#the title was funny and fitting

[sutorus]

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification 

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist. 

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response. 

he had told you to dress up today. 

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs. 

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time. 

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him. 

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough. 

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him? 

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now. 

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely. 

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most. 

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands. 

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong. 

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that. 

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people. 

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four. 

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it. 

the heat inside you spreads further. 

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there. 

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds. 

your shut your eyes tightly. 

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are. 

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses. 

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win. 

a one in eight change. 

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day. 

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.  

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort. 

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger. 

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you. 

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least. 

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over. 

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy. 

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are. 

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. 

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know. 

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. 

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt. 

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all. 

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere. 

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy. 

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit. 

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers. 

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock. 

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race. 

but his fingers don’t leave you. 

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles. 

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you. 

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of. 

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse. 

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him. 

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for. 

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more. 

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well. 

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder. 

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another. 

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place. 

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you. 

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you. 

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease. 

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair. 

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch. 

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place. 

how fitting. 

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.” 

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense. 

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face. 

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it. 

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all. 

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. 

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement. 

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout. 

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks. 

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

[destinywillowleaf]

one of a kind living in a world gone plastic

baby you're so classic

@most-tragic-character-tournament

(all my thoughts in the tags)

[jamiesfootball]

Good news: [redacted title] post season three fic word count has passed 34k words and is finally. fucking. outlined. Start to finish, scene by scene. Roy Kent in therapy. Roy Kent turning therapy into a competitive sport. Roy Kent grappling with what it means to be a coach. Touched starved Roy Kent making excuses for Jamie to live on his couch all summer. Jamie Tartt hiding his fucking problems while simultaneously trying to live on Roy’s sofa. Keeley running Colin’s Gay PR Crisis.The Richmond lads going undercover to spy on the rival Nigerian restaurant (poorly). It’s all drafted. It’s plotted. Entire scenes have been written. Ive done all the bits I usually struggle with. I just have to flesh it out - which is the part I like and am actually good at!

Bad news: it’s going to be so long. Jesus fucking Christ it’s going to be so long. I am not a brief person, and I really, specifically, critically need to articulate every reason the Jamie forgiving his dad storyline felt like a slap in the face. If this doesn’t balloon x3 past it’s current size I’ll eat my sandals.

Worse news: I can’t write chronologically to save my life so the odds of this seeing the light of day before it’s 95% done are basically non-existent, leaving me at the mercy of my own self-motivation.

The WORST MOST AWFUL NEWS: I HAVE A FULL TIME REAL ADULT FUCKING JOB AND SOMEHOW, WHEN I’D RATHER BE WRITING, I HAVE TO GO TO MEETINGS INSTEAD. FUCK. WHY.

[skitskatdacat63]

"Bring on The Dancing Horses"(x) - Echo and The Bunnymen × Ferrari Drivers

[kinokoshoujoart]

suddenly realized i have a type

would love to hear abt other candidates that fit this bill, i haven’t played many of the newer games and need incentive

[nikoisme]

allow me to propagate my favorite odysseus song once again

[pyjamaart]

what kind of shady deals are they shaking hands over? can't be anything good...

[bambiraptorx]

At least he used to be. (I like to think I'm funny)

Also, fun fact! I finally decided to give this AU a name so I don't have to keep calling it some variation of "the Raph goes too far back in time" AU. Its name is I'm Not Dead Yet.

[thestarsarecool]

This just in: Yoko genuinely believes that John had a vision about a man on a flaming pie who told him the name of the Beatles.

“[John] wrote a piece called ‘On The Dubious Origins Of Beatles’, and the basic line that we all laughed at was something like “I had a vision and a man came unto me on a flaming pie and said ‘You shall be Beatles with an ‘a’, and so it was.” We took this to be Goon humour and a sort of Biblical joking – “and God said unto thee ‘come forth’, and he came fifth”. That’s very much the humour that was going around Liverpool at the time.

Now, it turned out that we couldn’t have this in the Anthology because Yoko believes that John did have a vision. I’m very friendly with Yoko now so I don’t want this to look like a snide thing, but it genuinely intrigues me that she thinks this. And the way I tried to put it to her was, you can say, “I had a vision” and people will go “OK”. You could say, “A man came unto me”. “OK, it’s starting to sound a little biblical, but it’s all right, still.” “On a flaming…”. “Yes, this is OK, it’s even more biblical”. Now, if you’d have gone to the word “chariot”, we would be all right. Or if you’d gone to the word “phoenix” we would be all right. But the word “pie” is a dead giveaway. “A man came to me on a flaming pie?” I know, in my mind, that John didn’t have a vision about this, but the way Yoko puts it is, “If it’s OK for Paul to dream ‘Yesterday’ then it’s OK for John to have a vision.” So these are the kind of things that cropped up. It’s only a difference of opinion so it doesn’t matter vastly. We’ve tried to make our point, she’s made her point and we’ve arrived somewhere in the middle.”

— Paul McCartney, Club Sandwich Interview, November 1st, 1995

[total-drama-brainrot]

realized I had no idea how to attach an image to ao3 comments so I’m posting this here instead

katy perry firework

LOSING MY FUCKING MIND

[thornheartfelt]

I'm curious so I thought I'd make a poll on it. No idea if leaving the poll options uncensored will have them show up in the main tags, so I've played it safe anyway.

[tervaneula]

repeat until death

I didn't think I'd make a post for this one but here we are. No art, because I can't finish the piece I started for this lmao.

Please heed the tags.

[frankenjoly]

Not giving up on you

i can't get enough of post-arc reunions or ada sigma so there u go

siglai + 72 | coma (lauren babic)

To see your face light up

Would give me nothin' but bliss

A soft sigh, coming out from Sigma’s mouth, accompanied the metallic sound their keys made when being placed on the usual spot; work had kept him out late, and even if it wasn’t as late as it tended to be when at the casino, exhaustion had still managed to cling onto their bones. A warm bath seemed basically undoable right then, but some chamomile might do the trick and then… and then all plans were thrown away for the time being.

“What the fuck.”

Turning the lights of the main room on revealed no one other than Nikolai Gogol, right there on their couch and with a somber expression. Sudden appearances weren’t new, but such a look on his face was. Even when Sigma was well aware of what the cause had been.

“Not like I don’t appreciate the visit, but can you at least call before or something the next time?” He said, as if that was some regular visit when it clearly wasn’t, as if that wasn’t the first time they saw each other after Meursault. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Resorting to using a polite, almost professional demeanor with Nikolai felt odd, but it was also easy to do while they figured things out. Useful for when he didn’t know how else to proceed.

“You woke up.” Nikolai simply said, staring right at Sigma as he approached, taking off their heels while doing so. There was no need to, but saying it out loud may help processing the fact, Sigma figured.

“I did.” A simple answer for a simple comment and, after carefully dropping the shoes, Sigma sat beside him as casually as one could on a moment like that. “I know what happened, obviously. Are you--?”

The sudden, bone-crushing hug Nikolai wrapped them in took all the air from Sigma’s lung so quickly the unnecessary ‘alright’ was left unsaid. And, instead of trying to salvage the interrupted question, their response was giving in and hugging him back with the same intensity.

(Also on ao3.)

[pyrriax]

[the-drayster]

// A little story about Drayton picking Amarys up from Nacrene. Under the read more because this one is fairly long at 960 words.

The song mentioned is Homie by Mustard Service.

Tagging you here, @elite-amarys!

~~

Drayton looked up from his phone, peeling his blanket off as he stood. "Hey, I'm going to go pick Amarys up."

Iris peered at him from her spot on the back of the couch. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, her mom's just upset and she needs to get away. I'll be back soon-ish," Drayton said. He pulled up his map and set out for the door. He paused, turning back. "Let Ma and Grandpa know I'm taking the car!"

Going all the way from Opelucid to Nacrene wasn't Drayton's plan when he originally went home for the holiday, especially not on the morning of Delibird Day. But, he had offered to let his friend stay if she needed too, and may Reshiram strike him down if he wouldn't honor that.

Climbing into the driver's seat, Drayton hummed to himself. It would be a long drive.

Amarys stood at the street corner. Her bag was packed beside her. She had everything she needed. She was upset, but logically the distance would allow both her and her mother time to calm down.

Logically.

It wasn't long (She had timed her arrival to the street corner perfactly) before an old truck pulled up, and Drayton climbed out. He was wearing a Deli-Day sweater (A Litwick with an LED light instead of a candle flame), and a long, pleated skirt in off-white. Amarys was not surprised. He smiled at her.

"Finally here. How're you doing?" Drayton asked. He reached down to grab her bag for her, loading it into the truck. Amarys muttered a thank-you.

"I am alright. Father agreed to speak to Mother," she reported. She approached the vehicle and held out a handful of money. "While you were arriving, I calculated the cost of the drive from Opelucid to Nacrene. I did not account for pit-stops and the like made of your own volition."

Drayton stared for a moment before shaking his head and smiling again. "No need, Bud." Amarys watched his face for the subtle hints of a joke. There were none. Only amusement. She put the money away.

The two of them climbed into the truck, and Drayton fiddled with his phone before starting the older vehicle's engine. "You ready to go?" He adjusted his mirrors, and then turned to look at her. He was grinning widely.

Amarys ran over her mental checklist. Everything was accounted for.

"..Yes. I am ready."

Drayton nodded, and the two were off.

Once they were situated, Drayton relaxed, draping an arm across the back of the seat separating the two of them. Amarys was staring at her lap.

"I apologize. You should not have had to come so far to retrieve me," she stated.

Drayton waved his hand, as if to gesture her words away (She had never understood pointless movements such as those, but apparently it made communication easier for some). "It's nothing. I did this of.. What was it.. My own volition?"

"My reasoning is still valid. Delibird Day is a holiday traditionally spent with one's family. I have stopped you from doing so."

Drayton snorted, reaching over to punch her shoulder lightly. "You're my family too."

Amarys paused. He did not mean this literally, of course. They weren't related. Therefore, the implication was that he saw her as an adopted relation.

"…Thank you."

Drayton snorted again, little laughs breaking through. But the laughs weren't mocking her. Amarys turned to watch him.

He shook his head, smiling. "What do you say to some music?"

Amarys considered this. She wouldn't mind music, she decided. She said as much.

Drayton nodded, tapping his phone to wake the Rotom inside. "Play my one playlist. Start with Homie." He turned to Amarys as the music started. "This is one of my favorite songs. I feel like it's fitting to this whole situation."

Drayton hummed the lyrics, drumming the beat of the instruments on the steering wheel with his fingers. He seemed to be enjoying himself. His hum broke into quiet singing with the line "Just sit back and smoke your cigarette."

"I don't smoke," she stated. Perhaps this song wasn't as fitting as he thought.

Drayton laughed a little. "Nah, but the rest of the lyrics work well. You do look like you could use some sleep." He paused his drumming to turn on his blinkers in an attempt to change lanes. "..Let me merge, jerkwads…"

She probably did need to sleep. She'd been so stressed. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was.

"I do appear to be more tired than I previously assumed," Amarys admitted.

Drayton smiled. "I don't mind if you doze off. I'll keep the music low."

Amarys nodded. She had no intentions of sleeping yet, but the thought was appreciated.

It didn't take long before she was out like a light.

Drayton hummed quietly to himself as he pulled into the driveway of his grandfather's house. Amarys was still asleep, and he didn't particularly want to wake her. He had a feeling that this was first chance she'd had to really be comfortable.

It made him happy that she was comfortable sleeping near him. He let himself feel a little prideful over it before debating what to do next.

He could leave the car running, and let her rest, but if he just left then she might wake up and panic over where she was. That wasn't an option.

He could wake her, but he'd feel horrible doing it. She looked so peaceful. That wasn't an option.

The third, and seemingly only valid option, was to stay with her in the car. Drayton sighed, put the truck into park, sent a quick text to Iris to let everyone know that they had made it, and leaned against the door to take a nap.