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[5sospenguinqueen]

He’s Just Ken - Lando Norris x Volleyball! Reader

Summary: Lando tries to tell the Grid that he's dating an Olympic Volleyball player but instead, they publicly accuse him of lying to them.

Warnings: None? Swearing. Fluff.

Requested: Yes by Anon (here)

2024 season, slightly skewed timeline haha

Face claim is Jordan Thompson but also rando pinterest pics used. American Volleyball player to fit in with 'the twist'

F1 Masterlist

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landonorris just posted

liked by ln4, maxfewtrell and others

landonorris non-race weekends mean quality time with my trophy and watching the olympics opening ceremony 

2,004 comments

maxfewtrell don’t objectify me like that. i’m more than just your trophy 

→ landonorris you wish you were my trophy 

teamusa can we count on your support?

→ user1 um, he’s british so no..?

logansargeant looking forward to volleyball

→ landonorris absolutely

→ oscarpiastri it’s just sad now

→ user2 he’s not allowed to enjoy volleyball?

georgrussell63 look, guys, he’s trying to act like a wag 

→ alex_albon okay, moving this to social media is a step too far, mate

→ charles_leclerc c’mon, let him have his delusions. he’s not hurting anyone but himself 

→ landonorris they’re not delusions! 

→ user3 what is this about???

mclaren one of our favourite pictures 

→ oscarpiastri can we get him some mandated therapy?

→ landonorris i’m not mentally unwell! 

ynln_usa just posted

liked by landonorris, logansargeant and others

ynln_usa and i thought i looked good. let’s hear a little commotion for ms. eiffel 

3,481 comments

teammate1 okay but you do look good. nothing looks better than team pride

→ ynln_usa AMERICAAAAA 🦅🇺🇸

→ user4 i love how unhinged she is

user5 what is lando doing in the likes 

→ user6 logan is also here

→ user7 yes because she’s a usa volleyball player and he’s patriotic af. lando makes no sense  

→ user8 logan follows the usa volleyball insta account

logansargeant good luck 🇺🇸 liked by ynln_usa

→ user9 this interaction has my whole heart. my two favourite (and only) american athletes 

→ user10 yn and logan meet when?

teamusa that’s our girl! 

→ georgerussell63 lando’s imaginary girl

→ oscarpiastri like he could get her, she’s tall and he’s him (this comment thread has been deleted)

landonorris good luck on your first match

→ user11 sit down vroom vroom boy, not going to happen

→ user12 ha, like lando could bag the volleyball goddess. she’s a real athlete 

→ alex_albon the people have spoken

Group chat texts Twitch Boys + 2023 babies 

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ynln_usa just posted

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and others

ynln_usa first match down. my thighs are chafed and my voice all yelled out but i am pumped! 

4,416 comments

logansargeant what a game! looking forward to the rest of the season

→ ynln_usa thanks for the support 

user1 now oscar’s joined the group of drivers following her

→ user2 and charles

→ user3 poor logan can’t gatekeep her anymore

oscarpiastri looks intense 

→ ynln_usa says the extreme driver 

georgerussell63 lads, what’re we thinking

→ alex_albon just further reinforces our point

→ charles_leclerc she looks very cool

→ user4 what are they all doing here

→ user5 why are they all being suspicious

→ user6 nothing better to do on a weekday? 

landonorris i’ve never seen the stars and stripes look so good

→ danielricciardo norizz is back again

→ landonorris don’t you start 

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oscarpiastri just posted

liked by mclaren, ynln_usa and others

oscarpiastri lando’s dragging us to the olympics to feed into his delusion

2,814 comments

landonorris i’m not lying! 

user7 anyone else notice that all of the drivers in paris at the moment have been focusing on the usa women’s volleyball team?

→ user8 alex and george both posted this match, and their pic included player 12 as well??

→ user9 put some respect on yn ln’s name

danielricciardo where was my invite?

→ carlossainz55 and mine?

→ landonorris neither of you have publicly called me a liar. this isn’t a fun little trip. this is me proving a point! 

→ danielricciardo so it’s a holiday out of spite?

→ charles_leclerc we are having a great time though

alex_albon i’m willing to go along with his delusions if it gets me more free holidays 

→ logansargeant me too

→ georgerussell63 lads, no. we were supposed to be staging on intervention. i made a powerpoint 

landonorris i hate all of you

mclaren bring us back a croissant 

→ oscarpiastri only if you can find me a sane teammate 

→ mclaren deal

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ynln_usa just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon and others

ynln_usa luckily, i look better in silver than gold 

16,812 comments

ynln_usa on a serious note, i am blown away by the immense support i have received this olympic season. a massive thank you to the loml @/landonorris for being at the finals (and bringing along some friends) i could hear you screaming in the stands

→ user10 excuse me!! loml lando norris?? since, uh when

teamusa a silver medal and a hard launch. what a day for our champion

→ ynln_usa help, i’ve been captured by a bunch of men who drive in circles

→ teammate any of them single?

landonorris you look so cute with your medal! my olympic silver medalist, everyone 

user11 i feel like this isn’t reaching enough people because all of the comments are just congratulating her on a silver medal. where are the people freaking out about the pinned comment? 

→ user12 she won a silver freaking medal. that’s more impressive than dating someone below her league 

lilymhe i was on the edge of my seat the whole time! congratulations, girly 🥈 (alex facetimed me the whole time so i could watch the match)

→ ynln_usa you mean, lando didn’t give you a ticket? i’ll tell him off for you

→ landonorris how many times do i have to tell people? i didn’t invite them for a nice trip. i was proving a point! it was a petty trip

→ user13 one hell of a trip 

landonorris @/oscarpiastri @/charles_leclerc @/georgerussell63 @/alex_albon @/logansargeant read the caption, boys 

charles_leclerc amazing match

oscarpiastri what a game! 

logansargeant fuck yeah! USA! 

georgerussell63 i’ve never been so invested in a volleyball match before 

alex_albon well done, team usa

user14 the f1 drivers are being so polite. it’s adorable 

landonorris just posted

liked by logansargeant, maxfewtrell and others 

landonorris my baby won silver 🩶🪙

3,304 comments

user1 okay but that picture in front of the eiffel tower. slay 

→ oscarpiastri thank you. some of my best work

→ user2 oscar.png when?

→ landonorris it’s only a good pic because he had good models 

→ oscarpiastri *model. she’s barbie, you’re just ken

ynln_usa big wins for us both this year

→ landonorris you’re my biggest win

→ danielricciardo cringe  liked by ynln_usa

→ landonorris stop it. i saw that, sweetheart

carlossainz55 you used to call me baby…

→ ynln_usa do you want him back?

→ landonorris babe, wtf

→ ynln_usa i’m sorry but carlos is my fave driver and i don’t want him to be sad

→ landonorris dumped.

charles_leclerc okay we get it now. we’re sorry we doubted you

→ georgerussell63 yeah. please stop making out in front of us 

→ landonorris vengeance! 

→ ynln_usa have you not learnt that he’s petty yet? he dragged you all to paris just to prove he was dating me

alex_albon her silver medal is far cooler than your miami trophy 

→ landonorris i agree but shouldn’t you be nice to me like the others?

→ alex_albon no. i never outwardly said i didn’t believe you, just that she was out of your league 

→ ynln_usa thank you, alex. it’s amazing what men can do if they make you laugh 

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Bonus

logansargeant just posted

liked by ynln_usa, lilymhe and others

ynln_usa from toddler terror to olympic silver medalist, you’ve been a pain in my ass since we were kids, and i couldn't be prouder to watch you win big 🇺🇸🍾 tagged: ynln_usa

2,302 comments 

ynln_usa the childhood best friends to professional athletes pipeline is real

landonorris so you knew i was telling the truth the entire time! 

→ logansargeant yeah

→ landonorris why didn’t you tell the others!

→ logansargeant was funny 

oscarpiastri i’m sorry but this reveal is even better than finding out lando was telling the truth about dating yn

→ user3 wait, so all these comments were because they didn’t believe he was dating yn

→ alex_albon would you have until their recent posts?

→ user4 no tbf

charles_leclerc you sly dog! you let us bully him for no reason

→ logansargeant it’s what he gets for just trying to casually slip it into conversation and not introducing her like a gentleman should 

→ landonorris i brought usa volleyball themed cupcakes! 

georgerussell63 this is the best thing i’ve seen all year 

mclaren you’ve caused both our drivers to need a lot of therapy. we’ll send the bill your way 

→ ynln_usa it’s alright, i’ll cover it. i have to deal with them untherapised otherwise

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A/N: So, sorry, Anon. It wasn't until I'd written this up and then realised I'd completely left Max out of it. So sorry but hope you still enjoy!

As always, request open!

[theonottsbxtch]

English Love Affair | LN4

an: bouncing out to 5sos rn so this is so happening also thank you for 300 followers!!

fc: hayley williams and pinterest

requests: open

oscarpiastri

liked by ynpiastri, landonorris, lilyzneimer and 927,726 others

got to see little sis live again, @/bandname on tour starting september!

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userone: my fav aussie band

usertwo: we love a supportive brother

userthree: oscar only has one facial expression

landonorris: i’m in love

oscarpiastri: how about no

ynpiastri: it was lovely meeting you!

landonorris: 🥰🥰

userfour: help lando is in his lovergirl era

userfive: see you in london!

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbandname and 373,936 others

london are we ready!!!!!

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userone: YESSSSSS

usertwo: she’s so pretty

nicolepiastri: i raised two very diffrent children

oscarpiastri: she’s definitely dad’s daughter

chrispiastri: ☺️👍

ynpiastri: love you both

userthree: piastri family reunion

userfour: yn supremacy 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

landonorris: see you in london 😉

oscarpiastri: you wish

ynpiastri’s story

[caption: where’s my hot rockstar bf]

story replies:

oscarpiastri: thank god non existent

ynpiastri: let me feel love

oscarpiastri: no

landonorris: im no rockstar but i’m a pretty good driver

ynpiastri: i’ll think about it

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 827,372 others

london you were a dream

*tap to load comments*

userone: IT WAS SO GOOD

usertwo: yourbandname supremacy

landonorris: no you were

oscarpiastri: get out of my little sister’s comment section

landonorris: "how about no"

ynpiastri: you came?

userthree: LANDO SAY “YOU CALLED” RN

landonorris: couldn’t miss a gig in my home country now?

ynpiastri: ☺️

oscarpiastri: i don’t like this

userthree: i ship already

userfour: isn’t she dating her bassist?

userfive: not everyone dates their bassist

lie detector test with oscar piastri and lando norris

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbandname and 948,826 others

second leg of tour soon - who likes the new badge and shirt my 'friend' got me 🤭

*tap to load more comments*

userone: she’s so real for that

usertwo: i was there!!

userthree: she’s amazing

oscarpiastri: do i have to remind both you and your friend that our parents are on this app?

nicolepiastri: too late osc, too late.

userfour: i love their family

userfive: never change yn

landonorris: facts

usersix: WHAT

userseven: LANDO

oscarpiastri: i just threw up my breakfast

ynpiastri: 😉

usereight: lanyn is happening before our very eyes

usernine: i bet you that 'freind' was lando

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 963,234 others

seven thousand miles away...

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userone: aesthetic queen

usertwo: getting in touch with nature after that last lando commenrs

userthree: WHAT IS THAT SECOND PHOTO?!

ynpiastri: new album cover! 😇

userfour: who IS IT!

carlossainz55: oh i know those abs

userfive: arianna what are you doing here

usersix: we just got confirmation of carlando and lanyn in one day.

oscarpiastri: please stay in aus and never come back to england

ynpiastri: "how about no"

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 958,356

my english love affair - stream now available on all platforms!!

*tap to load comments*

userone: they broke the internet with this one

usertwo: THE WAY SHE ANNOUNCING THAT THEY FUCKED HELP

nicolepiastri: thank you for letting me know you had a boyfriend through social media daughter

ynpiastri: no worries mumma

landonorris: i apologise mrs piastri

userthree: her and oscar are polar opposites and i love it

userfour: oh i know they be having the best *** of their life.

landonorris: hot 😩

oscarpiastri: someone hand me a gun

[jo-com]

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ➛ Eye Catching

F1 Drivers x Toto Wolf’s daughter

Summary: The only time you go to your dads and you already got the attention of the drivers.

Genre: SMAU

Fc: Various face claim, found the pics on pinterest

Note: grammatical errors and not proofread

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

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Your Notifications:

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Yn.wolf just posted!

Liked by urbff, landonorris, Carlossainz55 and 978,409 others

Yn.wolf thanks for following lil ol me💋

View all comments

Charles_Leclerc are you perhaps single?

Yn.wolf hmm idk🤔 ask dad

User1 WAHAHAHHAHA GURL GOT HUMBLED FAST

Lewishamilton @Charles_Leclerc let a real man handle this

User2 The fact that all of them wants her

User3 ATE AT THE PADDOCK TODAY

User4 waiting for @Lewishamilton shot

User5 honestly same

Yn.wolf same😐

Landonorris Hi👋🏻

Toto_wolf uhm no

Landonorris I ONLY SAID HI

Toto_wolf you shouldn’t even be here right now at my DAUGHTERS post

User6 oohhh emphasis on the daughter huh

Carlossainz55 just saw toto’s comment, i’ll sit this one out

Toto_wolf best idea you ever had

User8 this is getting way out of hand😭

Yn.wolf couldn’t agree more

User9 y/n’s vibe is just so 😫👌🏻

…

Liked by Oscarpiastri, Landonorris, Charle_leclerc and 4,589 others

Urbff wow 2 flowers in one day, you must be rich!

Tagged; @Yn.wolf

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Toto_wolf tell me who.

Urbff even idk sir😭

Carlossainz55 hope you love it señora💞

Yn.wolf i do in fact my kind sir, gracias💕

Maxverstappen1 did you like mine?

Yn.wolf they were also lovely!

Maxverstappen1 thanks, took me an hour to pick the right one

Landonorris On my way to send flowers

Charles_Leclerc (2)

Toto_wolf i am blocking the mail service as we speak

Lewishamilton I haven’t even sent mine yet!

Toto_wolf dear god🤦🏻‍♂️

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Carlossainz55 my world😍😚

Yn.wolf 🤭🤭

Carlossainz55 i just love how, they think that they have a shot with you

Yn.wolf UR WAY TOO CRUEL MY LOVE😭😭

Lewishamilton can i get another shot?

Maxverstappen1 my cats said hi

Charle_leclerc that book seems heavy, want me to hold your hands?

Charles_leclerc book*

Landonorris i love you

Landonorris damn i mean the view, you got me crazy for a moment there

…

Short but hope you like it though💞

[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[wheeboo]

for a moment, forever | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which while shopping for wedding dresses for your best friend, you can't help but want to try one on too. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. jihyo from twice as reader's engaged best friend) GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mild cursing, terms of endearment, reader wears a wedding dress, cheol doesn't show up until like halfway into the fic HAHAH WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: this is lowkey me describing my dream dress if i do somehow get married lmao so also self indulgent too ig, and it was fun searching up dresses! this also reminds me of that one scene from extraordinary attorney woo. if u know u know :') happy belated bday cheol <3

[02:39PM | y/n] should be done with jihyo's appointment in a few hours!! you can pick me up then bub❤️

[2:41PM | cheol 💕] Sounds good, my love. I'll see you then 😊

"Wait, oh my God, that one is beautiful!"

"Right?!" Jihyo exclaims eagerly before swiping to the next photo in her camera roll, on it displayed a gorgeous mermaid wedding dress that she had saved from Pinterest. "Okay, not sure if I like the mermaid ones but this was one was too pretty to not be saved."

"You can always ask to try one on too. I still think you'd rock whichever one you put on," You tell her, lacing an arm around hers as the two of you approach the bridal boutique that was just around the corner. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

When you and Jihyo exchange knowing glances with each other, squeals of excitement escape both of you. It feels surreal, almost like a dream knowing that your best friend is about to walk down the aisle and take her first steps into married life. Just ahead of the two of you, the bridal boutique gleams with soft lights and elegantly displayed gowns in the windows.

As you both step inside, the cozy warmth of the boutique wraps around you, and a subtle, lingering floral scent and delicate perfume fills the air. The interior is enchanting yet inviting, with a variety of dresses arranged by style. The boutique's consultant greets you both with a welcoming smile, and after a brief chat and a rundown of the different options, she leads you to a private area where Jihyo can begin her fitting.

You follow Jihyo as she naturally gravitates towards the gowns on display. You can tell she's already picturing herself in each dress. It's a bit overwhelming being surrounded by so many intricately designed dresses, like you've walked straight into a world of fairytale. Lace, satin, tulle𑁋every fabric imaginable seems to be represented here.

While helping Jihyo pick out some dresses, you can't lie that some have caught your eye more than you can admit. Knowing that one day these dresses will be worn by someone on of the most important days of your life fills you with awe. The thought makes your heart full, and briefly, you can't but help but imagine yourself walking down the aisle one day.

For a moment, your mind flickers to the thought of Seungcheol, and your heart does a jump.

One particular white tulle, floral embroidered dress with off-shoulder sleeves catches your attention. It's a perfect blend of elegance and romance. You let your hand run over the delicate embroidery, marvelling with admiration at the elaborate details caressed over every inch of it. The floral patterns are so finely crafted that they seem to bloom like real flowers right out of the fabric.

"Y/N, you need to try that on right now!"

You turn swiftly at the sound of Jihyo's commanding voice. "What? No, I can't𑁋"

"Come on, please!" Jihyo urges insistently while holding just about a dozen dresses in her hands. "It's so beautiful!"

"But this is for your special day, not𑁋"

"Honey, you and Seungcheol have been together for so long now, and sooner or later, you're going to have your special day too. Just try it on for fun, and I’d love to see how it looks on you!"

Okay, she really didn't have to bring up Seungcheol like that, but now you can't get it out of your head. An odd, fluttery feeling bursts in your stomach on top of the embarrassment crawling up your neck.

"Fine," You relent with a playful look. "But I'll do it after you try on all your dresses. Once again, today is for you, missy."

A wide grin spreads across her face as she shuffles towards the fitting room. "It's a deal!"

The next hour or so you spend lounging on the couch as Jihyo tries on dress after dress. Each one seems to bring out a different side of her: from elegant to dramatic, playful to sophisticated. You can’t help but laugh and cheer her on, snapping pictures and videos to capture every moment. You also help with various aspects of the fittings, from adjusting straps to even adding the veil on her head.

"You look like a princess!" You exclaim, clapping your hands as she twirls in a voluminous ball gown in front of the mirror.

"I feel like one!" Jihyo giggles, even doing a dramatic hair flip to add for an endearing touch.

The last one that she tries on is a mermaid dress with stunning lace detailing and a long, flowing train that spreads across the floor like ocean waves. As she steps out of the fitting room, the dress hugs her curves perfectly, and she looks every bit of a confident, radiant bride shining in her own element.

"Girl," You gasp out, voice full of awe. "that dress was made for you. You look absolutely stunning!"

Jihyo gazes at herself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes!" You claim, and you almost want to cry thinking about your best friend walking down the aisle. "I can so picture you walking down the aisle in this, holy shit."

Jihyo chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

"I'm going to be a bride," she says aloud, somewhat to herself and in a way announcing to the world too, before turning to you with a gleeful expression. "I'm going to be a bride!"

[04:45PM | cheol 💕] Are you done, sweetheart? I got to leave work earlier and just arrived at the place. Might come in since it's boiling outside 😅

"I really don't know about this𑁋"

"Come on, just try it on!" Jihyo nudges you ever so slightly to the fitting room, the dress trembling in your grasp. "This will be us doing some early preparations for your wedding, 'kay?"

Reluctantly, you find yourself stepping into the fitting room, the dress in your hands feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Taking a long, deep breath, you start to change into the dress as the consultant comes to your side to assist.

At first, the fabric feels odd against your skin, the delicate embroidery and soft tulle brushing against your shoulders as you put on the dress. The off-shoulder sleeves fit surprisingly snug when you slip them through your arms. The floral patterns seem to come alive right before your eyes, just like they had when you first saw the dress.

You take the first glance of yourself in the mirror in the fitting room, and it's almost as if you've been kicked in the gut and all the words had left you.

"Wow," You whisper to yourself, doing a small spin to see how the dress looks, and it feels absolutely magical to be the one wearing this dress right now.

Scrambling slightly, you look around your scattered belongings on the floor for your phone, knowing that you just have to capture this very moment before you would have to take the dress off.

But you can't find your phone anywhere.

"Crap, where did I put it?" You mumble annoyedly, having to move your dress around to get a better look, yet you still don't see it. Did you leave it outside? "Hey, Jihyo! If you're out there, can you pass me my phone?"

No response.

"Jihyo?"

Still no response.

Deflating your shoulders, you decide you might as well step outside to retrieve it.

"I didn't think the dress would fit this good. It's a bit heavier than I thought but I think I could manage𑁋"

And then you freeze, almost as if you were caught red-handed committing some sort of heinous crime, because Seungcheol is standing not that far away from you, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth dropped down to the floor at the sight of you wearing the wedding dress.

For a few moments, it's like the world stops as well, and you start to feel a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"Cheol? What are you..." Then you look down at yourself and the dress you were wearing. "You're here earlier than I-I thought, I should go change𑁋"

Seungcheol blinks back to reality from your words. "Wait, no, don't move, please."

He keeps his eyes locked on you, his gaze moving from your face, to the way the dress hugs and accentuates your figure in all the right ways, then back up again. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stand there, awkwardly holding the hem of the dress in your sweaty hands.

You can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is not how you imagined seeing Seungcheol after Jihyo's appointment. You were expecting a casual, friendly greeting, maybe a quick kiss, and then a drive home. But this... this is different. You've been with Seungcheol for years, but he's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

"Wow, I..." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before placing his hands in his pockets. "You're fucking breathtaking, honey."

Your cheeks burn brighter than ever, some sort of choked sound leaving you at his bluntness. You glance down at the dress, then back at Seungcheol.

"You... You think so?" You ask, voice timid and tainted with unsureness.

"Think so?" he repeats, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know so. I can't take my eyes off you."

A rush of heat climbs up your neck as you avert your eyes away, pretending to adjust the hem of the dress, fingers clumsily tugging at the material. The dress suddenly feels suffocatingly hot and you don't know how much more you can take.

His eyes still don't leave you even when he steps closer, the features of his face softening into simply an adoring look.

You could feel your feet melting into the ground below. "Cheol, I should really go change𑁋"

"Not yet," he says firmly, and you stay put. "Just let me look at you for a little longer, please?"

That familiar, pleading tone to his voice makes your heart run laps in your chest and causes your knees to feel like jelly. He takes a few more steps towards you, and before you know, he's standing right in front of you, half-lidded eyes flickering between yours and your lips. He takes a hand out of his pocket and reaches out to gently cup your face, letting a finger trace slowly over your cheek, leaning in just close enough to whisper in your ear.

"I can't wait to marry you."

His words come out so quiet that you're barely able to hear it. And before you can respond, some loud, marching footsteps snaps you out of thought.

"Y/N! Look at this, I found the perfect veil for you!" When Jihyo sees you and Seungcheol, she stops short in her tracks, glancing at the sight of you in the dress and Seungcheol standing in front of you appearing as if he was just two seconds away from kissing you.

You clear your throat loudly, stepping away from Seungcheol and towards Jihyo.

"You found a veil for me?" You ask her.

"Yeah, put it on!" Jihyo hands you the dainty veil. "I went through hell trying to find a good one and I think this one works perfectly."

You feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you carry the veil towards the mirror and carefully place it over your head. The light, airy fabric showers down around you, complementing the elegant gown. As you adjust the veil to your liking, you catch a glimpse of your reflection and can't help but smile. You see Seungcheol in the mirror as well, staring at you with an intense gaze of admiration.

And when you turn around, Seungcheol thinks you look more beautiful than what his imagination could possibly give him. He has to bite at his bottom lip in order to suppress some of the giddiness threatening to spread throughout his body, and the thought of seeing you again in a wedding dress makes him almost dizzy.

You're like an angel who has stepped foot into his world. The dress houses your wings and the veil is your halo. It's a perfect vision of the future he’s been dreaming about for so long it nearly makes him burst; a reality that he never thought he'd be seeing so soon.

He's going to marry you𑁋he knows he will. He knew that from that moment you first smiled at him back in your freshman year English class, all because you both simply made unexpected eye contact while you were introducing yourself. He knew it even more when he embarrassingly fell on his ass during a university soccer game and your laugh was the only sound that he could hear.

This is his first peek of forever with you, and he can't wait for it to all come true.

Seungcheol faintly hears you ask what he thinks about it, and only the heavens know how much he wants to answer by putting that ring stashed in the depths of his bedside drawer on your finger right then and there. But there's a time and place for everything. He has to make sure everything is perfect first.

So, yeah, he should really get to planning. And right now seems like a good start.

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[swiftiewillwrite]

how you get the girl

jason todd x reader

fanart by @twalxx (found on pinterest)

pairing - jason todd x reader

warnings - smut! starts angsty, fluff and smut later :))

a/n - this is my first smut, but i had like all of my friends proof read so im super excited to share this with yall! songfic based on how you get the girl by taylor swift (and a bit of i wish you would)

Things had ended with Jason, but it hadn't had the desired effect.

It was just too painful when you were together, the not knowing. Not knowing if he was safe every night. Not knowing if you were safe. You were scared constantly, just never knowing. All you wanted was for him to be safe.

—

You realized you couldn't do it anymore when he went no contact for two days.

You had thought he was dead. You were pacing your townhouse nonstop, music following suit. Trying to drown out the silence and your thoughts. You plopped onto the couch, picturing every other time this had happened in your mind. The pain you felt every night, that worsened every time another hour went by. So you made your decision.

When he finally came home that night, ready to run into your arms, you closed them. and you fought. The front door opened and shut and all the built-up anger from two years of sleepless nights and not letting yourself be selfish flooded out of you.

“What the hell, Jason? Are you okay? I thought you were dead, you asshole!”

The tone in your voice shocked him, you could see it in his eyes. “What?”

Your tears were threatening to spill from your already red eyes, but you didn't let that stop you. You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek. “I'm sorry, it's just-, I can't do this! Every week, I have to grapple with the fact that you could be dead! And what if you were? You can't come back every time you die, you know that!”

“What- what do you want me to do? There are always going to be people getting hurt, you know that.”

“Exactly. And I will never come first. You’re just too fucking good a person, Jason. you never let yourself be selfish! I wanted you to put us first.” You look at him; “Just go.”

“Is this for real?” And now tears were welling up in his eyes. “This was all so fast.”

“This was the opposite of fast. I just tried not to see it. Because I love you so, so, much Jason, that's why I can't do this. Just- send one of your siblings to get your stuff tomorrow.”

He pauses. “Okay, Doll, if this is what you want, I will go.”

“Don't call me that, you're gonna make this too hard,” You hear yourself let out an embarrassing snort through your snot and tears.

“Then can I kiss you goodbye, instead?”

Already sobbing, you nod.

—

And now you can't get him out of your head. It's been six months, and he won’t get out. Every time you see lights through your window coming from the street, you think maybe. Maybe he came home to you.

And you just hope that when he's out every night, saving more damsels, he thinks about your home in the center of the city.

Every night you prayed that he would come back. And say that he wants you, no matter what. Even if it was you who broke his heart, because you also broke your own. You wished for it like it was the only thing that kept you going, because it was.

But you never really believed your wish would come true. You had already burnt that bridge. And in doing so, burned away your past. Your friendships with the Waynes, every late night spent tending wounds.

2 A.M. another late night, doing anything you could to get your mind off of him. Especially tonight. The twenty-seventh of April. For the past two years, on this day, Jason had been in your bed. You held him, and told him he was safe. Safe from what happened to him on this day, years before you were able to take care of him. Your bed was empty, and it killed you to know he was probably in his own, having the nightmares you worked so hard to keep him safe from.

2 A.M. A rough and fast knock against your front door cuts through the sound of the pouring rain, and you find yourself looking through the peephole of your townhouse. Eye level with you is Jason Todd, curly hair soaked. You could see his breath in the cold, and how little his unzipped leather jacket was doing to keep him warm. You pull the door open.

“Are you insane?”

“I know, I just- I need you. Sweetheart, I need you back. God, it's been a long six months. I know, I fucked you up, i fucked us up, and that is reason enough for you to slam the door in my face, but..” he trailed off and made eye contact with you; “I will make it up to you. I just need you tonight. You know what tonight is, I know that you didn't forget,” He was pleading, eyebrows furrowed and tears welling in his eyes. “I can't get through tonight without you,”

And before you can process it, you're leaning in and your lips are on his again, and it feels like home. They're soft against you and feel the same as they did the last time you touched six months ago, if just more desperate. He wraps his arms around your back, embracing you tightly. You pull away for a quick second just to say: “Come in, stay the night. I missed you too. We can talk this through in the morning.”

He enters the home that had missed him so much, and you close the door behind him as fast as you can. He dives back for your lips, like a man who had been lost in the desert finally getting water. It was passionate, and for a moment made you forget that you had waited for so long. It just felt like before, and for the meantime would put a band-aid over the months of pain. You kissed him through the hallway, pushing him back to your room, and somewhere along the way, he lost his jacket. When you got to the bedroom, you shoved him against the door, biting his lips and letting yourself absolutely lose control on his mouth. When you pulled away, you could see that it was swollen and redder than when you had started.

You slowly moved down his neck, starting with a hickey on his jaw in a spot that you knew was his favorite place. He breathed out your name, giving you motivation to move down and kiss his adams apple. “Jesus, doll,”

You spread out, leaving marks all over his neck. The closer you got to his collarbone, the more vocal he was, letting out a dozen sickly-sweet nicknames for you. You start to make another bruise on his neck, but he squeaks out a “stop,”

You pull back. “Is something wrong?” for a moment fear creeps into your mind, and you remember. You haven't seen him in months, what if this is too much? This is the anniversary of his death, for god's sake-

“Can we move to the bed?”

Oh.

“Yeah, if you're ready-” you cut yourself off when Jay removes his shirt as youre speaking, revealing a tapestry of scars. A breath catches in your throat. Shit, you had almost forgotten how good he looks shirtless. Almost. “Yeah, okay,” You follow suit, pulling your shirt over your head and fumbling at your bra hooks.

You both stumble down the hallway, when you sit on the bed, back against the headboard. Jason looks at you like you're his last meal, and sits in between your legs, hands already reaching for your breasts.

Almost immediately, his fingers are tugging at your nipples and his lips are suckling at them. you squeal each time he bites at your nipples and he's moving back and forth between each like he can't choose his favorite, and humming nicknames for you every time he stops to breathe. After a couple minutes of sweet bliss, you put your hand in his still damp curls and push him off of you.

“Jay, I think you need some attention too.” you put his hand on his chest and push him down so he's lying on his back. You struggled with yanking his jeans down his legs as they were still wet with rainwater, but you managed. He starts: -wait, I didn't even get to- When you get down his boxers, his erection springing free, and he gasps, cutting himself off at the sensation of the cold air hitting him.

You settle in between his legs, wrapping a hand around him. Your thumb finds his tip and spreads his precum over his length, lubricating it for your hand to move. This elicits a reaction from him. “Jesus sweetheart, you never stop,”

You're confused. “Stop what?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his tip. He grunts.

“Making my heart pound out o’ my fucking chest, Doll,” He puts a hand on your cheek. “Never - fuck - stop.” you tighten your grip on his cock halfway through this phrase.

This makes you smile profusely, and to mask the grin, you open your mouth and fill it with the familiar feeling of Jason's member. He nearly howls in response, a string of profanities falling out of his mouth.

You look up at him with eyes you know he loves, and you hollow out your cheeks to - just for a second - suck harder. After this, you run your tongue along his base and pull off of him with a pop.

“Wait no- why- why did you stop? Baby, why did you stop?” Jason starts to whine, a sound you would never forget in your life, and you giggle.

“Relax,” you smile as you move to sit on top of him. You pull your shorts off, taking the panties with them. “I just want to ride you,”

“You're ready? Doll, I didn't even touch you, are you sure it won't hurt- ohmygod!”

You had started to lower yourself onto Jason's cock as he spoke, enjoying the way he was extra vocal when he didn't expect it. You leaned down to kiss him, and it was softer this time. Sweeter, romantic. Loving, not just lustful. And you can feel it, the affection for you that he had never lost. You pull away, your breathing fast and heavy, to say:

“I still love you,”

“I love you too,”

And just like that, it feels normal again. No time has passed and you got through another year together, trying to make what had once been the worst night in his life liveable. You laugh as you continue to lower yourself onto him, but the sound is garbled through a moan.

“What?” he asks, voice gruff from the pleasure.

“Nothing, it just did hurt a little, you were right.” Your eyes are sparkling, and your smile is somehow more beautiful than he remembered.

Jason smiled at you from his place on the bed, starstruck by you, and reached his arm between your legs to rub at your clit. You let out a whine that made you feel pathetic, but Jay reached behind your back to hold your chest against him, letting your bodies line up in an embrace that you were unsure if he knew was reassuring, or was just doing it to be closer to you. Either way, you were glad for the contact, and the feeling of his arm pressed between yours and his chest.

Jason's grin glinted in the warm lighting of your bedroom. You're reminded of a chip in one of his front teeth that you find all too endearing before he speaks. “Can you move, baby?” He punctuates this with pressing a circle against your clit. He smiles wider when you arch your back, pressing your tits harder onto him. You take a moment to regain words, but respond after a moment.

“Yeah,” you responded breathily, returning his smile. You lift your hips up and slowly lower yourself back down. Jason groans loudly, something that resembles your name falling from his mouth. Something snaps inside of you at the noise you had missed so much, and the next time you pull up, you slam yourself down on him.

“Holy fucking shit! Sweetheart, don't you need to take it sl- oh my god, oh my god, you're so perfect,” you continue this pattern, speeding up when he rubs your clit in that perfect way he would never forget.

You continue, sick slapping sounds filling the room. The muscles in your thighs and lower back are sore, and you start to slow down, sitting up so you're no longer lying on him. “ ‘M sorry Jaybird, I just - haven't done this in a while.” You look at your lover apologetically, but he doesn't speak a word back. All Jason does is grab your waist, looking into your eyes for a nod before he takes control.

He pumps up into you, hips lifting off the mattress and pushing deeper into you. You let out a pleasured scream, putting your hands on Jason's pecs, rolling a nipple in between your fingers absentmindedly. His thrusting speeds up when you start doing this. “Jason- Jesus Christ, so good.”

“Yeah? I know baby, I know it feels good,” another of his moans interrupts his sentence, but he continues- “You make me feel good too. So good.”

Somehow his thrusts get more rushed, pushing deeper into you. You let out a pitiful scream when he presses against your cervix, pain mixing into pleasure at the feeling of him bruising you. Jason hears you, and you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. You can tell he's close. “Baby, I'm gonna- where do you want it?” He whines, and your walls tighten at the sight of his eyes pleading with yours.

“Inside.”

“Baby, are you sure-”

“Please, Jason. Pill,” You start to beg, even though he hadn't asked for you to. “I need it. Need you. Missed you so much. Please!”

During your last word, you feel him release into you. Jason's hips sputter as he lets out another slightly pained moan. He lets his cock sit inside you for a moment, before he pulls himself out, his still hard cock sitting against his stomach. “Baby, get off. Let me make you cum. Let me clean you off.”

You blush at his words, as if you haven't fucked him a million times, nodding as you move off and onto the mattress. Jason repositions so you can rest your head on a pillow, pulling another to rest under your ass and lift you up.

Once you've settled as quickly as possible, Jason puts his face right against your pussy, admiring the way his cum mixes with your juices, spilling out of you. He starts with licking a stripe up your slit, and the image of his cum on his own tongue will never leave your brain, and causes your walls to tighten before he even puts a finger inside. He swallows, and goes back to licking into your hole, one hand absentmindedly rolling your clit in between his fingers as the other one squeezes your thigh. He moves them down from your clit to press into your hole, mouth instead focusing on your clit.

“Fuck, Jason!” He looks up at you, puppy dog eyes somehow turning you on more than you already were. He holds eye contact with you as he presses a third finger into you, curving to press against your sweet spot. You tangle a hand into his damp curls, pressing him onto your cunt.

Your walls tighten around his fingers, and he puts all of his effort into sucking and lapping at your clit. He hums on the bud, sending vibrations through your core. When you approach the edge, he starts licking at it instead, flicking the muscle back and forth. He talks into your pussy, praises for you being drowned in the flesh.

He lifts his head up for a gasping breath, still moving his fingers inside of you and quickly muttering: “Cum for me,” before diving back in. You listened, one last touch of your clit sending you over the edge. As you cum, Jason laps up the liquid that had leaked out of you over the night, flattening his tongue against your skin as he collects the last he can without a towel.

You shudder as he sits up, leaning forward to press a kiss onto your stomach before getting up from the bed. A moment of panic comes over you before-

“Are your washcloths still in the same place?” He asks softly. You nod at him, feeling too fucked out to speak, and watch him leave your bedroom.

After 30 seconds, he returns with a damp washcloth, and settles back in between your legs to wipe off your legs, pressing kisses on your inner thighs. As he moves up to your overstimulated cunt, he reaches for your hand. When the cloth passes over your sensitive spots, you squeeze his hand. After a few minutes of tender silence, he returns to your side, head on the pillow next to you.

“Hey.” He smiles.

“Hi,” you giggle back. After a brief pause, you continue: “I'm sorry. I was inconsiderate. When we broke up. I know what you do is important, and people need you-”

You're cut off by a kiss. “No. I needed to communicate more. And either way, it doesn't matter.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, “This is a fresh start,” he takes a breath in. “But really, I love you so much.”

You giggle, which seems to confuse him. Through your laugh, you attempt to speak- “Would you say- most ardently?” He rolls his eyes at the reference to his favorite book, but still leans in to press a peck to your lips.

“I love you most ardently,” he smiles at you.

“Good.”

[pierregazly]

to live for the hope of it all (part 3) ꨄ charles leclerc smau

charles leclerc x fem!reader / mick schumacher x fem!reader

pic credits: pinterest

link to part 1 | link to part 2

charles wins big (in 2 ways), mick soft launches, and y/n's just there to have a good time. thank you for all the love on this series! someone made a suggestion of having an alt au for the driver y/n didn't end up with so if there's interest in that let me know!! also this is NOT an accurate representation of monza 2023

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, mickschumacher, and 959,052 others

yourusername no one show this to my boss lol... but monza you were the most wonderful experience... as always. congratulations to everyone, but a special congratulations to someone who means the most to me even when things are hard.

view all 7,888 comments

username mother are u gonna get fired over this

username mother we like u too much at mercedes for this pls delete

arthur_leclerc forza ferrari!!!

username no charles like or comment??? this man better know how to fight

username relax he's probably celebrating jeez

yourusername has followed charles_leclerc

mickschumacher has posted a story

liked by yourusername, username, username and others

replies

username omg y/n??? username mick with the soft launch omf yourusername 2 lucky girls (and then there's mick) in this soft launch

charles_leclerc has followed yourusername

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, yourusername and 2,546,116 others

charles_leclerc could not have done this without the team, the tifosi faithful and the extraordinary people who are always by my side. this one is for you 🇮🇹

view all 10,983 comments

pierregasly congrats mr leclerc 😉 hope you got your prize

username forza ferrari!!!

yourusername so proud of you always 💗

username y/n commenting on his last post is the obvious reason why he won lets be real rn

username war is over... y/n and charles follow each other again and she's regularly commenting

yourusername has posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, mickschumacher, and others

replies

username shut up is that CHARLES is this a soft soft soft launch charles_leclerc 💗

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, lance_stroll, username, and 202,406 others

mickschumacher my personal photographer has really outdone herself these past 2 weeks

view all 2,340 comments

yourusername lets all say thank you y/n (for the photos and for encouraging laila that the backstreet boys look was a vibe)

mickschumacher i knew it

username omg username on twitter was acc right???

username we were all delulu for weeks, i cant believe y/n and mick are just friends 😭

username thank u yourusername for taking the best photos of our boy!!

liked by yourusername and 200 others

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, mickschumacher, pierregasly and 687,843 others

yourusername mama always said if a man tells you he loves you, make him prove it. i think he's proving it mama.

view all 4,326 comments

pierregasly red roses seems more logical but i guess this works

yourusername shut up pierre they're lovely

username are they from CHARLES

arthur_leclerc daisies for the prettiest flower in the room

yourusername you texted me 45 seconds after posting this and told me they were 'the ugliest fucking flowers you've ever seen and you're not surprised he'd pick them' arthur_leclerc i stand by what i said here and there

charles_leclerc 🤍

taglist

@leclerces @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @sassyheroneckgiant @sillyfreakfanparty @leclercdream @allywthsr @bladestark @adoxra @electrobutterfly @powerfulmess @katcontrreras @livster @vellicora @meadhbhcavanagh @tsukishitm-a @f1pandrea @incoherenciass @sltwins @sunny44 @myescapefromthislife @janeholt3 @hwienv @raizelchrysanderoctavius @msliz @karina-v20 @crlsummer @gaslysainz @p4st3lst4rs @lazybot @tagteamedbitch @ravisinghs-wife @thomaslefteyebrow @smoothopz @willowpains @justdreamersdream @elijahslover @pampeop @driveswiftly13 @leclercdream @glow-ish @hheartbreakhotell @notleclerc @f1wintermoon13 @ironmaiden1313 @peachiicherries @christianpulisic10 @elowynnlane @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @treehillheda @stevesworld9 @laneyspaulding19 @nmw-am @iloveyou3000morgan

if your name is bolded/struct through, i wasn't able to tag you for some reason. thank you all for the love!

[2soulscollide]

Write your book STEP BY STEP

hello hello, it's me again!

today i'm bringing you a step-by-step / checklist to finally get your book done. i know it can be a bit complicated to put everything together to make your idea come to life (you're definitely not alone!)

that's why i compiled some tips and made this post, in hopes to help some author out there :D

let's get started.

PREMISE

assuming you already have a good idea in mind, you should start by writing a premise. to help you with that, try to answer these questions:

who is the main character?

what are their goals?

which troubles will they face / what's stopping them from achieving their goals?

do they have an opponent? if so, who?

now that you know the answers to these questions, it's time to write the premise. the premise consists in a sentence that summarizes your whole idea.

PLOT OUTLINE

there are infinite ways to plot your story. you can do it by writing down ideas and linking them together, following a scheme, or any other method.

the most common plot outlines are these:

synopsis outline: one to two pages, where you hit all the major beats of the story

in-depth outline: outline each chapter/scene

snowflake method: develop the premise into a bigger paragraph, and that paragraph into a page (etc.) until you have the whole outline of your story

booken method: plot the start and end of the story, and the main characters

the novel factory created plot sheets for free, and you can choose from eight different templates. you might want to check it out!

KNOW YOUR CHARACTERS

having your outline defined, you should start developing your characters now. the main character's profile might be more detailed than the others, however, it's up to you. there are many character sheets out there on the internet that will help you create flawless characters.

i have a post with resources that might be helpful when creating a character, check it out!

and here you have some prompts and sheets to create a character:

Quick Character Creator - EA Deverell

Extremely detailed character sheet template - @hawkasss

The Best Character Template Ever - Dabble

Character Twenty Questions Worksheet - The Writers Circle

at this point, you should also define the narrator's voice, tone, etc, as well as the pace of your novel.

LOCATIONS

define the principal locations of your story, the settings, and where the story is taking place. it's important to know how the environment looks, and how your characters feel about it.

for this part, you might find it useful to do some research about some locations, if you're not familiar with them. find inspiration on Pinterest, Tumblr, or even on books, paintings, and art. everything is valid.

if your story takes place in a fantasy environment, you might need to fill out a template to create it or write down the way you imagine it to be. try to get as many details as possible, so there are no holes when developing the novel.

SUBPLOTS

you might want to give more depth to your novel by developing a subplot (or more than one). make sure it doesn't get too confusing or that doesn't take the focus away from the main action.

the subplot can be a romance, another character's relationship, a character's arc, a backstory, etc. this will make your story more real and 3D, more realistic.

develop it as a side story and mix it with the principal plot but don't make it as important as the main story, otherwise, none of the plots will make an impact.

SYNOPSIS

write a synopsis as long as you wish, covering every important part of the story. this will help you to really know your idea, and have a solid structure for it. it can range from 500 to 2,500 words, but you don't have to restrict yourself to a number.

things the synopsis should cover:

the status quo

the complication

initial challenges

midpoint

further challenges

the low point

the climax

the resolution

DRAFT

and we get to the best part which is writing! now that you know everything about your story, characters, locations, and scenes, all you have to do is to put all that together in words. don't feel pressured to make everything look perfect already, just write what comes to your mind. if you have a new idea for the plot, good, write it down! if this character doesn't make sense anymore, okay, get rid of them. just go with the flow, following the structure you've planned, and everything starts to come to life.

i know it's so tempting to go back, read what you wrote, and start editing and polishing, but trust me, don't do that! it's a waste of time, and you will take so much more time to finish your first draft. in fact, i've given up on so many stories because of that...

just when you finish the first draft, you will re-read everything and start editing, fixing plot holes, changing what doesn't fit well, etc. but for now, just write, get the first draft done. enjoy the process, don't rush.

thanks for reading!

i hope this post was helpful!

also, you might be interested in this free workbook with over 90 pages and many exercises! check it out here: THE WRITER'S WORKBOOK

resources for this post:

How to Choose a Plot Outline Method: 4 Techniques for Outlining Novels

How to Write a Novel: A Step-by-Step Guide

[roronoa-roro]

ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ #3 "ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɴᴜᴅᴇꜱ" !!!

CW: nudes¡ suggestive language¡ mentions of sex¡

Pairing: (all post timeskip) suna, atsumu, osamu, ginjima x gn!reader

Network: @tokyometronetwork

ꜱᴜɴᴀ ʀɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ

Guaranteed returns. All favors are returned x1000.

Send him a partial nude and you will get a dick pic within 3 milliseconds. Send him a thirst trap and an audio capture of him moaning your name is sent back.

Suna prides himself on his ability to collect quality material, so it's no surprise he's so very enthusiastic about this nudes exchange business.

Has pretty lights set up around his room just for the sake of clicking aesthetic dick pics.

There's even a special folder on his desktop dedicated to you. All these frisky pics and videos are stored there. He even names it his 'personal pornhub'

Comes home with hundreds of nasty fantasies filled in his head. Trust me he's created a very nice simulation of all the things he'd love to do to you.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ

You just know this motherfucker is choking on his spit every time you send a pic that's even closely revealing.

This one time you send him a suggestive (only to dirty minded people) picture of your newly done nails holding your glass just for fun and next day videos of Miya Atsumu, star athlete clumsily fumbling with his phone are trending on the internet.

I'm really really sorry for this one but he totally responds in Adam Levine style😭😭😭 he's embarrassing you know it but you love him and that shitty replying style is something you and him have to work on.

He comes home all needy and whiny after that. Needs all the love and affection— much much more than usual.

He might not admit it but every time his phone pings and it's a message from you he pulls in a deep breath to stabilize his heart and be ready.

Atsumu is too much of an innocent boy for that cocky front he puts up.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ

Now this guy is a totally different story. Unlike his brother, although equally cocky, he has the guts to back it up.

You once sent him a nude while on a double dinner date just to see his reaction and this mf looked at the picture and smirked, licking his lip. Never tell him how flustering you found it you'd just be digging your own grave.

He's an observant guy, he knows all your preferences– from the food to the positions, so it's not a huge surprise to you when he sends you detailed, nasty, toe-curling replies.

Lowkey think he could run his own pornblog and we would still follow him like dick hungry bitches.

Sometimes, he would send you unprompted random messages while you are at work. Like sirrrr, you get it. He knows you very well but it's none of his business to ensure you're melting in your chair at work thinking about him.

But that's not all. The real nastiness starts when you return home, or his hotel. This man is filthy. And he's gonna pull you down with him whether you like it or not.

ʜɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ɢɪɴᴊɪᴍᴀ

You were sorely mistaken if you thought he was an innocent baby boy who had to be introduced to the art of sending nudes gently💀💀💀

He is the devil. This man laughs at you and calls you weak when you send him a partial nude.

The insult digs deeper when he sends you a beautiful, Pinterest worthy image of his pants pulled down just enough to show his perfect v-line. The sunlight kissing his pretty skin doesn't help either.

This ensues a nudes war. Who can click the better nude.

You both give each other occasional runs for your money. But it's usually him powning you most of the time. This guy has some serious aesthetics.

But the funny thing is, although you both forget the original intention of sending nudes, you both develop a cute and adorable sort of bonding activity out of it.

Lost the taglist so i won't tag anybody and this isn't gonna be a regular writing phase anyways so🙏🙏🙏 also drop some holy water in the comments and reblogs plej i need it I've been thinking very nasty thoughts abt a certain white haired sensei from naruto

[gumiluver]

I'm begging you on my knees, can you write a little more of bully Toji???

oh heck yea I can luv, ‘bouta speak some straight facts about bully!toji >:) <3

cover pic credit: @/miywao on pinterest | border credit: @/cafekitsune

luver <3: afab!reader x fushiguro/zen’in toji

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact (you will be blocked!) | wc: ~500

cw: toxic relationships, mean/bully toji, degradation, exhibition (slightly), possessiveness, guest appearance w shiu :D

an: this is my first time doing a drabble so pls pls plssss tell me your guys’ thoughts!! inbox & requests are open as always!! <3

bully!toji has a mouth on him, unlike that of any of the men you’ve ever met before. his words are much meaner than his actions, calling you all sorts of nasty little names as he bullies his cock in your womb, “piece a fuckin’ work you are, gonna slut ya out real good.” <3

bully!toji scolds you like a father, knowing it hits on a much deeper, psychological level. he knows it’s fucked up, but that’s what entices him to you in the first place—loving the way you fold so easily once he’s got you laying over his lap, scolding you like the misbehaving brat that you’ve been, “how many fuckin’ times I gotta spank ya before you learn your lesson eh? Don’t mouth off t’ me again, brat.” <3

bully!toji has no mercy, dueling out punishments to the full extent. no amount of kickin’ or cryin’ could get you away from him and his arsenal of ‘weapons’ fully loaded and ready to make you bend to his will and submit—like the good girl he knows you can be, “don’t start strugglin’ now brat, you dug your grave—now fuckin’ lie in it.” <3

bully!toji absolutely looooves it when the waterworks come to play, your teary eyes matching your slick pussy as they each let drops of your essence roll down along your flesh, trailing sweet little lines or toji to lick and kiss as he bites and sucks at your flesh. the single act of kindness he’ll do for you before he ravishes you to completion, “fuuuuck…who knew such a spoiled lil princess could taste so fuckin’ sweet.” <3

bully!toji doesn’t really care if you apologize for your bratty behavior, it’s waaaay too late for that, but he does think it’s cute—he can’t help but be a big softy for you internally, his heart clenching in agony at your huffs of frustration. but how else were you gonna learn? sending you off without any consequences would be a disservice to you—that’s what he keeps tellin’ himself as he continues pistoning his hips into you at a bruising pace, not letting up even when you beg, “ya had your chance pretty thing, don’t think battin’ your eyelashes and poutin’ will get ya outta this one.” <3

bully!toji purposefully messes with you too, loving how you get so flustered, so wound up. he’ll watch you scrunch your brows in anger, stomp your feet a little louder as you sashay your hips away from him, “where do ya think your goin’ girl? ya better get that pretty ass of your back over here if you know what’s good for ya.” <3

bully!toji knows your bratty mouth is all just a little act, “his little drama queen,” he’ll say to Shiu whenever the two of you are at each others throats in front of him. toji doesn’t mind it one bit tho, it just means he gets to play with you for longer, and maybe with an audience just this once, “if I didn’t know any better I woulda missed that sass slip between that nasty mouth a yours—whaddaya’ think Shiu? should we train that mouth better?” <3

and while bully!toji may seem to completely and unequivocally despise you to his hearts content, he realizes that you’ve been the only person in his life that has made him feel so passionate, so alive—it makes him mad with desire to a point where all he can think of is making you his and only his brat, “don’t get it twisted now doll, your mine. I don’t care who I gotta fuck up to make it known to everyone but you. are. mine—got it?” <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[chaotickimchi]

Killing Your Darlings - A guide on writing death

(Inspired by some writing tips I saw on pinterest. I decided to try my hand at a “writing death” guide. Small disclaimer, these are suggestions or things to consider, there is no rule book on writing death and your story/characters will ultimately play a role in the shape and shades you colour in your scenes with.)

SHOW DON’T TELL?

How does your character discover the death? Is it really necessary to show the body to the audience? 

Consider this, which will have more impact on your character, watching someone die or getting a phone call and hearing the news from afar? Depending on your story, it could be more gutwrenching if your character isn’t there to say their final goodbye. Sometimes not showing the body can be more devastating. Don’t underestimate your readers empathy and imagination, if your characters have a very strong bond, severing that tie from a distance can be incredibly impactful. Just because your character dies, doesn’t mean you have to show the body. If that’s the case for you, then you don’t have to worry about describing the “death scene” at all. 

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Writing a murder mystery or a battle? Well, I suppose your character will see a lot of shit, time to describe the Dead Darling. 

Corpse. Cadaver. Body. Remains. Carcass. The Deceased. 

Several words refer to a dead body and they aren’t all created equally! You wouldn’t call your character’s dear old granny a “carcass” for example, and how many of us use the term “cadaver” to describe human remains in a casual setting? Consider the context, who is speaking, what is their relation to the Dead Darling? The use of a particular noun can change the weight and mood of the scene, there’s a reason your local funeral director doesn’t go around saying “CARCASS” to grieving widows/widowers, it sounds harsh and nasty. Maybe your character is in denial and doesn’t even describe the Dead Darling as “dead”, instead they view them as “like a doll” or “impossibly still” or looking like they’re asleep. 

Context matters, so consider the relationship between the Dead Darling and the character and also the situation they are in. Take the following as a rough example; 

Detective Mc Dude has been called to a scene, he’s given a rough description of the victim over the radio as he drives to the scene. He arrives and to his horror, he recognises the body as that of his secret lover. His colleague joins him and fills him in as Detective Mc Dude tries to gather himself.  “Detective, the remains were found this morning by a jogger. We’ve yet to make an I.D …” Detective Mc Dude’s mind is reeling as he wrestles against his inner turmoil and the need to maintain his composure and act professionally. Later, he goes to the coroner to discuss the autopsy results. The coroner describes the injuries they have discovered on the corpse. Detective Mc Dude begins to build his case. 

While the example lacks a lot of detail and flourish, I do hope it helps illustrate how the weight shifts around with the use of different nouns throughout the example. The coroner in this example feels no attachment to the Dead Darling, this is their job, they see a corpse and try to gather evidence. Detective Mc Dude recognises her body, whereas his colleague sees the remains. Do you see the difference there? Mc Dude sees the person, her body, his colleague doesn’t know who she is or what her story is, he has less connection to her and he sees the remains, it feels more distant and impersonal compared to Mc Dude. 

This might be a bit of a head scratcher, the differences are very subtle but can become really pronounced when weilded well in a scene. My advice is to pay attention to discussions of death in real life or books/tv/films etc. Read your paragraphs out loud and see how they feel, sometimes you can intuit what fits and what doesn’t. You may notice things that surprise you, for example, news readers often say “a body has been found” or “the remains of a man/woman were found”, whereas you and your friends/family are more likely to describe a deceased loved one with “his or her body”. 

A detail as small as using personal pronouns can carry significant weight, likewise, the type of language used can convey a lot of emotion. His/her body can be used to create a sense of closeness or sympathy, corpse can suggest a clinical or distant view, carcass or remains could indicate a hint of barbarism or malice. That's not to say that “corpse” can’t be used sympathetically or that “body” can’t be used to convey malice, it’s worth experimenting with which types of nouns you want to use. 

YOU LOOK LIKE DEATH WARMED UP- OH WAIT

Death comes in many shapes, sizes, colours, smells, and forms. A character sitting at someones sickbed watching them fade away will have a completely different vibe from Detective Mc Dude discovering a stomach-churning murder scene. Unless the dead body randomly falls out of the sky, chances are your character might notice some context clues or details in the environment before we get to the body. This could be anything from the beeps of machines and the sterile hospital smell, or maybe there’s a blood trail on the floor and the sweet stench of death clings to the air. It’s rather likely you’ll set up a scene before you zoom in on the finer details of the body, what kind of things would catch your character's attention? 

Now your character has come across a body… What do they see? The glassy dead-eyed stare, mouth twisted in a painful grimmace, the massive gaping chest hole where the facehugger popped out- Wow, that escalated quickly… 

Think for a second, what might your character notice first; look of terror in the victims eyes or THE MASSIVE FUCKING WOUND IN HIS CHEST… I know, the blue lips and glassy eyes might feel like a great place to start, but I’m willing to bet a massive pool of blood would catch your character's attention first, they’d probably have to get closer to see the look of terror in their eyes! Consider the larger details if your character is further away and hone in on the finer details if/when they are closer.

Not all deaths are quite so … gruesome. Maybe someone died peacefully, closed their eyes, smiled, and slipped away in a dream. Describing the “look of death” doesn’t have to be all that far removed from how you write regular emotions and expressions, except in death these expressions get locked in or frozen in time. A dead body isn’t all that different from a living one when you think about it, so why would you reinvent the descriptive wheel? A living or a dead body could “wear a painful grimace,” let your character read whatever expressions they can uncover when they find the Dead Darling. 

Smells, sounds and other sensations. You don’t have to go ham with descriptions, sometimes less is more, it really is down to you, but another thing you might want to consider are the smells, and sounds going on around them. Maybe your character disassociates a little and you forgo the visual stimuli entirely and need to express death using other senses, maybe it happens in a very dark room, or maybe you just want to draw in other descriptive elements into your death scene. 

Sounds: Siren blaring and alarms bleeping, the faintest little ‘huff’ as they draw their final breath, the ominous death-rattle cough, piercing shrieks suddenly cut short, a gutwrenching crunch-squelch, the click of a switch and the poignant silence of the life support machine ceasing. 

Smells: bleach/disinfectant, latex gloves, blood/gore, rot and decay, sickly-sweet or vomit-inducing, smog/smoke and fire, the smell of the Dead Darlings perfume, the environment (e.g. outside perhaps the smell of death is swept away by the powerful salty-sea spray or masked by the stink of the sewer the body was dumped in…)

CONCLUSIONS

There’s still a lot to explore, but I hope this has given you some food for thought when considering death in your stories. There’s more to explore, such as what happens after death (funerals, burials, anniversaries), writing scenes where your character murders/is murdered, the various ways characters can die… Faking character deaths … like there is a WHOLE LOT but this just covers a few things I find helpful to consider or at least think about when I read/write stories or generally listen to how language works around me. 

Good luck killing you Darlings ;)

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter One: Teacher’s Pet

Chapter Summary: First day woes and a difficult semester ahead, you find solace in your caring, attentive creative writing professor who shows you just a little more attention than everyone else, or so you think. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, dream smut, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality.

note: thanks to @planet-marz1 for the last minute beta.

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

There’s a deafening silence that surrounds you when you step into the lecture room, not nearly as big as your other main course classes, it’s intimate. Close. If you kicked a foot out from the chair you were sitting in you could touch the professor’s desk. 

Part of you wonders if you were the only person taking this class, sitting for a few minutes alone, not another person in sight—until one files in, then another, until there’s about ten of you seated sparsely in the small space. It’s mostly bare aside from the few books shoved away on a nearby shelf, antiquey books that, no doubt, had a thick layer of dust. 

The problem with the class was that you weren’t sure if it was ever going to be a real thing—applying you had the expectation of who your teacher would be, what you could expect from the coursework, and just how manageable it would be amongst the rest of your classes. But, there was little known now. 

All you did know was that they had to find a replacement quick, which they did, and you were sure that a sign of their lacking punctuality was a great start, tucking your chin over the bag placed on your desk as you waited in silence amongst simmered voices, feeling starchly out of place.

You didn’t know this place—it was new, Austin. You moved clear across the country on a whim, wanting a new start in a place you’ve never seen before. You’d plucked a community college out of the bunch, not worried with the semantics of applying to some big, ivy league school. You wanted something manageable, something attainable. This seemed like the easiest option, unsuspecting and unknown, you could slink by and go about your life peacefully. 

That is what you wanted, after all.

Until you meet Mr. Miller.

Joel could’ve pursued music, or carpentry, or about a billion other things he was skilled at—yet somehow, teaching seemed to be the easiest option. It gave him the familial feeling of caring and guiding that he did enjoy, molding young minds and helping them bloom. He worked at a local high school in Austin for years—fifteen good, long years. 

But, he too needed a change. His life was slowly crumbling in on himself.

He sees the job opening on the last weekend of summer, still teetering with the option of returning to his teaching job at the high school—it isn’t as manageable as it used to be, finding that in his older age that dealing with the behavior and arguments with ill-managed kids was more of a hassle than it needed to be for the pay he was receiving. 

So, fuck it. He applies.

He gets a call the following Monday and he’s officially added to the staff by the end of the week—and of course, he’s never stepped foot on the campus until his first day. So, he’s lost. Joel realizes how unprofessional it looks, scrambling with his bag as he throws it over his shoulder and haphazardly adjusts his tie, hoping that his hair wasn’t too askew and wild, despite the wind flying through his hair in the chilly bite of the autumn weather.

Things couldn’t have been off to a better start.

-

There’s the slightest trickling of a thought that you should leave, give up that this class might be an ultimate failure but then he’s walking through the door. You knew his name, but that was as far as your reach extended. Mr. Miller. J. Miller, to be specific.

James. Justin. Jonathan. It was all a mystery to you.

You find that his appearance is less than prepared, mostly disheveled and he seems breathless as he offers a subtle nod of awkward acknowledgement as he slings his bag onto the desk. Thankfully, he seems to understand that there was a tinge of urgency with him being late and he quickly reaches into his bag and pulls out a stack of papers.

Class syllabuses. He hands them off silently to the person on the farthest side of the room and hoping they would get the idea, pass them off until they reach the final person. It’s crisp, stark white paper covered in a boring black-inked text. Nothing seemed out of the norm—different methods of writing you would try over the course of the semester and specific assignments that would pop-up throughout. You enjoyed the predictability of it. Though, there is a significant surprise when your professor begins to speak, pulling your attention to the front of the room.

He’s gathered himself rather quickly, assuming he’s had his fair share of time in the field.

He writes his name out in clear, dignified letters on the board.

Mr. Miller, the screech of a solid drag as he underlines his name.

“I know I’m not who you all were suspecting.” He begins, placing the chalk down, hand wrapping around a balled fist as he cracked his knuckles, walking slowly until he can lean against the edge of his desk, soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor.

“And I’ll admit, I’m new to this,” He waves vaguely around the room, “I’m used to public school and the shittiness that comes with that—so I hope that if I can take this seriously, you all can extend that gesture too.”

You notice how comfortable he seems in group settings, relaxing his broad shoulders as he crosses his arm, glancing around the room casually, never lingering for too long.

“I won’t pester you too much today, given I already wasted some of your time,” Someone snickers softly toward the back of the room and Mr. Miller cracks a subtle smirk, seemingly embarrassed but not offering anything to pick at. “But, I’m willing to answer any questions you have while we have the time today.”

Questions flow in easily: what the semester would consist of, more elaboration outside of the syllabus, some of Mr. Miller’s favorite pieces of literature—part of you expects him to inject the usual ‘around the room introduction’ scheme, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans into the more engaging questions asked, answering as freely and as interested as he can.

He loves Robert Frost, which makes sense. You’re not sure why, but it is predictable. 

He is predictable. Sipping on a large mug of what you can only assume is coffee, the smell permeating toward you with where he’s resting against his desk, only a foot or so away. You haven’t managed to catch his gaze yet, which you’re partly thankful for. It allows you to study him, examine his expressions—admire…No.

And while he can continue his talk about favorite authors for days—the class draws to a close sooner than you expect, and you move lazily as most of the class disperses at the first opportunity with it being their final class of the day.

You’re throwing your bag over your shoulder when you hear his voice, addressing the only other person in the room.

You.

“Intimidating?” Your face screws up in confusion, head tilting his way as your eyes connect for the first time. “Oh, uh—sorry, I’ve just been doin’ this a while. I can tell when someone is anxious in class.”

And, while it wasn’t necessarily anxiety—it was more the idea of adjusting. This was new, this place wasn’t familiar and you were just trying to settle in. Mr. Miller seemed like the guy to have deep roots planted into these grounds, familiar with this town like he’s been here his entire life.

He has, but that wasn’t the point.

“No,” You answer indifferently, shrugging your shoulders, “I think your radar might be a little off.”

Joel chuckles softly, tapping his fingers against the leather cover of his bag as he leaned the tops of his thighs against the edge of his desk, “You know—you didn’t partake much in class discussion just now.”

You weren’t sure where he was driving his point, gradually stepping toward his desk, fingers wrapped around the straps of your bag, pulling against the tight material of your shirt as it stretched over your breasts, “And you were about—fifteen minutes late, too.”

Touche. He nods, lips pursed together.

“Just, fair warning—class discussion is a good chunk of your grade, participation and all that. I want you to feel comfortable enough to join in so…however I can help with that.”

Your eyebrows knit together, thoroughly thrown off by his forwardness—or well, so you assumed. He quickly realizes his misstep.

“No—not like…I mean, if there’s anything that you like or are interested in that you want covered over the semester, let me know. I don’t want it to be so focused on stuff that only appeases a few people. Alright?”

You think on his words, chewing at your bottom lip quietly. 

He doesn’t know why he feels like he’s standing on the edge, waiting impatiently for your response—but when you do, it feels like he can breathe. Joel didn’t want to fuck this job up and he already felt like he’s stepped off on the wrong foot.

“Alright.” You confirm simply, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He nods in response, the smallest twitch of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Have a good day.” He bids kindly, waving at you haphazardly as you left.

And now the day felt even weirder than when it started.

-

The first few weeks of class are actually…a delight. You find yourself looking forward to them as the weeks grow on and drag out, slowly making your way through the day and finding that Mr. Miller’s was the only class you could successfully relax in, not so pressure to participate because it was as equally engaging on both ends.

Mr. Miller liked to talk and argue just as animatedly as most students who had a point to prove—and you see why he must’ve been hired on a whim, the ability to charm and wit himself in and out of any scenario he wanted. It was…mesmerizing in a way that intoxicated you and infected your body and mind. He had you locked in every time he opened his mouth, finding your eyes dragging along the planes of his face and his well-kept appearance now that he arrived on time, sharp. Never early, never late. 

He was as punctual as they come, slowly littering his classroom with more and more personalization. More literature books, smaller books of poems, packets of some of his favorite script writings and a few non-fiction pieces he thought to be intriguing. 

But, the most interesting thing you notice is the small tan line around his ring finger. The advantage of the small classroom allowed for such details to be revealed, alongside knowing when he had taken a certain morning to do a fresh shave of his facial hair or spill a small spattering of coffee against his shirt, dull brown staining the white, crisp button-up he usually dawned alongside the occasional navy blue or black.

So, he was married—you assumed. He just didn’t wear his ring.

The more you indulged in him, the more complex he seemed. The ever mysterious J-something Miller, finding that no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t seem to find any information on him or an inkling of what his first name might be.

He must be a private person—no socials, no good deeds leading to news articles about him, or anything of tangible evidence to allow such information to seep out to the public. He was good at hiding, integrating himself in places he might not belong. He was a natural chameleon, much like yourself.

And you’d like to think you were good at writing considering you were attempting to pursue a career in it, mostly focusing on the aspect of screenwriting and film, not entirely sure what you were after but knowing that was where you wanted to go. You were great at convoluting things and empowering your far too creative imagination—often dangerous. You were never lacking in ideas, but your first assignment is a struggle.

It was something pertaining to non-fiction, a boring topic that Mr. Miller wanted to be intrigued by—he wanted something so mundane to be eye-catching and page-turning. Hanging on the edge of his seat, as he’d said so menacingly.

So, here you were, writing about the monogamous lives of certain breeds of penguins and they’re mates—whatever the fuck that was all about. It’s like he picked obscure topics for this very reason, the difficulty and the need for assistance. He wanted to help and you learned that quickly.

You could’ve been stuck with global warming, so it wasn’t all that bad. 

Mr. Miller is leaning against an empty desk as he’s talking to a student a few desks away—yeah, the unlucky one who snagged the global warming topic. His expression is sour, tapping his pencil against the desk rapidly as Mr. Miller talks quietly, nothing that you can make out. He travels around the room gradually, eventually landing on you with a raised eyebrow, seeing that you had some, if not very little outlined.

He looks amused, knowing how you were pulling an absolute fat nothing over this topic. You could sit there and lay out the facts, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted it to be explained in a way that held you close and dragged you along. It all came down to wording, at the end of the day, and as much as you wanted to prove you were a decent writer, you still had a lot to learn.

“This is so stupid,” You gripe, looking up at him briefly before you continue to stare daggers into the notebook you were scribbling in, “—pardon my language, but what the fuck is this topic?”

Mr. Miller chuckles deeply at that, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll let that slide but try not to make it a habit,” He comments, acknowledging your foul language and understanding the frustration, “—it’s meant to challenge you. The obscurity of it. It’s not complicated, but you don’t want to just write a research paper.”

“Isn’t that…exactly how non-fiction works?” You ask curiously.

“You’ve read biographies, right? Auto-biograhpies and all that?” 

You nod quietly.

“And I’m sure some of that caught your intention, right?” He asks and you respond with another nod, though meeker than before. “Non-fiction work is just as important as story-telling. Do some more research, explain why monogamy is sacred to them, explain their mating patterns, the behaviors—are you following?”

“Yeah—because some penguins mate for life, right?” You ask, feeling ridiculous asking him such an obscure question. “At least, I thought they did.”

“Most do.” Mr. Miller nods, “If you find yourself learning enough about the topic and actually finding some interest it won’t come out so…bland. Just look into it and write something you’d find intriguing to read, don’t stress over it that much. It’s just one assignment.”

It eases your worries slightly, but still, the frustration stuck.

“Okay,” You mumble, “Thank you.”

Mr. Miller offers a soft pat to your forearm as he nods silently in acknowledgment.

You were determined to make that assignment your bitch. Plain and simple.

-

Class discussion days are much easier. You switch between a certain selection of poems to snippets of scripts that Mr. Miller has pulled apart for the class to dissect and mince the words, learning how to write screenplays in a way that was both descriptive but directive and still managed to somehow keep the flow. Poems always seemed a little silly, but it was nice to debate the meanings and nuances of it all, always finding that you preferred to sit back and hear the thoughts of others until Mr. Miller decides he’s had enough one day—two months into the semester when he finally calls on you directly.

It was something he didn’t do often, but you find yourself going wide-eyed. He was always so polite to you, even when he’d catch you staring or lingering on his form for a moment too long, like he knew what you were thinking.

He was tall and—as was glaringly obvious, broad. His shoulders were immense and large as he extended his hands out and talked animatedly, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks stretching over taut, tight muscle as he planted a foot in a nearby chair or stretched his stance out slightly as he stood—often finding it hard to stay still the longer class drew on.

You pull your attention to him, an innocent gaze glazing over your features.

“Why don’t you read the next poem?” He asks curiously.

“Oh—um,” Your eyes flick toward the poem book held tight in your grip, flitting to find the the place where the class last left off, so distracted you find yourself scrambling, but Mr. Miller is quick to lean over without much show or way of embarrassing you, pointing out the spot where the class last left of, blunt nail scratching against the paper as you follow the trail of his finger, you clear your throat and start:

“How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.”

The point was to interpret the words and form an explanation for why they were used, what they were trying to explain, but you lose any sense of thought when your eyes drag up to meet Mr. Miller and he’s staring right back, allowing you all the attention in the world.

Like no one else in the room existed. It was all a delusion in your own head, something you weren’t privy to then, but you believed whole-heartedly in the moment. He was just allowing you the floor and sharing you the same attention he had with everyone else. 

At least, that’s what he tried to do.

Mr. Miller clears his throat to subtly bring you back down to earth when he notices your mind fleeing from your body, asking an easy, “So, what do we think about this one?”

No one answered, staunchly disinterested as they stared at you, waiting for a response as you were the only one who had avoided participating all day.

“Uh, it—it sounds like the love isn’t being returned,” You start slow, dissecting the words in your brain as Mr. Miller nods, “but that person is willing to show up and offer more to make up for it, maybe even to their own…undoing, I guess.”

“There’s really no right or wrong,” He addresses the class as a whole but pointedly acknowledges your observation, “and that’s the best thing—you’re allowed to think as individuals and come up with your own conclusions. Good job.”

The final part is directed at you. It makes you feel warm, gooey—like you were being given a star for good behavior or gentle praise under the guise of friendly language.

You despise how hard it is to stay focused some days with how often Mr. Miller likes to pick on you and point you out—but he sees potential there. Real potential. Not to say that it isn’t within the rest of the class, he just sees…more. And it intrigues him in a way that feels dangerous, but he wants to ensure that you are given the proper support needed, even if that means a little extra attention.

It was harmless, after all.

-

Your first big assignment comes three months into the semester.

It’s a simple writing assignment but tactful and heavy, given a week to complete it before you were due to turn it in for a final grade. A collection of self-written poems, the outline for a possible script idea for a scene, and a small creative writing assignment that must include some kind of supernatural element. You appreciate the Mr. Miller never allowed things to lay stagnant with his work, always giving you something to think about.

And everyone loved him, that much was blatantly obvious. He was, easily, one of the hottest professors at the college for someone his age—you could only assume he was somewhere in his late 40s. But, there remained the unknown of if he was married, something people debated often, but you examined in the privacy of your own mind.

There was no indication of another—no pictures lingering on his desk as his classroom continued to collect belongings, no screensaver on his phone or laptop (because yes, you were observant) that gave you any idea of what his partner looked like. And he never mentioned anything outside of his own interest in literature. The curiosity with no discovery was only slightly disappointing, because despite that, Mr. Miller showed his attention toward you like you were the only person in the room.

And maybe it was like that for everyone, but it felt special to you. There was always a little extra to give to you that he didn’t offer to everyone else.

You turn in your assignment a few minutes before it is due, well into the late hours of the night.

-

Mr. Miller, unbeknownst to you, smiles when he sees the notification on his computer as he sits in his office at home, scrolling down the deep troves of porn in the darkened space, quickly clicking away to another browser as he hears the door creak, his wife poking her head through the crack with a smile.

“Hey, it’s late—you comin’ to bed soon?” Tess asks, eyes ringed with a deep exhaustion.

Joel nods, scratching at the side of his face, blinking tiredly. 

“Yeah. In a bit,” He excuses, “Just tryin’ to catch up on these assignments and then I’ll be done.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Things had been rough since the affair—finding that Tess had been sleeping with her boss at her law firm for a few months, something she swore meant nothing, despite how long it dragged on in secret. Joel forgave her, mostly. They were managing, attempting the idea of marriage counseling, but he still couldn’t bring himself to put his wedding band back on, despite how proudly she wore hers still.

He had his own reservations on the matter and while he was trying to work things out, he wasn’t sure they could ever resume the same rhythm they had before, thinking that this was something he had for life, slowly crumbling and falling between his fingertips.

This was why he needed a change of pace, something different.

And maybe he was stupid for entertaining the obvious affection you showed toward him—he definitely was, but he does it anyways. It was playful, so meaningless and harmless that he didn’t even think twice about it. He could see you craved the attention and while he couldn’t be bothered to save that energy for Tess anymore, he could try to offer it to you.

Because you—you had so much potential. It was refreshing, seeing so much of his younger self in you, drive and dedication. The willingness to question stuff without fear.

He clicks on the email notification with your assignment, opening in a separate browser as he rises to lock his office door quietly, before returning to his other browser as he sat and unbuckled the thick leather belt around his waistband, a dignified zip that echoes throughout the confines of the office, reverberates and reminds him of his own loneliness.

And he shouldn’t picture your face as he finds himself aching and fucking deseprate into his fist, soft gunts muffled behind clenched teeth. But, he does. And he loves it.

He’s so fucked.

-

The comments on your assignment come a few days later, curled up in your bed in the small apartment you rented out, scrolling desperately to find out any further information on Mr. Miller but coming up with absolutely nothing. What a fucking ghost he was.

You’re curious, though—so you quickly switch to your emails to check his response and what your grade ended up being after how hard you worked to make sure it turned out perfect. Better than perfect actually. You hoped that with his obvious relationship woes he would appreciate the angst and underlying meanings in your poems, a bunch of bullshit you couldn’t relate to but hoped, on a whim, that he might.

‘Way to press on the idea of heartbreak, well done. Very expressive and real. Thank you for pouring those feelings into your work, though I hope no one has ever broken your heart that bad. Wonderful job.’

And he scores you a 90/100.

Which—whatever. You could accept it. Still, you wondered if those lingering ten points lied with him and his own bitter dealings. You’re fingers are curled around the laptop, ready to close when you get another notification blaring through your speakers.

You lift the laptop to stare at the screen, seeing an email come in from an unknown sender—though, the name grabs your attention immediately. First name, last name, followed by a series of number you can only assume is a birth year—not the school email Mr. Miller had previously sent you a response from.

You perk up, legs crossing over each other as you take a peek at the contents of the glaring email, seeing that it had links to a few books, followed by:

‘I hope you don’t mind my emailing you like this. But, I have a few pieces I think you may enjoy and would help with some of what you’re trying to convey in your writing. You have a beautiful way of expressing feeling and you should harness that. Let me know what you think. :)’

In hindsight, Joel should’ve never sent it. But, there was an urge there he couldn’t fight.

Maybe it was out of spite for his life and his wife betraying him, his urge to try and do some real good for someone, seeing that potential in you no matter how inappropriate it may be to go around school ruling and message you from his private email.

But, now you had a sliver of information. A peek into who Mr. Miller—Joel Miller, was.

It sends you down a spiral, searching and scouring for any information available online.

You find out that he’s 48…or 49, not entirely sure of his actual birthday. Only going off the year designated in his email. And that he’s a published author, but nothing of significance. He used to be a high school teacher and he was…or is, married. It’s all vague and unassuming, but it has your mind stirring. Wondering what was so interesting about him, what part of him had crawled into your mind and refused to get out.

And him messaging you on a private email—complimenting you with unnecessary eagerness, even when it wasn’t needed. You can’t be this delusional. There’s something there, even if neither of you have spoken on it explicitly.  

The faint touches and smiles traded, the hard-gazed looks and glances over his shoulder as he does a sweep of the room, always spending just a smidgen of extra time over your desk when you ask for help. 

It makes you feel special. And that’s exactly what you need.

-

You fall asleep that night with a wild idea in your head, wondering just how brave you could be in this situation. It burrows into your mind and seeps into your dreams:

You’re pressed against the edge of a desk in a dark office, the solid wood pressed flat against your cunt as you lean forward and capture the lips of the person in front of you, a shaky breath coming from their mouth.

“Want that pretty mouth ‘round my cock.” He says—your heart skips, nearly stops. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised to hear Joel’s voice, but it clears your mind and his hazy face finally comes into view in all of it’s intricate detail, right down to the soft crinkle of skin around his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he pulls away to look at you, lips puffed from the kissing and seeming so innocent as he spoke in such a depraved manner.

Delicate fingers drag along the shape of your lips, stopping at your cupid’s bow before he’s pressing two fingers inside, grabbing the hand relaxed at your side and pressing it over the front of his slacks, the hard line of his cock pressing against the zipper.

There’s no other word to offer than intimidating, his size morphing any idea that you might’ve had–which, you did. His slacks are well-tailored, form fitting, and if he stretched just the right way in class you could see the head or outline of his cock press against the fabric for a split second….and you observed. A lot.

“Wanna stuff your mouth, huh?” He asks, eyes rolling back as his fingers press down on your tongue, quickly pulling out as he grips your face, spit spreading across your cheek, gasping at the suddenness of his movement. “Think it’ll fit?”

He sounds so condescending, eyeline over you but downcast on your figure from where your perched against his desk, idle hand exploring the soft, plush skin of your thighs as he drags his fingers along the full expanse of your cunt and it sets your whole body on fire, like you’re feeling everything dialed to an impossible level, every nerve in your body coming to life.

You shake your head meekly, gasping when he yanks you forward suddenly.

“Guess we’ll have to train that filthy mouth then, won’t we?” His eyebrow quirks up salaciously, earning a less than subtle grin as he presses his fingers into the wet spot of your underwear, not breaking the barrier but allowing you to feel the pressure.

And just as you feel yourself grabbing onto something tangible, hands gripped in the lapel of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, you’re startling awake with a gasp.

You could feel your imagination mixing with reality, falling lazily back against your bed as your chest heaved hurried breaths, palms pressed over your chest in an effort to calm down, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room was hot, too hot to feel comfortable anymore.

Your lip pulls between your teeth, chewing thoughtfully at a bad idea.

You reach blindly for your laptop laid out near the end of your bed, opening the device with a swiftness, squinting at the blinding screen that burned at this time of night.

Nearly two in the morning—this was pointless.

But, you hit reply on his email anyways and slowly type out a response.

‘Thank you for noticing, Mr. Miller. It’s greatly appreciated and I will definitely look into those sources and give you a full, detailed review. :) I appreciate you thinking of me as someone so esteemed. I would love to talk more about literature, if that feels appropriate.’

The lines were already blurred. He’d blurred them. You were just smudging them a little more.

You never said that starting fresh meant you had to stay on your best behavior. Because really, there was nothing innocent about what game was developing between you both.

It was a game of chess and you felt a million moves ahead, nearing a checkmate—and you would do anything to have Joel Miller in the way you craved. Anything.

[universalitgirlsblog2]

💖💋🥂IT GIRL ERA 2024💖💋🥂

💋1) Start putting yourself first . Choose yourself Put your own needs and wants first. What do they advice in flight ? First put your oxygen mask and then try to put others oxygen masks. It is not about oxygen masks.

💖2) Get a social media detox. Social media can be very toxic. We often get into fights with strangers or see toxic people in the comment section or compare ourselves with others. Get off Tumblr , Instagram , Facebook etc. It will help you alot.

🥂3)Get rid of victim mentality. Victim mentality can make things worse for you. You aren't a victim of your reality , you are the creator of your reality. Start taking responsibility and control of your life .

💋4) Believe in yourself . Like Elle Woods said , " most importantly you must have faith in yourself." You must have unwavering faith in yourself . It doesn't matter if others perceive you as less , make sure you don't perceive yourself as less. Your opinion of yourself matters the most.

🥂5) Start taking care of yourself. Self care will save you . Always put your self care first. Go to gym or workout at home. Do skincare. Take care of your hair. Get a mini hair spa. Self care will increase your energy and lower your stress levels. It will boost your self-esteem too.

💖6) Create a vision board. You can make vision board on Pinterest or make one in real life. Just make sure it inspires you and reminds you of your goals. Vision boards are very powerful tool.

💋7) Stop focusing on others. Focus on you. Don't think good or bad about anyone . Be focused on how you can make yourself better. If you don't get time to think about others , good ! Focus on yourself. Except the ones who are close to you , you shouldn't think about others or compare yourself . Just focus on how you can get ahead and make yourself better. I hope this made sense.

🥂8) Love yourself. Self love will save you. Listen , write or speak affirmations. Adopt the IDAF mindset , stop caring about others opinions. Don't compare yourself with others. Let go of toxic cycles and people. Be kind to yourself.

💖9) Remember what Jang Wonyoung said ? I DON'T CARE. YOU ARE YOU , I AM ME . ADOPT THIS MENTALITY. Enter your wonyoungism era !! Wonyoung said that if it's something she didn't do , then she doesn't care. That's where her iconic statement " you are you I am me " came from . Start being okay with people misunderstanding you. Don't try to explain yourself and waste your energy.

💋10) Give importance to your education . Education is the most powerful weapon. Read books. Watch documentaries. Study to learn , not just for good grades.

🥂11) Value your time. Realize how important your present moment is. Don't waste time on unproductive things. Do things that your future self will thank you for . Don't do things that your future self will curse you for.

💖12) Have different role models for different things. Let's say for developing a strong mindset , you can look upto Song Jia , Wonyoung or The wizard liz and for academics , you can look upto Hermione Granger , Elle Woods or Rory Gilmore .

💋13) Stop fighting with stupid people. Even strangers online ! Honestly , strangers online can be very toxic , annoying and stupid. Don't waste your energy arguing with stupid people or people who aren't willing to understand or listen .

💖14) Stop looking yourself through the lens of your past self. It's okay if you made some mistakes . Mistakes are the proof that you are trying. Forgive yourself and learn from them. Stop putting yourself down and keep those mistakes as a lesson. Yes you made some mistakes but after those mistakes , you learnt and made yourself better.

🥂15) No more self- depreciating humor. Your mind doesn't know the difference between reality , fiction or a joke.

💖💋🥂This advice is very basic and simple. But this advice will help you alot. Don't just read this post , make sure you follow this. Happy new year !!! 💖💋🥂

[lostgirlmuseum]

Give Me A Sign

Made with photos from Pinterest ^

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

Warnings: HUGE WARNING, please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable! Heavy suicidal ideation, but happy ending. Please be very careful in considering if this is triggering for you. It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t read, your mental health and safety comes first.

A/N: I’m really sorry if this isn’t great, I wanted to do more but I kept getting stuck, and tbh I just want to post it as is instead of stress about it.

(Dividers from @saradika)

The air was unusually crisp the night Bucky snuck into the gardens of Cornelia Park. He had a faint memory of visiting once, in another century, with Steve. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Steve is dead. Bucky feels the weight of his entire history on his scarred shoulders. He feels out of place in such a green and flourishing area of flora. It’s wrong for him to be among such a place of peace and beauty, he finds it almost funny. Almost. 

He followed the path of lavenders into the private area of the park, surrounded by tall hedges. At the center stood an old stone statue, one he remembered from the last time he visited. Only now it looked much more worn and weathered. The statue was of an angel, a woman with wings. Her eyes were kind, her features soft, despite the stone. She held her arms out, one hand holding a lantern, the other beckoning him to hold. Instead, Bucky sat on the bench in front of her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, apologizing for his very presence. He dropped his head into his hands.

And then he started crying. And his cries evolved to sobbing. He let himself cry, a privilege he rarely allowed himself. He let the tears flow, and they didn’t stop for what felt like hours. After forcing himself to pull himself together, he wiped his final tears from his cheeks and looked up to the black sky.

“Give me a sign, God.” His voice wavered.

“If you’re real, give me a sign to keep going. I’ve been at this a really long time. Just gimme— gimme a sign to keep going. That it will be worth it. Because life feels pretty damn bleak. And I know I should keep going, but I…”

The words wouldn’t come.

“I… fuck.” He looked back down at his hands. He thought about how much he hated those hands. He thought about how he wished he could wash the memories from his head like he does the blood from his palms, and how he wished he wasn’t Bucky Barnes. He thought about how he wished he had died at the bottom of that cliff, and how everyone would be better off if—

“Hello?”

A small voice shook him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even heard someone approach. But there you were, standing in the entrance of the hedge garden.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, once you saw him. At least he thinks you smiled. It was hard for him to see you in the shadows. 

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized, once he realized he hadn’t said anything yet. He had just stared. He looked away from you and back at his lap.

“No need to be sorry,” you said, walking up to the bench he sat on, “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.” 

He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. He too thought he was the only person there.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” You kindly asked, wrapping your white cardigan a bit tighter. 

That was when he looked up and saw your face in the light of the lantern for the first time. The first thing he thought was that you looked like you belonged there in the garden, unlike him. You could replace the angel statue, and its meaning would stay the same. 

“Go ahead,” he simply said. Although what he really thought was to warn you. Are you sure you want to sit next to him?

You took your place on the bench silently. Neither of you spoke for the first couple minutes. Bucky tried to focus on the sound of crickets, and the lack of traffic. 

He wasn’t sure why he stayed. If anything, his first thought should be to get up, walk away, escape. But he didn’t.

“My name is Y/N.” You softly said.

Stunned by your confession, he let his guard down.

“Bucky.” He half whispered back.

You simply hummed in response.

He could sense your gaze on him. It wasn’t malicious or judgemental; it felt curious and gentle. 

“Are you okay?”

His throat started to constrict again. He didn’t like that question, because he didn’t like the answer. He knows he’s not okay. But he doesn’t know how to say it. After struggling for a response for many seconds, he conceded to shaking his head softly. No.

“I hope it gets easier soon.” 

He felt the dam begin to break again. 

“It will get better someday,” you continued, “maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, or month, but someday it will get better.”

“How can you be so sure?” He choked.

“Life is like a pendulum, have you ever heard that before?”

“No.”

“Well, it is. Right now you’re swinging into the bad, but eventually you’re gonna swing right back into the good. It’s just physics. And it sucks in a way, because what’s the point of swinging into the light if it’s just gonna cast that shadow you’ll fall back into? But it’s also comforting to me, because I know as long as I keep pushing, I’ll end up on the other side.”

Bucky let your words ring in his ears. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to open up to you, but he did.

“I just keep asking myself why should I stay?”

“The trick is to find a new reason when you can. I think of one everyday.”

“What’s yours?” 

“Today?” You sighed and looked up at the stars. “I want to see the next snow.”

“That won’t be for months,” he said.

“Guess I’ll have to stick around then.” You gave a knowing smile.

“What should mine be?”

He knew there should be a million things, but they were all just out of reach of his mind.

“That’s up to you.”

Bucky didn’t say it, but he quickly came up with his reason to stay.

You. 

He told himself that he had to see you again.

Bucky went back the next night. And the next. And he kept going back, because you met him every night for a week until you finally asked him if he wanted to meet you for lunch. That was the start of your relationship. Soon enough Sam started asking where Bucky had gone so often. He wasn’t in his room all day anymore, and he seemed lighter. He wasn’t ‘fixed’, obviously, but he was better. It started to get easier to breathe. 

The pendulum had begun to swing in Bucky’s favor, and it stayed that way for months. He still had his days, as did you, but you were happy together. You supported each other. 

And then came a very tough week.

The anniversary of Steve’s death. 

The wound had reopened, and Bucky spiraled. He was a mess, a total mess, and you were there to comfort him. 

But your kindness reminded him of Steve, and how he wasn’t enough for him. If Bucky was good enough for Steve, he wouldn’t have left, right? 

Although Bucky knew you wouldn’t leave him. That was the problem. He was an anchor, and you held on. 

For your own good, he convinced himself he had to let go, if you wouldn’t.

The absence of warmth next to you woke you up. 

“Bucky?” You whispered. The clock blinked 4:13 A.M. 

No reply. You figured maybe he was sleeping on the couch, so you carefully sat up and waited a couple seconds before letting your bare feet touch the cold ground. Pulling your robe on from where it had fallen on the floor, you wiped the sleep from your eyes and padded over to the living room.

It was dark, and your eyes were still adjusting, but you could tell that he wasn’t there. You felt the rise of panic in your chest just before you spotted him standing on the balcony. 

He didn’t turn around to look at you as the door slid open and shut. He remained staring over the ledge at some unknown point.

“Hey, honey,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, as you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around him, giving him a big hug.

You hear his whimper before you feel his body shake.

“Y/N, I—”

“What’s wrong honey?” You quickly let go, turning him to face you. You notice his puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. His cheeks were rosy; you could tell he had been crying for a while.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look you in the eyes.

“Sorry for what?” 

“I’m sorry for everything.” He starts. “I’m too much. I don’t deserve you, you deserve someone easier. Someone better, someone— someone good.”

“But I love you, and you are good. Bucky, where is this coming from?” The concern was thick in your voice. Sure, he had been a little down lately, but nothing alerted you to this level of distress.

“Sweetheart, all I do is bring hardship into your life. You deserve to live,” he looks into your eyes earnestly, “I know I shackle you to me. I know you give up things to be with me. But you don’t have to anymore. I’m letting you free.”

You hold back a shiver.

“What are you talking about? I want to be with you. You’re scaring me.”

“It’s not fair that I’ve lived this long, and it’s not fair that I’m dragging you down with me. I’m a fucking burden, Y/N. At first to Steve, then Sam, and now you. I can’t keep adding to the list of lives I ruin.”

“Honey, listen to me. I need you to take a deep breath.” You place your hand on his bicep, and try to speak with an appropriate mix of confidence and compassion.

“I’m doing it now!” He shakes his head vigorously, wiping away his tears as if evidence that he’s stopped crying will convince you to go. “You should be sleeping, please go back to sleep. You shouldn’t have to watch over me and make me feel better.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?” You whisper, fearing that if you spoke any louder your voice would break with your heart.

He took a while to answer, biting his lip and looking around before finally responding.

“Do you remember when we first met? In the garden?” He looks at you, eyebrows drawn. As if you could actually forget. You nod.

“I wanted to—” his voice breaks and he looks down— “I went… I was thinking about—” it cracks again, and his throat is constricting itself around the words he can’t say. “I was thinking I was really going to do it. I had basically decided. And then right as I was asking God for one more chance, one reason to stay alive—you appeared. I thought God sent me an Angel. A real Angel.” His eyes sparkle before dimming again. “I tarnish you. You waste your goodness on me, and the world needs it more.”

You don’t like where this is going. You know you need to reel him back in, and fast.

“Look at me, Bucky Barnes. Look at me.” You grab his face firmly and make sure he’s seeing you.

“I’m a burden.” He crumbles.

“Then be my burden!” You cry. “I want you to be my burden. Maybe without you, my life would be ‘easier.’ But I don’t want it to be if it means a life without you.” You search his blue watery eyes, wiping a tear that starts to leak from one. “I don’t fucking choose ‘easier.’ I choose you, Bucky. My choice is to be with the love of my life. And if that means skipping a couple hours of sleep to comfort you, and staying in on weekends, and crying with you, that doesn’t change the fact that I am the luckiest person on Earth. This is my choice too, Bucky. Do you hear me?” You place your hands on both of his arms.

He closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and nods.

“I choose you.” 

He nods again, and bites his bottom lip.

“I choose you.” You repeat, not once looking away from him.

He whimpers.

“Say it. Can you say it, please?” You don’t want to push him, but you need to know that your point has been made clear.

“You choose me.” He whispers, before falling into your embrace, and tucking his head into your neck.

“I do. I really do.” You say, holding back your own tears as you rub his back.

“I’m sorry.”

You know telling him he has nothing to be sorry for won’t work, so you instead answer by agreeing. 

“Me too. I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way. I’m sorry you struggle to see how much I need you, too. But we are going to be okay, okay?”

He sobs harder, holding you tighter. You feel his warm tears start to stain your shirt under the thin robe. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you hum.

“Don’t leave me,”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promise, bringing one hand up to the nape of his neck and start gently playing with his hair. “Are you ready to go back inside? Do you want to lay down with me?”

Without pulling away from you, he nods. You wait for him to let go of you before going to grab his hand and leading him to the bed, but he stops you. Instead of letting you show him the way, he decides to pick you up bridal style and carry you to your room, knowing he couldn’t wait until laying down to have your body pressed against his. 

Once you were both settled under the cozy blankets, your bodies facing each other, his head on your chest and your hand rubbing his back in circular motions, he spoke drowsily, exhausted from his breakdown.

“I love you.” He mumbled.

“And I love you,” You cooed, placing a small kiss on his forehead before drifting off into your dreamless sleeps.

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I know life can be a fucking shit show, but please stay alive. If you know someone who is struggling, consider reaching out to them. And if you yourself are struggling, please reach out to someone. And if you feel like there is no one to talk to, my asks/dms are open. You are not alone.

I don’t want anyone to read this fic and their takeaway is that if they have no partner, they are on their own. I choose you. Do you hear me? I choose you, and I implore you to choose yourself. Stay alive for yourself. Be spiteful against your depression. And if you’re one of those people who can’t help but say “I hate you,” to the mirror, and feel like you mean it, know that there is hope for you too. Because I was once that person. And with help, and time, I am able to say that I don’t hate myself. I can look in the mirror and appreciate who I am. Of course I still have my moments, but my point is that if you told me when I was at my lowest, that I’d one day be able to say “I love you” to the mirror without bursting out in tears, I’d call you a liar. 

(Sorry for making this A/N so long, hopefully someone can find comfort in it. I’m still here. And you should be too.)

[bad268]

Hi I really like your stories! And i was thinking that could you possibly write another one for Kimi Antonelli with a reader that can’t speak Italian while they are travelling in Italy? I believe this is going to be really interesting!

Good Enough (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Thank you love! Some of this is a real conversation I had with one of my friends)

Warnings: Language lol, aged up Kimi

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1052

Summary: Duolingo can only do so much

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You liked to think that you were well-versed in many things. Italian was not one of those things. That was a bit of a problem especially when your boyfriend is Italian. You would visit him constantly, but you never left his house. 

You were a homebody at heart, so you were more than content to stay at his house whenever you came to visit. It was just who you were.

However, Kimi wanted to show you around. He had a larger break between his Formula 2 season-ender and Formula 1 debut, and you were already planning to stay with him during the winter break. He wanted to take you around Bologna, his home city, and take you to all of his favorite places. This was mainly because you took him to all of your favorite places when he visited you and your home city before the season started, so he wanted to return the favor.

The first place you went to was his favorite cafe.

“But this sign says “bar,” Kimi,” You laughed as you reluctantly followed him to the building.

“Bar is a cafe in Italian,” Kimi laughed as he led the door open for you. You walked in and, true to his word, it was a cafe. You walk up to the counter to order, but everything is in Italian.

“How am I supposed to know what’s here?” You signed trying to recognize anything on the menu. “It’s all Italian.”

“Huh, wonder why,” Kimi joked, “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll order for you.”

“Can I just get a coffee with cream and sugar? I feel like that’s easy, right?” You asked looking around at the options, and you saw a bunch of coffee beans behind the counter. Surely they’d have coffee.

“Ciao, vorresti ordinare?” The barista asked as she saw you standing there. You immediately looked over to Kimi for him to respond. 

“Ciao, vorrei un cafè con latte e zucchero e un tè con latte,” He said to her before turning his attention to you. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Do they have croissants?” You asked, and he nodded, turning his attention back to the barista.

“E due croissant, per favore,” He replied as he pulled out money to pay. “Grazie!”

“I’m never going to learn Italian,” You groaned as you walked to a table on the outdoor patio to wait for your food. “It’s difficult, and I don’t even know what you ordered us.”

“I could always tell you what I said,” he laughed. “I bet I could also teach you.”

“Please,” You let up as you grabbed his hand from across the table. “Duolingo is not helping. If anything, it’s making it more difficult to understand.”

“You tried Duolingo before asking your Italian boyfriend to learn Italian? Mamma mia!” Just then, the barista brought out your food and drinks before heading back behind the counter. “Here, I’ll help. This,” he said as he gestured to your cup of coffee, “I said I would like a coffee with cream and sugar. Vorrei un cafè con latte e zucchero. Try it.”

“I’m going to butcher the accents,” You admitted as you tried it out, and sure enough, you messed up a little, but it was not too far off the original. That could be chalked up to the lack of an Italian accent. “Was that horrible?”

“Not at all!” He encouraged as he took a drink from his tea. “Then I said I also wanted a tea with cream. Un tè con latte. Are you seeing the resemblance?”

“So tè is tea and cafè is coffee?” You asked and were met with a nod from him. “Then latte is cream, con is with, and zucchero is sugar.”

“Yes! That’s all right!” He smiled as he passed you one of the croissants. “Then what would ‘due croissant’ mean?”

“Two croissants, I’m guessing?” You answered nervously but were met with a smile.

“Sì, you’re doing great!” He praised as he brought your hand up to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Now, do you know what ‘ciao’, ‘per favore’ and ‘grazie’ mean?”

“Of course, I know ‘ciao’! I’ve heard Bella Ciao before,” You joked. Kimi’s eyes widened as if still asking the question. “It means hi, right?” “Yes, but what about the others?”

“‘Per favore’ sounds like ‘please’ in Spanish, so I’m assuming that,” You replied, “And I bet ‘grazie’ is thank you. You’ve said that a lot, especially after the race, to your engineers.”

“Corretto!” That’s when he noticed you were both done with your drinks and noticed you were done, so he stood up to take the glassware back to the counter before coming back to you. “How about we go shopping? I can keep teaching you Italian while we walk around my favorite places.”

“That sounds fun,” You said as you stood up and followed him down the street, hand in hand. “I need a new jacket anyway.”

“Io ho bisogno di una nuova giacca,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Huh?”

“I need a new jacket in Italian is io ho bisogno di una nuova giacca,” He laughed seeing your confused face.

“Is this going to be a new theme? Anything I say, you’re going to translate it?”

“Se vuoi che lo faccia,” He said, causing you to glare at him. He laughed lightly before translating, “If you want me to.”

“As hot as I find your accent and you speaking Italian to me, I’d rather you not do that,” You admitted. “Can we just stick to small words that I definitely already know the meaning of and small lessons here and there?”

“Well, what words do you already know?”

“Ciao, per favore, grazie-”

“Word that I did not teach you before today,” He cut you off with a laugh. 

“Uh, amour means love, ti amo means I love you, and um, one that’s not so good willed,” You chuckled nervously as you both walked by a huge group of people. 

“I still want to know what it is,” He pressed once everyone cleared out of the way, and he pulled you to the side in an alley for more privacy. “What is it?”

“Vaffanculo,” You whispered, “It means fuck you.”

“Technically, it means go fuck yourself, but close enough.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[madwomansapologist]

your shan yu x reader fics = me obsessed

what would shan yu x reader with babies be like?

shan yu as a father

Pinterest Board | More Shan Yu | AO3

synopsis: A new dynasty takes over china.

warnings: fluff. do you like happiness? the daddy is a dad now!

note: the way you send me this ask right when i was thinking about him as girl's dad is something

● After you, after China, Shan Yu thought nothing could make him happier. He was satisfied. Shan Yu conquered everything he wanted while feeling your warm embrace. His life was perfect as it was.

● He wanted to have children with you. To expand the family, showing how your love for one another was so great a whole knew being came out of it. But it was never an plan. Never something you both prepared for.

● You're younger than him. He wouldn't ask you something so complicated, not knowing your body demanded different things than his. Shan Yu would never make you feel like it was your purpose to give him children. He saw how woman were treated there, and would never make you think he agreed with that.

● Shan Yu didn't noticed the signs. When you were tired, he assumed you just need to sleep better. When you ate more, he saw it as a sign you were enjoying yourself. When you throw up, he called the healers.

● When you told him the news, his heart stopped for a moment. You were smiling, overwhelmed with pure joy, stroking your belly waiting for his response. You saw it as good news.

● He was happier than ever. To know a part of him grew with a part of you, that in months this tiny ball of perfection would be there, made him cry in front of you. You can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he cried next to you.

● Shan Yu fell on his knees, putting his hand over yours. Kissing your belly, stroking your skin with care and love, Shan Yu thanked you. Once again he declared his love for you, this time by the tears rolling down his face.

● If you thought he was protective and possessive, now you discovered he was controlling himself. You were never alone. Always guards that he trusted following you around, friends and family called without you knowing, or the man hinself were near you. Shan Yu would guarantee you never get hurt.

● You would spend nine months on your bed if it was on him, but Shan Yu already knew you wouldn't behave. Anything you wanted, eveything, he would take care of it. It could be heading to the bathroom in the middle of the night, crying because of the hormones changing, trying to reach a book on a higher shelf. Shan Yu would be there with you.

● He loved how after some months you started to let him support you. Shan Yu would help you sit down, stroke your skin during your bath, cut your nails since you can't reach them anymore. Shan Yu would put the food on your mouth if you let him.

● He never made you feel so desired. At the beginning of the pregnancy, everything was an excuse for Shan Yu to lead you somewhere private. He was gentle, forever caring, but you could see right through him. He was burning with desire. With need.

● During the birth, he was there with you. You could scream at him, smash his hand, do anything that might help you reduce the pain. He never thought you weak, but that proved how strong you really are. A baby girl. Just like you told him.

● The child was healthy and safe, always protected by him. Many thought he would be distant or worse, but his violence is only reserved for those against him. Those he loves will never, ever, had to fear him. Your baby won't know what it feels like to fear his dad.

● He did, whoever, spoke to the baby about war strategics as if she would understand. Asked her real questions as if she was part of his counsil. It would be endearing if you didn't worry about your child learning about gore so young.

● Shan Yu definitely doesn't know how to play with kids. He's too stiff, always aware that she could get hurt. The first time he saw you throwing the baby on the air Shan Yu almost had a heart attack.

● Only close friends and family would have permission to touch her, and even those he would watch closely to make sure his baby girl is being treated right. Shan Yu will protect you both even from dangers that don't exist.

● She could smach his face, push his hair, bite his fingers: all Shan Yu would do was to call her "his little general".

● He was happier than ever.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.