#tell me why my cousins cat

[kashmirichaiwithmehr]

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[theanoninyourinbox]

hhhhmmmmm

If I redo the Longstar AU I will be taking a page from @ailurocide @fallingstarsau @fatal-rewrites-warriors @wildfire-rewrite @kittypetkingdom @bonefall @cryptidclaw and others and Add Stuff…

[running-in-the-dark]

I need cat name suggestions 🙃

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Struck by the Tumble and Etcetera are cousins agenda this evening.

[busylilbee]

I was wondering why I've started calling my cat "hey Mimi" because?? Yes, it's cute, but WHY. Is it because of みみ/耳 as in ears???

And then I realized no, it's because one of my best friends speaks like that to her cat, where she pitches her voice a certain way and goes "hey mimiii" (I think she's actually saying something like "hey babyyy" but it sounds like mimi) and now it has slithered into my cat speak!!

[713-4th-ward-g]

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[ranger-kellyn]

an 8th grader absolutely wrote this dsklgflkj

[sweet-as-kiwis]

Daisy just had three teeth removed 🥲

[thebearer]

please please please need a part two of the fight blurb 😭 what happens next 😭😭😭

should i make it into a full fic omg?? maybe?? lol

but on the real, i think that he would have to take a leave from the restaurant, which truthfully, everyone needed. this is just what broke him. the one time he actually tries to deal with his shit and not just blow up, get embarrassed, try to make it up, and repeat the cycle with no real change. i mean, you took his babies? anchovy and teddy. you're not returning his calls. richie, fak, and sweeps are alternating wellness check watches because they're terrified he's going to hurt himself, especially after the way he spiraled when he found your wedding ring.

he knows where you're at. he managed to become technologically savvy all of a sudden and figured out how to see your location, that you shared with him when you first started dating. fak wouldn't let him take his car. richie had put him on a full blown "psych ward type shit" lockdown until he "got his shit together, cousin".

"richie said-"

"-richie's a fuckin' moron, give me my fucking keys, fak!"

"carmen," fak frowns. "i-i can't."

so carmen walked. he walked to sugar and pete's house. nearly an hour walk through chicago. smoking so much he felt sick.

pete answered the door, face falling as soon as he saw carmen.

"carm, h-hey, man-"

"-where is she?" carmen wasn't interested on any sort of small talk, tunnel visioned to get to you.

"uh, i-i don't-"

"-pete, i really don't want you to fuck with me right now, alright." carmen took a deep breath, throat burning with tears. "i need to see- i-i need to see her pete." he couldn't bring himself to even say your name.

a tiny meow came from behind pete, anchovy skippering towards carmen with bright eyes, tail raised. it made carmen's jaw clench, tears blurring his vision. he knew you had to be close by. looking at the time, you were probably feeding teddy, maybe putting her down for a nap. he should have been more considerate, came later in the day, carmen thought.

pete looked at the cat, down the hall, then back at carmen. "carm..." pete hesitated, gripping the door, letting it shut gently, shielding something behind him. "you know i can't."

"what the fuck? pete that's- just let me in." anger surged through carmen's chest, trying to swallow it down. all he'd been was angry. angry and sick and distraught, a never ending cycle for weeks, just amplified by your leaving.

"you want to get her back? quit actin' like a goddam baby." richie sneered one night, just days ago, when carmen was especially awful and mean. "quit actin' like this isn't your fuckin' fault. like you didn't do this to yourself. take some fuckin' accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin' shit together. and maybe-maybe you'll get your family back."

carmen turned, running a hand over his face, trying to calm himself. keep himself from crying, from screaming, from pushing pete down and running back there so he could see you himself- throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

"pete, please? please?" carmen's voice wobbled, breaking gently. "please l-let me talk to her. just let me- let me tell her i'm sorry. don't-"

"-carmen?" sugar's voice came from behind pete. her face dropped, different than pete's, her's was angry. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"why do you think i'm here, natalie? huh?-"

"-oh, you've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here." natalie sneered, pulling the door open and stepping out. "pete, go inside."

"nat-"

"-i got it." natalie hissed, eyes narrowing at carmen. she waited until pete left, shaking her head at him. "you should be fucking ashamed-"

"-i am-"

"-mortified." sugar continued. "do you know what i came home to the other night? i came home to pete taking care of your baby because your wife came here sobbing- sobbing, because you screamed at her? what the fuck is wrong with you? huh?"

"i don't know." carmen's voice was tight, fighting a tremble. "i-i don't fuckin' know. i didn't- i-i didn't mean-" a tear fell, the final crack in his demeanor. carmen wasn't sure how he had tears left, how he could sob anymore. yet here he was, on his sister's porch, tears flowing again.

sugar didn't comfort him, didn't move, just watched him through glaring eyes. "please let me s-see her. let me se-ee teddy, sugar, don't-don't keep my kid from me-"

"-i'm not keeping your kid from you." sugar snapped. "i didn't take teddy away. you know who did? you. you did carmen."

carmen flinched, he knew it was true but it still stung. "i know you don't remember dad very well, but you're acting just like him." sugar sneered.

"and before you try and come up with an excuse-"

"-i-i'm not-"

"-i want you to know, that every day. every single fucking day, there's days i want to drink myself to sleep. that mj or maggie make me want to pull my hair out and scream, or pete does something that infuriates me, but you know what i don't do?" sugar stepped towards carmen, arms still crosses. "i don't yell at them, i don't drink myself incoherent, i don't fucking act like mom or dad because i know how that felt." sugar jabbed a finger in her chest, eyes holding carmen's gaze intensely.

"i know how that fucked me up, i know how it fucked them up, how it fucked you and mikey up too- how it fucked everything in our fucking life up!" natalie laughed humorlessly. "and the last thing, the very last thing i would want, is to do that to pete, to my kids, to anyone."

carmen felt sick and yet eerily calm all at once. his chest was tight, he was sure he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't stop listening. a damning realization- a shameful one.

"you need to make up your mind, right here, right now, before you see anyone else." natalie stepped back towards the door. "you need to decide if you're going to continue to be a selfish piece of shit, or if you're going to change. and i can tell you, change is uncomfortable- it's not easy. you have to fight for it every single day. but i would rather do that than not have my family."

she looked down at carmen, twisting the knob. "you decide that, then maybe- maybe you can see them." carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, not moving from his place on the porch, head in his hands.

fak showed up nearly an hour later, wide eyed and rambling about "how the fuck did you just leave? i was playing ball buster and-and then you're gone-"

carmen ignores him, sliding into the car slowly. "carmen?"

"you uh," carmen's voice is hoarse, staring straight ahead. "you said that, uh, that richie's got.... got someone for me to talk to?"

fak blinks, nodding slowly. "the therapist? yeah-"

"-take me there." carmen looks over at sugar's house. he isn't sure if it's his imagination or not, but for a moment he swears he can see you, peeking through the blinds.

"a-are you ok?" fak is worried, a little rattled at the sudden change. especially since carmen had been so adamant about not seeing "your stupid fuckin' therapist, richie, clearly she's no fuckin' good because look at you! you're still fucked up!" carmen's enraged words from days ago.

"no," carmen admits, throat swelling with a growing lump. "but, uh, i-i wanna be." he admits quietly, looking over at fak. "i gotta get my shit together, fak. i-i gotta be better for them."

fak doesn't deny it, doesn't console him. just goes quiet with a nod, driving away. carmen watches sugar's house disappear in the rearview, his heart aching, breaking, but he knows natalie is right. he knows he'll be back once he's better, that he has to be better. for teddy. for you. for your family.

[daytaker]

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[lilac-5ky]

Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Date with a ghost

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Summary: Being at the bottom of the ladder in your class with a non-combat oriented technique, you are prompted by Gojo to summon a dead sorcerer as a learning experience. However, when none other than Fushiguro Toji appears in your room, you find yourself practicing more than just your cursed technique.

Tags: Student!reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18, Toji early 30s), Oral Sex (both f. and m. receiving), Manipulation, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Pet Names (princess, baby, etc), Cowgirl, Toji being a horny asshole that gets redeemed at the end? Sort of.

Word Count: less than 6k.

“But, sensei, is this really necessary?”

You tilted the sphere between your fingers, sizing it up. It weighed no more than a baseball ball did, yet its price must be comparable to that of an entire stadium. A cursed item among cursed items given to a mere grade 3 sorcerer who barely stood out amidst the renowned prodigies of Tokyo Jujutsu High. This was a waste of both time and effort and yet the white-haired man before you begged to differ, eyes glinting a vibrant sky-blue hue from underneath his dark shades.

“Doubting your favorite teacher, Y/N?” he chuckled only to sulk a second later when you asked him what deluded him into thinking he was your favorite.

Undeterred, he continued “I feel like a broken record here, but do yourself a favor and have a bit more confidence. Graduation is two months away, don’t you wanna prove your worth till then? It’s not too late to climb a couple of steps up the ladder. You could easily shoot up to Grade 2. Look at the rest of your class—”

A firm albeit reassuring grip latched itself onto your shoulder, gently twisting you in the direction of your classmates.

The heatwave must have gotten to them for good, blood boiling under the vicious sun rays. Their sleeves and pants were rolled high above their elbows and knees respectively, foreheads glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that dribbled down their necks.

Just looking at them made your skin crawl with uneasiness.

You didn’t understand why anyone in their right mind would willingly trade the shade of these blessed pine trees for the scorching furnace that the schoolyard was, but when you stopped paying attention to their clothes and took in their blissful expression, you felt a lump swell in your throat.

The two of them were practically beaming, giggling, and prancing around the water fountains without a care in the world— and why should they have anything to worry about when they were Grade 1 at seventeen? A Kamo and a distant cousin to the Zen’ins, both guaranteed to walk a path strewn with rose petals since birth. No trial or tribulation whatsoever.

Your teacher’s voice was muffled into white noise while you were busy shooting daggers at the duo, part of you wishing to join them in their harmless idiocy, and another silently praying that in your next life, you’d be lucky enough to be born into one of their clans. No one questioned the value of a Kamo. No one went against a Zen’in with an inherited technique.

“So, we good? Tell me I didn’t waste 15 minutes of my precious time for nothing.” His fingers squeezed at your shoulder, causing your attention to shift.

You had no idea what he’d been saying, though you’d sat through plenty of pep talks already to guess the gist of it. “You have potential, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down like this. You can do it!” All empty words without real meaning. Worthless. Not everyone had what it takes to become the next Gojo Satoru. Some people were born to be stepping stones for others, and you were perfectly fine with it. No half-assed aspiration would spur you on.

“If I do this… will you leave me alone?”

A Cheshire cat grin spanned from one corner of his mouth to the other. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake Gojo for an overzealous teacher whose earnest goal was to see his students succeed. Not you. You’d spent enough time in his presence to know that his whole “Teacher of the Year” shtick hid an agenda of its own. It was a matter of time to find out what his true motive was.

“What’s the plan?”

“Now we are talking,” he sang in glee. “Very simple, really. You just hold this between your palms and channel as much cursed energy as possible to its center. The ball will absorb it like a magnet and continue drawing from you until you have a clear picture of your target. Then, assuming all goes well and you don’t pass out,” a quiet “What?!” was overwritten by his voice, “you’ll get your very own date with a spirit. Isn’t that exciting?”

Nothing about your expression screamed excitement, eyes squinting in slits and bottom lip quivering into a frown. “And who’s my target, exactly?”

“A Zen’in sorcerer,” he said.

“A Zen’in sorcerer you say,” your eyes wandered again to that soaked blockhead in the distance, the black mop he had for hair flapping left and right. “Ain’t the one over there good enough?”

Shaping a cone around his mouth, Gojo yelled at the top of his lungs for the kids to wait up so they could play together. The duo cheered excitedly, shouting some sort of inside joke you knew nothing about right back at him. Wasn’t the first time you were excluded, and it certainly wasn’t the first time you questioned how this man came to be the world’s most talented sorcerer, either.

“If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” his smile softened as he lowered his voice. “The Zen’in I’m talking about has been dead for a little more than a hundred years now. Unfortunately, his name is erased from our logs,” of course it is “but that shouldn’t hinder you too much. He was an immensely powerful sorcerer with a great amount of cursed energy to back his technique up. An anomaly, if you like.”

“What kind of technique?” “The ten shadows technique,” he answered. “Out of all the Shikigami users, he is perhaps the strongest there’s ever been.”

“Stronger than you, sensei?”

The way his nose scrunched made you regret asking, knowing that a haughty declaration was dangling from the tip of his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a never-ending spiel of self-praise.

“And why should I invoke him in particular?” you quickly changed the subject. “I thought our goal was to hone my spirit-channeling technique and increase my cursed energy flow while we’re at it.”

“That we are doin’, but why not kill two birds with one stone? A new ten-shadow user has risen. I’m sure whatever trick that old dog has up his sleeve will be useful to our little Meg—” He feigned a smile of innocence at his slip. “All you gotta do is chit-chat him into giving you some info. Toss in a few compliments, butter him up. Shouldn’t take more than a few words to convince him, spirits are dying to be summoned— Oh well, unfortunate choice of words. What do you say? You’re in?”

Your groan was all the answer he required to beeline straight to the water fountains, his chirpy laugh echoing from afar. This guy, you huffed, examining the crystal ball anew. There was no way out of this. Either you did his bidding or you’d be forced to endure the obnoxious sound of his voice all summer long.

“Couldn’t you have chosen anything more cliche than a crystal ball?” you snarled, convinced he hadn’t heard you.

“Ouija board was already taken,” he warbled unexpectedly, voice meshing with that of your peers as they ran around in circles, dark-colored uniforms turning darker with every splash of water. “Besides, this has a bit of pink in it,” he referred to the rosy shaded base. “Much cuter than a bunch of rusty letters, right?”

You groaned as you shoved the item into your tote bag, making no mistake to talk out loud again as you turned on your heel. A pinch of jealousy punctured your chest, relieved by every step you took away from the scene and away from the fun the three of them were having.

“Looks like we’re having a date with a ghost tonight.”

It was a quarter past twelve when you decided to put that little experiment to work, the coast clear of overbearing parents and annoying little brothers who wanted nothing more than to disrupt your so-called “studying session”. As far as your family was concerned, Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College (Tokyo Jujutsu High for short) was your average educational institution that had somehow recognized the value of your mediocre grades and scouted you when you were still in middle school— no questions asked from either side.

You wouldn’t go as far as to call your own family a bunch of dimwits, but the signs were all there. A teacher merely four years older than you were, his odd sartorial decisions only second to his eccentric personality. A class made up of four students dramatically and suddenly decreasing to a party of three. An unknown man in a suit and tie driving you back and forth between “emergency study dates” in the dead of night. The lack of studying material in your backpack as opposed to the exams you constantly stressed over. Your unreasonable reaction when your mother stored a cursed tool in with the silver cutlery.

Even if you straight up walked to them with a banner that read “I exorcise curses”, you doubted they’d have anything more to say than a plain “Good for you”, not because they were stupid, but because they simply didn’t care at all.

They didn’t care enough to bat an eye when seven-year-old you tugged at daddy’s trousers, whimpering about a squid-like creature sneaking in your closet, and didn’t care enough to try and justify the stream of water flooding down the corridor. They didn’t care that your imaginary friends were more akin to monsters, and they didn’t care about you being away from home 350 days a year. It was convenient not to. That’s how they were able to drink their woes away at the local bar on a Thursday night with a clear conscience, having offloaded that pest of a brother at your grandparents’ for the fifth consecutive night.

Poor kid. If he wasn’t so despicable, your big sister instincts might have kicked in and raised an objection, though as things currently were suited you best. Rituals required focus, and you needed to make sure no one would bust through the door and interrupt your conversation with Mister Whatever-his-name-was.

You’d taken care of all your basic needs —eating a reheated portion of lasagna, cleansing your body of the worldly filth that stained it, catching a rerun of your favorite show’s latest episode, and cursing Gojo for making you miss it in the first place— and were now seated on your room’s floor with the crystal ball nesting between your bare thighs, the cold sensation much welcome on this excruciatingly warm evening where sitting on the fuzzy carpet seemed like the greatest torture imaginable.

It was only March and you were already in your skimpiest outfit of all; a frilly pair of dusty-pink shorts and a matching low-cut tank top dressing your sweat-beaded body. Dark spots saturated the fabric, demanding your fingers fanned it every two seconds. The worst had yet to come. By the time summer arrived, the final thing for you to crawl out of would be your own skin.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you returned to the item at hand. It’d been fairly long since you’d last performed a seance. Your role in the recent assignments was to support your classmates from the sidelines, exorcising whatever lower-grade curse got in their way with the aid of various cursed tools.

The white-haired nuisance could claim your technique was useful all he wanted, but at the end of the day, yours were simply not meant for combat. Best case scenario, after graduation, the higher-ups would put you on a 9 to 5 job, where you could dig whatever intel they wanted from the comfort of your cramped-up desk; away from your haughty classmates, and away from Gojo Satoru.

You rolled your fingers around the globe’s surface, pads tingling with waves of cursed energy as they seeped into the crystal. Slowly, a dark purple aura came to distort its translucence with colors and shapes of various magnitudes. Shadow-like forms gathered at the seams, remnants of pent-up energy colliding and converging with one another at one focal point. All ready to go!

You began mentally chanting the surname of your target, over and over again until the slideshow of foggy faces diminished to that of a select few candidates from the same bloodline. Some, you would imagine had died when they were still in their prime, measly fledglings of sorcerers with eyes retaining that youthful glossiness, while others seemed to have lived enough to see themselves turn into dehydrated raisins with next to zero cursed energy left.

Once you’d gone through your classmate’s entire family tree at least three times, you caught yourself admitting that despite their faults and innate air of pretension, the Zen’ins weren’t particularly hard on the eyes. Especially that one guy whose mug kept reappearing at random intervals, the slanted scar of his lips lingering in your mind well after the next contender’s appearance. There was something about him, be it the lack of aura he emitted or the viridescent hue of his eyes that had you replaying the frame at the expense of your own energy.

You were drawn to him in an inexplicable way that, at the time, you attributed to fate. It had to be him, right? That must have been why the dope you had for a mentor insisted on calling this a date. Even if he didn’t know the sorcerer’s name, he must have known how insanely attractive the guy was, right?

And suddenly, you felt a sliver of gratitude overcome you, eyelids snapping shut with the Zen’in sorcerer’s face as clear as day behind them, while you chanted the incantation Gojo himself had taught you.

“From the murky shroud of oblivion, I invoke thou out the shadows and blight to bask in heavenly light. Through me gain life, and through life gain thine blessed power.”

No more than a few seconds had passed when you heard a thud, your gaze meeting with that of the very man you’d summoned.

The orb barely did him any justice. Not as if crystal balls were ideal measuring instruments, but you’d need about ten more of those to depict his height as he towered over you, the bulky frame of his shoulders casting a large shadow on the wall behind your head. He was dressed in a much more casual manner than one would expect of someone who’d been dead for over a century, with corded veins and taut muscles peaking underneath a black compression shirt, waist accentuated where his hips met with a pair of baggy pants. And once you got to his face— you must have lost track of time staring into the gem-like green orbs of his eyes, considering you didn’t notice the scowl his lips wore until his tone pointed it out.

“The hell is this?” He sounded just like he looked, the bass of his timbre ringing most pleasantly in your ears.

You wouldn’t know what being dead felt like, but if it was anything remotely close to sitting on a dead leg for hours on end, you guessed he’d rather take a moment to adjust over an answer.

His soles circled the tiny space, eyes dancing between the fairy lights on the wall, the moonless sky —and by extension the empty driveway outside your window—, the three Polaroids on your desk that depicted an old family trip to Seoul (your mother silently accusing him from the frame for the crime of wearing his shoes inside the house), and lastly, you. His gaze feasted on your body as if he’d been starved for ages and you were the first oasis in the desert, his expression gradually easing into a lopsided smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Got a name, sweetheart?” he asked in a syrupy sweet tone, the nickname he’d come up with making you doubt he’d use your actual name even if you shared it.

You set the ball aside and hopped on your feet, standing on somewhat more equal ground, though not equal enough to completely diminish the difference in height. He was massive, and you were still processing the kind of person that possessed the power to end this man’s life.

“Name’s Y/N,” you extended your hand. “You must be master Zen’in, nice to meet you!”

He merely glanced at your gesture, leaving you to embarrass yourself without a single qualm. “No one’s called me that in some time,” he expressed wryly. “You know about me?”

You nodded, wiping your palm against your shorts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a spirit act all high and mighty, a Zen’in at that. “Who hasn’t heard of the greatest sorcerer there’s ever been?” you chuckled, Gojo’s bootlicking advice coming in for the clutch. “You are somewhat of a legend in the Jujutsu world. The one who mastered the ten shadows technique like no other.”

“Is that who I am now,” he pondered out loud, his index briefly scratching his jaw. “I guess I am,” he grinned with confidence. “That why you summoned me? Wanted to meet with great ol’ me in person?”

“Something like it,” you admitted, finding it hard not to smile back. “I just so happen to be acquainted with this idiot who’s a big fan of yours. Had me use my technique for a passing grade.”

A low hum prompted you to continue. “He’s a real pain in the ass,” you groaned. “Calls himself ‘the strongest’ and acts as if he’s ‘teacher of the year’ when he forces me to fish out intel like some lackey— Actually, you might have heard of his family name before, they’ve been around for ages. Gojo,” quickly adding “Satoru.”

At the sound of your teacher’s name, the man’s eyes widened, his darkened pupils blown with an emotion akin to rage. You weren’t sure what great calamity the Gojos had brought upon him in his previous life, but being familiar with their descendant you doubted they put much effort into it.

“The six eyes is your teacher?” he asked, not giving you enough time to question how on earth he knew that title before he pitched in another question. “So, ya just a kid, huh?”

“I’m not!” you objected. “Turned 18 a while ago.”

“A while, you say?” he arched a brow.

“I’m closer to 19 if anything,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“19,” he mocked, his droopy eyelids incapable of hiding the way he sized your figure up.

You didn’t even think to put on a bra before the ritual started. Just like you could vividly picture what his pecs looked like under his clothes, your flimsy outfit left little to the imagination, the sweat that’d shimmered across your collarbones and cleavage working in your favor.

“Nah, you are right. No kid could ever have a body like that. Plump and ripe in all the right places,” his tongue lapped over his bottom lip, salacious stare prodding at what your arms kept hidden. “That’s a woman’s body, no doubt.”

Heat spread from your chest all the way to your cheeks, and for once, it wasn’t because of the room’s overbearing heat. Your toes sunk inside the carpet, thighs awkwardly rubbing together. You’d found yourself in such a position before, yet never with a boy like him— never with a man like him.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, your fingers hesitantly sliding down your elbows.

He took a step closer, lacking hesitation as he lifted your chin with two fingers, his thumb gently caressing it.

“Gonna let me look at the rest, baby?” his other hand encompassed your hip, the size of his palm alone making you feel oh-so small and fragile before him. “I’ll make ya a deal if you lemme. Tell ya anything you wanna know and more— heh, I’ll make sure ya pass with flying colors.”

“I don’t… I’m not-”

Depriving you of the chance to deny his advances, the man slotted his lips between yours and pulled back almost instantaneously, overjoyed to catch you leaning into his touch for more.

You weren’t sure why this was happening— why you were letting this happen. He was a stranger who barely qualified as being alive, and at the time of his death, he was closer to your father’s age than yours. But he was there, and he was paying you attention, and the way he spoke to you as if he already knew your answer ahead of your mouth had warmth spiraling to the lower parts of your body.

Rather than giving in to your pouty lips, the man whose name you didn’t even know cupped your breasts in both his hands, calloused thumbs making quick work of your nipples as they peaked below the drenched fabric, rolling the sensitive buds into full hardness.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he praised, kneading at your supple skin almost adoringly.

The straps of your top slid down your shoulders, and you felt the ghost of a smile press onto your neck, his warm mouth smearing wet kisses right to where your neck and shoulders connected. You bit back a sigh, your breath audibly strained.

“Bet you wanna be touched, hmm?” he continued, finding the sweet spot you didn’t know you had, and pressed on, his sharp teeth digging into your flesh coaxing a purr from deep within your throat. He chuckled, the vibrations making you shudder. “That why you’re dressed like a slut? Wanna be treated like one, mm?” his lips parted again, tongue lapping over the delicate bruise his teeth left as he pinched your nipples harshly. A moan was ripped from your slack jaw, the insult he carelessly threw adding to the slick between your thighs.

“Sounds about right,” he smirked. “Well, I’m not complaining. You’re a sight for sore eyes, kitten.”

He didn’t ask for permission before he tugged at your shirt, your breasts spilling out with a single bounce. You saw him wet his lips once more, fingers seizing your now-exposed nipples and lustful eyes admiring them up close. You hadn’t noticed how close he was standing until his hips bucked against yours, alerting you to how painfully hard he’d gotten underneath his pants. The six-year-long refractory period his body was subjected to was far too cruel— though you wouldn’t know about that until much later.

“Tell me,” he requested, pausing just so he could look you dead in the eye. “Have you ever done this before?”

His lips traversed the valley of your breasts, rough palms sliding languidly across your ribs and waist. You could see him hold you like that while being inches deep in you. Slamming your frail little set of bones against your desk’s wooden surface. Pounding your hole for your parents to return to their precious daughter bent in half by some stranger. Bruising Gojo’s star student until the smug smile was wiped from his obnoxious mouth for good.

All those reasons made you nod at his question, not caring that he’d be ten times rougher because of your white lie. If anything, you looked forward to that.

“Sure you’re not lying to me?” he read your mind like an open book, the elastic of your shorts being torn away from your body. “Won’t be mad if y’are. I love myself a sweet little virgin. Love how whiny their voices get. How,” he lowered himself onto his knees, palm pushing you to sit on your bed “cute their little tight cunts look all stretched around me.”

His hot breath fanned over your soaked panties, index lazily rubbing back and forth between your clothed slit, the added friction sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine.

“You really aren’t one, are ya?”

You shook your head repeatedly like a bobblehead doll, propping your weight onto your elbows as he lifted your legs on his shoulders, the reality of his choppy raven hair nuzzling to your thighs finally hitting you.

“You said all you wanted to do was look, right?” the finger that was hooked around your underwear stopped. “That was the deal…”

For a brief yet conscious second, his eyes bore into yours with such spite that you thought you’d completely messed up. Only a virgin would dare say something this stupid. If he wasn’t bound to you by the ritual, he’d be out the door the moment you spat those words, you knew it, but then his knuckles brushed over your abdomen to find the hand that clenched onto the sheets, and you realized that wasn’t the case.

“Deals get altered and terms renewed all the time,” he mumbled distractedly, deeply inhaling your scent on his nose, while your fingers unfolded between his lips. You gasped, the sight of him fucking them in and out his mouth —tongue slithering right in the middle and saliva dribbling down his chin as he popped them out— enough to hypnotize whatever sense out of your brain.

“I’ll make ya a new deal,” he hummed, gently directing them to your mouth as if he beckoned you to do the same. A smirk tugged at his scar as he watched your pink lips obediently part and round around your own fingers. He didn’t let go until he heard you choke, secretly plotting to replace them with something else—sooner, than later.

“My technique is what interests you, right? How about instead of telling you, I show you?”

You tried to remove your hand, but he shoved it back in, his true colors pouring into a devilish smile. “I’ve had enough of your voice. All you gotta do is sit back like the good little girl I know you are and keep your legs nice and spread for me. How’s that?”

The only thing your head could manage was pathetically bob up and down in agreement, your fingers stuck in your mouth like a damn pacifier, while your cunt pulsed at every single word he uttered; derogatory or not. Were it any other guy talking down to you like that, your knuckles would be leaving an impermanent imprint on his cheek. Were it any other guy treating you as if you had no volition of your own as if you were just a toy for him to break, and you—

There wouldn’t be any other guy for you ever again. He’d make sure of it.

He ripped the fabric into a single shred and tossed it over his shoulder without caring where it landed- your bedside lamp. He looked down at your pussy, debating to himself whether to start with his tongue or fingers first, calculating the time it’d take for him to prep you for his cock down to the last second. He might’ve been a lot less nice than he pretended to be, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

“Let’s see,” he tipped forward, the way his forefinger slipped between your folds without any resistance whatsoever bringing you shame. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, his digit triumphantly pulling out and smearing your slick all over your puffy lips. “Is that all for me, sweetheart? So fucking wet just for me?”

Your hips bucked forward as an answer to his question and he thought he wouldn’t mind taking things slow for once— see how much you could take before you came completely undone.

“Girls like you make the best fuck,” he cooed, voice echoing right through your core. “Surrendering to the first sweet word they hear.” His thumb circled your clit, flicking at the little bundle of nerves. “Leaking at the slightest of touch.” His middle and ring fingers joined in the action, burying themselves as far inside walls as your tight hole let him push. “Breaking so easily.” He drooled, coating your entire pussy in his thick saliva before allowing himself a taste, tongue lapping at the mix of juices straight from the source.

Your thighs clenched around him, muffling the lewdness of a whimper as he looked up at you, his smirk loosening with every kitten lick across your flesh. You wanted to say something, to call out his name and moan for him, but it all felt so unpracticed— similarly to how unpracticed your cunt was when it came to the girth of his fingers; much bigger than yours, more experienced too. He reached depths you didn’t know existed, bringing your body such pleasure that had you writhing for more, hips slamming against his face.

He groaned, his own arousal throbbing against his lower abdomen, begging him to get this over with. “Wanna fuck my face, baby?”

You felt your cheeks ignite anew, the eyes you’d fallen for at first sight overflowing with lust, convincing you it felt as good for him as it felt for you.

“Can’t let ya do that,” he parted your folds, fingers spreading your thighs apart while his tongue darted between your lips, his nose intentionally nudging the pink nub with each deep stroke against your spongy spot. “Gotta earn it first.”

You stared at him like an idiot, wondering to yourself if somewhere between his refusal to shake your hand and his eagerness to quench his thirst with your body you’d passed away because that was what heaven ought to feel like. That was what angels ought to look like.

“Got something to say, princess?” his eyes shot up and he gestured for you to unlatch your mouth.

“S-so pretty,” you whispered.

“What was that?” his ears perked up, not because he hadn’t heard you the first time, but because he could do with some affirmation himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this… f-fuck—” a yelp punched its way out of your lungs as he folded you in half, pinning your thighs onto your stomach, and crawling onto the bed right after them.

He’d had enough of this little game.

“Good girls shouldn’t cuss like that. Six eyes didn’t teach ya that?”

Holding you down with one hand, he dived back into your pussy, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a furious pace that had your upper body tossing and turning, the first unregulated moans ushering him to keep going. His tongue toyed with your swollen bud, the squelching of your cunt growing significantly louder from this angle, reverberating throughout the four walls of your bedroom. You were close, and so was he to getting his dick wet with all the mess he’d helped create.

His mouth watered just at the thought of his seed being the one to dribble down your thighs instead of his spit. He could picture you in one of those cute blue-navy skirts hanging from your closet and hoped you weren’t a tights person. He wanted to see you off to school every morning with your thighs sticking together so deliciously that anyone smart enough would understand how meticulously he’d fucked the brat out of you—

If only there was a mirror for you to see how stunning you looked. All fucked out and writhing, disheveled hair stuck on your tits and forehead while you nuzzled to the pillows, your shaky voice calling out to the surname he’d left behind. Would you still do that if you knew he played you like a fiddle? If you knew he was no esteemed Zen’in or sorcerer, for that matter, but a man hell-bent on ruining you for his own sick satisfaction?

Your body reciprocated his vile thoughts, your pussy fluttering around his digits. “Gonna cum for me?” he panted, forcing your legs to the side lest he missed a reaction.

Neither of you realized how his one hand had sneaked into his pants, stroking his veiny cock closer to the ecstasy he craved. Precum leaked hot out of the reddened tip, his thumb frantically swiping it over his length in sync with his thrusts. He’d stopped listening to your pleas and instructions. He fucked his fingers in you as he pleased, slowing down only when his balls began to dangerously tighten. Only then did he tear his fingers away ‘cause God forbid he busts his load in his palm like some fucking untouched teenager— regardless of how obscenely pretty you appeared for him or not.

Once he regained his composure, words made sense again. Harder. Faster. More. He hated being told what to do but absolutely loved how pliant you were. A people-pleaser, he bet. Going above and beyond what was asked of you, bending and breaking into whatever molds others force you to fit. He could work with that. Shape you into a mold only he could fit in.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how much prettier y’ can get.”

His cock twitched as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, your sweet face contorting with pleasure, lips swollen with how hard they’d tried to contain the last bits of debouched decency.

How cute.

He set your legs down and moved up to meet your face with his, a wave of genuine softness rushing over him as he thought to kiss your lips tenderly, hushing whatever emotion had you spasming. You were so sensitive. Even if you’d been with another guy before him, he doubted they knew what they were doing— not like he did, anyway. He’d make you scream out his name for the neighbors to hear what a dirty slut lived just next door from them.

After a short while of his stroking your hair and whispering filth into your ears, he decided he’d been good enough to get his trick. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cock, grinning like a little kid as your smaller palm traced the outline over his pants, knowing full well both hands would do nothing to cover his girth.

He’d really missed this— so much that he didn’t mind letting a grunt out in appreciation, certain that more would follow.

Your eyes met, the spark in them telling him you understood what he expected you to do, and even if you didn’t, he’d teach you. He’d teach you everything, snatch you from that piece of shit and make you into his star student, so long as you kept touching him and let him do all the things he’d spent the last thirty minutes fantasizing about.

Everything and anything, all for you to take—

The thoughts that failed to reach your ears along with all traces of the man whose weight alone -up until a moment ago- threatened to crush your body into a fine powder evaporated, the smooth sound of his voice replaced by the crude breaks of your father’s car as he pulled into the driveway— your mother’s kitten heels soon clicking atop every step they climbed.

Shit.

A/N: I actually intended for this to be a one-shot, but I guess it sort of ended on a cliffhanger so, oops. Lemme know if I should write a second and final part, or if you have any Toji ideas/requests ♡

[starrclown]

SunBurst duo headcannons that I have but can't explain why I have them but it's special to me.

(Look at them yall <3<3<3)

Before Wukong got comfortable with Pigsy, he was really shy about asking Pigsy to keep his food cool because he can't eat hot food. Mk started to ask for cooler noodles for Wukong.

They switched hair colors once. Wukong had dark brown hair and Mk was ginger. Wukong didn't like it but Mk really liked his. Pigsy made him dye it back because no one got used to ginger Mk.

Mk doesn't like peaches. At all. Wukong tells him it's alright and that he doesn't have to eat them but Mk forces himself to out of respect.

Mk has seen half of Wukong's glamors off. Wukong is still too afraid to let them all drop.

Mk has absolutely dressed up as Wukong for Halloween.

Mk didn't know what grooming was so when Wukong kept trying to mess with his hair, he kept swatting him off. Wukong eventually stopped and didn't attempt again. Mk then later found out monkies groom to show love and he cried. (This actually happened to me! My cousin has a capuchin monkey named Debbie and she did this to me when I was like 8. I didn't get what she was doing so I kept swatting her off. I got SO upset when I found out what she was going.)

Mk is Wukongs emergency contact number in his phone.

Mk knows some of the baby monkies by name. He even got to name a newborn.

Mk and Wukong like to color together. They even made a coloring book together!

Wukong sometimes turns into a small bird or cat and hides in Mks gold cart so he can go on Mk's noodle runs.

Mk just hops on Wukong when he wants a piggy back ride. Wukong started doing I too so now they just piggy back ride on each other.

Mk sometimes has nightmares about Wukong getting possesed or Wukong being trapped in the scrolls. Wukong usually has to comfort him.

Mk gave Wukong his own headband. Wukong uses it as a ponytail holder when his hair gets to long.

Wukong bites everyone as a love language. Not hard, just a little nibble. He first did this to Mk during midway through season 2 and season 3. Mk was confused but kinda rolled with it.

Wukong wakes up and attempts to take care of himself. Brushing his hair, teeth, and getting his clothes. Mk wakes up, puts his headband on and just goes. No thoughts.

Those two watch cartoons for HOURS on end. They have little movie nights :)

Mk was caught so off guard when he found out Redson was Wukong's nephew.

Mk before he knew about glamors, wondered why Wukong didn't look like how he was described (4 foot, red eyes.) but he was to scared to ask.

Mk stills feel bad that he didn't have faith in Wukong when he met Macaque. Wukong doenst hold it against him, he gets it.

Mk sometimes wears gold eyeshadow to match Wukong's blue eyeshadow. Sometimes they switch it up and change colors. (Bai He, Mei, and Redson sometimes join.)

I found this in my drafts and wanted to post it. Live laugh love SunBurst Duo.

(If you like Soysause duo more then GET OUT 😡

/J.) (Kidding)

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[hunterbunter3000]

Thinking about a fake dating scenario like say Sweets family is always bothering her about not dating anyone and she lies and says “actually I am seeing someone!” But then they ask to meet the person so now she has to find someone ti be her fake date. I would imagine the boys would be fighting each other for a chance to do that.

I know this is super random haha I’m just talking to talk at this point.

YES! AND RANDOM IS GOOD 👏👏 talk the talk and walk the walk babes! Any ideas you have SPEAK ON IT!!! 💓

But omg you're right, they would

Sweetheart walked in the living room, where the team was sitting on the couch drinking beers. She was talking on the phone as she walked past them to the kitchen, not even noticing the boys.

And she's talking to her mom about her love life. Saying "Yes ma! I will bring him this time!" And "You can tell Danni to shut the hell up cause he is real". And then she says love you and hangs up the phone.

Sweetheart, looking at everybody:

The boys looking at her:

Sweetheart: Okay who wants to be my boyfriend for the day

then they all say M E

And all hell breaks loose 💀💀

Soap: What tae FUCK do y'mean 'mE', Ghost?

Ghost: the fuck do YOU mean 'mEaH', Mactavish?

Soap: I SAID ME

Ghost: nah see-- you did it again. 'MeAh'. It's two letters.

Soap: AH WULL PUMPIN' BREAK YE YAH BRITISH CRUMPET

Sweetheart: uhm, guys?

Gaz: Bitch don't even try

Horangi: And why should I listen to you?

Gaz: You get a nose bleed everytime Sweets hugs you.

Horangi: WHAT?? HOW DO-- HOW CAN YOU EVEN SEE THAT I WEAR A MASK

Gaz: it drips under it, bruv. And I don't think her parents want to witness an extremely touched starved man get an aneurysm everytime their daughter touches him.

Sweetheart: GOOD LORD GAZ--

Horangi: OH YOU THINK YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER? YOU CRY EVERYTIME SWEETHEART TELLS YOU A GOOD JOB

Gaz: YO I DO NOT-

Ghost: He cries when Capitan says it too.

Horangi: THAT TOO

Gaz: GHOST STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THIS

Price: You cry when I tell you good job?

Sweetheart, kinda touched but concerned: And you cry when I say it too?

Gaz: UHM- SIR I-- WELL SWEETS YOU-- FUCK

Krueger: Ignoring the emotionally unstable man--

Gaz: HEY

Krueger: You should take me, Kleine Göttin.

König: Don't, Sweets. You'll never return if you do

Krueger: König what the fuck

Krueger: You can't even talk your way into getting gas at a gas station, you think her parents want to see you freeze like a tortoise having sex when they talk to you?

König: AT LEAST I DONT SNIFF ANY SEATS SWEETHEART WAS IN

Krueger: THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS

König: IT HAS E V E R Y T H I N G TO DO WITH THIS

Sweetheart: Krueger-- YOU DO WHAT

Ghost: He also sniffs your hair

Sweetheart: You do that too, Ghost

Ghost, stares at Krueger: Not while you're sleeping.

Sweetheart: KRUEGER????

Krueger: GHOST SHUT THE FUCK U P

Alejandro: Please don't take Krueger, mama. He would end up in prison

Krueger: (angry German words)

Alejandro: You can take me! They'll love my charm.

Price: What, so you can flirt your way out of personal questions they'll most definitely ask you?

Ghost: Especially with that five-palm forehead you got

Alejandro: CÁLLATE LA BOCA DECORACIÓN DE HALLOWEEN

Rudy: Price, you have no say in this matter. You can practically be her father's golfing buddy.

Sweetheart: uhm, my dad doesn't golf--

Price: I'm 37 you fucking Muppet

Sweetheart: nevermind.

Rudy, surprised: Really?? Damn I didn't know that! You just looked like one of Super Mario's long lost cousins to me because of the janitor mustache you have on your old body

Price: Mother fucker--

Ghost: I don't think you would do well either when you look like a human gopher

Rudy: GHOST WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM

Alex: ROACH OW STOP HITTING MY FACE

Roach on Alex's shoulders:😠 pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap (like a fucking cat)

Sweetheart, rubbing her temples: Oh my fucking GOD- I'LL JUST CHOOSE MYSELF THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG AND GAZ LOOKS LIKE HES ABOUT TO CRY

Gaz, tearing up: I AM NOT

Soap: Me!

Horangi: It's me!

Graves, picking his nails:

Graves: It's probably not me.

Keegan: Uh... If it's no trouble, you can take me. I have to give your brother his game boy back anyway

Everyone looking at Keegan:

Soap: w u t

She takes Keegan.

(He honestly had a good time! Yes, he did start a fire with her siblings accidentally but other than that her parents loved him. Sweetheart sent pictures to everyone and omg they were so SALTY SAD AND JEALOUS. Ghost kinda smiled at a picture with Sweetheart and Keegan together, Keegan's face without the mask and grease paint wearing a nervous but kind smile. He looks happy. The others don't but they'll get over it someday💀💀)

[arachnixe]

Small Minded

They say there are powers—unfathomable and unnamed—buried deep within the earth. Boons and banes and spirits and seductions call to the ambitious, but I've never known of someone actually finding one until now.

What does one say to a dark sorceress on the cusp of her victory?

My knight, so loyal and brave, wheezes and gasps for breath within his broken armor. Our roguish friend, normally so quick witted and talkative, lies silent and unmoving in a pool of blood. I don't have the strength left to heal either of them.

"Let it sink in, Princess. I've won."

She has. I bow my head in defeat.

"The Godsblood is mine."

It hovers within her reach, an unshaped carmine gem formed of the crystallized blood of whatever forgotten god was buried here. The sickly sweet scent of its power, like rotting fruit, fills the air.

"With it, I shall wield ultimate power."

Yes, the power to remake the world according to her whim, to raise mountains from the sea or to sink cities into the abyss at her pleasure, perhaps even to rewrite the laws of space and time if she desires.

"At last, I will depose your father and rule all of Rutennia in his place!"

I jerk my head upright and stare at her in disbelief. "What?"

The sorceress Velle grins like an idiot. "You heard me, Princess. Your whole kingdom will be mine."

My face must betray my feelings, judging by the way her confidence falters at my reaction. "You've claimed a power like this, and all you can think to do with it is take over this kingdom?"

"Your father—"

"Yes. I know." I wave off her explanation, disinterested. "He didn't see your worth, you wanted to show us all, I get it, but if all you wanted to do was rule Rutennia, you could have just courted me and then poisoned my father!" I scrub at my face in frustration and suppress a scream. "What small-minded ambitions!"

That throws her off balance. "Small minded? I won! I'm getting everything I want!"

"And what you want," I retort, "is a single grain of sand on a beach." I ball my hands into fists and stalk toward her, outraged that my friends died for so little. "You are a cat who stole a siege engine to catch the mouse that once eluded you. You wouldn't even know what to do with the kingdom once you had it."

Velle barks an indignant laugh. "As if the king does!" She casts a hand toward me, magically halting my approach. "No, he has others handle all the administrative duties so he can simply bask in the worship of his subjects!"

"And when the people don't worship you?" I ask through gritted teeth, "because trade with Melland and Istow has completely halted without their kings' cousin sitting our throne?"

"I'LL MAKE THEM!" She makes a tugging motion in the air, yanking me forward to shout the words in my face. "With the Godsblood I can make my subjects dance like puppets at my command! They will all kneel before my throne."

This close to the gem, the scent fills my senses. It leaves me feeling lightheaded, giddy, almost delirious, even. It draws an inappropriate giggle out of me before I can retort. "Build a doll out of cloth and sticks. Make it kneel. Put worshipful words in its mouth. It will mean just as much. Personally, I got tired of playing with dolls at age eight."

Her face reddens. "You think you can trick me into giving up my goals? You think you can convince me this power is worthless?"

"Worthless?" I cackle. "The power of a dead god, worthless? No, only the things you imagine doing with it are worthless. You want to know what you should do with all that power? I'll tell you."

She leans forward, obviously curious.

"Istow's ports give it mastery of the sea and trade we need," I explain, as if to a child, "but we don't need them if we bring the sea to us. Flood their plains, drown their whole nation if you'd like, but take that bargaining chip away."

Some dim, distant part of me says I shouldn't give her ideas, but every inhale of the intoxicating aroma of Godsblood fills my mind with visions of what that power can do. Why can't she see it as clearly as I do?

"Melland," I continue, "is weak but well defended by the terrain. Pull the mountains down onto their capital, swallow their impregnable fortress in a new chasm, and their resources become ours."

Velle's eyes light up with understanding. "Yes, yes, you're right!"

No, no, no, even I'm still thinking too small. Like a petty warlord with a mere weapon. But this is no weapon, it's the power of a god. I take a deep breath and focus. I need to be thinking like a god.

"No, why set our sights on conquering our neighbors," I muse aloud, "when there's a whole world out there to reshape? We don't need what they have. It's not a zero sum game anymore."

Judging by her face, I've lost Velle again, but I don't care. My thoughts race. With every breath I take, my vision crystallizes.

She doesn't need to understand. I don't speak for her to hear; I speak because I must. "A perfect world, answering only to me. Every river, every pebble, the mountains and the seas, the very stars in the sky, all mine…"

"No." The sorceress shakes her head and tightens her grip on the magical restraints holding me in place. "The Godsblood is mine. I found it. I got here first. You lost."

She sounds so petulant, so small. Velle doesn't understand power, not really. She's merely a spurned court magician who deluded herself into thinking she was more, not someone with the will to rule.

And this is no inert stone. The heart's blood of a god demands to be wielded. It demands the will to wield it.

It was mine the moment I decided it was mine.

Without transition, the stone is already in my hand. A twitch of a thought tears Velle's restraints to pieces, no more than a cobweb caught on a boot.

She's screaming, shouting something, flinging spells my way, but my attention falls instead upon the crumpled figures of my dear companions.

With a thought, I am no longer next to her. I stand beside my knight, seeing him inside and out. His body is a trifle to mend, and like wiping dust from a windowsill, I smooth away the injuries. With little effort, I scan the thoughts within his mind, and… oh, what useful secrets lurking within! Many ways to control this one if he chooses to resist me.

My thief is dead. I refuse to abide that for the only one I recall who could consistently make me laugh, and a god deserves a jester even more than a king, right? All it takes is a touch to reignite the spark of life and bid the soul return to its body; funny, I always imagined resurrection to be a more difficult process.

Last of all, my sorceress. I don't need to read her thoughts to recognize her profound denial of the reality of this situation. She flings chaotic bolts of fire and lightning and ice at me, howling threats and curses that mean very little.

If I want her as my high priestess, I should impress her more.

We stand in the middle of a great empty ribcage, and yes, I think a god-bone crown would suit me. Brittle ribs bend like supple grasses, shrink and weave themselves into an ornate crown to rest on my head. I crush the Godsblood gem in my fist and direct the shards to implant themselves in pleasing patterns within the bone.

Velle ceases her assault. I watch her delusions melt away upon witnessing me destroy the gem. The light of understanding dawns within her mind that my power is entirely mine, never to be stolen. A god-bone collar snakes around her neck as gently as a princess's gloved hand, and I can taste her complete surrender.

The whole world also aches for my touch, but it will have to wait just a little longer for my design to perfect it. There are many more boons and banes buried within this graveyard world, and I'll need every last one if I wish to extend my reach beyond even the stars.

And my first three worshippers still need training.

[umeqii]

-⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY ⠀⠀⠀. . . ⠀⠀⠀but you're lowkey cool .

fandom ; class of 09

character ; nicole

gender ; female reader (lesbian nicole real)

creator ; umeqii

QUICK A/N - so like idk i'm a nicole kinnie and so like i might (i will) self project but yk ^_^ and uh idk i js wanted to post smth abt co09 bc like all i saw was mf jeffery ones and no one likes jeffery he's a fucking wierdo anyways!!

TW - like it's co09, so mentions of pedophilia, drugs, dark humor, sh, suicide jokes, things like that :P

─── WHAT IT'S LIKE DATING NICOLE !!

okay so it's quite clear that nicole is a sociopath, and she's aware of it and she payed VERY little attention to you at first

i guess you were just like, that one girl who just sits in class n minds her business and overhears alot of weirdass drama like that one blonde bitch kelly being inlove with her cousin or something

but you had a new student, and you gotta admit, she was really pretty ≥∇≤ !!

her personality; not so much (real though)

anyways, you grew up to read people really easily from the way you were raised n shit so when you first spoke to nicole in class, you realised she was faking to smile; or just faking to be nice in general

so you kept that in mind, but didn't say anything because you were loekwy afraid :P

one time, you guys had science together n this kid jeffery kept tryna talk to nicole and it's not like you were mad at her for tryna make new friends, it was jeffery you were mad at

he didn't even acknowledge you one bit ☠️☠️

so you just end up standing next to them saying nothing and looking like a random stranger

when nicole sat in her seat, with jeffery rambling about anime girls or something, you saw how she looked REAALLLYYY pissed so you were gonna sit in your seat (which was opposite hers) and ask her

UNTIL THAT BITCH JEFFERY LIKE SAT IN IT ☠️☠️😭😭

you just ended up staring at him with a slightly open mouth when he ignored your soft askings of "can you please move?"

that's when our favourite toxic lesbian said something!! (i'm delusional)

" oh my FUCKING god, next time i hear anything about your stupidass anime cat girls, i will actually hang myself from this light. like who the fuck even asked?? i know damn fuckin' well i didn't. and get your greasy and filthy ass out of y/n's seat, you bitch. "

😨

that was jeffery's face (and lowkey yours' too)

he got out of your seat and mumbled an apology to you and sat somewhere else leaving you and an annoyed nicole sitting in silence

" oh uh...are you? "

" do you have any meth. "

" ah fuck sorry, i don't do.. uh yeah "

" you look like you do, you seem fucking crazy "

" oh. "

so like after that, and you, being the sapphic you are, ended up falling inlove with nicole !!

she was lowkey a bitch and you won't lie, toxic as fuck but she was your only friend and she stuck up for you so that's good??

she treats everyone with no respect at all, but for you, you can see the SLIGHT change in attitude

like you see her with jeffery, then people like jecka and emily, and you!!

she would always say things about you guys making out or having sex in the bathrooms and you couldn't tell if they were jokes or not

but like i lowkey cba to say how ym got together so all ik is that yu asked her out, she made out with yu and yh

so like now HEADCANONS time

nicole is an insecure girl deep, deep down so that's why she acts the way she does.

but yeah, those insecurities make her REALLY jealous 😭😭

it's sometimes concerning .

like one time you were approached by emily and she was asking you if you wanted some drugs or something, which you declined, and you ended up complimenting her hair and saying how it brings out her eyes and she ended up hugging you

then nicole stormed over and started going fucking crazy mode at emily saying how " don't you have like a 30 year old boyfriend you can give head right now? so fuck off and let me give this bitch head instead, you cokewhore!! "

something along the lines of that

like i guess showing affection makes her pretty vulnerable, so when ym are in public she's a bitch

she's really controlling or whatever the word is (toxic)

"y/n, you know how much of a fucking pathetic loser you are? just think how fucked up you would be without me, then. like no offense babe, but you're really fucking deranged in the head but i guess that's something that makes you hot."

okay that's all i can think of but yeah i also hate parental controls like why are only 5 of my apps unlocked like let me go on discord ://

you guys should add me on discord, my user is umeqii yiu bitches /affectionately /nf

[carlisles-girl]

could you do jason dean dating a reader who’s shorter than him? fem or gender neutral is fine! :3

a/n: this one got a little spicy my apologies but hope you enjoy <3

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Jason Dean Dating Someone Who’s Shorter Than Him (Headcannons)

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I feel like JD would love to date someone shorter than him, though I don’t think he’d have a preference either way.

But if you’re shorter than him, it definitely would give him a feeling of power over you.

He’d definitely be a bit more demanding and demeaning.

He’d never seriously make fun of your appearance or things you can’t control.

But he’d obviously do it as a joke.

JD loves how his jacket would be bigger on you than it is on him.

“You look like 2 kids stacked under there.”

“Shut up.”

Loves loves loves when you ask him for help reaching something.

“Need help there, munchkin?”

“Yes please, but don’t ever call me that again.”

He doesn’t stop calling you that.

It’s his favourite pet name for you, besides darling, of course.

Doesn’t matter if you’re an inch shorter than him or multiple, he’ll still call you munchkin.

“We should get a munchkin cat, maybe it’s your long lost cousin or something.”

“Oh shove it, JD.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

“…”

“You weren’t this quiet last night either.”

“Get a job.”

Loves holding your hands during sex.

Like, above your head, pinned on the mattress type of holding hands.

During motorcycle rides, he tells you to hold on tight so you don’t fly away like a napkin.

“Coulda used a napkin last night, couldn’t ya?”

“What, for your face?”

“I can’t win.”

Loves tickling you because he knows you can’t get away.

But also because he likes the power he has over you since he knows you can’t get away.

“Bro, stop, please, I’m gonna piss my pants.”

“….Did you just call me bro?”

Hates when you call him bro or dude or anything of the sort.

It means you see him as your equal, and he doesn’t really like that.

He’s already got the height-power-thing against you, why do you see him as an equal and not above you?

Will probably ignore you for awhile just so you can apologize to him, wearing his shirt or sweater that almost completely drowns you out.

Again, the power thing.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“…Calling you bro?”

“Okay.”

Probably won’t apologize to you though if he calls you something you don’t like.

Unless you’re really upset by it.

“…Sorry.”

Make-up sex goes crazy after things like this.

Definitely not into you being dominant at all, but if you really wanted to, he’d let you ride him but only if he gets to guide your hips.

Bro’s 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

He’d make sure you finish though, no doubt.

Loves the cuddles after where he gets to hold you.

You, in his shirt after a warm shower where he washed you and your hair, and he gets to cuddle?

No hesitation he says yes.

Loves to hold things above your head like those loser guys in the halls at school.

But he only does it so he can hear your ‘I love you’ after with a kiss.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”