760437998780284928/done-with-me-huh-exboyfriendjungkook-gruffs

Ignored Warnings: You’re bored. Jungkook’s playing his game. You decide to play a game of your own. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035276/chapters/29816328

Cold Nights & Blurred Lines: Jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part, but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. Is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? It definitely is. Will you do something about it? Both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46241500/chapters/116415910

Get Off The Floor: You order Jeon Jungkook to get off the floor. He says, “Make me.” You make him. Eventually. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/762115428767186944/get-off-the-floor-m-jjk Get On The Floor: You order Jeon Jungkook to get on the floor. He says, “Make me.” You make him get on his knees. The exact place he wants to be and the perfect place for him. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/762210059419877376/can-we-get-a-part-2-of-get-off-the-floor-it

[k3igol0ve]

⭑｡𖦹°‧ Betrayal. [ How breaking up with him would go // mean Keigo Takami.] — KEIGO TAKAMI X READER GENRE: HURT, ANGST.

; Somewhat canon divergence; " Enough is enough Keigo. "

Is love a temporary fleeting feeling? What did it take for someone to get bored of you? An important lesson you've learnt from Keigo; some people only crave a relationship for the feeling, for the attention you're giving them. They're obsessed with the idea of a relationship, they don't love you; they love the attention you give them. Besides, he could easily replace you couldn't he? Wrong, he'd never find another like you. No one would tolerate him as much as you did. Welcome to reality and Society, Keigo.

Unfair, it almost felt as if it was a one-sided relationship when it came to Keigo Takami. There you were, struggling to keep the relationship afloat, while Keigo played it off; almost as if he was indifferent. Communication with him was as good as talking to a brick wall, apparently you weren't allowed to show temperament, only he could. Only he could be annoyed, only he could be infuriated, only he could be disappointed. His feelings were placed above yours. He didn't care about what you thought, because he knew you'd never leave someone like him. You'd always have to be the one to mend things, even though it was never your fault, because he'd ignore you if you didn't. He'd act aloof as if nothing occurred while your thought rack up your guilt filled mind. Arguments were a result of Keigo's petty and irrational thinking and yet you'd be the one apologising. You couldn't be better than him, because he was the best. He thought of other people as lower beings, but he'd never say that in public to maintain his high and perfect reputation. He looked at the flaws of others, but never of his own; he only focused on his own perfection. His thinking was narrow minded. The best way to describe him; a narcissist, a selfish asshole; but you could never do anything about it. Keigo, could do anything and you wouldn't be able to say a single word. Hate him all you want, but you could never find the strength to leave him. Keigo could compliment other girls, comment on their appearance while comparing you to them. He humiliates you in the mean time, mocking you as someone lesser. So you'd decide you'd speak out against that, atleast attempt to communicate. But you know Keigo, it'd never work out. Instead of apologising, he plays it off. If he has it in him, he'd find a way to humiliate you more. " Maybe I wouldn't compliment them if you looked better, --" or maybe if you had what they did. Other times, he'd play it off as 'being part of his job' as a hero. He's sick of it, he's loosing his grip on you. You defying him, questioning him. Other days, he'd ignore you as if nothing had been said or simply reply with a mere thumbs up. You didn't matter to him. That is until, you are on the verge of leaving. Twice, you've fallen for the same trick. Keigo would beg, promising to change his ways, he doesn't want you to leave because you were an easy person to keep. He gloated on your insecurities to place himself as a higher being. You tolerated him when he knew no one else did. He'd lie, leaving fake signs and messages that would make you sympathise him and perchance come back to him. ' Maybe in another life we would've been together. ' It's these little acts that provoke pity in you, that you can't help but feel drawn back to him. ' Baby, I miss you. ' When you're back? That act fades away, he knows you'd come back. He knows you'd stay. He knew you were attached. It worked twice, but why not this time? Third time wasn't the charm. How did you fall for someone like him in the first place? Simple, his sweet charming personality, and his feigned innocence. He teased you, and chased you until you fall into his dreaded trap. He'd leave little notes, little hints that were subtle and not at the same time. Maybe it'd be love songs he'd sing to you while 'subtly' hinting it was aimed at you. Maybe it was little notes that implied his interest in you, but you could never be sure. ' Just be mine already. ' He'd be everywhere you were, how sweet was it that he asked his colleagues how to approach someone like you? How to court someone like you? Oh, how you had fallen from grace, my dove. How shattered were you when you realised you had fallen for a facade? Pet names, changed into derogatory terms. How much disrespect can one tolerate? 'My love', became 'My bitch,'. As if you were an object of entertainment and nothing more.

Then the effort he had given you when he was courting you dwindled to a 0. He knew you had fallen perfectly into his trap, into his arms where you had become attached. 'This wasn't the Keigo I fell inlove with.'

So this was it, and Keigo knew it. You had gotten mad at him, wanting time alone. You started to ignore his calls, you changed your apartment's code. You haven't responded to his texts in a week, haven't responded to his subtle hints of him wanting you back. He misses the attention you gave him.

' A woman can say she loves you and never speak to you ever again. '

Keigo is way too prideful to accept being broken up with so he'd do it first. In turn, he chooses to give up; well not really; he attempts to make you jealous. Keigo moves on fast, he really does.

Afterall he is ‘ the man who moves too fast for his own good.’

Simple really, he would find another and date them, attempting to make you jealous. Naturally you'd want closure. You'd have to do it, atleast getting a sign was better than nothing.

As infuriating as it was, you did get a sign in the form of a ' 👍 '. It was good enough. Then he tries again, he really does.

For the first time in 2 years, he apologises; for everything. For being a 'prick' with communication. He keeps up the act of having a lover. He actually does have a lover, and so you have accepted it, afterall you basically gained your freedom.

Thank the stars for the god sent girl who had taken Keigo's interest for a period of time, and god save her from the emotional stress she would receive because of Keigo's emotional immaturity.

He failed, getting you back. He failed seeing you feel jealousy, and he DESPISED failing. So he replaces you with his lover, but its pathetic really.

During this time, he publicly humiliates you, showing his obsession with you despite it being MONTHS since you have separated.

He flaunts his new lover, she's better than you afterall. He continues to make you jealous.

' She works better than we ever did '.

But you don't care do you? It hurts, but despite it all you heal, you attempt to move on. The presence of him haunts you, interviews, social media, even his presence in public. He takes every chance he gets to humiliate you.

He's angry, he's infuriated. Why won't you come back to him? Why is nothing working? So he goes further, he insults you. He doesn't even subtly insult you anymore, he outright insults you. He's petty, he resorts to insulting your appearance, especially things you're insecure about. He's petty, he compares you with her at any chance he gets. He practically prays on your downfall going as far as to ruin your reputation in public.

He wishes you the WORST in everything.

Though, humans have their limits don't they? As much as you desire and crave to respond, you don't. To show you are the bigger person, to show that truly you don't care. Over the months you have moved on while Keigo proceeds to tarnish your reputation and attempt to bring you down without prevailing. It's getting tiring really, how isn't he sick of it when his topic is always focused on you. Isn't his current lover sick of hearing your name in his mouth?

He's wasting his efforts, because his current lover becomes an ex. He spent too much effort on you. He had it coming, someone as shitty as him doesn't deserve anyone. It was a curse upon those who had fallen inlove with him. Keigo lost someone who would listen to him, permanently, and he couldn't fathom that.

Though, she was nothing compared to you. You were the best of the best, you tolerated him, you endured his shitty behaviour, you forgave him despite everything, you promised to stay with him till the end, but where were you now?

So he's desperate once more, though this time you don't come back. Afterall what has been said was said, he couldn't take back his words, he couldn't take back his hurled insults that were created in the heat of the moment.

At night, irrational thoughts would swirl his head while he's intoxicated. He unblocks you, texts you once more with pleas of pathetic desperation.

"I miss you, I'm sorry. " It could go on for hours, and even a whole paragraph could appear. You'd ignore it of course, and if you were petty enough you'd laugh to yourself.

He even goes as far as degrading himself,

' Knowing you were my only chance to change, I left you. ' It's pathetic of Keigo, it really was.

It was useless too, you'd move on with your life. Your heart free from his shackles, your heart was lightened. Maybe you didn't have a significant other, but you were free.

It'd go off and on, in his vulnerable moments he'd miss you. He didn't miss you of course, he missed the attention you gave him. The gentleness that no one else could provide.

Then when he was feeling infuriated, angered by something in particular he'd start up his insults. Bipolar behaviourisms. Every time you'd post on your socials, he'd talk behind your back; pointing out your apparent insecurities as if you'd give a flying fuck. He wanted a reaction out of you, but you weren't going to give in.

You wondered when he would give up but, you know relationships aren't important, you know the limits of a damaging relationship and chose to focus on yourself.

You're much happier now, despite the occasional thought of him.

IF ANYONE OF YOU ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP LIKE THIS, I'LL SAY ONCE LOUDLY; RUN, LOVE, I PROMISE ITS NOT WORTH IT. HE/SHE/THEY IS NOT WORTH ALL THIS MENTAL TURMOIL. FOCUS ON YOURSELF. EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION IS NOT WORTH IT. Take care of yourself .

[suiana]

✎ yandere! prodigy headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― stalking, manipulation etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! prodigy who always had an easy life. everything he does is perfect! no mistakes, no errors... he was basically a god amongst humans.

✎ yandere! prodigy who found everyone boring. they all worshipped him and it's disgusting and infuriating. why couldn't they just treat him like a normal human?! just because he's a little more gifted than others doesn't mean he's special.

✎ yandere! prodigy who had lost all hope in living before he met you. I mean, what's the purpose in living if he's already perfect? no one treats him genuinely and everyone is just trying to butter up to him. it's disgusting.

✎ yandere! prodigy who ran away from his home in an act of rebellion and met you by accident. he really has to thank that cyclist for getting the both of you wet. if he hadn't then you would've never offered him your handkerchief which put colour into his boring and monochrome life.

✎ yandere! prodigy who easily finds out more information about you. you're so...normal! yes, you were the thing he was looking for his whole life! the only normal thing in his absurd life, yes, you were a gift to him from the heavens above!

✎ yandere! prodigy, who despite being "perfect", still has much trouble trying to interact with you. you're so perfect in your own way that it scares him. why couldn't he have been normal like you? yes, he's a genius. but he can't even hold a normal conversation with someone he's genuinely interested in!

✎ yandere! prodigy who manipulates your tests grades to see you smile. your smile is precious, you really are the only good thing in his life. he needs to protect it, no matter the cost.

✎ yandere! prodigy who tries to keep his growing obsession for you hidden. he can't scare you away now, can he?

✎ yandere! prodigy who now has a reason to actually live. if he doesn't want you to leave him, he needs to change that depressive attitude of his! you really have made him a better person huh :)

✎ "...y/n, how do i ask a friend on a date? i-in a platonic way of course!"

[hiramaris]

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 1

Summary:

A story revolving around the newly arrived resident farmer in the eyes of the personified perfection, the sunflower of Pelican Town herself, Haley. Or. When Haley finally met the person that caused ripples in what was once a stagnant town, and she didn’t know how to handle such massive change.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Notes:

Haley's heart events are just soooo wifey, especially after marriage. Her character development is well written off but I just can't help but notice that something is missing, like the heart events are just not that connected in some way. Stardew is an absolute gem don't get me wrong. I'd like to try and connect what I think is missing which is the reason this fic is created. P.S. Second try in making fanfiction. I apologize for any future grammatical errors or whatever. English is not my primary language.

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None so far? Just Haley being her usual self

Gif from reddit.com

Winter 25

Immobile.

Stagnant.

Bland.

What words could possibly do justice to describe this sleepy town? Pelican Town had its charms sure. It’s peaceful, the air is fresh, and would never choke you on your sleep plus it gives a really nice tan so Haley wouldn’t really complain. 

But it was just so... boring. Was that the right term?

The people are meh, nosy, and just as bland but they are good neighbors though don't get her wrong. They look after them— her and Emily when their parents can’t. 

Ugh.

Them again. Thinking about them just makes her angry— blood boiling and all that, and well… sad which is infuriating.

How can you just leave your kids just to go follow your own dreams and travel? And then act like you care just by sending some half-hearted letter? Sending a letter now and then was hardly enough to make up for their absence. How low could that be?

Emily doesn’t think so. But what does she know? Her cooking was as bland as the town, and her obsession with crystals and hippie clothes was just plain ridiculous. She knows nothing. 

Her sister is anything but pessimistic. She saw the light in everything whereas Haley ever saw them through the lens of her camera.

Capturing a single moment in a photograph was a thousand times more vivid and alive than the bleak and colorless reality she was currently living in.

She should be in college right now, pursuing her dreams, being the center of attention, and having boys falling over themselves to impress her. Or she would have been running her own photography studio by now in a city that never sleeps, schmoozing with some famous photographers and carving a niche for herself in the cut-throat world of photography.

But no, because here she was, stuck in a six-mile drive from the nearest city, life as directionless as the people in here.

Why am I even staying here? She wonders.

Oh, yeah— grandma.

This house is hers. Her house is the only thing that made her feel that Grandma is still here, with them. Even though Haley is talking big about leaving this town, she knew to herself that she doesn’t have the strength to just leave it just like that. Which is why they both tried to keep it tidy and well... avoiding it from falling apart.

Aside from that, there was nothing to do here. The only things keeping her sane were her camera, her phone, and the clothes she ordered online.

Oh, and of course, her best friend, Alex.

He's the only one— aside from Emily and of course, the Mullner residence, Granny and George are good people even though George is grumpy all the time,  that she's able to have a decent conversation. She and Alex are, after all, not the sharpest tool in the shed, and shared almost the same brain cell.

He’s that typical jock boy, ripped as hell but in terms of brain, well… meh. Not like Haley's any better so who is she to judge?

They went to the same school, belonged to the same clique, and were both popular, of course. He’s here to practice his grid ball or whatever but Haley knew better.

Alex, despite being the dungus that he is, has a lot on his plate already. He needs the peace this town can offer.

And maybe, maybe I need it, too.

Maybe being away from the city has a good cause, despite her constant complaints, this town has been her home for the past six years after all.

But she just really couldn’t help but dwell on this stupid thought of hers of being stagnant and directionless at this time of the year.

Winter.

Ugh. It’s stupidly cold outside and there’s no way she’s walking in six-inch snow just to get a quality photo, which isn’t much considering the lighting outside does not satisfy her at all. The only, and probably one good thing about winter is peppermint coffee. It's hot, minty, and makes her feel warm while making her mouth worthy of being sucked on— err... that's a want that cannot be sated as of the moment.

The bachelors in this town suck for real. They are not even worthy of a single glance. Apart from Alex, of course, but he's a friend so... no.

And what's made it double suck is that she ran out of peppermint coffee. Pierre is out of stock and there's no way she'll let herself be caught alive inside that creep manager's store that runs Joja or whatever. 

Now she's stuck sitting at the table, devouring a massive pink cake that could feed an entire family, enduring a coffee so bland it makes her want to try and drink tea.

She hates tea.

Oh yeah, she's also holding a note and a sunflower in her other hand. 

She doesn't want to read the letter but considering the gifts she just received, it’s probably just the same lame-ass apology about being unable to be here on her birthday this coming Spring 14th. Not that it mattered anymore; it had been two years of absence, and she had grown used to it by now.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the note onto the table, debating whether to toss it into the fireplace or tear it to shreds or whatever.

If it's just another excuse, she doesn’t want to hear it.

"Haaaay!" And there's a familiar voice. 

"If you don't have peppermint coffee with you I swear to Yoba—"

"What's the case, long face?" he quipped. "And no, I don't have anything with me."

She looked up from her cake, finding Alex strolling in their kitchen with one of his shit-eating grins, hair covered with a concerning amount of snow. She grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you."

He feigned a hurt expression. "I thought you loved me though."

"According to gossip, maybe but really, I don't," she deadpanned. 

He cackled at the mention of that. At the center of the gossip mill passing down from Marnie, Jodi, and Caroline, maybe Robin, too, and probably all the yoga club, is he and Haley dating. Which was absurd, to be honest.

"No, really, Hay." He finally turns serious. "What's up? What's got your face looking like that?" 

"It's just the stupid climate." Haley tried to lie. She didn't want to stir up drama at the moment. Alex frowned, catching up with her lie almost immediately. He caught sight of the letter Haley threw earlier. "Alex don't—"

Too late. He already got it. He sat down next to her as he read the contents of the note, his brows furrowing in what she assumes is annoyance. "Parents, huh? Same old, same old?" He raised an eyebrow.

Haley huffed and snatched the letter away. "Yes, the usual."

"Well." Alex propped his elbow on the backrest, a sly grin returning to his face. "I just got the perfect news that might take your mind off things."

Haley arched a perfect eyebrow, curious. Gossip wasn't his usual forte.

"Spill." 

"A new farmer is coming to town."

Haley's fork paused in mid-air. "Uh... I'm not sure how to react to that, and what's so great about it?"

His smile widened. "I heard she's from Zuzu City."

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"Why? Surprised another Zuzu native is coming here?"

"No, you dungus." She slapped his hand attempting to take a slice of her cake. "I heard you correctly, right? You said the farmer's a she? A girl is taking over that farm?"

"Yes," Alex confirmed, finally snagging a bite of cake. Haley makes a scrunched face in mock disgust. "The farmer's a she. Old man Railey's granddaughter actually. What's the problem though?" he asked in mouthfuls.

Haley stood up to grab another spoon. No way she's getting his imaginary cooties. Alex doesn't seem to mind; it only further encourages him to eat some more.

"Because it’s weird," she said as she sat down. "Farming isn't exactly a girl's job, especially for a city girl like her. I bet you she wouldn't last a month."

"Not all girls are like you, Hay— ow! What's that for?!" He rubbed his ribs where Haley just nudged with her boniest elbow of all time.

"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted." She rolled her eyes. "Farming is all dirt and nasty, smelly clothes. That farm was barely run by old man Railey before he died. What could possibly a city girl like his granddaughter could do with that rundown farm? I bet you it’s already smoldering by now."

"Good point," Alex said as he continued eating. Haley swear to Yoba all this idiot does is eat and relax in here.

He has a diet, right? So does she, and they're like eating a fat block of sugar right now.

Whatever. Pink cake has always been an exemption from all her seasonal dietary plans.

"But I guess we'll have to wait and see; don't you think so?" Alex turned to her after a few moments of silence. "I heard she's around our age. If it's true that farming is as difficult as they say, the least we can do is make her feel welcomed."

Haley barely nods in acknowledgment. 

This town is like a pond, where everything that enters stays and everyone already there remains. The city is a raging storm with ocean waves ready to swallow you if you go against the flow. A lot of people there has a sense of direction, one Haley aspires to have, and what Pelican lacks. You can't, at all costs, be still and unmoved and some people just couldn't do that.

And those people who couldn't stand the pressure, come here, like a moth drawn to a flame, seeking the mundanity Pelican Town could offer them. Perhaps they have grown weary of the constant hustle and bustle. Maybe city life has been too much. Maybe modern life has been too much for this farmer.

Who knows?

But one thing Haley doesn't like, and what keeps her unmoved and still, is change. Adapting, and adjusting isn't meant for her. It took years before she could finally settle a lifestyle in this town, and another two years of adjustment when her parents decided it would be a good idea to abandon them and go travel. She knew where to go, where townspeople go just so she could avoid interacting with them, she accustomed herself to their culture, and the perfect spots for taking pictures. She has it all memorized and planned out perfectly.

And this farmer will be an anomaly to her perfectly (not as perfect as she thought) crafted routine. New face, a new attitude, and just an overall new person she might be obligated to talk to for the sake of introduction.

Pelican is a stagnant pond, yet this farmer, this alien to her world, she's not yet even here but she is already starting to cause ripples.

And Haley doesn't know what to think of it.

~~~~~

Next

Notes:

The title was inspired by Cigarettes After Sex' Kiss it off me. Their songs are such *chef's kiss* and whilst I was listening to this song, it kind of, sorta, reminded me of how my farmer sees her wife. Thus kabooOm this fic is born

Edit: Because I'm procrastinating and I made sure to finish off my other story first, I decided now to transfer this story from Ao3 to Tumblr

[sreyaya]

Seeing the Infernal Sin fic was just *chef's kiss*

I know you don't write much for Fool's Gold but I have a prompt thanks to that short fic hefnnfnd

Can I request Infernal Sin with him going soft to that one human that summoned him for his services, at first it was purely transactional but he slowly falls in love with the reader and soft seggs with a dorky confession ensues.

I can't handle the dark fics of him man I need soft fluffy smut (also is it okay if it's GN?)

A Mere Wish-making Demon?

Modern AU | InfernalSin!Fool's Gold x Gn!Reader NSFW

Content Warnings: 1.3K words, Soft!FG, light smut, MDNI

(A/n: a tad bit rushed out, i'm still figuring out how to write for FG jajaja, sorry to disappoint sir)

smut under the cut!

It wasn't that long ago when you were struggling with classes. Feeling left behind, everyone seemed to be improving much more than you ever would. It would be a miracle if you could catch up to anyone, and it infuriated you. It was one of those studious night, your head buried under books, you felt overwhelmed. Slowly but surely, you tackled the stacks of notes, exhaustion weighing you down.

Until you discovered a book you hadn't seen before, leather cover, straps along the spine, pages torn and worn. It barely looked like any of the material you were supposed to memorize for tomorrow. You wanted to brush it off, but something alluring about the book caught you off guard and that was when you caught yourself opening each page of the book. You began reading what's left of the book, reciting unearthly symbols and writings, muttering one line under your breath. Until suddenly, an unknown being appeared. His face was covered in a sultry mask, his grin wide and eerie.

"Norton, Norton Campbell, at your service," he said nonchalantly. His demeanor was unsettling, with demon horns setting off all your alarms yet you didn't move or run. "Ah, a brave human, I see. Very interesting indeed," he scoffed. Gold embellishments decorated his bodice attractively. "So, what are you?" you asked firmly, wanting to get it over with and continue studying. "I'm a demon, sweetheart, I can grant you anything you'd ever like" he said, a mocking chime in his tone.

"Anything, huh?" you questioned, disbelief evident in your words. He placed his jagged hands on his waist, which emitted a dim red glow, an eerie smile following before nodding slightly, "Anything." You thought of all possible wishes before asking, "Are there any... limits?" Norton chuckled. "What a greedy little human you are. I'll make an exception for you, darling. I'll grant all your wishes until I'm bored of you." His flame grew brighter, riled up and curious about you.

You were a little taken aback from his response, feeling cautious but what more can you lose from this? "Fine. Help me get a perfect score for tomorrow's exam," you said, doubt laced in your words. "Consider it done," he answered confidently. And to your surprise, when the test results were released, you indeed, scored perfectly. With a small 'congrats!' note from your professor on the top corner of your paper. Joy filled your eyes as you told Norton back in your dorm room. He only grinned, his hand resting on his chin as he stared at you. "Thanks, Norton, you practically saved my life!" you chimed happily, content after a few bad grades.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself turning to Norton more often. Each wish you made, from acing exams to finding lost items, was granted with a snap of his fingers. Norton became not just a strange demon, but an intriguing companion.

One evening, as you were poring over yet another textbook, Norton appeared without being summoned. "Ah, look at you," he said, leaning casually against your desk. "All work and no play makes a dull human." You chuckled in response, glancing up at him, setting your pen down before taking a light stretch. "I have to keep up. Can't let those perfect scores slip, can I?" Norton smirked, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling yet captivating light. "What if I told you there’s more to life than perfect scores?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?" He straightened, his expression shifting to something almost genuine. "Come with me," he said, extending a hand. "Let’s take a break. I promise it’ll be worth your while." Hesitant but curious, you took his calloused hand. In an instant, the room around you vanished, replaced by a breathtaking view of a starlit sky over a calm lake. The air was cool and refreshing, the silence comforting.

“Where are we?” you asked, awe-struck. “Just a little pocket of my world,” Norton replied softly. “A place where time stands still and worries fade away.” You sat by the water's edge, feeling an unexpected sense of peace. Norton sat beside you, closer than ever before. As the stars reflected off the calm surface of the lake, you found yourself drawn to Norton in a way you hadn’t expected. His sharp yet bold features, the glint in his hollow eyes, even the eerie grin on his face had become familiar, almost comforting.

“Norton,” you began, feeling a flutter in your chest, “why did you help me?” He looked at you, his expression unreadable through his covered face. “You intrigue me,” he said simply. “Humans are boring, and you're interesting. I enjoy your company.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “I guess, I enjoy yours too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced, your thoughts a whirl of emotions. Before you could respond, Norton gently cupped your face, his touch warm from his everlasting flames. Your eyes met, and in that moment, everything else faded away. Without a second thought, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft against his rough lips, a blend of your world and his, and when you finally pulled away, breathless, you saw that eerie grin had softened into a genuine smile.

"Can you grant me one wish?" Norton asked. You could only nod, his calloused hands still cupping your face. "I want you, my treasure. I want all of you" he boldly declared. You were taken aback, his bold wish catching you off guard. You thought about it, your face flushed lightly. The small train of thoughts all ended as you answered with a quick 'yes' as he grabbed your frame in his arms, bringing you back to your dorm.

He towered above you, your hands cupping his face, pulling him closer for another deep kiss. It didn't take long before you were taking all of him in, slowly. He was inhuman, of course, and he understood that. Norton took his time, waiting for you to adjust to his size. "Slowly, treasure, it's okay. You're doing so well," he murmured, his length easing inside you. "Tell me if anything hurts, 'kay?" he said, his voice filled with concern. You nodded in response. "You're beautiful. I love you," Norton grunted as he filled you completely, his length finally fully inside you.

With the amount of time he spent in his lonely world, your warmth was all he needed to fill his empty spirit. Years upon years of granting favors to people, trying to find something worth living for, and your embrace made it all worthwhile. Norton moved inside you, his pace slow and loving, every thrust filled with his love and feelings that developed throughout months of being with you. Your moans filled the room, mixing well with his deep growls of pleasure. The bond between you grew stronger with every movement, every whispered word of affection as you clung to him.

When you both reached the climax, the world around you seemed to blur, reality blending with the surreal. In that moment, you knew that you were no longer just a curious human and a lonely demon, you were lovers. As you lay in each other's arms, the aftermath of your passion still lingering in your skin, Norton whispered, "I love you. Always and forever." You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings mirrored even in his hollow gaze . "I love you too, Norton. Always and forever."

Norton finally felt a peace he had longed and looked for after for so long. Your warm embrace soothed his trembling state, wrapping him in a sense of security he had never gotten before. The touch of your skin, the rhythm of your heartbeat, and the gentle warmth of your presence made him realize that perhaps he wasn't just a mere wish-making demon after all.

[pinkandlilacroses]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Angel - Paige bueckers

part 3

• summary {when an unsuspecting girl falls for the basketball star}

• warnings {drug use, angst}

• comment if you would like to be added to the taglist

bella’s pov

“ok you can go now” she says, emotionless

“oh”

“i mean, no offence but i have a girl coming soon, so you cant be here” she says laying on her back, breaking our eye contact

i don’t respond and put my clothes back on. this is fucked

“have a nice night”

i haven’t cried this much in months, walking through the halls, ugly crying.

‘paige’ has been blocked by ‘bella’

“bella whats wrong” avery says, empathetically

“i hate her, i hate her so much” i cry, barley being able to choke the words out

i look at avery after my response and i have never seen her that angry, there could fully be steam coming from her ears.

“please dont talk to her, please dont hurt her, please avery, please” i cry out, begging the infuriated girl

“why not bella, she deserves it” she yells

my tears dont stop and i feel like they will never stop pouring.

“tell me what she did”

i begin the tell her the events of tonight and her anger only grows.

“that fucking bitch” is all she can say in response

“but i blocked her, and im literally never gonna speak to her again” i say, trying to make a positive point, to counteract this negative situation

“you are never gonna speak to her again”

“im gonna go off to bed”

i feel broken, i got used. i wanted my first time with a girl to be meaningful, i know i like girls and i wanted to prove to myself that having sex with girls wasn’t wrong, but i feel wrong, i feel gross. i cant believe i would let myself be that vulnerable with someone i barley know. ive never been the one to have one night stands and ive only ever had sex with someone ive been in a relationship with.

i take my valium, something i swore to never use again after getting addicted, but its the only thing that works.

“hey, how are you feeling” avery ask’s, genuinely. i’ve never seen her be this gentle before

“wheres my weed”

“bella no”

“shut up avery”

i walk to the kitchen and unlock one of the drawers, and i see the stash. thank god

i know i shouldn’t smoke as a coping mechanism, but its the only thing that works, every time something bad happens to me, i turn to smoking

after going through 3 joints, im barley able to talk or stand up. perfect

knock

ugh

knock

fuck off

knock

“who is it” i say, it barley even sounded like words

“its azzi, is avery here”

who the fuck is azzi

“avery theres a bitch here for you” i say taking another drag

“oh my god! hey azzi” avery says, excitedly, why the fuck is she acting like that

“why are you so fucking happy” i ask, knowing full well how rude i sound

“this is azzi, shes in my psychology class and we have gotten pretty close” avery says, grabbing azzi and sitting next to me on the couch

“yo dont sit on my shit” i say, mad

“your bella right?” azzi says, happily. i hate happy people

“yeah”

“yeah avery’s told me alot about you” she says

“cool” i reply, dryly

“azzis on the basketball team” avery says, my eyes widen

“of course she is” i say, sarcastically. i hate basketball

“yeah, have you been to any games” she questioned, attempting to continue this boring conversation

“nah, i dont watch basketball”

“oh well you should sometime, avery keeps saying how she wants to go to a game” azzi says, looking at avery who begins giggling. sus

“bella your probably friends with some people on the team” avery says

“you wanna hit” i offer to azzi

“nah, i dont smoke”

“boring” i say, bluntly

“do you guys mind if some of my friends come over” azzi says

“no, no, thats perfectly fine” avery says, looking at azzi. basically eye fucking her

“who” i ask

“ice, kk, aubrey, nika and ashlee” she lists

fuck my life. im to high to care

“yeah whatever” i say, lazily

“ok perfect, ill tell them to come” azzi says, excitedly

“are you sure” avery whispers to me, being nice. for once

“i dont give a fuck, its fine” i say taking a drag

im so high. god damn

10 minutes later all of azzis friends turn up, why are they all so tall. what the fuck

avery introduces herself to them and points them to our couch

“hey im kk, your bella right” kk asks

“yeah im bella”

“hey im ice”

“hey im nika”

“hey im ashlee”

“hey im aubrey”

to many people to remember

until

“oh paige came to, i hope you dont mind” azzi says to us, mostly avery

avery says nothing, myself included

“hi paige” avery says, extremely cold

“come sit guys” azzi says, breaking the silence. i wish i wasn’t so high cause i wanna go to my room

everyone sits on the couch, paige sitting the furthest away from me. funny. not funny. not laughing

conversation begins and everyone is involved. everyone but me, ugh i’m so uncomfortable

paige keeps looking at me, and yes i’m noticing because i’m looking at her to.

paige’s pov

fuck. why do i keep looking at her.

she blocked me last night so obviously shes mad about my actions last night, its just a hookup, nothing more.

its not that deep

“i’m going to bed” bella says, slurring and barely able to stand up. i didn’t know she smoked that much, i guess i don’t know anything about her. but i don’t care.

“paige are you ready to go” kk and ice say to me

“yeah, aubrey, nika, azzi, u ready to go”

“yeah lets go”

“actually im gonna stay” azzi says. sus

“buy guys” is said in unison

azzis pov

“ugh finally” avery says, while smashing her lips onto mine

A/N: im being active rn lolll. how do we like avery and azzi

[cosmal]

aerial!! I need your thoughts on casually dominant remus and shy reader!!!

sit down

yes!!!! okay I love this idea thank u

summary remus helps you find an outfit when you're stressed.

note this is a little boring sorry.

content remus lupin x fem!afab!reader

You’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to get your hair to sit right. Your arms ache from the effort. Your fingers tingle and your shoulders feel like they’re about to slip out of place.

To make things worse — or better you’re not sure yet — Remus knocks at your door and you haven’t even picked out what to wear.

You open the front door wrapped in a towel and a little flustered. “Remus,” you sigh. Half relieved because he’s here, half anxious because you’re running late. "I'm so sorry, I promise I won't be long."

He lets himself in and locks the door behind him. "It's okay, dove, take your time. The reservation isn't for another hour."

"Right," you pant, turning to rush back down your hall. Remus's lovely dress shoes click slowly behind you until he meets you in your room.

You're so stressed you don't notice the bunch of flowers in his hand. You drop your towel in only a pair of tights and a bra, and whizz around the room, back and forth between your dresser and your wardrobe. Holding your options up to the light, muttering things about how stupid you feel.

"No, god," you curse, letting the skirt in your hand fall to the carpet, "I can't find anything."

Remus catches you before you can speed past him again. He wraps a soft hand around your bicep and you snag, "Dove, take a breath."

You breathe in quickly and drop your head, "Shit, sorry," you mutter.

"What's the matter?" he asks, snaking his arm down to grab your hand. He squeezes gently, pressing his soft fingertips into your skin. It's grounding.

You step into his space and push your cheek into his soft button-up. "I can't find anything to wear."

He wraps his arms around your back and you hear the cellophane around the flowers crinkle. "Do you want me to help?"

"You got me flowers," you say instead, feeling stupider by the second.

"I did," he says off-handedly. "Go sit down, sweetheart, and I'll find you some clothes."

You pull your face back to look at the flowers. A bunch of pink tulips in paper and plastic, the smallest yellow ribbon keeping them together. "They need a vase."

Remus laughs. "You need to sit. I'll find you something to wear and then I'll put these in some water."

"Pass them over."

"Sit," he says, sterner than you're expecting.

You sigh and let him go. He's infuriating. Infuriatingly kind. "Can I have a kiss?"

He smiles widely and you feel better already. Kissing you quickly he nudges you kindly towards your bed. "You can have a proper kiss when you relax."

You frown but sit down anyways. You sit with your chin in your hand and watch Remus rifle through your clothes. He passes through hangers and you hate him for how pretty he looks and how stupid you feel. He's dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white button-up that's rolled up his arms and folded at his elbows. You wish you had it as easy as him. He's so flawlessly pretty.

You hate him even more when he finds the dress you've been looking for all night. He trods over with the material between his fingers, holding it out and says, "I think this one."

You take the blue dress from him with the loveliest smile you can manage.

He encourages you to stand and you step through the hole to slip it on. Spinning you around he does the zip up without forgetting to let his knuckles trace your spine along the way.

He kisses your neck before saying, "Perfect."

You turn and look him in the eye, "It doesn't look funny?"

He holds you by your hips, fingers spread over your stomach, looking you up and down until you shiver, "You look amazing. Gorgeous."

"Thank you," you say softly. You hold him by his wrists and you hope he knows you want a hug.

He hugs you because he's your boyfriend, wrapping you up in long arms until his chest presses into yours. Breathing deep and you match it. "You worry a lot," he says with a kindness. You know what he means.

"Stressed," you tell him.

"You could've shown up in a paper bag and you still would've been the prettiest girl there," he says back, squeezing you hard for emphasis.

You laugh and smother your face in his shoulder, startled by it. "Sure."

"It's true!"

You hold him closer like it's possible, breathing in the still strong scent of his lovely cologne. The softness of his detergent. "Can I have that kiss now?"

He pulls back with a look that says, of course, you can, leaning in to kiss you. Longer than the last and much warmer. You stand on your tiptoes and lean your entire weight into him. He grunts and pulls you up until your dress bunches in his arms. You'll both be a wrinkled mess by the time you leave.

Pulling back he says, "Now go put your shoes on and I'll find a vase."

"My Doc Martens?" you ask.

He kisses your nose quickly, "Definitely."

[dovesdreaming]

Charming intentions

Summary: Chad Charming has always had a reputation in Auradon for being a bit of a flirt and full of himself. So, when he starts showing interest in you, you dismiss it as more of his typical behavior. But Chad is determined to prove that, for once, he’s being genuine.

Request here

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

Auradon Prep was buzzing with the usual excitement of another school day. Students flitted between classes, chattering about upcoming events, homework assignments, and who was crushing on whom. It was a typical day, except for the fact that you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You were heading to your locker when you caught sight of Chad Charming leaning casually against the wall nearby. His blond hair was perfectly tousled, his uniform immaculate, and he had that signature Charming smile on his face. You rolled your eyes. Chad was always around, too charming for his own good and too self absorbed to be taken seriously.

“Morning, Y/N” Chad said with a grin as you approached your locker. “Looking stunning as always”. “Morning, Chad” you replied, not even glancing his way as you opened your locker. “What do you want?”. “Ouch, that stings” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Can’t a guy just give a compliment?”. You sighed, grabbing your books for your next class. “When it’s coming from you? Not really”. Chad frowned, but you didn’t notice as you were too busy organizing your things. “Why do you always assume I’m just messing with you?”. You looked at him then, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re Chad Charming. You flirt with every girl in school and act like you’re God’s gift to Auradon. Why would I think you’re serious?”.

For a moment, Chad looked genuinely taken aback. But then, he quickly masked it with another grin. “Well, maybe you’re special”. “Sure, Chad” you said, shutting your locker with a smirk. “Let me know when you’ve run out of girls to charm”. With that, you walked away, leaving Chad standing there with a perplexed expression on his face. He wasn’t used to being brushed off so easily, especially not by someone like you.

Over the next few days, Chad made a point of showing up wherever you were. At first, you assumed it was just coincidence, but it quickly became clear that he was seeking you out on purpose. When you were in the library, trying to study, Chad appeared at your table, dropping into the seat across from you with that same infuriating grin. “Mind if I join you?”. “Actually, I do” you replied, not looking up from your textbook. “I’m trying to study”. “Perfect! I can help” he said, pulling out a book of his own. “We can study together”. You shot him a skeptical look. “Since when do you study?”. Chad looked almost offended. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know”. You snorted, going back to your book. “Right”.

Even during lunch, Chad managed to find his way to your table. You were sitting with Jane and Lonnie, enjoying your meal, when Chad suddenly appeared, his tray in hand. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, already sitting down before you could answer.

Jane and Lonnie exchanged amused glances, but you just sighed. “Chad, why are you here?”. “Why wouldn’t I be here?” he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s a free country”. Lonnie leaned over to you, whispering with a teasing smile, “Looks like you’ve got a shadow”. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “He’ll get bored eventually”. But as the days went by, it became clear that Chad wasn’t getting bored. If anything, he was getting more persistent. He knew he needed to prove himself and his actions to be true, he couldn’t think of anything better than a grand gesture.

It was the day of the annual Auradon Prep dance, and you were getting ready with your friends in Evie’s dorm. She had designed a stunning gown for you, a flowing dress in your favorite color that made you feel like royalty. “You look amazing, Y/N!” Evie said, beaming as she helped you with the final touches. “Thanks, Evie” you said, admiring the dress in the mirror. “You really outdid yourself this time”. “I think a certain prince is going to be very impressed” Jane teased, her eyes sparkling. You groaned. “Please don’t tell me Chad is going to be there”. “Are you kidding? He’s the king of these events” Evie said with a laugh. “But I wouldn’t worry too much. He might actually leave you alone tonight, he’ll be busy impressing everyone else”. You hoped she was right. But as soon as you stepped into the ballroom, your hopes were dashed. There was Chad, standing near the entrance, looking like he’d been waiting for you. He looked almost nervous as he stood there with his head down staring at his fidgeting hands. He took a glance up, his eyes meeting yours and doubling in size as they met.

“Y/N” he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “You look... wow”. You couldn’t help but blush at the genuine admiration in his voice. “Thanks, Chad”. “Can I have this dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. You hesitated, glancing around the room. Part of you wanted to say no, to avoid feeding into whatever game he was playing. But another part of you was curious, curious to see if maybe, just maybe, Chad was being sincere. “Fine” you said, taking his hand. “One dance”.

Chad led you to the dance floor, and as the music started, he pulled you close. You expected him to start with his usual flirty banter, but instead, he was quiet, focused on the dance. As you swayed to the music, you couldn’t help but notice how... nice it was. Chad was a good dancer, and for once, he wasn’t trying to impress you with words, he was just being present, just being Chad. “Why do you always push me away?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the music. You looked up at him, surprised by the question. “Because I don’t know if I can trust you”.

Chad’s grip on your hand tightened slightly. “I know I’ve been... shallow in the past. But I’m serious about you, Y/N. I don’t want to be that guy anymore, not with you”. You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was earnestness, a vulnerability that you hadn’t noticed before. “Chad...” you began, unsure of what to say. “I know I’ve got a lot to prove” he continued, his voice low and intense. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I want you to see the real me”. You were quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. Maybe there was more to Chad Charming than you’d given him credit for. Maybe, beneath all the charm and bravado, there was a heart that was just waiting for someone to see it. “Okay” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “Prove it”.

Chad’s eyes lit up with hope, and he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I will. I promise”.

Over the next few weeks, Chad made good on his promise. He stopped flirting with every girl he saw, focusing all his attention on you. He started showing up early to class to walk with you, brought you coffee when he knew you had a late-night study session, and even helped you with your homework, though it was clear that math wasn’t his strong suit. But it wasn’t just the little things that impressed you, it was the way Chad started opening up to you. He told you about the pressures of living up to his father’s legacy, about how everyone expected him to be perfect all the time. He admitted that sometimes, he felt like he was playing a role, like he was more of a brand than a person. “I guess I just got used to hiding behind the charm” he said one afternoon as the two of you sat by the fountain, the sun setting behind the castle. “It’s easier than letting people see the real me”.

You reached over, placing your hand on top of his. “You don’t have to hide with me, Chad. I want to see the real you”. Chad looked at you, his blue eyes softening. “You really mean that?”. You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do”. For the first time, you saw Chad Charming smile. Not the practiced, dazzling smile that he flashed at everyone else, but a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Y/N” he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude.

It wasn’t long before everyone at Auradon Prep noticed the change in Chad Charming. He was still charming, still handsome, still everything that made him who he was but there was a new depth to him, a sincerity that hadn’t been there before. And it was all because of you.

You and Chad had become inseparable, and as the days turned into weeks, your feelings for him deepened. You’d never expected to fall for the prince who once seemed so shallow, but now, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. One evening, as you and Chad were walking through the gardens, he stopped suddenly, turning to face you. “Y/N” he began, taking both of your hands in his “I hope you can see how much I care for you. I have never felt more myself around someone and I’ve never let someone through this many of my walls. I want you to know that I’m only yours”. His eyes flick downwards then back to yours, taking a deep breath then saying “I would like to be yours if you’ll have me. I promise I only have eyes for you”. You grin and practically leap into his arms, throwing your hands round his shoulders and smushing your face into his shoulder. You shriek giddily and nod your head furiously as much as you can from the crook of his shoulder. You lean back and quietly say “yes” before saying it louder again “YES!”. You both happily bask in the moment, laughing softly with each other. The night ends with Chad walking you back to your dorm hand in hand with each other, both excited for what the future holds.

-

Thank you for reading!