#fucking known what they are they have never fucking changed. get me out of this book into a new one baby i want a new fucking narrative

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/24/2024

you might be wondering “is my dear friend tumblr user girlfriendsofthegalaxy still unemployed?” the answer is yes. take this cat off my hands please i don’t think he’s causing the unemployment but he certainly isn’t helping

listening

via Wendy @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, Huoy Meas' ប្រគល់ក្ដីស្នេហ៍មកខ្ញុំវិញ. figuring out what this incredibly zippy Cambodian rock song is named and what it's about was really difficult bc spotify is a bane upon this earth and won't let you fucking copy-paste and OCR was not working on the Khmer script. i ended up listening to the first couple seconds of each of her songs on apple music, and finally figured out this roughly translates to Give Me Back My Love and is about begging a fuckboy for closure.

via the spotify discover weekly, Night Club's Pretty Girls Do Ugly Things. all Night Club's songs sound the same so if you like one, great news! i had this song on for a full gregorian hour bc, i am only a tiny bit ashamed to say, i was storyboarding a The Man With No Name fancam to this. i think it would go pretty hard.

Smoke you like a cigarette Choke you like a lariat Fatalistic tourniquet Do you want more?

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reading

thank you mackintosh.

i did not Adore any of these comics from the library. i sort of enjoyed Night of the Ghoul, a one-volume TPB by Scott Snyder and Francesco Francavilla. i think ive blogged about this before but every once in a while i'll get a bee in my bonnet to read some horror comics even though i am a giant baby about horror movies.

Night of the Ghoul is about how you can't save your dad from PTSD but also about a lost horror film and also about the extremely dad behavior of tracking down every scrap of info about an auteur. there's also a monster.

the subtle art changes from present day to the remains of the film to the non-film flashbacks are well done, imo. the cover screams mignola but the inside pages are really fun pulp nonsense. i love a piece of genre writing that rolls around and delights in being a piece of genre writing.

im doing my level best not to get sucked into tiktok but i DO love watching this lady revive antique nail polish and look for dupes for shades from like the 20s. she found an almost exact dupe for a shade produced during wwii which is crazy insane to me!!!

-

watching

The Asphalt Jungle (1950, dir. Huston), it's a very painterly heist noir. i even like Sterling Hayden in one of the more prominent roles, even though i think he generally has the appeal of undercooked dough.

much like Fritz Lang's M, it presents the criminal element of the city as its own class with its own reputation and reference systems. it got in some trouble with the censors for having a VERY clearly laid out heist plan and execution. it's also got the babiest Marilyn Monroe in one of her earliest roles

this was such a gloriously messy movie. everyone is such a fucking mess. this woman only known as Doll is heartbreakingly, head over heels in love with Sterling Hayden's character. she's a little flighty and bumbling and silly, but determined! they're constantly orbiting the gravitational weight of her desire for this man and desire for a real life with this man. and that's just one subplot! she has maybe five minutes total screentime! she should have gotten a supporting actress oscar!!! everyone acted their fucking hearts out and it was so much fun to watch!

-

playing

monument valley is in the netflix games library this month (i don't actually know what their liscencing agreements would even look like, they and the studios they worked with were very tightlipped about that when they were rolling this out three years ago) but i assume it's going to be on the service for a while. i have never played this game, which makes me feel a little bit like a bad gamer. you can tell it's ten years old from some of the color and texture choices, but WOW did literally everyone take inspiration from this game.

this is the platonic ideal of a phone game. i get why everyone went insane about it and there was a brief boom of geometry-based puzzle mobile games. it is MUCH much harder now to get people to pay money to play a game that has a planned endpoint and planned number of levels, so netflix is a good home for it.

i was often frustrated but always delighted. the level below involves making something happening that made me genuinely gasp out loud in glee. well worth the annoyance of downloading the netflix app and scrolling through the poorly labeled and poorly sorted carousel of games.

great retrospective, a bit about how you need to have tiny teams go off and just kind of fuck around and bring weird stuff back, and a lot about how they actually designed the levels

The end result had a pixel-perfect axonometric aesthetic that not only went hard on its references to Dutch master artist and printmaker Maurits Cornelis Escher, but also dug deep into classic video game design, going right back to early arcade machines and 8-bit titles. Each of the ten levels is like a piece of fine furniture, built with invisible dovetail joints and inlaid with marquetry, stuffed with secret compartments and little design flourishes. Gray cites the world of theatre and stage design, as well as graphics, as important keystones in the way the levels were constructed. ‘Ken would always talk about flower arranging, and how you frame a silhouette of a level on the screen,’ he says.

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making

update on the Phantom Menace fabric: pinked the raw edges and threw it in the laundry again with a very large quantity of vinegar. 50% poly was too high for it to really do anything, which is interesting. it didn’t lessen the seam edge effects either, which is a little annoying bc the seams were so gigantic and that’s a good chunk of fabric to lose. i am going to buy a camp shirt pattern at some point when i have money again but for now it goes in The Box

also! thrifted a pack of o-rings for jars for a dollar and finally put my grains etc in my pretty jars. they’re going to live in the pantry but today they live out on the countertop

[logan-lieutenant]

goodbye to a world

reading between the lines of the various goodbyes and dismissals to logan sargeant

Pt. 3: Oscar (press conference)

full series

not a goodbye (in the traditional sense of the word) but a fucking statement. obviously. because piastri.

the loscar dynamic is absolutely FASCINATING. out of all the friendships in the grid, this one plays a special role: it reminds the audience that there’s so much more than formula 1, there’s so much more to f1 drivers than this stage of their career. most of us (spectators) have a broad conception of the “typical” driver backstory; rich kid with rich parents, got in a go kart at age 4, karting and then single-seater and junior series was their whole life and they climbed up the ranks like rungs on a ladder. i think a lot of people who only watch f1 (myself included) tend to focus so much more on the Pinnacle of MotorsportTM that everything else just seems like prep. even though most if not all of the drivers grew up either 1) racing each other 2) watching each other on tv, we don’t really think of these relationships beyond and BEFORE f1.

until loscar. because what draws them together? they’re not teammates. they’re not rivals. williams is so far behind that they’re not even competitors. in many way, logan is entirely “out of oscar’s league”.

and yet they have this endearing, sweet, playful friendship that’s exactly what it seems like: people who have known each other since they were kids, grown up together, watched each other become the person they are today. there’s a casual, domestic intimacy neither of them have with their teammates, even if those relationships are also going well, because there’s this history element.

which is recalled no more vividly than when oscar and logan are compared. as they are too often.

total polar opposites. f1 stories practically the inverse of each other. one was a promising young talent who f1 teams had been keeping an eye on for years that, once thrown in the car at that “wait! isn’t he just a kid??” age, immediately proved his worth as a future superstar. Future World Champion, to quote the official moniker. “look at him go! look at OSCAR PIASTRI!” he’s a prodigy, he’s a social enigma, he’s a raw force of pure and driven talent.

then you have the other promising young talent who one f1 team had been keeping a loose eye on for years. who’s never done any free practices or tests. who’s barely even dipped his toe into the waters of f2. who’s shown a lot of raw potential but more noticeably, glittering fancy sponsors. who gets chucked into a car as a last-minute, scrapping underprepared and thrown-together plan B after the previous f2 graduate fails to keep his seat. and, while oscar soared off into the stratosphere, logan flops IMMEDIATELY.

go fucking figure. it’s almost like people like max verstappen and lewis hamilton are exceptions to the rule, not the rule itself, and an underprepared rushed overwhelmed rookie is actually NOT in a position to achieve immediate stardom! in fact, maybe that’s the OPPOSITE of what they need! so, in loscar, we have the exception to the rule (oscar) and the rule (logan). but that’s not the solidified narrative; the story, how history will remember the two of them, is that logan was nothing but a pale and washed-out shadow. always. open and shut case.

what does oscar have to say about it, though?

this was said to gp blog (great website); the full quotes from him are:

I sent him a text yesterday. He seemed okay. Obviously a little bit of a shock. Obviously it wasn't an easy time for him in F1. It was much more difficult for him than maybe I expected it to be going into F1. I think for me, his potential was much greater than what was on show in F1, for whatever reason it might be.

I know firsthand, being his teammate in the junior categories, racing him in basically everything, I know how quick he is. I don't think the change was completely unexpected...

Best of luck to him. Just a shame that, for whatever reason, he wasn't able to show everything that he's got. Because in the junior categories, he was genuinely one of the quickest guys I went up against. I think his potential is much greater than what some people have seen.

first of all, some BEAUTIFUL toeing-the-line from oscar here. he’s even more subtle than alex in that none of his words imply any sort of passive aggression or ill intent; the only emotion that’s really conveyed, in understated tones, is a mild perplexity about logan’s career and failure in general as opposed to its gut-wrenching end in question. the implications in his wording imply nothing more than a personal opinion, but the ambiguity itself is some massive shade. let’s take a closer look:

much more difficult for him than maybe i expected it to be- this is masterful. “yeah, that’s right. i’m the next-gen prodigal superstar talent with my future as a world champion pretty much written for me, and i’ve shown the skill to back it up, and not only did i know logan before the catastrophe of f1 but i regarded him with so much respect that i had actual expectations. his skill had become such an intertwined part of his character in my eyes that i just assumed things would go so much better. because i believed in him.”

his potential was much greater than what was on show in f1…- toeing the line again. balance. acknowledging both the reality and all the roads not taken. “i’m not making false claims. i’m not making excuses for him. i’m not blaming the car or the team or the lack of support or the disgrace or the mistreatment and i’m not challenging the results. i’m not talking about what happened, i’m talking about what could’ve happened. potential. i’m talking about everything that wasn’t on show– and by not on show i mean that his potential, his skill, his pace, him as a person was not seen or understood or respected or prioritized by anyone. i’m not saying ‘oh, one point in 36 starts is all anyone could do with x/y/z excuse’ i’m saying ‘you guys missed the point’.”

for whatever reason that might be/just a shame that, for whatever reason- fucking hell, this is harsh. this is practically an attack. “i’m not gonna make excuses, but i’m gonna leave this open. i’m not gonna call this bad luck or the way it goes sometimes or a bad break, i’m saying that Whatever Reason This Happened is not what should have happened. not a matter of chance or objective misfortune; this situation could have and should have worked out better and whatever obstacle got in the way of that was a matter of misjudgment.”

I know firsthand, being his teammate in the junior categories, racing him in basically everything, I know how quick he is- alex said something similar, about pace. “raw speed” he calls it. and it’s really interesting that his teammates, who learn firsthand about him as a racer, his driving style, his strengths, his weaknesses (whether they’ve been teammates for months or years) identify a specific trait/skill about logan rather than just making the empty claim that “he’s good” or “he’s better than this”. and this is very interesting coming from oscar in particular given his current teammate. lando isn’t the best starter or the best defender or the most coordinated overtaker, but even with all the areas he needs to work on he can still compensate for it by being really fucking fast. his pace is his defense; he gets clean air and boom, he’s fucking gone. obviously that’s an oversimplification but oscar directly competing against that and observing/absorbing that and bringing up the same category of skill in logan– even in flashback– can’t be overlooked. in addition: “yeah, i’ve raced against him in basically everything. you’ve watched him on tv in a backmarker team for a season or so? i’ve known him for YEARS. i know. i don’t care what you’re seeing, i’m the expert on this and i know.”

I think his potential is much greater than what some people have seen- shit, this is as close to passive aggression as he gets, but it’s still done so precisely and subtly that it’s almost an art form. i mean, leave it to oscar piastri to use the phrase “some people” and NOT make it sound like a straight up, poorly-veiled callout. try to use that in a sentence without seeming like you’re shit-talking someone, potentially in the room. this is part of the lovely passive-aggression classic: “….unlike SOME people” (sometimes while staring at them directly, depending on how passive you want the passive aggression to really be. so, he’s (in unofficial terms) calling out who– anyone who hasn’t seen logan’s potential. who have underestimated him. who have invalidated his situation and him as an athlete. this could be any category of haters– negative fans, petty journalists, the horrid type of reports who will ask questions like “what does it feel like to be the slowest driver in formula 1…”. and that would make perfect sense. almost perfect. if we thought oscar piastri paid any attention to the haters, his own or anyone else’s. if it was ever on his mind. so, people who haven’t seen his potential… what, like, team principals? the ambiguity in itself is simultaneously a direct implication and oscar piastri’s intelligence needs to be studied because it is sometimes terrifying.

oscar doesn’t make a statement on social media, doesn’t bring it up further, doesn’t make any sort of personal goodbye available to the media– of course he wouldn’t, not just because that’s incredibly private but also because he’s oscar and he’s basically kimi raikkonen (in this analogy lando is sunshine boy seb but that’s an idea for another post). oscar’s whole public image is that he doesn’t want to have a public image. he doesn’t give the media any more parts of himself than he’s contractually obligated to. what he does give is concise, serious, the strongest points in the fewest words. and because of the enigmatic, tantalizing nature of that approach paired with the fact that he’s a fucking brilliant driver, people listen to what he has to say.

so oscar has a lot more weight to throw around than alex. alex’s image is that he’s a cuddly sunshiney cat dad who is a living anomaly in that he’s a good driver and a total sweetheart at once. whether or not what he says comes from the heart (it does. he’s alex) the reaction can always be “awww look at alex he’s such a nice guy :)” and the focus is on the kindness of the gesture/praise/respect itself rather than what alex is actually saying. so if alex says logan had more potential, that’s alex being alex.

if oscar says logan had more potential, that’s a fucking statement. and if the media wasn’t coming for JV’s head at this point, oscar just gave them a diagram for how to build a guillotine.

beautiful.

[syrma-sensei]

Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.5: A Man's Property.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Setting: In the early 80s.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, prostitution, misogyny, power imbalance...

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

When you return to what you call home, you don't expect to get hugged and patted on the back. You don't need either. You just want to be alone and cry in your bed in the seclusion your room provided, wherein you let yourself drown in self pity and bitter heartache. To be in utter bemusement is an understatement; you're still processing the fact that the reason for the shitty life you live is him, and he doesn't fucking regret it. He takes pride in it. You know that much. Sure, he stopped the villains, and saved the country from what they might have inflicted on people, but he seemed to forget what he inflicted upon you and the victims of that incident. He fucking called your brother an obstacle, as if he were a speck of dust.

Your brother was on him. His blood is on Ben's hands, not the culprits'.

You feel bitter bile rolling up your throat. You choke both on it and your tears. Your sniffles are weak and pathetic. Your heart wrings with guilt and self-hatred, for you could still feel him inside of you, for you could feel the sweetness of his touch on you, for you could feel your heart ache for and because of him.

You pull your hair and let out a strangled wail. He fucked you, he claimed you; body, heart, and soul. Your heart is torn between beating for him and being beat because of him.

In one moment he is everything, and in another he's nothing. You love him, you hate him. You want him, you loathe him. Your body ripples with love, hate, sweetness, and bitterness.

You want him in ways you never wanted someone before, your heart raves on for him.

“I won't let anyone take you from me. You have my word for that.”

But his deeds did. He fucking broke his promise before he even made it.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

They're all liars.

They said the criminals killed your brother and set the building on fire. But it was Soldier Boy's order. Jack promised to make you a star, instead he turned you into his bitch. Ben promised to make you his, thus far, you're not sure you don't want him to be lying in the matter, you don't want to be his anymore.

You utter expletives in a hissing voice.

You were an idiot.

You opened your heart for the wrong man. You should've known better than that. Jack warned you about this before, about meddling business with please, about thawing within the inkling of the heart and brains.

You feel a heavy weight encumbering your chest as your heart warps in bitterness.

In your throes of dismay, you curse yourself and your heart for falling for him. You should've never flirted with him at Sonia Vogelbaumm’s wedding. You shouldn't have agreed to sing along with him. You shouldn't have been claimed by him. You shouldn't have heard what you heard. You shouldn't have dug after it and found out the truth; the one who owns your heart is the cause of your misery.

It's been two days since you left Herogasm without a word. You expected he'd come after you and conciliate you, or so you hoped. You assumed you'd get fired from Vought, or so you wished. You don't want to see him again, because you know… you know your heart will betray you and seek the one it throbs for.

Ben ruined you, and for good. It dithers you that you still want him in the deepest of your depth.

You flinch when you feel a hand perch on your shoulder, “Wake up, (Y/N)...” You hear glee in Jack's voice. You groan, stirring in the sheets, then you sit up with an ache both in your head and heart.

You haven't seen him in days, and to say you're not keen on seeing him now, is an understatement. You're in a mess. He won't like it; you just ruined his business with Vought. You're sure he'll wail on you for that.

However, and for some reason, you don't like the bizarre grin on his face as he sits next to you, the remote control of your small T.V. is in his hand. He turns it on and your eyes dilate as you listen to your own voice emanating from it.

Your heart plummets to your toes. Vought dropped the cover song and it's now on every channel. That means one thing…

“The Legend just called…” Jack interrupts your trail of thought.

“What’d he say?” You rub the dried tears from your eyes. Your heart paces up. “He said your collaboration with Soldier Boy has been called off for bad reviews.” You wished he would tell you that. But instead.

“They want you as Soldier Boy's new love interest.”

You gulp hard.

You're doomed.

When you bailed on him at Herogasm two nights ago, he left no stone unturned looking for you. One moment you were dozing off in the bed you two shared, the other one you weren't. You were just gone. It drove him crazy. The fact you disappeared after the promise he made you. How dare you, he simmered with fury; he took his frustration on the guy next to him. The scapegoat was Tommy. He wailed on the kid until Tessa begged for her twin brother's life.

When the word that you went home reached his ears, he received it in a cold bitterness. His face didn't mirror the way his heart was raging and huddling in the mess in his chest. That bitch. He thought with revulsion. You played him like a fucking stupid puppet. And here he thought he shared something real with. He scoffed. You're a complete hypocrite, a tremendous actress (just like himself) and a whore.

He feels like a jackass for being played like that. A fucking pussy. That's what he was; he let his emotions take control for one second and it brought him no good, it only dumped a mess on both his head and his heart.

She's gonna pay. He promised himself. No bitch can do him dirty and get away with it. He's going to turn your life into a living hell.

Now, with a smirk adorning his lips, he watches you and himself on the T.V. singing Just The Two Of Us. He grins at the applause you two earned. Everyone's questioning whether you two are together or not. The chemistry you two share is hypnotic. Every famous channel is raging with his and your pictures, wondering if there's a chance that he left Countess for you. His fans are keen on knowing it, obsessing over his scoop comment.

“Gotta say, she does look pretty at your side.” Legend comments from behind him, “I underestimated her.”

Ben chuckles, “She is a firecracker that one,” And she sets flames in my heart.

“People are gonna love you two together.” Legend drops another remark, “I talked to her manager…” Ben's molars grit, “He’s more than open to the idea…”

“Good.” Ben replies curtly.

That manager needs to be off the picture, and soon. He'll see to it.

Of course, he will omit Jack out of the way. When he's subtly removed, you'll have nowhere to turn to but him. You'll have nobody but him.

“A non-supe lass is the new sweetheart of Soldier Boy. I tell ya, it'll be all the rage in no time.”

“Oh, that I know.” Ben grins, taking a gulp from his drink, befor he adds, “Speaking of which, that fuckface should be out of the way.”

“It’s not gonna be easy,” Legend sighs, “The leash he has on her is too—Ugh!”

With the dexterity and swiftness of a tiger, Ben curls a stiff hand around Legend’s neck. “She’s no longer his bitch. She's mine.” Ben seethes, “And you'll see to it or I'll take it into my own hands and do it myself.”

Legend's eyes flutter as he chokes, “Y-Yes…”

“Good…” Ben unclasps his grip from the man's neck. Legend collapses on his knees, breathing heavily.

Legend considers the option and he opts to carry on Soldier Boy's wishes, because it's always easier to fire a man than covering up for his death.

Your pleas and begging go on deaf ears.

Jack practically has to drag you to Vought's tower to offer you on a golden plate for them and him.

“Please… I'll do anything you want,” You try to reason with him, “Just don't let him have me.”

“I’m sorry, doll, but your price has already been paid.” Jack snarls. Clearly, you're playing with fire, “Now, be a good slut and do as you're told, like you always do.”

As you two make it to the main gates of the tower, you dig your heels into the marble. “Please, you don't understand—!”

His hand is quick to smack tingles in your cheek. People passing by, leering at your scene, some of them exchange looks and most of them just… ignore you.

“You will listen to me, you ungrateful bitch!” Jack growls, “I gave you everything when you had nothing. I absolve you from being a cheap hooker who solicits on the streets. You owe me!” He grumbles, nostrils flaring, “You’ll be my bitch until you repay me my troubles, you hear me?!” He clutches your hair and pulls you down, making you wince.

“Security!” A woman's calls.

And in a minute, two guards wrap their arms around Jack's shoulders and unlatch him from you.

You're in a quivering mess on the floor whereas Jack tries to tug himself off of the guards as they lead him out of the building.

“There’s been a mistake,” He chuckles nervously, “I’m Ms. (Y/N)’s manager. I'm The Legend's friend.”

Just like your words hold no value to him, his don't to them.

You watch Jack kicking his feet and screaming as they throw him out of the gates. Through your tears, you allow yourself your lips to crack a small smile of victory. You allow yourself to let the wound Jack has been leaching on for years to breathe.

Just before it's muffled by Soldier Boy in the next second.

You grimace a tad as the liquid you're swallowing burns your throat, eyes occasionally flitting up and down at him. He hasn't uttered a word since you've been brought to him, which you can't interpret as a good or bad thing. He just stares at you with blank eyes, as if waiting for you to start. But you don't.

“Why?” He says, voice a bit bitter.

“Why what?” You hoarse.

“You know what.” He grumbles.

Of course you know why. Why did you dump me in a fucking orgy? He wants to say, but doesn't. He just fucking stares and it agonizes you. Your eyes brim with tears but you choke on them, locking them in. You don't want him to see you crying. You don't want to be weak facing him. You did once, and look what that got you.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” There's a venomous hint at your tone, but soon enough, the tough façade cracks when he pounces forwards in your direction. His hands clasp on your forearms, fingers wringing your tender flesh.

“Don’t give that shit, woman!” He barks, anger searing in his green eyes like Greek fire, “Why did you bounce on me that night? I demand to know.”

“You don't get to demand anything from me, Benjamin,” You seeth, “That night was a mistake.”

Ben's face falters a bit. A mistake? The promises you two made were just sleazy words that meant nothing? He doesn't believe that. He won't. He can't.

His hands squeeze deeper into your skin and you moan in pain.

“So you want to be that ass fuck’s whore your entire life?”

That's when you deliver a hard slap against his cheek. You instantly regret it; your wrist almost snaps in two from the smack. What's this man made of? Steel?!

You hold your hand closer to your chest, the pain pounding in your joint. But another pain ripples through you as he pulls at your hair backwards, exposing your neck.

“You will learn to show some respect, or I'll snap you pretty neck, understand?”

Tears roll down your cheeks. He's just like Jack. It's the same shit, but a different man. You escaped from hell to another inferno. As an attempt to win his mercy, you give him a nod and a pained moan.

“Please…” You whimper.

“Please, what?”

“Please, sir.”

“Good girl.” He lets you go.

You gasp when you're free of his grasp, shivering at the way he's ogling you.

“Now, I'll ask you again,” He enunciates, “Why did you leave Herogasm that night?”

Because you're my brother's murderer, you piece of shit. You want to say, but instead you answer, “I was overwhelmed; it's not regular for one to witness a supe orgy everyday.”

He smacks his lips, not satisfied with your answer, “You think I'm stupid, dollface?” He quirks a brow, and suddenly comes upon you how handsome he is. Whoever suggested covering his face with a helmet was an idiot.

“No!”

“Then, tell me!” He seethes and you cower backwards which makes him stop. He won't have looking at him the way you look at that fuck. He sneers at himself. Great. His resolve to make your life a living hell is decaying by every second. The tears in your eyes are like acid on his heart.

Ben sighs in defeat, then asks you, more softly this time, “Did anyone mistreat you that you left?”

You shake your head.

Lying. Again.

Ben lets out another sigh.

“Anywho,” His voice regains its stoic rasp, “You’re no longer his,” He speaks, “You’re not Vought’s either.”

He sees something that akin to hope flicker in your eyes, “You’re my property now.”

That gleam is gone.

🦅 Previous Chapter: Unmasked.

🦅 Next Chapter: Coming soon.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin, @demodemo909

@mystic-mara, @jqtaro, @pepsicolacoochie, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @prurose

@leavli, @robertthehoover, @soldiergrimes, @vanessa-boo, @uddiifiigj...

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 14

you’re still speaking in the present tense.

you barely know us.

i’m your best friend? you’ve known me for like four weeks.  

i was seeing someone and i fucked it up. i fucked it up because i’m fucked up.

you’re a fucking creep, i’m a fucking catch.

i’m charming as shit.

all i want is for people to like me, but i just keep hurting people instead.

that’s just what we do. we look out for each other.

my nightmares don’t usually serve breakfast.

you’re pretty much a pain in my ass. and most days, you suck.

delusions make me happy.

we can’t play defense forever.

i think i like you better than anyone i know.

nothing that i’ve been through is possible. i feel like my mind is breaking.

i know it’s dangerous here.

i’m sorry, are you invested in the happiness of someone else?

things change. here, it’s usually bad.

i hesitate to tell you this, because you’re pathologically overconfident, but you’re cute.

you’re a good person with all your bad qualities.

hope is what makes you willing to suffer.

i want to feel that full-blown compliment.

buddy, fuck off, okay?

fuck you, you really hurt my feelings, and i hope an air conditioner falls on you.

my heart’s belonged to you since the moment i met you.

when the fuck are we not at risk?

hot. you’re hot.

i don’t want to be like this. it’s terrifying.

you’re not fucked up. you’re like the most together person i know. 

all i am is a dumb motherfucker who keeps getting people killed.

my mom adores you.

great, you’re yelling at me again.

i think the only way you can be happy is if you’re yourself.

is it just physically impossible for you not to be an asshole for longer than 10 minutes?

i like you a lot better when you’re not yelling at me.

it’s real, and i’m fucking terrified.

i have done things i can’t undo.

i just feel like all i’ve been doing lately is hurting people.

you do not just get to come in here, dump a load of shit like that, and then walk away.

i don’t want to let this place decide when we get to be happy.

i promise i won’t cry on you if you sit next to me.

you are my home, and i would really like to be yours.

you look how i feel.

i don’t give a shit about your word.

i know their type. everything’s a personal attack, a goddamn battle.

you know it’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, including your friends.

she looked good. i mean, hateful. but good.

it’s poor form to blame the dead.

i’m bothered by people who don’t know how good they have it.

you’re trapped with me. in a fun way.

this place is haunted. everywhere i look, i see somewhere you lied to me.

i don’t feel better off. i just feel left.

i made my choices. so did you.

broken people don’t survive here.

i am exiting our one-sided relationship.

one failed marriage, who hasn’t been there?

i just need to know you’ve got your shit together.

i don’t need a pep talk. i just need to know that you’re back.

mostly everybody here’s depressed.

rule number one: never trust the love interest.

now i know how to take care of my problems.

i can’t uproot my life just to make you happy.

i was never rooting for you to be unhappy. i just wanted you to have more.

stop saying that everything’s going to be okay.

you are not some hopeless screw up.

no one listens to me. no one.

i’m not a problem for you. i’ve never been a problem for you.

there are no mistakes. just choices. and you chose what was right for you.

if someone came up to you right now and said, ‘do this one bad thing and everyone gets to go home,’ would you do it?

i don’t want to know the answer.

when we’re together, i feel a lot. and mostly, it’s good.

we don’t have time to be delicate.

actually, you might be the best thing in my life.

i don’t know what to do, and that really freaks me out.

i’m not gonna stand here and pretend it was a good day.

there are always gonna be monsters in the world. it doesn’t matter where you are. but i promised myself i would never let them scare the life out of me.

i don’t give a shit what you are.

i’m doing this for you. i’m doing it for all of us.

if this shit goes sideways, you have to be ready to step up.

i need you to do me a favor. cut yourself some slack.

you trust me to decide the rest of your life?

you have a sense of direction. 

when did life become this big monster we have to just constantly feed?

we don’t have to live like the sky is always falling.

i’m not afraid of the dark.

you think i’m a monster?

what’s happening to us?

what part of this is okay?

that was death, and it’s coming… right now.

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

not me curling my laptop charger wire the way you curl band equipment cords HAHAHA god i miss it

[itsalmostavengers]

Okay so this is a bit of a random request for advice but. For those of u who know my situation n the grief and the loss suffered etc etc. Basically I’ve got it in my head that maybe I just need to fucking change my entire life and. Um. join the army reserves? So in the UK the reserves aren’t the fighting unit from what I know they’re just backup, so you get the adventurous/ thrilling training program + you’re called up only if there’s a national crisis like a flood or whatever, and you help your own country you don’t go elsewhere. However up until This Very Point I’ve always been very staunchly against the military as an entire ideal. And so I’m caught between like. This Huge urge to just. Do terrifying things like parachuting etc and really force myself into a training regime or whatever so that I don’t let the ummmmm substance abuse take over my life. But I’m also. Like I hate the military 😭😭 so I’m just really confused and if anyone has any good advice to impart on me. Please do.

[ei-mugi]

one time i was talking to my american online friends about stuff and i was like "haha yeah people always say i look ambiguously european but cant place what i am specifically" and they were like "i dont think europeans have a look though." what do you mean. you dont believe different ethnic features exist...?

[slippery-minghus]

gods, why didn't i get a college degree in anything useful?

[skhardwarevers1]

anyways “just don’t leave me alone wondering where you are” Program and “I am stronger than you give me credit for” Vista

[zemnarihah]

my best friend has been very distant w me lately and i asked today if she wanted to hang out and she said she probably couldn't bc it's her brothers birthday but she would let me know if she could and i have her location and i just looked and she's at her boyfriends house rn....

[hella1975]

loveeeeeeee when my one very spoilt flatmate says some shit about how she treats her mum/how she talks to her mum and me and my other flatmate just look at each other for a silent moment and both just go 'no id be dead'

[medicinemane]

Actually here's a true example of where it's like bro you have the moral backbone of wet putty

He got banned in destiny 2 and he thought it was unjust, and I forget the details, but I was inclined to agree

He swore a blood feud with them, he'd never play again... then like a week later he rebought every last bit of content for it, and like was playing it last night complaining that he didn't think this latest season had much content... but my man... you're still playing it and giving them money... despite the fact you're not enjoying it and also the fact you said you'd never buy it again

I don't think you really get to say "well if a game's good people'll play it no matter what", cause you're just the Spider's Georg of playing every game even if it sucks ass

[yuribalisms]

Essentially what it is all boiling down to is I have fully realized I am bad at being a person, that will always be true, and I don’t know how to handle that

[navree]

there's a lot of reasons why that titans show wanting to do batfam specific arcs, especially death in the family/under the red hood, flopped so hard each time, but one of the biggest is that they basically brought jason back after, like, a fucking month and it basically negates the entire thing

[skeletalheartattack]

A friendo fmine put me on to a game called "24 Killers" Inspired by the games the chibi-robo people did before they made chibi-robo. I feel like the aesthetic would be up your alley

oh yeah i saw the trailer for 24 Killers just yesterday! it definitely looks a lot like Moon RPG, and i absolutely love it's clay-esque artstyle a whole lot! absolutely want to look take a full look into it whenever i have the chance!

[screampied]

RIDIN' DIRTY ?!

⋆˚. sum. you never realized how hot your local mechanic was until he had you arched and bent over your hood. spoiler fucking alert, you end up getting a different kind of pipe that’s of course free of charge just for you.

warnings. fem! reader, mechanic toji, unprotected, degradation, oral (f! receiving), spıt, breēding, shotgunning, fuckıng you on the hood, praise, manhandling, pússywhipped toji, size kink, biting, brief fıngering, petnames.

wc. 5.3k

an. ty kali for beta'ing some x

“she’s all done, ma’am,” your mechanic toji murmurs in a gruff voice, yanking back your stick shift before putting it in park. he drove it near the garage of his auto shop, a rounded plump cigarette sticking from the corner of his mouth. with a yawn departing from his lips, he eyes you up and down for a bit before removing his seatbelt. stepping out, he then towers over you by many, many staggering inches. his silhouette alone was intimidating, and you shift your dilated irises away once he cocks his head to your level. “still in pretty good shape. y’er model ain’t that old ‘n i think you should visit every few weeks.”

compressing your thighs together, you bury your purse underneath the pit of your arm. “oh, okay thank you sir,” and as he’s standing—you then take a good glimpse at the man in front of you. he’s handsome, sweaty, and covered in nothing but a slick sheet of grease. the more you gawk, the more you could see a bit of curly chest hair poke out against his skin. his broad chest, his perky pink nipples that poked-

“heh, darlin’ ya don’t gotta be so formal, y’know,” and your eyes darted toward his work cap that was slightly twisted. god, he was so attractive. he inches toward you closer, watching you struggle to keep composure before you think he’s gonna kiss you. so what do you do, you close your eyes. you close your fucking eyes, thinking he was gonna kiss you but instead, he places a hand on the hood of your car. “oh? silly girl, were you expectin’ something?”

“n- no.”

yeah, you were.

it was late at night, midnight, and everyone had clocked out for the day.

everyone except toji. he was a workaholic. you needed a last minute oil change and he was the only available one near by. he was about to close but made an exception. the auto shop has a cooling air surrounding the inside of the garage before you swallow. you can hear your saliva trail its way down your throat as you finally meet direct eye contact with the older man. “cute,” toji murmurs, and he’s not even touching you. he’s not even touching you but it felt like it. despite his teasing, you get hit face first with a strong waft of his scent. his cologne, you knew the exact type he was wearing. cheap, but long lasting against anyone’s nostrils who takes a first whiff. “it’s been a while since y’er last oil change though, i’d be lyin’ if i said i didn’t miss ya.”

with a quirk of a brow, you murmur up at him, deciding why not to play along. you knew he was most likely teasing but still. “you missed … me?”

“sure,” toji removes his baseball cap, fanning it against the sweat glistening off his bulging muscles that poke through his perfectly sculpted body. he was so fit, you couldn’t help but openly leer at his broad, intense figure. with a sly smile, he leans against your car before humming, taking another hit of his cigar. “not too many pretty faces show up ‘round here. besides, i didn’t forget about our little moment last time.”

your breath gets caught in the back of your throat.

he remembered,

he remembered the little incident the two of you shared. when you came for your last oil change and a battery repair, you also ended up sharing a kiss with toji. it was nothing more, nothing less.

but it was hot, having his tongue shoved down your throat with his big rough hands roaming along the sides of your body. being so pressed up against him, you felt yourself longing for more. in your city, toji was the best mechanic for miles. he we well known, quick, precise, and quite flirty.

you brought out the worst in him that day, and it annoyed you how the steamy, sultry kiss got interrupted by his boss. shiu … something, rich raven hair mirroring the same color as his worker.

“oh y- yeah.” you sheepishly mumble, feeling the tension through the air run thick. you loathed desperately how whenever you were around toji, your stammer would make an appearance. you hated it, it was so embarrassing and he ate it up everytime. toji’s sly gaze lowers and he titters at the cute pullover and skirt you wore before your own eyes trail toward his lips.

his lips,

they were naturally crooked — pink, and that damn slanted scar that remained to slash against the right side of his mouth. you peeped a bit of a growing stubble, but nevertheless he was always well trimmed. toji flashed a grin before he got way close to you. kneeling his head down, he whispers toward you. “oh y- yeah,” he mocks your trembling tone, and he was so close that his musk, his body heat radiates off you completely. “somethin’ tellin’ me you came here for more than just an oil change, that right, baby?”

your heart’s pulsing intensifies at his cunning words. always cutting straight to the chase. he’s so up close, his cologne’s just clogging up your nose by now before your thighs squeeze themselves shut. “yes.”

“yes what, darlin’?” and there’s a hint of jibe in his voice. the moment he grabs your chin gently, you’re ready to lose it right there. toji’s wearing mechanic gloves, the soft padded leather pulling down on your bottom lip playfully. with a coy head tilt, he purses your lips a bit more open. “ah, c’mon. use those pretty words, tell me what ya want.”

your legs, the crevices between them were already starting to slick with moisture.

oh, this couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing. as you meet his jade green eyes, you reply with a tone that comes out far more needy than you originally intended. “i want .. i want you, toji.”

there’s a frisky, playful glint in his eye—as well as the tiny crinkle forming at each twist of his facial expressions. “yeah you do,” and his words were pitched deep, so deep that the timbre lingering underneath his tone sends your spine shivers. “more than a kiss? i’ll hafta charge ya extra, heh.”

still . . it was humor in his voice, you knew he was joking but the heat purring between your thighs only grew. your body was screaming at you, it’s been a while since your last time anyway, the last time you’ve been touched. 

with a nod, murmuring out a faint little, “more than a kiss, ‘toj,” he snickers, closing the awkward distance between you two finally.

the moment his lips crash against yours, everything feels hot. scorching hot — similar to the sahara, his tongue being the water you needed to cool down. the leftover smoke and booze that lingered on his tongue was strong, the second it glided against your buds it tasted stronger. you could feel his smirk creeping against his lips before with two hands, he lifts you up, propping you to sit on the hood of your car. 

it was madly aggressive - teeth clashing, tongues twisting, one taste again and he was addicted.

he made sure to take out his cigarette before hand, squeezing it against his fingers as he’s gradually grinding his hips by you. it’s slow, you could feel his raging boner prod right through his work pants.

it was hard to miss, you couldn’t help but give him a few nosy peeks which he was working on your car to see if he was a packer and he definitely was.

sticky strands of his hair tickle against your forehead as he’s rutting right in you. a free hand makes its way onto your left thigh, slowly dancing his fingers amongst your skin. the moment your legs entrap his slim waist, locking around his torso, he grunts. both lashes were close to touching, breaths were becoming heavy, and you felt his tongue curl around yours. toji was a sloppy yet passionate kisser, and yet— he wanted his tongue to work in other ways. 

and it did, 

your jaw drops open as you’re laid flat on your back, staring at the man with his face shoved deep between your thighs. toji sprawls open your legs, delving his long tongue inside of your slick entrance to get a sweet taste.

gradually, his tongue dips all around your cunt, creating a little swirl before he feels your body twitch in rapture.

“t- tojiiii,” you whine, feeling a bit paranoid at how anyone could just see the two of you.

sure, you were both in a securely locked garage ( at least you hoped ) —but, anyone could just walk in. walk in and see you having your pussy being devoured by one of the most top known mechanics in the city. if you’d have given a rating on his pussy eating skills, it’d be five stars without question. 

he was always so nasty with it— occasionally, with his now bare fingers from removing his gloves, he slides a thumb down your slick.

“look at her, she’s fuckin’ sloppy,” he whispers against your cunt — his warm breath brushes near your folds and you whimper. your voice echoes raw out your throat, ringing through the spacey walls of his garage. this was far better than just an oil change, you were thinking. so so better,

as toji’s still swiping a tongue against your entrance in a circular rotation—nose deep, speaking of nose, it starts to rummage its way against your nub. you gag out a gasp, nearly choking from how out of breath you were with your legs shaking tremendously. with your teeth shattering, he nibbles against your clit, staring you dead in the eyes. “mmf, ‘s fuckin’ good. how generous of you though,” he coos in a gruff tone, easing a single digit inside of your slippery core. “haven’t ate all day ‘n this meal ‘s just what i needed darlin, heh.”

toji’s charisma was simply unmatched.

it was something about him being face first between your legs that made him ten times more attractive.

his hair, it was a bit lengthy but not too much. he grew it out the last time you saw him. a bit of a wolf cut but was neatly trimmed toward his shoulders. it’s rough and unkempt, dark black bangs still running down his eyes. every few seconds, he’s got to whip his head back in vex so his vision isn’t occluded. 

“hnnggh, right there toji. pleaseplease.” you babble out in desperate cries, swallowing your own pathetic pity before savoring the honeyed taste.

a whimper rips out of your throat to where it sounds similar to a gargle. his tongue knows just the right spots to reach. your clitoral hood, he loved to suck on it until that cute scream snatches from your esophagus.

“never tasted a girl so sweet ‘n all my years,” he groans, a single finger still shoved inside. it’s stretching you out more and your back arches against the warm hood of your vehicle.

from side to side,

his head moves and shifts and shakes and you’re about to lose it. in fact, you were already losing it, feeling your legs turn into complete mush. jello even, they felt nonexistent thanks to his sloppy tongue.

whilst he’s buried right between your thighs, the mechanic’s got the smuggest grin that you just wanted to wipe right off his face. 

toji’s so pent up and aroused—he works a regular six to twelve hour shift, it was almost the same situation for you. he can’t remember the last time he’s been … active, albeit he was exhausted. and yet it seemed as if your precious, slick cunt gave him all the needed battery to fuel his energy right back up.

a husky growl vibrates against your pussy and you whine as a hand combs its way into his hair. in the process, your fingers tangle against his strands. your digits - all five of them stroke through his scalp before giving it a brief tug. 

“kinky ‘lil slut, huh,” he grunts, head yanking forward towards your thighs. toji hated the fact that it turned him on. a lot, so much so that his dick twitches in his wrangler rigg jeans. as he’s got you still laid against your parked car, he slurps against your cunt - feeling you pulse right into his mouth. “there’s that cute heartbeat, she wants so much fuckin’ attention today.”

“t- toji, ‘m gonna cum,” you moan, his low words only pushing you further to the edge. barred big hands cling against both sides of your thighs. no longer having a finger inside, he firmly grabs your leg.

you’re quavering,

seeing nothing but splotches of snowy white as he’s slurping up your cunt like a hot dish of pasta. “c- cum, fuck ‘m gonna cum, y- your tongue ‘s goodddd.”

with a low hoarsely chortle, he hums. “careful, doll. cum ‘n i’ll have to add a bit of tax to your bill. plus an extra fee for heh, grease.”

you stare at him with a cute confused expression and he snickers. “aw, ‘m joking, don’t gimme that look,” and with warm lips pressing against your cunt, you mewl out a desperate, shrilling whine.

as the seconds go on, you’re steadily being brung to the teetering orgasmic edge. with your hips bucking against his face, he’s grabbing ahold of waist with his tongue exploring the inner caves of your delicious cunt.

your nub, he continues to flick against it, making your body jerk back against the unmoving vehicle. you whimper and whimper before he shoots you a teasing smile, whistling against your folds. “use those words, darlin’. use ‘em ‘n tell me what you want, yeah.”

“wanna cum- wanna c-cum,” you breathe, feeling the shiver in your jaw. even still, you’re wisping fingers into his strands, gripping it tightly before you’re grinding your cunt against his face.

a snail-like trail of your own clear slick runs down his chin. oh, with the way he slowly pulls his head up to smirk at you, you just wanted to kiss him again. your body’s hanging onto its last and final hinges before you’re spasming, feeling him swat a palm against your pussy thrice. “ngh, toji. wanna cum. please, need it. n- need to cum.”

“i’d beg to differ,” he groans, reaching for the hem of his pants - pulling the heavy piece of clothing down. his dick alone had a bit of weight to it and with murky-like irises, you gawk openly.

with a hand going inside of his pants, he lets off a guttural groan, starting to stroke himself off. a few solid pumps and he’s already sucking his teeth at the almost unbearable friction.

“fuck, y- you don’t ‘need’ shit, little girl,” and he’s multitasking. one hand focusing on your thigh and another on his cock. he’s so hard, he’s so fucking hard and the moving you’re doing against his body - the grinding, it doesn’t make it any better. with a mean slap, he spanks your cunt again before spitting near your folds. “you need it, you need ‘ta cum. right darlin’?”

“y- yes,” you hiccup, white noise deafening your ears continuously. the loooooong, sleazy slurps of his tongue makes you rock more into his mouth, nearly pulling out his strands with your rough, hard grip.

the more you tug and pull against his hair, the more it turns him on. his cock throbs whilst a long vein runs through the very side of his shaft. the center of toji’s thumb brushes against his peeling brief foreskin. “need, i need to cum. please.” you correct yourself, in hopes that he’d let you succumb to your nirvana-filled release.

as your fingers continue to fish through his hair, gathering a nice hold, he starts to make out with your folds. the squelches, they were singing out a cacophony of sloppy sounds. you’re sopping wet so good for him to where your cunt’s just voluntarily cascading on his mouth—cascading down his chin.

with ease, you even drench his stubble with your slick - happily. “go ‘head girl,” he grunts, gazing hungrily at the concoction of strings departing. cobwebs of his saliva mixing along with strings of your slick makes him groan. what a mess. a mess and you were the biggest one possible.

once you come undone, everything’s so hazy. your legs jitter in exhilaration, moaning loudly from the intense palpitation. he licks you clean, lapping up your flavorful juices with his tongue before feeling a few spurts of his own cum paint against his palm. “f- fuck, pretty,” he grunts, each stroke against his hard cock making him grind his teeth together. his jaw tightens, realizing he’d just came with you - all from eating you out. you were shaking still, your climax making your vision turn into a rainbow of color. your eyelids, all you saw was a plethora of colorful tints, slowly jerking your hips forward until you couldn’t anymore. as you move, he guides you to ride out your orgasm, ride it out all on his face. “thaaaat’s it, gimme all of y’er taste, mhm.”

it lasts for seconds, seconds that felt like long, never ending hours. with a sweet elongated battle cry of your own that’s in reality replaced with an ear shattering orgasm, you slump back against your vehicle. 

“such a good girl,” he murmurs, getting up and it’s a concise soreness in his thighs from bending down for that duration of a time. inhaling a breath of fresh air, he inches toward your face. “heh, you look so dumb,” he teases at your state. indeed you were, his tongue had you feral and craving for more. you were still throbbing, his body heat closing the remaining spacey inches between you both before he grabs your chin. “want a taste, do ya?”

“y- yes,” you nod, your own breathing betraying you with how you struggle to maintain easy, singlular breaths.

toji pops his cigarette back into his mouth before taking a long, deep inhale. the smoke burns, and he aligns his dick up against your drooling slit. he didn’t have to do much moving, the skirt you wore made it easy for him to lift the thin piece of fabric up for access. you glance down, and he was so big.

veiny, a heavy fat cock with an even heavier fat base. as the end of the lit cigarette sticks between his teeth, his brows contorts into a furrow. 

toji coos quietly, the mushroom-tip of his dick sweltering inside against your warm heated core. “open wide, babygirl,” he huffs, a thumb peeling down your lip once more. his eye contact had your pussy twitching profusely. it was so intimate, you felt the arising tension reach its peak. not even hesitating, you part your lips open, leaving your mouth open ajar for him. “good. nice ‘n wide for toji,” he refers to himself and you watch with doe eyes as he blows an airy puff of smoke right into your mouth. tepid lips hover against your own, and he’s so close that he can almost smell your longing arousal. you moan at the feeling of his tip easing its way into your cunt, creating squelchy sloshing sounds of acceptance. “there we go baby, nice ‘n easy.” he whispers, and toji finally kisses you. 

you moan, feeling his dick breeze its way into your sopping cunt, the stretch already presenting itself toward your walls. it’s a tight stretch and you moan, throbbing from the way you’re opening up for him. as the friction sets against your twitching muscle, you whine, running your tongue down his to taste the brewing variations of saliva and smoke into your mouth. it’s so sloppy, his tongue game was just improperly risqué. 

fithly, coarse..

with your ass sitting directly on the cool running hood of your vehicle, he’s continuing to drive his dick straight into you.

you moan as his lips attack against yours, savoring your candied flavor. it was something about you that he couldn’t get enough of. toji’s body - it was broad and big. as he towers over your frame, he starts to thrust a bit forward.

“ughh,” he bites down on your lip, dark mean eyes meeting yours as he then opens them.

the stretch had you gasping for air once his lips shortly break away. already, you missed them. he sees the pout and he chuckles before his head tosses itself back. as his lips pull away, strands of spit abruptly leave, saying its goodbyes to each mouth. “so fuckin’ — shit.” he swears, so lost in your swallowing walls that he forgets his initial sentence. 

already, his eyes were starting to flicker back.

rolling back,

it was sexy to witness, especially up close. toji’s cock dives into your cunt further and further before finally, he bottoms out. once he’s reached the hilt - the very hilt, you whine, throwing your arms over his tense shoulders carelessly.

“fuck me, f- fuck me, toji. please.” you stammer out in pathetic babbles, the repetitive twitch in your pussy making him all the more harder. your pleas almost fall on deaf ears before you feel the veins pulse down his cock. it spasms inside you and if you weren’t as wet before, you were certainly wet now.

he’s just so hard, your walls grip and envelope around his length as you bite on his shoulder. 

“didn’t know we’re on bitin’ terms now, heh,” he attempts to joke, one hand gently squeezing onto your waist. his touch, you never failed to lean into his touch. with a needy gasp, his hefty dick tucks its way into the insides of your cunt. your goopy walls squelch and squelch, shrieking out a lewd harmony of wails. you’re so wet - already, his base starts to get painted from your slick. you moan, licking a stripe near the crook up neck. he snickers, feeling the moisture of your tongue collide against his skin. “jus’ so fuckin’ hot,” he gruffs, staring at your already fucked dumb expression. “mhm, such a nasty girl. havin’ me fuck ya on y’er car.”

he’s stretching you out so good, its as if your cunt was a gymnast — easily bending and breaking, stretching in and out. toji’s dick was fat - the foreskin that’s glued against his tip stimulates the insides of your wet core. you whine once more, clinging onto his beefy body as he’s fucking you on the hood.

pitiful babbles of mercy whisper in his ears, your ankles and heels brushing alongside the red lines of his back. toji was sweating a lot more from the constant moving — you, your body jolting up against your car and his sharp, deadly hits going in and out of you. each piston has you weak, stupid even.

despite his mechanic scented musk with a sprinkle of inexpensive cologne, it was still alluring to you. you throbbed as he continued to jerk his hips against the same spot. your toes, all five of them on both feet curl in awe before you start to spasm.

“y- yes, please. right there, right there tojiiii.” and you probably sounded so pathetic but you could care less. your face was all scrunched up and twisting in blissful pleasure as he’s plunging into you at full force. his rhythm, his pace . . it was ruthless. 

safe to say, you were addicted.

cock drunk, easy - just like that. with a secure grip still on your hip, he’s reeling you back with such ease. strands of saliva starts to pour out from the side corners of your mouth and he slyly smiles. “oh, you just wanna be a messy customer today, huh. such a mess,” and with a flick of his thumb, he swipes your spit clean. he does this only to pop the same finger into his mouth, relishing in your glacé, syrupy taste. “so sweet, ‘m gonna need more though.”

your knees embarrassingly buckle. your weeping cunt sobs for more and more as his mean, degrading thrusts is just leaving you utterly dumbfounded. your mouth was open, tiny little pants of air escaping out into the form of a mere croak. toji’s weighty dick thoroughly plummets into your insides with all of his might to where you’re already visibly stupid.

each mocking thrust makes your stomach churn. he’s so deep, his tip located in every area. you’re stretched, worn thin, and the minute his cockhead greets your cervix with a french kiss, you shriek sweetly.

“oh my g- goddd, there please, toji, tojiiii,” and you were just babbling out anything at this point.

it was adorable, every few seconds, the mechanic had to swipe the back of his hand against his forehead. the remaining few droplets of perspiration that resided underneath his bangs was a lot. as beads of sweat race down his face, sable irises meeting your dumbed down state and you moan, nails now clawing into his shoulders. “f- fuck, ‘s good. ‘s fuckin’ big.”

“big just for you, baby,” he groans against your ear - the fat of his balls mashing against your entrance making you dizzy. you’re about to break again, the smell in the air was almost potent.

with his cologne, the mixture of his sweat, and the burning hot gas fumes of your car, you felt like you were floating. your cunt was being stuffed with delirious inches of cock and you wouldn’t have it any other way. toji grabs your chin, pressing a wet kiss against your mouth before his tempo accelerates. “shittt, grippin’ on me so good, ‘m gonna cum, darlin’.”

at his throaty words, you meet his eyes before burying your face into his neck for about the nth time again. the only words he could hear you whine into his neck was, “inside, inside me, ‘toj.”

“so y’er a creampieee kinda girl,” he sneers in amusement - watching as you’re slowly being taken to your inevitable rapturous rapture.

you’re whimpering, taking in each of his deep, pivotal strokes. toji brings his hands toward your waistline, skimming his fingertips against the curvature before nibbling on your earlobe. “careful, sweets... ‘s gonna be a nice big load. can ya be a good girl ‘n take that much? don’t wanna give ya too much of a full, heh.”

if it wasn’t for his puns — you’d smack him, but you were too cock drunk to think, let alone comprehend. 

“i can take it,” you nod desperately, a cute tremor in your voice as you’re making haste with your own hips against his. everything’s so sharp. “fuck, f- fuck me, right there.”

toji found it cute how repetitive your sweet nothings were - the same endless chatter flowing past your lips. “yeahhh.” he jibes, although his words were in the form of a question. you grab against his wrist while your slippery soaked cunt braces for the parching, hot fill.

three thrusts, 

three slow deep thrusts and he was at his peak. leisurely, as toji’s cock deeply into the pits of you, almost reaching your tummy - you feel a few hot spurts shoot into you raw. toji groans, his voice echoing through the garage. he was whipped. your expression was so cute, hooded droopy eyes and an abashed little grin.

his swollen fat tip was downright rude with the way it scrapes against your pussy, thrashing all inside as if it knows the place.

it’s so much, colossal big hands of his grab onto your thigh, and he leans in to gently pierce his teeth into your skin. sucking against your tender flesh, like honey—like nectar, he grunts his own gruff climax into your shoulder. 

his voice was low - his adam’s apple bobs at his actions, feeling an unforeseeable wave crash over him at once. it’s intense and he’s just eating up your delicious fervor that was right in front of him.

“t- toji,” you breathe, your arms still slung over his shoulders. easily, he’s jerking away from attentions.

toji wasn’t fully thrusting anymore, but he still had a decent pace of pumps. his fresh, warm cum emits into your cunt like how a volcano erupts. gushing into you, it’s hot and thick like lava, warm and sticky like magma.

you were chasing your breaths but failed to surpass them in the fictitious lewd race. it’s so hot inside, you were almost positive a few slimy spurts of toji’s cum exudes up on the hood of your car. you’ve never felt so full, his chest heaves and yours deflates in harmony. 

with both bodies were in sync and casual harmony, he grunts before leaning in to kiss you. his now flaccid dick was just idly inside of your swollen, greedy cunt. throbbing even still, you rub the backs of your ankles behind his slim waist before tilting your head back. the kiss was far more passionate this time.

if you knew mechanics fucked this good, maybe, just maybe you’d come for an oil change more often.

except, toji didn’t just add the new oil into the engine of your car, he added his own new oil into your sopping, drenched cunt. 

“fuck, baby,” he groans, feverish breaths titillating against the inner areas of your neck.

you pulse from any movement he makes, clinging onto him tightly like a koala. he has a flashy half girn, slowly pulling out his dick to see the mess. your cunt was overflowed to the max - so much cum, so so much. 

toji licks his lips, the tip of it grazing against his fleshed scar as he peers at your pussy’s opening. the way your entrance slowly spitting out his thick, velvety ropes of cum due to its fullness makes him grunt.

inside, it was lukewarm—oozing out of your entrance before you lean back against your hood. “mhm, ‘s still pourin’ out. guess i was so pent up from today, barely had any time to jerk off.”

“i didn’t have to know that.” you huff at his teasing, trying to catch your breaths. your full lungs felt like they were about to collapse. 

toji helps you off your car - although, he wanted more and so did you. surprisingly, he even cleans the hood off for you. as you’re back on your feet, sore and all, he asks for your number. “you’re gonna ask me out or something?”

“maybe, hold still darlin,” and your interest peaked, wondering why he wanted you to be still.

you turn, heaving a bit of shifting before toji bends down. you shudder a bit, feeling what feels like a cold marker starting to drag and scrape down against the right cheek of your ass. you could hear low, raspy laughter as he’s writing on your rear. with a pout, you wait as he’s continuing to write what you assume to be his number onto your skin with a sharpie.

the smell smolders against your nose quickly before he finishes, popping the black cap into his mouth. “there, call me after the hours of,” and he pauses, glancing at his watch. “hm, eleven pm.”

“thank you….” you murmur, that simple action making you throb again before your eye twitches. you make your way towards your car and then you feel a breeze through your legs. eyes widening, you turn towards the mechanic. “um- my panties? i kind of need them.”

with a sly grin, he pulls his work jeans back up before humming. “um, you kind of don’t,” he mocks your sentence, and you almost moan at the feeling of his hand squeezing your ass. toji then spanks it, the sharpie marker of his number imprinted on your skin slightly smearing against his palm.

“darlin, consider y’er panties as payment. ‘s on the house,” and you gulp, meeting his viridescent, green eyes. he looked hungry for more - that natural smirk compressing against his lips never once fading. toji brushes a thumb against your cheek before leaning against your car. “come back anytime for a fill.”

he hums cheekily at you through the mirror, closing your car door once you get in, starting the ignition. with your panties in hand, he shoots you a nod. “i’ll make it extra creamy next time. no charge, baby.”