#you’re next 2011 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gigabyte-flare · 1 year

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Insatiable (Part 1)

Summary: You are a researcher for D.S.O. who is responsible for studying Leon Kennedy as Las Plagas overtakes him, maybe even finding a cure. He starts to take a liking to you, too much of a liking to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Heavily inspired by this artwork by @chanif-art on Tumblr along with Project Scorpion by @tagzpite. Literally could not get this idea out of my head until I wrote it down. Definitely going to be another series. We're also going to pretend D.S.O. was founded way sooner than 2011 k byeeeeee

“I fought a war and I learned how to win, but how do you fight when the enemy’s within?”

You step out of an elevator led by two armed D.S.O. operatives in tactical gear deep underground at HQ, your white lab coat flowing gently as you walk forward. Grasped in your right hand is a voice recorder. You and the operatives go through a series of heavy steel doors leading you into the bowels of the underground facility.

Is all this really necessary? you think to yourself as you’re led deeper into the abyss.

Finally, you’re brought to a single cell enclosed with clear polycarbonate panels with steel reinforcements. In this cell was a man sitting in a chair that was bolted into the floor, his hands chained behind his back and his legs chained to the legs of the chair. This man is Agent Leon S. Kennedy. You approach one of the panels closest to the steel door keeping him in.

Switching the voice recorder on and bringing it to your mouth, you state your name before continuing, “The year is 2004. The subject is field agent Leon Scott Kennedy, currently 27 years old and exhibiting the late stages of Las Plagas infestation, his body is covered in dark, vein like marks. Subject is currently slumped over in the chair. He appears to be catatonic.”

Bringing the recorder away from your mouth, you motion to one of the operatives to guard the door. You input a passcode into a key panel next to the door. It lets out a hiss as it slowly swings open. As you step in, the door swings closed and locks.

You bring the recorder back to your mouth and continue, “Agent Kennedy?”

You watch as Leon slowly lifts his head, his face completely covered in the dark veins, his once blue eyes now have a slight red tinge to them, it makes your stomach twist in sorrow, he used to be such a handsome man.

“Subject appears to still have some cognitive ability left as he immediately recognized his name. We’re still trying to understand how he hasn’t broken down now that the alpha Plagas host, Osmund Saddler, has been destroyed--”

“I’m right here, you know,” Leon suddenly spoke, making you jump.

“Ag-Agent Kennedy!” you reply, eyes wide in shock that he’s able to speak.

“Please, just call me Leon, sweetheart.”

His dark gaze seemed to pierce straight into your very soul. You collect yourself, clearing your throat.

“How are you feeling, Leon?”

Leon looks down at himself, tugging gently at his restraints before looking back up at you, “all things considered, I actually feel pretty damn good.”

“That’s… good, I guess,” you reply, your nervousness clear in your voice.

You hadn’t prepared for this, every researcher that attempted to interact with him got absolutely nothing out of him, hence why they sent you down. You argued with them, not seeing the point but now you began to realize that the difference was they were all men, you were a woman.

“Awww… there’s no need to be so nervous, sweetheart, it’s just me, Leon Kennedy. I promise I don’t bite,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “hard.”

“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Leon?”

He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I’m in D.S.O.’s research facility because I’m turning into a monster.”

“That’s putting it rather bluntly, but yes, that’s correct.”

“About time they sent someone cute down here to visit me, the rest were much too dull. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d ask you out to dinner and a movie.”

You feel yourself blushing, “that’s… very kind of you Leon, however that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name,” he growls, a sinister grin overtaking him.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your eyes widen at him. This wasn’t like Leon at all, the parasite was clearly twisting his thoughts. You panic, turning around to motion the operatives to open the door and let you out. As soon as you’re out of the cell, you briskly walk away from the cell as fast as you can, not once looking back. You could have swore you heard Leon’s laugh echo after you.

“I am not going back down there, are you insane?!”

“You’re the first person he has actually spoken to since he got back from Spain,” the lead researcher, Bryan said, setting your voice recorder down onto his desk.

“So? Your point? I’m not doing it and that’s final!”

“Look, this recording gives us valuable data on him, it’s clear that the Plagas inside him is mutating into a more dominant strain. It must know it’s the last one left,” Bryan said, pleading with you.

“So we’re just going to poke and prod him like he’s some guinea pig? Leon wouldn’t have wanted that! Are you sure there’s no way we can cure him?”

“If we attempt to remove the parasite now, it will kill him--”

“Then let’s put him out of his misery, this isn’t right!”

The silence between you was deafening. After a few minutes, Bryan finally spoke.

“Judging by this recording, the Plagas has one thing on its mind.”

“Which is…?”

Bryan looked up at you, letting out a heavy sigh, “reproduction.”

“All the more reason I shouldn’t be going back down there!”

“He’ll be restrained and you’ll have at least two operatives with you at all times, you’ll be safe,” Bryan leans forward on his desk, folding his hands together, “the data you collect from Agent Kennedy is invaluable in finding out how the parasite works, just… go down and talk to him. I know yesterday was unnerving but there is one thing he said that is true, he’s just Leon Kennedy. He’s in there somewhere, even if the Plagas is influencing him.”

You cross your arms, staring at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Bryan, “fine. But I want hazard pay.”

“Consider it done, here’s your recorder back,” Bryan says, sliding the recorder across the desk towards you.

You grab the recorder of the desk, turning on your heel to walk out of Bryan’s office.

“You are to report down there in an hour, you hear me?” Bryan calls after you just as you walk out the door.

You fight the urge to flip him off, thinking better of it. You walk down the hall into your office, getting your lab coat back on and sitting at your desk. You press play on the recorder, listening back on your interaction with Leon several times. There was one part where you repeated it several times, sending chills down your spine.

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”

How long had Leon been locked down here, chained to this chair? How many men in lab coats came and tried to talk to him? He knew he was a lost cause, why were they keeping him alive? How many times did he wish death would come and take him in his sleep?

But then you came, awakening something in him.

Your natural scent filled the cell completely, so many hours had gone by and he could still smell you and you smelled absolutely divine. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way your voice was so sweet yet filled with drive and intelligence. The way you blushed when he flirted with you. The way your heartbeat began to race at just the mere mention of taking you.

God you were so cute when you ran off, all flustered, he couldn’t help but laugh; he hadn’t felt alive like that in so long. His reminiscing was interrupted suddenly when he could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Lifting his head, he practically began to salivate when he saw you had returned.

You came back to me, baby, where you belong…

“The subject appears to be conscious and alert, he watched us as soon as we were in his line of sight,” you say as he watches you speak into the voice recorder.

With a hiss, the door opens and you step inside. Leon breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you, you smelled even better than you had yesterday. He feels his cock twitch in his pants in excitement. He watches as the door behind you closes and locks, just like it had yesterday, trapping you in here with him.

Curse these fucking chains…

“You’re more lively today, Leon, care to tell me why?” you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion.

“How about you tell me why you smell so nice,” Leon replies, grinning at you, drool running from his mouth down his chin.

He watches you shift uncomfortably before you continue, “I’m not answering that.”

Leon scoffs, shaking his head, “then I’m not going to talk to you, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, “if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why I smell so nice to you, Leon.”

His red eyes scan up and down your form, imagining it without all those needless clothes. Imagining himself pinning you to the floor and fucking you stupid. A strange, clicking sound came out of him from the back of his throat as he pulled aggressively on the chains holding him to the chair. He watches as the two men with guns outside become alert. Leon lets out a low growl as he glares at them.

You turn to face the men, signaling to them to stand down. He watches them both relax before you return your attention to him.

“The transformation appears to be progressing faster than expected,” you say into the recorder, “are you in any pain, Leon?”

Leon slowly shakes his head, “no, just unbelievably horny, doll.”

“We have reason to believe the subject is displaying an increased libido due to the fact that the parasite inside him knows it’s the last of its kind.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’s awfully rude.”

“Fine,” you say, lowering the recorder away from your mouth, “what do you want to talk about, Leon?”

“You should ask those nice boys out there to take these chains off me,” Leon purrs, staring at you longingly.

“Absolutely not, Leon,” you reply, crossing your arms, “those chains are there for my safety as well as your own, at least until we can get the Plagas out of your body.” “I think I’m too far gone for that, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, the sorrow clear in your eyes, “I am so sorry that this is what you have become, Leon.”

“I’m not,” Leon says as that sinister grin overtakes him again; he starts to chuckle.

“Leon,” you begin, stepping closer and kneeling down to be eye level with Leon, “I know the real you is in there, somewhere, you have to fight it.”

Your scent was almost enough to drive him crazy, you were delectable. He licks his lips, that clicking sound coming out from this throat again. His eyes are locked on you and he sees you glance down briefly before looking back into his eyes. He knew what you were looking at, you were looking at the noticeable bulge in his cargo pants.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Leon says, his body visibly trembling.

You don’t respond, you simply stare at him with that same sad look in your eyes. How could you not want him as much as he wanted you. His lips curl into a snarl.

“Let me FUCK YOU!” he growls, lunging forward, the bolts in the chair letting out a loud screech as they’re bent slightly.

You stumble back, falling backwards onto the floor as Leon continues to struggle violently. The two men with guns come rushing in, one of them grabbing you off the floor while the other shoots a tranquilizer dart into Leon’s thigh. Leon feels the effects almost instantly, his body becomes limp as he becomes sluggish, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you get led out of the room by the two men, the door shutting and locking behind them as you’re led away.

“Mine,” he whispers in his last moments of consciousness, “all mine.”

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #insatiable

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junkfoodcinemas · 16 days

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You’re Next (2011) dir. Adam Wingard

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astonmartingf · 2 months

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MISERY ; MW2

mark webber x rbr race engineer! reader

. . . fuck sebastian vettel and fuck his goddamn race engineer who he can't help but think about all the time. he's bitter, jealous and in misery.

amgf finally i've moved everything 🎉 yay! everybody cheered!! i'm so happy and excited, i'm going home for the week and i'm writing the heck out of that alo fic and doab will be finally over 🫠🫠🫠

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

[2009]

With the way the Australian was acting one would say he’s bitter. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes every time you laughed at something Seb said, which wasn’t even that funny. Maybe you were trying to be civil, but Mark wasn’t having any of it.

Not only was he fighting for his seat in Red Bull, with the addition of a newer and younger driver he was about to be replaced. The team finally made a car competitive enough to race for podiums, but instead of attacking for points he’s left behind the dust of his teammate Sebastian Vettel.

YN who was now assigned to Vettel- are not only starting to form a better relationship, but also score more points. Not that YN nor Vettel was to blame, the sport is already complicated in a way with changes and upgrades, not everything is constant.

And as much as Webber wanted to work with you, with how things are looking it’ll be better with both of you to do different things. You were Vettel's race engineer, and he stuck as the second driver.

[2010]

He can’t seem to pinpoint the root of his frustrations, but every time he hears your voice in the background of the team radio, talking and congratulating the fuck out of Sebastian and his pole position, he turns into this miserable monster who wants nothing but to silence you.

This of course hasn’t got unnoticed by the younger German driver who was observant, nosy, and attached to you by the hip. It seemed like wherever you go, Sebastian would follow like a lost puppy on the track.

Which only irked the driver more, adding to the long list of unexplained frustrations in his head, eating him up. “You know, with how much you’re frowning, it’s shocking it hasn't formed into a unibrow yet.”

Mark glanced up to see the one and only Sebastian Vettel with a goddamn awful smirk plastered on his face. Clearly he knows what’s up, rolling his eyes as the Australian raised his middle finger in front of the younger driver.

An audible gasp left Sebastian’s mouth, “You shouldn’t do that to me, I can help you know-” teasing the older driver.

Raising his brows Mark pulled Sebastian closer to him, whispering in his ears, “I don’t need your help mate, now go on and annoy someone else.”

“So… I should just go talk with YN then.”

The mention of your name whips his head back to Sebastian, smirking as if he caught him in action. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian nods, slowly putting two and two together.

“There is something going on with you two… YN had mentioned you a few times in our conversations.”

Mark knew better than to react, there’s no way he knows. But the thought of you speaking about him, he couldn’t help his curious nature. Turning around slowly he could hear the German’s stifling laughter. “Spill it.”

“On second thought, I think it’s time for my debrief with YN. I guess you’ll have to figure it out next time.” Shrugging his shoulder, Sebastian walked the other way leaving Mark no time to chase him.

“For fucks sake… Get a grip Webber.”

[2011]

The only thing that developed from last year was his relationship with Sebastian, it boosted the morale of the team but more importantly it put him in conversations with YN. From a bystander’s view it’s embarrassing to see his efforts go to vain.

Especially with Sebastian’s new found knowledge, he teased the Australian often. This time he learned not to blame YN, hearing Seb talk about how you’re always busy prepping and forming strategies, as well as the pressure to perform in meetings.

He could barely catch you since you were all over the paddock, nose buried in different papers looking at data, triple checking results for Sebastian. On the way from the small set prepared for the DHL Fastest Lap Award he was shocked to see YN walking beside him.

“Congratulations on your award.” Mark froze, he had not expected this at all. He’d been looking for you, biding his time to form a conversation, yet here you were congratulating him.

“Are you looking for Seb?” Mark spoke without speaking, wincing at his reply- there were definitely better responses but why would he assume you’re looking for Seb after congratulating him.

“You don’t like talking to me much? Seb has been talking a lot about you, you’ve gotten quite close these past year.” Mark stayed silent, waiting for you to say anything more.

“But I’m not here for Seb, I came looking for you actually. You deserve that award, and many more. I guess I’m just proud of you.”

This revelation came as a surprise to Mark. Bewildered, he asked more about your statement. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t think I ever hated you Mark, if anything else- you should hate me.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Mark was lost. But he knew he would get his answers soon, “Why would I hate you?”

Placing your hands deep in your pockets, slouching as the corners of your mouth form to a frown, “I disappointed you Mark. Though, I’m glad to see you winning now. You did it by yourself, and I know you will continue to do better.”

[2013]

It all happened too fast. In the corner of the pit wall you stare at the screen as you watch Sebastian overtake Mark, you froze. You wanted nothing more than to run and leave, but at the same time you were stuck in your seat like a deer in headlights.

Hearing the radio beep, Sebastian’s voice was drowning in your train of thoughts and in the background you picked up the voice of Mark speaking to his own engineer. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before responding to Sebastian.

The whole situation is out of hand, and despite you not agreeing with his actions, you have to focus on your work that needs to be done and prioritized before anything else. Just like you always have.

At the end of the podium celebration you found yourself hiding inside the team garage away from both drivers, knowing fully well you couldn’t take the stress from it all. As much as winning with Sebastian felt good, not only for the team but for your career, it also brought out the worst parts of yourself.

You didn’t know you could be this calculative, greedy, and the hunger from wanting all the wins took a toll on you, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally had you drained. You felt miserable, and worst of all- you felt yourself to blame for what happened.

All you wanted to do was run away, there was no longer a voice of reason- the sport became unenjoyable for you, and there was no longer hope for you to get back and enjoy the sport like you used to.

Sitting in silence, you jump at the sound of Mark’s voice muffled behind the door. “YN? Can I come in?”

“It’s okay to come in.” Your voice comes out thin, hiding your face in your arms. “Are they looking for me?” Peeking over, you catch Mark kneeling down beside you.

“Nah, they’re just cleaning up. Are you feeling okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

It took you a few years to approach Mark once again, blaming yourself for his past results. As a race engineer it was your responsibility to support and ensure the drivers of their performance. You worked hard behind the screens, drowning yourself in data in the hopes of finding ways to improve.

You sit in silence, slowly relaxing as you lean on Mark’s shoulders, “It’s not your fault you know, not now and definitely not before.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

Mark hummed in thought, “Because I spent all those years blaming myself as well, I thought I wasn’t capable of putting out results and when you were with Seb, I can see your genuine happiness whenever he’s winning. Something we never got to experience together, I think it’s unfortunate but it’s definitely not your fault. You should know that, I don’t blame you now.”

You nod to yourself, “You blamed me before? I’m glad to hear that, I was inexperienced and only had myself to blame.”

You feel Mark laugh as his shoulders rise and fall, “I definitely cursed you in my head more times when we were together, but I learned then. And look at us now, we’re definitely better than before.”

“I’m sorry, Mark. I could’ve done more.” Pressing his lips, Mark nods to himself.

“I understand YN. I wouldn’t lie if I say I’m not flattered that you chose to support me, but don’t ignore Seb for too long.”

“I’m not ignoring him at all, I just want space to think clearly.” You rise from his shoulders, facing him for the first time. Your eyes puffy from crying.

“And, what did you think about?” Mark asked, wiping the tears rolling from your eyes.

“I’m thinking of quitting after the season.”

yourinstagram

liked by aussiegrit, oscarpiastri, and 648,297 others

yourinstagram it's been a while in the paddock but good luck to our boy oscar <3

view 97,461 comments...

aussiegrit thank you for coming and for the nonstop support love ❤️

sebastianvettel let's meet up soon

yourinstagram sure seb, i miss you and hanna

user1 their boy oscar WOW

user2 why are you casually dropping this????

user3 i'm here from twitter and it's a mess

user4 i just read the webyn thread

user5 we're all here from twt???

oscarpiastri thank you so much for coming to see me!

yourinstagram good luck on your first race! we're proud of you

user6 yn left and came back as MOTHER!!!

user7 this is single handedly making me look forward for the 2023 season in the hopes of seeing mark and yn on the paddock

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #mark webber smau #mark webber x reader #mark webber fluff

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matchaverse · 12 days

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The Walls | CL16

pairing: singer!charlesleclerc x late!partner!gasly!reader

summary: with the loss of his longterm partner, charles dedicates him and his bands music about them

faceclaim: none

warning: mentions of drugs, overdose, death, thoughts of suicide, alcohol.

no part two.

2011

[instagram] yourusername

liked by charlesleclerc, pierregasly, and 12 others

tagged | @charleclerc @pierregasly @estebanocon

yourusername | these fools are trying to make music!

charlesleclerc: fools??

pierregasly: i’ll tell my mom that y/n is being mean

yourusername: snitch.

“y/n stop being mean to your brother and his friends” your mother, Pascale, yells from the kitchen. you huff and roll eyes as you walk down the hallway from your room to your brothers room.

“you’re such a snitch” you chuckle as you take a seat on the floor next to charles as he tunes his guitar.

your brother, pierre, just rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “maybe don’t be mean to us” he shrugs as he helps esteban with his bass.

“what happen with karting?”

“we still do that but with the way max keeps winning every single race we wanted to try and dabble into something we are passionate about” charles answers looking at you with a smile. you nod in understanding.

“you guys are pretty good a making music, so do you guys think you’ll make it big?” you ask curiously. all three boys look at each other with the same idea in mind.

“yes” they all say with certainty.

2015

[instagram] yourusername

liked by charlesleclerc, taylorswift, and 126,537 others

tagged | @ChaseAtlantic

yourusername: four years later and my brother and two best friends are playing their songs in clubs!! so proud of you three ❤️

pierregasly: thank you! we wouldn’t have been able without your support ❤️

charleslecler: someone had to be our stage manager

estebanocon: y/n literally whined for days just to get that position

yourusername: no shame, i’d do it again.

estebanocon: 😒

you’re standing backstage of the local club where the boys were playing at with a few other bookies as the three young men walk back to meet you after the show.

“you three did wonderful, truly, the crowd loved you” you say with a huge smile, giving each boy a hug.

“no, thank you for getting us a gig here” esteban chuckles as he sips from his water bottle. charles and pierre nod in agreement.

“how did you get us a gig anyways?” the monégasque man asks while crossing his arms and a small smirk rests on his lips.

you give a small shrug before answering with “used to sleep with the owner”

“what?!” pierre’s voice rings out.

2017

yourusername posted a story

caption: love the party life

replies:

charlesleclerc: wya??? you walked away

yourusername: just partying

charles lost you, pierre and esteban at this party. he’s been walking around for about twenty minutes now, his messages not sending.

“chug! chug! chug!” charles hears a loud chant of a few people hooting, he makes his way over and see you standing the middle of the circle just downing whatever liquids are in the red solo cups on the table in front of you.

he shakes his head with a sigh, making his way into the circle once you finish the last cup.

“y/n..”charles mumbles as he places a hand on your waist. you turn and look at him with a smile, he can smell the alcohol in you

“hi charlie!” you slur, letting out a giggle.

“how drunk are you?”

you shrug, you stopped counting after the first few drinks. charlie’s lets out a big sigh.

“come on, let’s find the others and head back home”

2020

[instagram] charlesleclerc

liked y yourusername, madisonbeer, and 648,638 others

tagged | @yourusername

charleslecler | one year with my love ❤️

yourusername: aww baby🥺🥺

username: y/n smokes??

username: and they party all the time

username: i mean their life ig 🤷‍♀️

username: anyone else see the one clip on twitter where y/n did a line of coke?

username: 🚩🚩🚩

username: they are grown??

username: yeah but it’s not cute

“i don’t understand what the problem is!” your voice raises to match charles’s tone.

“the problem is that you don’t understand how serious drugs and alcohol can be!” the veins on his forehead and neck look like they are about to burst from the sheer amount of anger running through his body. you can only scoff in response.

“i’m young charlie! im only 22 and it’s nothing serious!”

“YES IT IS!” you flinch at his tone. charles seems this and sighs, walking closer to you and taking your hands in his own.

“baby…i’m not saying you can’t have fun but the drugs isn’t needed to have fun..please just stop”

2022

to say charles was freaking out was an understatement, he was terrified. he didn’t understand what happen with you, you were doing so much better than last year. you weren’t partying as much and he knew you stopped drinking but he didn’t know you were still doing some type of drug.

pulling up to the hospital, charles didn’t care if his parking job was decent, the only thing on his mind was you.

“how’s y/n?” charles breaths out as he makes his way to the waiting room to meet your brother. pierre had tears in his eyes and his cheeks were puffy.

“..they..t-they said it’s not looking good” pierre breaks down, charles moves forward and pulls his best friend into a hug, trying hard to keep his own tears from flowing.

“it’s okay..it’s gonna be okay..”charles whispers, not even believing his own words.

2024

[instagram] charlesleclerc

liked by pierregasly, estebanocon, and 639,739 others

tagged | @yourusername

charlesleclerc: it’s been two years since we lost you. you were the light of my life and i’m so sorry i couldn’t help you get better. i continue living on for you, i wake up every morning to keep your name alive, you were my best friend, my other half, i love you so much ❤️

if anyone is going through hardships do not hesitate to reach out and contact someone, there are people who will help you out. reach out to me, pierre or esteban because we will help you. everyone deserves to live a happy life. 🙌

i, myself, have struggled with moving forward after losing y/n but with the help of my friends and family i knew i had to keep pushing through this hard patch in my life. i understand the struggles and pain and would never wish this onto anyone

pierregasly: two years already..

estebanocon: the world is cruel.

charlesleclerc: truly don’t understand how the world moved forward after this

username: our hearts go out to you charles!! ❤️

username: you’re so strong!!

username: i reached out to charles during my depressive episode and he is a sweetheart, he did help me out.

username: i love how charles donates to rehabs around the country

username: hes a big advocate for charities that help people who are struggling with drug addiction

username: stop that’s literally so sweet

charlesleclerc: i will spend the rest of my days advocating ❤️

tags: @honethatty12

tell me why this took like three days to write 💀

#f1 smau #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formaula one pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #esteban ocon #formula 1 charles leclerc #formula one #formula one pierre gasly #formula one esteban ocon

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nights-at-crystarium · 10 months

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As a twitter/tumblr user since 2010-2011, I believe I have sufficient grounds to say that currently we as a community are living through the scariest, shittiest time yet. This post isn’t trying to fearmonger, no I’m not leaving tumblr until it literally keels over, but I suggest that we don’t put all our eggs in one basket.

If twitter/tumblr stay usable, great! In the worse scenario, you’d have kept posting on a new platform and stayed ahead of the curve.

This post shares my personal experience with three potential “new”* fandom places, and is aimed to help fellow content creators. I’m an artist fully depending on internet to survive, my reasoning may not apply to you if you’re a hobbyist. Do your own research, it’s always healthy. * Pillowfort and mastodon have been around for 5+ years, bluesky is ~2 years old.

Discovering new people to follow kinda sucks on all three platforms, twitter and tumblr are eons ahead, but, given the recent chaos and uncertainty, I’m willing to be patient, keep posting on those, and feel safer than I would’ve otherwise been. More baskets good, one basket bad.

All three have poor visual customization, don’t expect custom tumblr themes.

This list starts with the least popular, but most human and easy to join, and what I personally trust the most. All three allow nsfw if labeled properly.

✦ Pillowfort is a barebones tumblr. Intuitive, cozy, but currently very, very small. Be patient with its clunkiness or lack of some features, it’s made by an AO3-like team. I’d personally love if the fandom crowd managed to redirect its attention to it instead of the sus bluesky.

Joining: is free, invite-only, but the waitlist is nearly instant.

Lurk around on their official tumblr: @/pillowfort-social

✦ Mastodon, for me personally, is impossible to explain directly. I’ll use several comparisons.

- Discord but all servers can interact. You’re still on a server curated by some human(s) that might tell you what you can and can’t post, BUT, if you don’t like that server’s policy, you can move to a new one while keeping your followers. - Email, users A and B may be registered on different domains, still they can talk. It’s a weird comparison, but fediverse (please I’m not explaining THAT but it’s a good thing) in general looks like another email story: unlike big sites that come and go, it might stand the test of time. - Someone compared mastodon’s structure to xiv’s dc and servers, if you look at its domain names that way, it might be easier to understand.

Depending on user, mastodon may feel gatekeepy/snowflakey. I haven’t spent enough time on there to form a proper opinion yet, but a warning’s due.

An actually good and hopeful thing about mastodon AND tumblr: the two might start interacting in future. Ever lamented that your fav asian artists don’t use tumblr? If they use misskey, or any other place on the fediverse, it might be possible to follow them directly from tumblr in future, and vice versa.

Joining: is free, however some servers close for new members sometimes, and have human moderators reviewing your request.

✦ Bluesky is a twitter without Musk: today’s average internet user reads this, drops everything and already looks to register there. It’s still sus, but people flock to it like crazy. Most likely to become the next big fandom place in my eyes, even if I’m not happy about that.

I personally have no good feelings about bluesky. Same as twitter, which I hated even before the 2018 tumblr exodus, yet the crowd decided to make it The New Fandom Place, and, grudgingly, I had to give up and also join them in 2022. During the year I haven’t stopped despising twitter, yet, I can’t deny that it helped me survive. I estimate half of my patrons, and, hell, even tumblr audience, comes from twitter. So, if bluesky ends up being the next hot shit, I’ll have to keep up because internet pays for my living.

Joining: is free but hell, invite-only, the waitlist is a lie, your best chance to join is a direct invite.

This’s all I’ve got to say for now. If you have a correction or an addition, replies/reblogs are welcome!

Screenshots of the current interfaces under the cut, you may spy on my profiles o/

Pillowfort

Mastodon.art

Bluesky

#i grabbed a name on cohost and inkblot too but those interfaces instantly turned me away #also i'm not covering the mobile apps since i'm a pc-only user #social media #pillowfort #mastodon #bluesky #text post #long post #this already started making rounds but i wanted to add about algorithms #all three seem to have no algorithm atm #only 100% about pillowfort tho

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333-luvsturns · 1 month

Text

the hating game: one

other chapters: 2

summary: matt and y/n have hated each other since they were kids. now, it’s their senior year and they can’t help but feel a specific tension between them — will they swallow their pride and come to terms with the new-found tension, or forever hold their peace?

contains: swearing, banter/arguing, mentions of alcohol/partying

pairing: grumpy!matt x sunshine!reader

a/n slightly boring first chapter but dw cus next chapter gets RIGHT into the drama! enjoy :)

matt’s pov;

Valentines day. You either love it, or hate it.

Personally, I fucking hate it.

The decorations everywhere, all that lovey-dovey couple shit, the roses, the secret admirers — I hate it all.

I walk through the crowded hallway — which, not to mention, is annoyingly littered in red paper heart cut outs. I make my way through the crowds of students, some walking at a normal pace, others deciding to stop in the middle of the hallway — or my personal favorite, the couples who make out against the lockers in the middle of passing time, which makes me psychically repulsed.

I finally make it to the cafeteria, to my dismay it has a huge banner hung above the first table in the room — ‘Get your chocolate roses here!’ and the table is filled with various chocolate roses, wrapped in plastic like a bouquet.

I pass that table and head towards the back, where my Nick, Chris and our friends all sit.

“Look who it is — Cupid himself!” Chris hollers when he spots me walking in, the whole table erupts in laughter.

I fake a dry laugh and sit down at my spot on the end, next to Nick. “Where’s your chocolate rose?” Nate asks jokingly from across me, “For your secret admirer.”

“I’ll go buy one and shove it up your ass,”

Nick turns to me with wide eyes, “Wow someones chipper.” He deadpans.

“Isn’t he always?” Chris snorts a laugh, Nate joining in beside him.

Before I can interject, a voice calls from down the table, two spots down from Nate.

“Cupid is here!”

I know that voice anywhere. I hate that voice.

I look up to see just who I knew it was, Y/N. With that smile that I swear never fades from her face, and that laugh that — though I’d never admit this out-loud — is so contagious, I hate it.

She’s like this constant ray of sunshine; sitting there, always shinning bright. It’s always annoyed me how happy and perfect she can be, she’s kind to everyone and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, even when they don’t deserve it.

God, I hate her.

Hate’s a strong word, and I know it. But she knows it too, and she hates me just as much.

“I bet you love this corny shit, Y/N.” I say, gesturing to all the paper hearts hanging in the cafeteria.

“I do, actually.” She quirks, shrugging her shoulders.

It’s true, she’s always loved anything corny and cliché; when we were elementary school, she’d make all of us a Valentines day gift, which consisted of homemade cards and some sort of candy.

“You’re like a grumpy old man Matt, lighten up.” She adds, and before I can see what exactly she is doing, she is tossing me something from across the table.

All I see is her throwing something, so naturally, I extend my arm to catch it. When it lands in my hand, I look at her; shooting her a glare which she doesn’t reciprocate and instead shoots me her signature smile, then I look at my hand.

A chocolate rose. A stupid, overpriced, chocolate rose.

I look back up at her, an unimpressed look on my face, and a stupid, toothy-grin on hers.

“Enjoy, Cupid!” She laughs, before returning back to her conversation with our friend, Amaya, beside her.

Cupid.

An absolutely ridiculous nickname she coined when we were seven, and unfortunately, ten years later and it still stuck.

“Happy Valentines day!” She beamed at me, handing me a red card, hearts drawn all over, and a bag of my favorite candy.

I look inside the bag, seeing the candy and looking up at her with a grin. “Thank you, Y/n!”

Y/n nods with a smile plastered across her face, “You’re welcome, Cupid.” She giggled before skipping back to the school playground.

Of course, we were seven and the nickname made no sense, but I didn’t mind then. Now, I’m positive she calls me that just to annoy me.

“Matt,” Chris says, which makes me snap from my thoughts and look across the table to him. “Did you hear what I said?”

I just shake my head at him, before he goes on to talk about our upcoming Hockey game on Saturday, Nate and Nick both joining in on the conversation.

As we all talk, I can’t help but let my mind occasionally and unfortunately, drift to Y/n — I can’t help but wonder if she misses our friendship; who we were before we hated each other.

Of course, she can’t stand me, I can’t stand her, but things used to be so different.

Eventually, to stop from letting her occupy my thoughts, I settle on this; there’s no way she wonders the same. No way.

Right?

y/n pov

I make my way through the crowded hallway, attempting to make it to my English class (somewhat) on time.

Just as I reach reach the classroom, my hand literally on the door knob — the bell rings.

I quietly walk into the classroom, which is already almost entirely full, and take my seat. “Miss y/l/n, you’re late — again.”

Well shit. “I’m sorry, the hallways are crowded. It won’t happen again.” I say, glancing at my teacher who is glaring at me from her desk.

“Good, because the next time your late, you’ll get detention.” She retorts, before getting up and beginning class.

I sigh and take my seat, hanging my bag on the back of my chair and opening my book. That’s when I feel a pair of eyes on me, and when I turn to my side I’m met with the really cute guy who sits next to me.

He’s the star basketball player, tall with blond hair. When I look at him, he’s already looking at me, and when he notices, he smiles at me.

I smile back at him — awkwardly, at that, before looking down at my notebook.

Adrien Cole, is his name. One of the most popular guys at our school, and not to mention has quite the reputation when it comes to dating. But, as far as I can tell, he seems nice.

Thankfully, English goes by pretty quick, and even more thankfully, it’s my last class of the day.

As I walk out the school, my best friend Amaya is waiting for me at the bench outside the door — her usual spot.

When she notices me, she practically jumps to her feet and falls into step with me. “Guess what-!?” She asks, in a sing-song voice.

“I have no clue-”

“Josh is throwing a party tomorrow and we are going! She exclaims, quickly rambling over her words and throwing her arms up with excitement.

I widen my eyes at her. If there is one thing about Amaya, she is the life of every party. She loves a good party, especially our friend Josh’s — every floor of his house is always filled, the yard is littered with red plastic cups, kids doing keg-stands, notorious for causing cops to be called — that sort of thing.

I can’t say parties are my favorite thing, but I don’t mind them. Besides, to me, they are a rite of passage as teenagers.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask.

Amaya just shrugs, “Parents away for the weekend, I think.”

As we continue walking, making our way off school grounds and down the street, I take in the weather; it’s nearing Spring, and not quite warm but not entirely cold. It’s classic Boston weather.

Amaya and I walk side by side down the neighborhood street, chatting about our days till we hear hollering behind us. “Guys-! Wait up!”

I turn around and see Chris, Nick, Matt and Nate walking towards us, rather — jogging to us, aside from Matt, who couldn’t care less, his hands shoved in his pockets, trailing behind everyone.

When they finally catch up and fall into step with us, Amaya is quick to excitedly ask, “Are you guys coming to Josh’s party tomorrow?”

“Josh is throwing a party?” Nate practically shrieks with excitement, looking between us all for reaction.

Like Amaya, Nate also loves a good party. Maybe a little too much.

“I refuse to sit next to Nate on the car ride home!” Nick loudly states, “I will not be thrown up on again.”

We all laugh at this, remembering the last party we went to, specifically how Nate claimed ‘Matts driving made him throw up’ and then the pure chaos that ensued when Nates alcohol consumption got the best of him.

That’s when I look at Matt, still trailing behind all of us, staring at his phone, not remotely engaged in the conversation.

Matt and I are aquitances at the most. If anything, I tolerate him, and he tolerates me. I’m not entirely sure when exactly we decided we hated each other, but it started somewhere before our freshman year. Before that, we were friends — just like the rest of us.

“Why are you staring at me?”

I snap out of my thoughts, and look to Matt. Who is now looking up from his phone and studying me with questioning eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, I was not staring at you.”

Matt chuckles at that, “I wasn’t flattered.”

He takes a step forward, finally walking at the same pace the rest of us were and stepping beside me. I glare up at him, and notice the smug smirk he has on his face, then up to his eyes that are half-lidded and glancing down at me as we walk.

That’s when he decides to ruffle my hair up, bringing his hand to the top of my head and messing up the half-up half-down style I had done.

I side step away from him, shoving his arm away as he laughs, “Fuck off, Matt.”

Apparently Amaya, Chris, Nick and Nate are still on the topic of the party, “Matt, we need a chauffeur.” Chris says, turning around to face us and walking backwards.

Matt is still eyeing me with a smirk, while I fix my hair and glare at him. “Matt,” Chris says again, this time louder and gathering his attention.

Matt looks to Chris, “What?”

“Josh is throwing a party tomorrow. Can you drive?” Chris says, again.

Matt looks like he in a deep-thinking state, “Last time I checked I am a licsended driver, yes.” He says.

Chris laughs dryly, “Real funny, Matt.”

Matt just grins at Chris, like he is proud of his stupid joke. “Depends on who I need to drive.” Matt says.

“Me!” Amaya calls out, “And probably Y/n, right?” She asks, turning to me.

I sigh, “Unfortunately, yes.” Matt is quick to answer, “Then, no.”

Everyone around us groans at this, “You two need to just suck it up and tolerate each other, I mean really, it’s fucking annoying.” Nick says.

Matt and I both glare at each other — it’s a classic look between the two of us, one that is practically laced with our hate for each other.

This time, Amaya interjects, “Seriously, you guys need to be friends again, this is getting ridiculous.” She scolds, pointing at us like we’re two small children who are getting in trouble.

Which, sometimes it feels like that.

“Fine.” Matt huffs out, “I’ll drive and you’re all paying for my gas money.”

Everyone shares another collective groan of annoyance as we continue walking, “Matt — Josh’s is two blocks away!” Nick argues.

Matt argues back — though, I think Nick wins as they are quick to fall into another conversation. That’s when Amaya turns to me. “So, what are you wearing tomorrow night?” She asks.

“I have no idea.” I sigh, shrugging. “What about you?”

“I was thinking — maybe you’d let me borrow that red mini-skirt you have?” Amaya smiles, hoping I’ll agree.

“As long as you actually return it.”

She scoffs, clutching at her chest like she’s offended. “Y/n! What do you mean, I always return your clothes-!?” We both laugh at this before I agree — under the circumstance that she really does return it to me.

As we all continue walking along the tree-lined sidewalk, all conversing about various things on our walk back to our houses, I feel a pair of eyes on me; looking up, I notice it’s Matt’s.

Obviously, I shoot him a glare, and he looks away — not without rolling his eyes at me, of course.

Sometimes I wonder where we went wrong, and I really try to remember what made us hate each other. I’m always unsuccessful and end up blaming it on Matt’s sudden attitude and tough, grumpy guy-persona that began the second we hit high school.

Maybe it’s the teenage hormones, or just growing up and growing apart, but every now then I miss when we actually got along.

I never dwell on it long, but this time, I can’t help but wonder if he thinks the same.

a/n next chapter gets RIGHTTTT into the drama lol. also, please don’t hesitate to lmk if there is any spelling mistakes etc. thank you guys!

p.s likes & re-blogs are very much appreciated:)

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aflame4goinghome · 3 months

Text

Illicit Affairs

d.r.w x reader

chapter i

Summary: There’s no harm in having a one-night stand with a captivating musician at a jazz club the weekend before the fall semester, right? Usually that would be the case, but this time, it was very different. After finding out what he does for a living, your entire world is turned upside down, sending you head first into a relationship that even you might not be able to handle. Good luck.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! alcohol, swearing, flirting, SMUT: fingering, touching, sexually-implicit language, oral sex (m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex, hairpulling, semi-public sex, praise kink if you squint, hint of dom/sub dynamic

A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! We’re so excited to share this journey with you all, we can’t wait for you to find out what’s next. Enjoy! Love ya!

Listen to the official playlist on Spotify here!

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

“Is this it here?” you ask, looking over at Rose in your passenger seat as you slow down in front of the apartment building. She looks down at her phone to check the GPS then nods her head.

“Looks like it… I think I see a spot there in the front,” she answers. You quickly pull into the parking spot and then put the car in park. “Here we are!” you say, smiling at Rose before turning the car off, opening your door, and stepping out onto the street.

The neighborhood seemed quiet and calm, for it being so close to downtown Detroit. You feel pleasantly surprised as you take a look around. You walk around to the trunk of your car, pressing down the button and lifting the hatch. Your apartment came mostly furnished, so you and Rose luckily didn’t have to bring much besides your clothes and general necessities.

You’ve known your best friend Rose since the two of you were 11 years old, when your elementary schools merged to become one big middle school. You were placed in the same homeroom and you became fast friends, having a lot in common. You’ve been inseparable ever since, leaving your small town in northern Michigan to move to Detroit for college together.

Going into your third year at Wayne State University in midtown Detroit, you both found an apartment together off campus. The first day of class is in two days, giving you some time to get settled in at your new place before getting thrown into the busyness of the semester.

Grabbing your suitcases, you and Rose head up into your new apartment. You buzz the front door to the lobby, head inside, and gather your keys from the leasing office before taking the elevator up to the sixth floor. With an ecstatic smile on your face, you finally turn the key to open the front door and walk inside.

It’s a modest place, not too big or too small. There’s a large window in the living area, giving you a view of the rest of the neighborhood, since you were on the sixth floor. There are two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and an in-unit washer/dryer, which you’re eternally grateful for. This was the most room you’ve ever had to yourself since you spent your first two years of university living on campus in the dorms.

The two of you take a short look around the apartment together before going back downstairs to grab the rest of your things, then branch off into your own bedrooms to begin unpacking. The room already had a full-sized bed, a desk, and a tall dresser. There was a lot of closet space as well, which is a rare find in the city.

You start by first unpacking your trusty record player, which you bring everywhere you go. Gifted to you by your grandfather for your 16th birthday, you’ve had it in your bedroom and have been adding to your collection ever since. You set it up on the top of your dresser, connect the speakers, and then plug it into the outlet below. You then uncover your record crate and pull out your favorite album of the month: The Queen Is Dead by the Smiths. You carefully remove the record from its protective sleeve, place it on the turntable, bring the needle to the edge of the record, and put it down.

As the music begins to play softly through the speakers, you turn around to open up your suitcase and start unpacking your clothes. You spend about half an hour putting your clothes away in the drawers and hanging some items up in the closet. Then, you go to make your bed, breaking out the new sheets and comforter set you just bought. After making the bed, you attach a handful of small adhesive hooks along the top of the wall behind your bed and hang a strand of lights to add some warm lighting to your space.

Finally, you pick up your box full of books and bring it to the living room. The apartment came with a large wooden bookcase along one of the side walls, across from the couch and next to the cabinet that the TV rests on. You struggle to carry the box, practically slamming it onto the coffee table when you finally reach the living room.

Admittedly, you brought way too many books with you— that box felt like it weighed at least 50 pounds. But as a philosophy major, reading is pretty much all you do. Despite that, it’s just a hobby that you particularly enjoy. You start by taking out all of your philosophy books and placing them on the middle shelf– Plato’s The Republic, Epictetus’ Discourses, Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, and many more. Then, on the top shelf, some of your favorite reads– your Shakespeare Complete Collection, The Iliad, The Odyssey, The Great Gatsby, Little Women, Jane Eyre. You left the bottom shelf for whatever Rose might want to add, but you know that it will likely end up full of trinkets rather than books.

As you finish straightening up the living room, Rose walks out and sits down on the couch. “Ugh, moving sucks,” she laments, throwing her head back with a groan. You sit down next to her, throwing your arm around her and putting your head down on her shoulder.

“I know, right? At least we’re all finished now, though,” you say.

“I’m hungry,” she says, “Wanna go get some pizza?” Your lips quickly turn up into a smile.

“Is that even a question you have to ask?” you reply, standing up from the couch and offering her your hand to help her up. You both retreat to your separate rooms to get ready to go out before going to eat.

Detroit in the summer can sometimes be brutal in the daytime, but at night, it can get pretty cold. You decide on a black cropped v-neck top and throw on a flannel just in case you get cold, pairing it with a pair of ripped denim jeans and your Converse. You take the top half of your hair and pull it back, leaving some strands out in the front. You decide to put on a bit of base makeup, but nothing too detailed.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

The two of you agree to go to your favorite pizza place downtown to eat dinner, so you grab your car keys and head out the door. It’s only about a ten-minute drive, so you get there rather quickly. The sun is setting now since it’s a bit past 8 p.m., and the view as you drive toward the Detroit River is like no other. You finally arrive at the restaurant and sit down to eat, feeling practically starving at this point. This really was your absolute favorite restaurant in the city. To you, there was nothing quite like Detroit-style pizza. It felt like home to you, and was exactly the comfort meal you needed right now.

After a delicious and much-needed meal, you and Rose exit the pizza place, turning the corner and walking toward where you parked the car. It’s dark outside now, and as you walk to your car, you’re nearly blinded by the lights of what seems to be a neon sign. It read “Cliff Bell’s” and there was a standing sign on the ground that said “Runway Blues Combo, August 24th, 9-11:30 p.m.” You can hear the distant sound of a saxophone and other instruments from inside, filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. You check your watch, which reads 9:25 p.m.

“Come on, we have to go in!” you exclaim, pulling Rose by the arm to enter the bar. You show the bouncer your IDs then head over to the bar, waiting in the large crowd to order a drink. You look over at the band on the stage at the back of the bar, somewhat recognizing the song they were playing– Basie, you think. The bartender finally turns to you and asks for your order, so you order a vodka cranberry, wait for Rose to get her drink, and then you both go toward the stage to see and hear the band better without the big crowd.

As you get closer to the stage, your eyes immediately fall on the drummer. At first, it’s the audacity to wear sunglasses inside that draws your attention– rose-tinted lenses with a gold frame. Then, you admire his shoulder-length, dark curls, bouncing along to the rhythm of the song. Finally, you notice the way the muscles in his forearms contract as he plays, his veins tightening as he hits the snare drum during a particular drum fill. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to sit right above his elbow, showing just enough of his arms to leave you wanting more. He has most of the buttons undone, only leaving a few buttoned at the bottom, accentuating the dark hair on his chest.

For most of the set, his eyes are often closed– he seems to be concentrated on the music, like he’s feeling it flow through him and letting his soul take control. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t intrigue you, he’s ridiculously attractive and seems to be incredibly talented. At one point during the set, though, his eyes open and seem to be drawn right to you. You convince yourself that the eye contact was just a coincidence and that he was just finding a spot in the room to lock his eyes on, but when he suddenly gives a distinct wink in your direction, you know that it wasn’t just a coincidence. He saw you.

You try your best to fight off the blush that is starting to populate your cheeks, not wanting to show how much it affected you. Luckily, the room is darkly lit and crowded, so you hope that it will go unnoticed. You can’t deny the butterflies in your stomach, and how good it felt to know that his eyes were on you.

You excuse yourself, leaving Rose up front to save your spot as you go to get yourself another drink. Rose agreed to drive home, not feeling like drinking much tonight, so you decide to allow yourself to have some more to drink. After the bartender hands you your drink, you decide to stay there to finish it, hoping to get another soon after to add to your buzz and hopefully quell the nervous feelings you had inside over this mysterious drummer.

You’ve only had about half of your next drink when you hear someone on stage say that the band is going to take a brief intermission. Soon after, you’re taking a sip of your drink and suddenly feel a tall presence to your right at the bar. You look over to see that it’s none other than the band’s drummer. When he catches your eye, he smiles at you for a moment before turning back to the bartender.

“Hey, man. Can I get an old fashioned?” he asks, then looks back over to you. He looks down at your near-empty glass, then back up to meet your eyes as he says, “And another of whatever she’s having.” He flashes you another smile as he sees the shade of pink start to cover your cheeks, sitting down on the stool next to you. The bartender hands you both your drinks and then walks off to help other customers.

“Saw you there in the front. Did you enjoy the set?” he asks as he removes his sunglasses, places them on the bar, then takes a sip of his drink.

“Oh, it was great! It’s been a while since I’ve heard live jazz, you guys are phenomenal,” you answer, smiling shyly as you take a sip of your drink, looking up at him next to you. Now that you were up close and personal with him, you couldn’t help but notice how tall he was– at least two heads taller than you were, you thought. And a little older than you had placed him when you saw him on stage. From far away you had guessed maybe his early to mid-twenties, but up close you wagered closer to thirty.

“Glad to hear that. What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, leaning his arm on the bar as he turns his body toward you. “Y/N,” you answer, blushing slightly at the nickname.

“Y/N. Beautiful,” he says, his lips turning upward into a small smile. “Daniel.” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, and places a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“It’s not often that we see gorgeous girls like you in here, Y/N…” he says, leaning down a bit to talk directly into your ear. You assume that it’s due to the volume of the room, but then he takes you by surprise. “It’s even less often that I see a gorgeous girl undress me with her eyes while I’m on stage, like you just did back there.” You gulp quietly, completely taken aback by his direct words. He wasn’t wrong, you were attracted to him and certainly made no effort to hide it.

“Oh, I-” you start, but end up trailing off before he interrupts.

“Did you think you got away with it?” Daniel asks, smirking as his right hand reaches over to trail his fingers along your forearm, which is resting on the bar. His lips are practically touching your ear now, sending a shiver down your spine. “I noticed… Been thinkin’ about you ever since.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” you say, in almost a whisper, so much so that it was quite possible that he couldn’t hear it, but he did. You allow your hand to ghost softly along his wrist. Your fingers find the thin gold chain around his wrist as you look up to meet his gaze, his face is so close now that your noses are practically touching.

“Yeah?” he says. You take a deep breath, looking up at him as you watch him lick his lips. “Tell me what you were thinkin’ about…” You could already feel your arousal start to pool between your legs, the anticipation making it feel like your heart could stop at any moment. You swallow hard as you try to answer him.

“I was thinking about how strong your arms looked,” you answer, trying to feign confidence despite how intimidating his aura felt. “Watching you play the drums and seeing your muscles flexing like that through your shirt… It was really hot.” He smirks, clearly pleased by your answer, and lowers his lips to your ear once again. You can feel his breath on your ear as he continues.

“Was it?” he asks teasingly. You feel his lips finally connect with your skin as he places a soft, lingering kiss on your neck, right below your ear. “Tell me what else.” Your breath hitches as his lips descend slowly down your neck.

“I thought about what the rest of you might look like under that shirt,” you say, leaning your head back slightly as he sucks right on the sensitive part of your neck.

“All you had to do was ask, baby…” he says, kissing his way back up to your ear.

“What were you thinking about?” you ask, your confidence starting to shine through. He smiles as he whispers into your ear.

“Thought about how good your tits look in that tight shirt,” he says as he wraps his arms around your back, holding you close. “Thought about how I wanted you to only look at me and no one else…” He sucks at the skin below your ear, causing you to let out a quiet whimper only he can hear.

“I’m only looking at you, Daniel,” you say, turning to look at him. His lips turn upward into a wicked smile.

“You wanna go somewhere a bit quieter, baby?” he whispers, softly brushing his nose against yours, moving his lips even closer. Your breath feels like it’s been taken out of your chest, but you don’t have time to waste. You quickly nod and he takes your hand in his, guiding you toward the back hallway that leads backstage.

Once you round the corner of the hallway and are out of sight from the rest of the bar, Daniel stops you, pushing your back against the wall as his lips race to meet yours. He captures your lips in his as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His kiss is hurried and rough, something that you weren’t used to but definitely welcomed. The feeling of his body against yours was already making you lightheaded, and the alcohol in your system certainly wasn’t helping matters.

Keeping his lips on yours, he pulls your back off the wall, walking over to the one-stall bathroom only a few feet away. He removes one of his hands from you to quickly open the door, taking you both past it and letting it close behind him.

He backs you against the sink and your ass hits the hard porcelain, causing you to wince and drop your purse on the floor. He takes his lips off of you for a moment and says, “The lock on this door doesn’t work.” His lips travel along your jawline and then down your neck. He continues, “But I bet you don’t care about that, do you, sweetheart?”

“I-” you begin but are quickly cut off as he pulls your v-neck to the side, his teeth dragging against the skin over your collarbone. A gasp escapes you and you tangle your fingers in his curls, every touch of his lips to your skin sending electricity shooting through you.

“In fact, I’m sure you don’t,” he says against your skin, his breath warm and tinged with whiskey. His fingers slip under the strap of your bra, lifting the elastic up and letting it snap back against your skin. He flicks his gaze up to meet yours, finding you staring at him wide eyed, and he smirks as he tugs your bra down, lips dropping back down to suck an already deepening purple mark just below where your shirt lays.

You’re grateful for the sink behind you, holding up your body, as you feel how weak your knees are. You feel like a fawn who has found herself face to face with a hunter in the woods and every word he utters, every touch he places on you, adds to the growing arousal between your legs. You don’t find yourself speechless often, but now is one of those times.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Daniel asks, noticing how your knees wobbled just slightly, and lifts his head to look at you again, his hips pinning you firmly to the sink. You can feel him, long and hard, against your abdomen, the thought sending tingles through your body.

“Maybe you need a rest,” he smirks, stepping back from you and leaning against the wall next to the door. “On your knees.”

Your hands grip the sides of the sink as you stare at him with wide eyes, hesitating to let go for fear that your legs would give out from under you. Slowly, you lower yourself to the ground in front of him, letting your hands rest in your lap and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Daniel looks down at you intensely, his gaze feeling like fire, and brings his hand down to your face. He drags his thumb over your cheekbone, down the side of your face, along your jaw, and finally stops at your lips. Placing his thumb on your bottom lip, he gently pulls down, tilting his chin up slightly and looking down his nose at you.

“Open,” he growls, waiting a moment for you to do as he says. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry, and let your mouth fall open, much to Daniel’s pleasure. “Good girl.”

His thumb moves from your bottom lip to your tongue and you close your lips around it, your tongue swirling around it. He hums, pleased, and pulls his thumb from your mouth with a pop.

“Eager, are we?” Daniel teases, his hands working to undo his belt. He leaves it in his belt loops, the buckle hanging undone, and unbuttons his dress slacks. You watch as he drags his zipper down, now able to see his cock straining against the fabric of his black boxer briefs, and pushes his pants and underwear down enough to free himself. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him as your gaze travels from the dark, well-groomed patch of hair above his base, down his length to his tip.

“Fuck,” you whisper, barely audible, as your gaze returns to meet Daniel’s. He strokes himself a few times, smirking down at you. With his free hand, he reaches down and runs his thumb across your lower lip once more.

“You seem to know what to do, sweetheart,” Daniel says as you open for him again, sticking your tongue out flat. He nods approvingly and lowers his cock, dragging his tip along your tongue before he pushes himself into your mouth. A low groan rumbles from his chest as you close your lips around him. “Just like fucking velvet.”

He gathers your hair into a ponytail and allows you to set your own pace as he watches his cock slide past your lips. You take him all the way in, widening the back of your throat so you don’t gag, and pause when your lips reach his base. Flicking your eyes up, you find Daniel staring down at you slack-jawed, his pupils blending into his irises seamlessly. You slowly start to draw your head back, the tip of your tongue following the path of the vein that runs the length of his shaft. Your tongue swirls around his tip, drawing a soft moan from his lips as he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the wall.

“Fucking hell,” he groans as you pick up your pace, his grasp on your hair tightening as his hips buck involuntarily. You gag slightly as his tip hits the back of your throat and you flash your gaze up to him, moaning around him to entice him to keep going. Daniel’s eyes flash open and he looks down at you for confirmation, which you give to him in the form of a nod.

“You’re fucking dangerous,” he says, letting your hair fall from the makeshift ponytail he held and tangling his fingers in it instead. He starts to fuck your mouth, slowly at first to not overwhelm you. Rough, but considerate, you think as his tip knocks the back of your throat. Once he’s sure you’re adjusted he picks up his pace, his hand holding your head in place. He lets another low moan fill the room as you hum around him.

“Daniel?” you hear a man’s voice on the other side of the door ask. “Is that you? Are you good, dude?”

Daniel’s head rolls to glance at the door, still fucking your throat as he speaks up through the door. “I’m fine,” he says, attempting a voice that doesn’t sound like he’s getting his dick sucked in the bathroom.

“You sure? We’re back on stage at 10:30,” the stranger reminds him, attempting to push the door open. Daniel’s free arm darts across the door, blocking it from opening.

“I fucking know, Sam!” he yells, his fingers tightening in your hair as he drives his cock to the back of your throat harshly. You gag around him this time, tears springing to your eyes and threatening to fall down your cheeks. You hear the man scoff on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of his footsteps receding, and you look up at Daniel. He glances at his watch, seeing that it’s 10:20 pm, and then meets your gaze, winks, and says, “Let’s make this quick, sweetheart.”

He pulls your mouth off of him and offers you a hand to stand up, which you graciously take, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Your lips collide in a fervent kiss, tongues tangling and hands gripping at each others’ clothes. Daniel’s hands find the button on your jeans and swiftly pop it open, followed by your zipper. He spins you around quickly and tugs your jeans down over your ass, letting them rest around your thighs as he guides you forward to bend over the sink.

“My god, Y/N,” he murmurs, seeing the soaked state of your plum-colored panties. Daniel loops his fingers in the waistband and tugs them down, the sudden cool air mixed with unbridled anticipation making you shiver. His fingertips grip into your ass for a moment before he draws his hand back and delivers a solid smack to your outer thigh, drawing a whimper from your throat. He drops to his knees behind you and drags a finger through your center, watching as you shiver again. Placing his finger onto his tongue, he cleans your arousal off and hums.

“Sweeter than sin,” he muses, licking a stripe up your inner thigh and smirking to himself as your legs quivered in response. He grips your thighs, hard enough to leave bruises, and pushes them apart, dragging his tongue through your folds slowly. You gasp as he laps at your core, your fingers gripping the porcelain harshly, and you arch your back, pushing back against his face.

“Oh my god,” you moan, your head dropping as he moans into you, the vibration ripping right through you. Daniel pulls his face away and you whine desperately at the loss of contact, gasping a second later as he pushes two fingers into you and curls them. He sets a quick, consistent pace with his fingers, bringing you closer to the edge as you bite your lip to try to stifle your moans.

“I’m…I’m close,” you manage, his fingers working relentlessly at your sensitive spot.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. “Give it to me.”

He curls his fingers once more and your vision goes white, your moans filling the room as you cum on his fingers. Your legs shake as he works you through it, his motions slowing as your moans turn to ragged panting. He feels for his wallet in his pocket, but realizes he must have left it backstage, and he stands, placing a hand on your lower back.

“I don’t have a condom,” he confesses, watching you for a reaction. You lift your head and look at him through the mirror and shrug your shoulders.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD,” you say, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Are you clean?”

Daniel nods and smirks, stroking himself as his eyes traverse your body. You let your head fall again, arch your back, and say, “What are you waiting for then?”

“Careful what you wish for, darling,” he says, dragging his cock through your wetness and pushing into you until your bodies are flush. You gasp as you feel him brush your cervix and you feel yourself tighten around him. He groans and grips your waist, your pussy squeezing his cock as you adjust to his size. “Fuck, and I thought your mouth felt like heaven.”

He pulls back and snaps his hips forward, driving you into the sink as you push your ass back against him. Obscenities intertwined with the other’s name fall from both of your lips as he fucks you.

Daniel reaches up with one hand and collects your hair into a ponytail again, wrapping your tresses around his hand and tugging your head back. Your eyes meet in the mirror, a smirk touching his lips as he says, “Want you to watch me fuck you, baby.”

You brace yourself on the sink and cry out quietly, the intense arch in your back allowing him to drive his cock deeper. His hand on your waist lifts and comes down on your ass with a loud crack and you whimper, your sounds spurring him on. You can feel your second orgasm coming on as you watch yourself in the mirror, mouth agape as lewd sounds tumble out of you.

“Daniel…” you moan, looking up at him through the mirror. He looks like a god, his lips parted and his curls falling into his eyes as he snaps his hips forward again. “I’m…fuck,” you pant out, your muscles squeezing around him as you fall apart around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, his fingers kneading into your ass. “Cum on my cock, just like that.”

Your muscles squeeze around him one final time as he pulls out almost all the way, groaning as he slams into you and spills his own release. You feel his cock twitch inside of you and his breath on your back as he leans over you, his orgasm wracking his body. He slides out of you after a moment and tucks himself back into his pants before he cleans you up the best he can with some toilet paper.

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly shy as if you hadn’t let a man you just met fuck you in a bathroom, and you tug your underwear and jeans back up. He smiles at your sudden bashfulness and nods, watching you pick your purse up from where it had fallen.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he says with a wink. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours in a much more tender fashion than he had earlier. “Stay for another set?”

Your face flushes as you look up at him, studying his face for a moment, your eyes focusing on the shape of his nose. As your eyes move to study his lips, you realize he’s asking you a question and you’re missing it. You shake away the fog clouding your thoughts and focus.

“Oh, um,” you say as you pull your phone out of your purse and see about 20 texts and 2 missed calls from Rose, probably in a full-on panic now that you’ve been gone and ignoring her texts. “Shit, I’m in trouble. Gotta run, see you around maybe!”

You rush out the door, leaving him by himself, and stand up on your toes to see over the crowd. You spot Rose back by the door and push through the crowd as quickly as you can, putting your arm up and waving her down.

“Oh my god, where the fuck have you been?” she scolds you as you approach her. You grab her wrist and pull her closer so you can talk in her ear.

“We have to go,” you say, pulling her behind you towards the door.

“Wait wait, what?” She asks as she resists you, pulling you to stop. “What the fuck happened?”

“Oh my god,” you say, drawing out the last word, tugging her along. “I’ll tell you while we walk.”

She relents and follows after you, telling the bouncers to have a good night. She catches up to you and links your arms as you walk back towards where the car is parked. Once you were far enough away, you burst into a giddy giggling fit and lean against a light post to catch your breath. Rose moves to the edge of the sidewalk and folds her arms over her chest, watching you with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, spill. What did I miss,” she prods, nudging your foot with hers. Your head falls back against the light post gently and you turn your head to look at her.

“You know the drummer?” You ask, giggling again. Rose nods and tilts her head to the side, waiting for you to continue. “We just fucked in the bathroom.”

You cover your mouth dramatically after you say it and smile under your hands. Her mouth falls open and she grabs your wrist, pulling you off the post to start walking again.

“Oh my god, he was hot, Y/N,” she says, tugging you along. You catch up with her as you’re turning the corner to the car and nod.

“Mhm, I know,” you say, satisfaction dripping from your voice. You climb into the passenger seat and watch Rose walk around to the driver’s side. She climbs in and starts the car up, pulling onto the street and driving back towards your apartment. “Oh my god and he was good,” you add, tossing your head back against the headrest.

Rose shakes her head and laughs, “You’re fucking insane, you know?”

You nod dramatically and close your eyes as Rose rounds the corner to your street, pulling into the apartment lot and throwing the car into park. You climb out and start towards the building, slowing down so Rose can catch up. You walk into the building together and ride the elevator up to your floor.

“I thought the piano guy was hot,” she confesses, turning to look at you as you lean against the elevator wall. This sends you into another laughing fit.

“He almost walked in on us!” You shout, slapping Rose’s arm as you remember Danny blocking the door while you were on your knees.

“No way!” She clings to you and laughs with you. You both stumble out of the elevator and up to your door, waiting as Rose unlocks it and falling inside as the door opens.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

On Monday morning you walk out of your first class of the semester, Philosophy of Sex and Gender, and glance down at your watch. With about a half hour until your Art History class, you decide to grab a quick snack at the cafe. You tug your sweatshirt off, the late morning sun starting to warm up the day, and plop yourself into a puffy leather chair near the window to people-watch as you snack on the trail mix you bought.

As you fiddle with a loose string hanging from one of the rips in your jeans, your mind comes alive as you zone out, bringing you back to Saturday night. The whole day passes through your memory like a timelapse, slowing when you tug Rose into the bar with you. Daniel’s figure behind the drums pops into your head and you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks as you see the two of you at the bar, as if you’re watching the interaction from a different perspective. You feel your heart race as you think about the bruises on your thighs from his grip, almost able to imagine the feeling of his hands on you.

As you snap yourself out of it, not wanting to spend the rest of your day helplessly worked up, you glance at your watch. You flinch at the 10:55 am staring back at you, realizing you only had five minutes to book it across the quad. Grabbing your bag from where it rests against your chair, you race out the door to get to the building on the other side of campus.

You make it inside, out of breath and about two minutes late, and slip into the lecture hall, spotting the professor standing with his back to you as he writes on the chalkboard. Scanning the room for a decent seat, you take note of the way his dark curls are pulled back into a low ponytail and the way he had rolled the sleeves of his black dress shirt. You feel a pang of uneasiness as you realize how familiar he looks from the back.

You spot a seat on the aisle in the third row, making the decision that it’s yours now, but as you start to step forward he turns around to look at something on his desk and you freeze in your place. Not sure you’re seeing things correctly, you duck into a seat towards the back. He turns back to the chalkboard, underlining a date before setting the chalk down and turning to face the class. Fuck, you think.

“Hey guys, I’m Dr. Wagner,” Daniel says, clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “We’re gonna get started here.”

Hearing his voice confirms it and you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening your chat with Rose and furiously typing. You know she’s in an acting lab so she won’t answer right away, but you need to tell someone.

To: Rose🌹

DUDE

To: Rose🌹

MY FUCKING ART HISTORY PROF IS THE DRUMMER FROM THE BAR

You’re not sure whether you want to get up and leave or just try to avoid his eyes. Suddenly you realize that Daniel is the type of professor who paces when he talks as he starts to walk up the aisle you’re sitting on. Every few steps he stops to glance up at the bullet points he had written on the board, his eyes never landing on any one person as he spoke.

“So September 18th is when your first paper is due,” Daniel says, strolling up the aisle. As he lifts his eyes from the floor to glance back at the board, his gaze passes over you and he does a subtle double take, meeting your eyes. “Um,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “Oh, right. And your first exam is uh…is the week after.”

Your cheeks flush when you see it in his eyes that he recognizes you and you break the shared moment, dropping your eyes back to your phone screen to type out another text.

To: Rose🌹

He just fucking saw me. What do I DO???

You shove your phone back into your pocket as Daniel continues rattling off dates of exams and papers, answering questions as they pop up from the class. You keep your eyes trained on the floor, almost afraid to look up and find him staring at you again.

“Okay, and last but not least, your final is on December 5th,” he says, wrapping up the hour-long lecture ten minutes early. “Anyways, welcome back guys. Go on, get outta here.”

Daniel waves his hand dismissively and picks up the eraser from the tray on the chalkboard, starting to clean the markings off of it. You practically leap out of your seat to make a beeline for the door, fearing you’d fall into a million pieces if you stayed a second longer.

“Oh, and uh,” he says as he turns to look at the class list to find your name, even though he already knows who you are, halting you just before you step into the hallway. “Y/N, can you hang back for a sec?”

Your mouth goes dry as you turn around, staring at him from the doorway. Daniel stares back at you, not turning away until you take a step back into the room. As you slowly make your way toward the front of the room, he turns back to the board, lifting a spray bottle from the floor and spraying water on a rag. You reach the front row of the class and lean your hip against the side of the aisle seat, watching his muscles shift beneath the black fabric as he wipes the board down.

“Didn’t think ‘see you around maybe’ meant like this,” he says as he drapes the rag over the bottle on the floor and turns to the desk, refusing to meet your eyes. You trade leaning against the seat for sitting down in it, fearful that your legs might give out from under you, and stare up at him, your eyes wide and your lips parted as you search your brain for something to say.

“I’m not su-” you trail off as he flashes you a stern look.

“You’re not sure what I mean?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you and leaning on the corner of the desk before continuing, “I think you are, sweetheart.” You look over both shoulders, checking for any lingering students.

“It’s not like I knew, professor,” you challenge, your voice hushed despite being the only two people in the room, and cross your legs. Your hands rest in your lap and you turn your nervous energy to the loose string on your jeans again.

“Don’t do that,” Daniel says, his gaze boring straight through you.

A smirk finds its way to your lips and your hands fall still in your lap as you cock your head to the side, feigning innocence, “Don’t do what?”

He pushes himself off the desk and steps down off the small stage, stopping in front of you and bracing himself on the wooden armrests as he leans down over you. Your head spins as you look up at him, his cologne invading your senses and making it difficult to think.

“That innocent ‘professor’ bit,” He whispers as he leans in closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear and sending a chill down your spine. You shiver as his lips connect with your neck, his bangs brushing your shoulder lightly. Just as soon as the contact is made it’s gone as he lifts his head to look at you, studying the shade of pink that creeps up your neck. You swallow hard and your lips part as if to say something, but Daniel strokes a thumb along your jaw, scrambling your thoughts. He clicks his tongue and blows a laugh through his nose, “What, suddenly speechless?”

He pushes himself up and smooths his hands over his slacks before stepping back up onto the stage and taking a seat behind the desk. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and shake your head.

“No,” you say simply. “Is sir better?”

A smirk forms on his lips and he nods his head, satisfied with your answer. He pushes a pile of papers together and taps them on the desk to align them before sliding them into a pocket of his leather bag.

You remain in your seat, watching as he organizes some things in his bag, and you feel your phone vibrate three times in your pocket, the buzz pattern you’d given Rose. Tugging it free, you glance at the screen and, sure enough, see a text from your best friend waiting for you.

From: Rose🌹

You’re fucking joking.

Daniel clears his throat and looks at you expectantly, silently demanding your attention back. You tuck your phone back into your pocket and return your eyes to him.

“You know you could have mentioned this,” you say, having had a moment to collect your thoughts. He scoffs and shoots you an incredulous look, folding his hands on his desk.

“Sorry, it didn’t really cross my mind to talk about my day job while I was fucking you,” he spits out, standing and collecting his things.

“I need to go meet with a colleague briefly,” he explains, leaning against the side of the desk. “I think we should talk about this privately. Go wait outside of my office.”

You sit up straight and take a breath, parting your lips to protest, but he holds up a hand to stop you. Shrinking back into your seat, you watch him step down and stop when he stands next to you. With a finger under your chin, he pulls up gently, forcing you to look up at him.

“Be a good girl,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Room 321.”

Daniel lets go of your face, turns up the aisle, and walks into the building’s lobby, leaving you alone in the room as you’d left him at the bar. You sit silently for a few minutes, debating your next move, and finally decide to go, feeling certain he wouldn’t be letting this go. You gather your belongings and make your way toward the hall, unsure of what awaits you when he gets back.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

chapter ii

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fanofspooky · 1 year

Text

365 horror movies day 69 (nice):

You’re Next

“Felix, I knew you were into some sketchy shit!”

#horror #horror movies #horror movie #title card #movie title #you’re next #you’re next movie #you’re next 2011 #gif #gifs #horror gif #my gif post #my gif #horror gifs #2010s movie #2010s horror #2010s horror movie #2010s horror movies

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garfunklefield · 3 months

Note

May I request a fanfiction of Gojo getting pegged? Maybe? Mayhaps? Please?

Angel Food Cake and Cream (pegging series 1)

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/satoru gojo Warnings: fingering, fem!dom, gojo is a sub, submissive whimpering ya'll, pegging, bratty gojo, he nuts everywhere, degradation, hair pulling, controlled orgasm Word count: 2011 words DESC: You want to spice things up in the bedroom and Satoru "I'll try anything once" Gojo obliges.

This is for you anon! If you want something please request I’m running out of ideas!! And yes I’m making this a series who should get pegged next?? Nanami?!

“Seriously? You’d let me peg you?” You raised an eyebrow at the man standing before you. You never thought in a million years your “straighter than straight” (but you’ve seen the way he stares at Suguru’s ass) boyfriend would ever accept getting pegged. Now not to say that pegging made anyone gay, but you knew how sensitive masculinity was for certain guys.

Satoru was a hard one to gauge. Some things he was completely fine with, were skirts and nail polish. But then other things would dramatically hurt his masculine ego, like wearing an apron or being the little spoon. So when you suggested pegging and he accepted quickly, you were confused but delighted.

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning back to rifle through his closet of expensive clothes, “I’ll even take you to go get me a strap-on and everything.”

Was he seriously okay with buying the strap-on? Hey you weren’t complaining. You were one to always try anything even if it didn’t pan out how you wanted and you knew Satoru was about the same. But there was something a little… suspicious about how quickly he agreed. I mean, your first threesome with Suguru had to take some convincing. This, however, took only the statement.

If you had asked him, Gojo would shake his head and proudly state, “No! I’ve never done butt stuff!” And then wink. Now you were starting to think he was either aching to try it… or he has his collection of anal beads.

“Well, if you’re paying we can go now,” you suggested, standing up and motioning for the door.

The corner of your boyfriend's mouth twitched in a subtle way that he hoped to god you didn’t notice. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret reader, the most powerful Jujutsu sorcerer had been yearning to be stuffed by your silicone cock for months now. God the feeling of you degrading and railing him at the same time turned him on so much, but he was a bit ashamed. It’s okay if you like butt stuff, that’s not the issue. Satoru was ashamed he had claimed so proudly he wasn’t into it, that to retract the statement would cause him a lot of teasing and bullying (from you).

But now he couldn’t handle waiting any longer. He lay with his legs spread and his ass wiggling in the air as you rummaged around on the side table beside his bed for some lube.

“Hurry upppp,” he groaned, resting his head against the mattress with a pout, “I’m getting flaccid.”

You shot your blue-eyed fiend a look and lightly flicked the side of his hip, eliciting a shiver from the male, “Be patient. It’s not my fault your side table is stuffed with fucking candy wrap- ah-ha!” In your hand was now a small container of… cherry flavored lube.

“Satoru,” you frowned, turning the bottle over in your hands to read the backlist of ingredients, “I thought you said you bought water-based lube.”

“It is water-based,” he lifted his head up to make eye contact, “...I think.”

“Okay whatever, it’s your asshole, not mine,” you shrugged, popping open the cap open. The pink-tinted liquid globbed onto your hand and with a toss you flung it to the side of the bed to be used later.

Without saying anything else you slicked your index and middle finger, coating each section of skin in the cherry-smelling lubrication. Your boyfriend continued to lay patiently, although from this angle you could see his cock twitching eagerly. Even just the thought of your fingers massaging his prostate made his backside covered in goosebumps.

One of your delicate hands rested against his hip, giving him the signal you were about to start. He turned his head to the side of the mattresses to watch you. A small smile played on his lips as you donned a very concentrated expression. Remember, you were still convinced he didn’t even know what his asshole looked like, so you wanted to make this as painless as possible.

“I’m gonna start, kay?” You whispered, pressing the tip of your finger to his asshole. Satoru bit his lip and nodded a few times, instinctively grabbing onto the bedsheets. He couldn’t believe it was so close to happening.

You slowly began to push inwards, taking your time to let his plush walls adjust to the foreign feeling of a finger. What you didn’t notice from being so focused on making sure he wasn’t hurting, was that he was completely rock hard. Just from one finger? It's kind of pathetic if you ask me.

Satoru let out a noise that could have been from pain or pleasure and you instantly stopped, looking down to see if he was okay, “Satoru…?”

“Mm…” His eyelids fluttered close, “Keep going. Add another one, actually,” he mused, pressing his lips together in a fine line, “I can take more.”

You raised an eyebrow and nodded. Now at this point you had seen his boner and come to the conclusion he liked it a lot more than he’d ever admit. Maybe you could rail the truth out of him? Oh… that thought increased your arousal. You didn’t need to get off this time if it meant giving him pleasure. You were okay with only pleasing him because it made you feel good.

Without another word you proceeded to stick another finger in, without as much care to being as gentle as before. Satoru’s breathing hitched for a moment and he let out a long groan, followed by something muttered under his breath.

“Two fingers and you’re already throbbing, huh?” You teased quietly, beginning to massage around his prostate.

“H…hey,” he warned, biting down on his bottom lip again. Doing it himself was one thing but to have someone else provide him with this stimulating pleasure was sending shockwaves through his cock. It twitched again, begging to be stroked.

One of his hands trailed from the bedsheets to his cock, covering the head and then stroking down the side. Noticing how he was already touching himself, you grinned and began to spread apart your fingers. You had seen it done in a video or two from a health website and who were you to say no to a health and sex expert?

“F-fuck,” Gojo breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly as he embraced the new sensation. God, it felt so good to be stretched out like a piece of meat. It felt so good to be finger fucked by the person he loved most in the world. Sure, it would feel good regardless of who was fingering him, but the fact that it was you turned him on even more.

His pale hand curled around the base of his cock and stroked upwards, keeping the pace slow. He didn’t want to cum yet. He didn’t want to cum at all. If Satoru could have stayed in this middle ground of teasing pleasure forever he wouldn’t be able to complain.

But as quick as his arousal began, you slowly pulled your fingers out of his asshole. Your boyfriend frowned and opened his eyes, releasing his cock from his grip, “I didn’t say you could stop.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to use the eight-inch dildo you insisted on buying me?” You retorted back, watching his expression shift from annoyed to embarrassed.

“Fine,” he pouted, turning back to rest his head against the soft mattress.

It only took you a couple of minutes to put on the strap-on and situate the harness to your form. The dildo fit perfectly inside like a glove and within seconds it was lubed and ready to go. Satoru was throbbing from even just seeing you in that get-up. The thought of you pushing it inside of him was going to make him cum from anticipation. Any second now he was going to be stuffed full of your fake cock. And god he couldn’t wait.

“Okay…” You put both hands on either of his hips to align your dildo with his entrance, “On the count of th-”

Gojo groaned loudly, “Just put it in.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you frowned and thrusted inwards. Satoru gasped at the sudden sensation and before he could have time to adjust you continued to thrust. If he was going to be a brat you were going to treat him like a brat, “Aww, is someone getting too much?” You teased, trailing one hand to his ass cheek and squeezing it in the way that he had done to you so many times in the past.

“I…ha-ah f-fuck pl…please,” Your boyfriend stuttered out between your quick thrusts, burying his face down into the bed, “Ah…a-” And then he began to … whimper.

God this was so much better than fucking him until he confessed. This was fucking the truth out of him. Satoru Gojo couldn’t deny the fact he was lusting after being railed because his whimpers and whining proved otherwise. He threw his head back and gasped, one of his arms clawing down into the mattress for some kind of stability.

“You’re so pathetic. You just wanted my big cock, huh?” You cooed, slapping the side of his ass cheek with more force.

“A-ah y..yes! I-I mm…” He cried out, barely able to contain his arousal. His cock was begging to be stroked but from the force of your thrusts, he couldn't bring himself to reach down and touch himself. So he lay in blissful agony as his prostate was overstimulated. It was better than any kind of fucking Satoru could do to himself. It was better than any anal wand, anal bead, or anal plug. This was truly what he needed.

“You’re going to cum,” you suddenly demanded, leaning forward and grabbing a fist full of his hair. You yanked it backward and watched as Satoru whined from pleasure.

“Y-yes…” Was all he managed to spit out in between his whining and crying for more. The sensation had already been building in his stomach from the moment you forced your dildo inside his asshole. It was throbbing deep in his length and shooting throughout the lower half of his body. It was so painful… but god was it amazing.

“When I tell you to, you’re gonna cum. Kay?” You spoke, running your hand through the tuft of hair to grab it forcibly from his scalp, “Understood?”

Gojo nodded. You didn’t have to tell him twice. The mere action of holding back his orgasm was getting painful so he was just yearning to release himself all over his mattress, which he would clean up later. You let go of his hair and hooked your hand behind each hip, slamming your dildo deep into his hole, just tickling the base of his prostate.

He let out another cry, spit, and drool forming at the bottom of his lip and dribbling down to his chin. Holding back this orgasm was so painful, that Satoru could barely contain himself anymore that he began to beg mindlessly. Anything and every kind of begging you could think of that pathetic white-haired slut was whimpering out. Just to get a taste of the building orgasm in his gut.

“Cum,” you uttered those godforsaken words and he didn’t have to be told twice. Like from a Yaoi manga, Satoru gasped and loudly sobbed out. His cock spasmed out an intense orgasm, convulsing out thick spurts of cum all onto his mattress. Each time he thought he was done another wave hit him and he cried out again, shooting out another round of cum as you kept fucking him.

Finally, you slowly came to a stop, patting one of his hips to signal you were done. Your boyfriend puffed out a loud breath and fell against the mattress once you pulled out. His body shivered and he gave you a soft look, staring through a row of thick white eyelashes. The only thing he said before he passed out in a pool of his own cum was a simple sentence.

“I think I’m bisexual.”

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stars-interlude · 3 months

Text

Poison!

a/n: I know i said a gorou fic was gonna be next but trust its in progress 🙏🏾🙏🏾 ALSO I PUT MY WHOLE HEART INTO THIS ESPECIALLY THAT TEXTING PART 😵 ALSO TYSMMM FOR THE NOTES ON THE KAZUHA FICC I rlly never thought that my work would reach that many people 😭😭 again tysm!!!

★Pairings: Leadsinger!Xiao x Fem!reader

★tags/warnings: Band!AU NSFW not proofread! smoking weed, high sex

synopsis; After your best friend Hu tao invites you to her bands concert for the first time you see her members and u see the lead singer afterwards your talking to Hu tao and he comes up to you and invites you to his place..

[💿] now playing-

You open your eyes to see the ceiling of your dimly lit room. you sluggishly reach for your phone to see a notification from “Hu tao 🥁‼️‼️” it was something about going to a concert “i’m way too tired for this..” you mumbled. You put down your phone just to hear a knock at your door. you get up to see who it was and speak of the devil it was the one and only Hu tao “Hii.. you look like a mess if i’ve ever seen one” “Hello, how are you would’ve been just a bit better” you interject “Anyway did you see my text? It was about my bands concert.” you recall seeing her text but not really processing it “uh yea I saw it” “ well you’re coming right why aren’t you trying to plan an outfit its only in a few hours?” Your eyes widen hours you literally just woke up “hours? i got up a few minutes ago” “it’s 6pm…” Hu tao says as she walks in uninvited “i had a lot of things to do last night” you argued as you followed her. Hu tao gets to your bedroom at starts going through your closet throwing out things she thought fit the theme tonight. “no way this dress will look great on you” she says as she holds up a dark red dress. “Not bad ‘Tao I’ll wear it.”

When you get to the place where the “small concert” was you see a lot of people around your friend band while they played. As you squeezed though the crowd to get a better look you can see all the members which you’ve been introduced to some but you see the lead singer and surprisingly he’s really attractive, as your looking he looks back at you and of course you can feel your face getting hot and he makes it no better with that smirk of his face. For the rest of the few songs they played you avoided eye contact with him and just took photos and videos of the band to show to Hu tao later

Just as most people were leaving you see Hu tao running up to you “Hi, how did we do?!” “You guys did great you wanna see the photos I took while you guys played?” You can basically see the stars pop in her eyes “Of course I do, you know who you’re talking to right???” you pull out your phone to show her “we all look soo cool but why didn’t you take any pictures of Xiao?” “who’s Xiao?” you respond you’ve heard many things about Xiao but there was no way he was the lead singer “what photos of me..” you and Hu tao turn around to see just the slightly taller male.

"Hey, look who it is the man himself Xiao" Hu tao announced to you. Xiao smirked “Hey.. you’re that girl I saw when i was on stage. No photos of me? hm” He said as he moved closer to your face “uh well sorry you just weren’t my main focus” you shrugged “you were definitely mine..” Xiao muttered to himself “well here” Xiao says as he hands you a small piece of paper. Then he walked away “What’s that?” Hu tao questions “I don’t even know lemme look” you opened the paper to see a phone number with an address, you felt your face get hot “it’s nothing, nothing you need to worry about” you quickly slipped it into the pocket of a jacket you wore with the dress and you started to walk out with Hu tao

“you better not hook up with him..” Hu tao looks at you “who said I was?” you replied back “I’m just looking out for you” she says as she drops you off at your place “good night ‘Tao” you say as you open and walk into your apartment

As you walk in your place you think about what she said “not to hook up with Xiao..” you pull out your phone and begin to text him

11:37 Pm

[name] - Hey it’s Hu tao’s friend from the concert

Xiao- Well u coming to my place?

[name] - i’ll be there in a few

Xiao- kk see u

You couldn’t believe what you were getting your self into but before you could process it you were already out the door. When you finally get to his place you knocked on his door and when he opened it the smell of weed made your head go blank “heyy I didn’t think you’d actually come” Xiao said fumbling on his words. You got to his room and sat on his bed his room was surprisingly clean you thought as you saw Xiao pull something out of a jar that was in a box. It was a blunt he lit it and took a long drag “you don’t mind do you?” he looked at you “no not really..” “come here cute thing” He said as he patted his thigh implying that he wanted you to sit there. You walked over and sat

He started to kiss your neck leaving marks all over until he got to your lips “you wanna take a drag?” before he could say anything else you took the blunt and took said drag afterwards you started to cough “slow down cutie little by little” Xiao said as he finally kissed your lips. He pulled away and picked you up blunt in mouth and put you on his bed you took the blunt and took another puff and you sat up to kiss Xiao as you two kissed you could feel his hands unzipping the dress you had on. when you pulled away there was a line of spit still connecting the two of you “Xiao.. can we do it now?” He looked at you and chuckled “do what? use your words” you whined it was embarrassing asking someone for sex “fuck me Xiao..” Xiao smiled and gave you a peck on the lips just before he put out the blunt that the two of you were smoking “poor baby so needy” the two of you started to get undressed and Xiao kissed up and down your body when he got to your chest he pinched and pulled your nipples

When he felt like he’s teased you enough he took his cock out and started rubbing it against you folds “oh fuck..” He hissed in pleasure and then he suddenly thrusted in “ngh~ more please” after you said that he went faster and way deeper than you’ve expected from a guy in a band. The room full of the smell of weed and sex had you going crazy “Xiao gonna cum..” you basically squealed. your back arched off the bed it felt like you were gonna pass out then Xiao leaned down and whispered “that’s all you got, there’s a lot more to cum come”

you could tell that this will be a long night..

extra:

when you woke up after Xiao fucked your brains out you got a bunch of text from Hu tao about where you were and you knew that it would be hard to explain it to her..

a/n pt2: xiao seems a lot bolder than i expected to write him.. well I hope you guys enjoyed that it took mad long to write 😭😭

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #subspace #genshin x reader smut #xiao x reader #xiao smut #hu tao #band!au #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #starsinterlude #Spotify #y2k

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rennsugrpop · 10 months

Text

i never, never want to go home

MINGI X READER

Summary: he was there one second, then he wasn’t. he was sweet like caramel coffee on cold nights but the next time you see him, he was the cold night, freezing and unforgiving. was he serious about you? or were you just another college fling?

Bags. Boxes. packaging tape. flight tickets.

Bags. what’s for dinner? packaging tape. Bubble wraps.

Boxes. I think I need more boxes.

One more exam then i finish college and go back home next week.

One more paper…. Then boxes, bags, packaging tape…

That’s all you could think about all month. Brain fogged up with worries and responsibilities, anxiety and melancholy at the same time. Your three years worth of university life is going to be over soon. You can’t wait. Can’t wait to finish this degree and start a new chapter. but of course there’s the part of melancholy. The part where you think you’re going to miss this so much. The amazing friends, the parties, the fun, the drama, the late night adventures, the unlimited booze on weekends, all of it. This was the big city experience you always wanted. This was the unreachable sky you once dreamed of as a kid from a small town. “oh I’ll definitely find my first love in college and I’d marry him! You’ll see!” you were 8 back then. Childhood was so precious. You crave for the youth they show on the TV having you wish for the same, until it actually comes and passes by in a blink. But you don��t have time to think about that. You still have one exams left. Finals, sadness, and moving out, these thoughts were practically plaguing your brain.

And then there was him.

He was there one second, then he wasn’t. he was sweet like caramel coffee on cold nights but the next time you see him, he was the cold night, freezing and unforgiving. As hard as it was to understand him, he was never as hard on you as he was on others. No really, when you had first met him along with a group of art major students in the middle of your second year, he had seemed pretty chill. They all had a English history class with your professor who had been your course supervisor. You still remember how your supervisor had asked you to “please help these art kids out with the history” as she promised you help with your research paper in return, how could you say no? as a literature student, basic English history was easy for you, of course you go ahead with it. and you were later glad that you did. Because since that day, you had never once been separated from this group of art students who knew exactly how to live life. they had adopted you basically, and you had loved every second of it. Wooyoung was the one with the sudden late night plans, San being the one who made these plans legal and safe. Seonghwa always got the booze, Hongjoong always brought at least 3 orders of coffee to class, Yunho was the designated one with a car and daddy’s money. Jongho and Yeosang were the ones who joined only when they needed free booze, or a fun time at the end of every semester.

And then there was him. Song Mingi.

He had been the one who knew Yunho the longest. So for you to have been good friends with Yunho only meant he would always be around. And he was. Whether it’s the tutoring, the parties, the usual hangouts at the philosophy building’s terrace, coffee runs. As far back as you try to think about your time with all of them, he had been in even the farthest memories. When San first suggested you should hangout with them, he had agreed with everyone. When Wooyoung invited you to the party at his and San’s place he had been the one who offered to pick you up along with Yunho. When you had to do a grocery run at 9pm and you were worried the shops would be closed, he had been the one to tag along so you wouldn’t be alone. So when you had been stuck alone at the library studying for mid semesters while it was raining heavily outside, you pretended not to care about the loud thundering that came with it. Every flash of thunder had you nearing to tears, but you denied to show it. what’s worse is that you had left your earphones with Yunho the other day, so ignoring the loud sounds was your only way out. Out of all the things you had expected to happen, a mingi struggling with an almost broken umbrella at the library door was not one. He had acted like he just happened to need a book this late from the library. And he just happened to bring his headphones with him.

“but it’s raining so hard. No way they’re waterproof?”

“maybe they are? You wanna check if they’re still working?”

At that moment, he had looked so dreamy. Short wet dirty blond hair sticking up as he runs his hand through it in hopes of fixing it, half wet jacket that he took off and placed on the back of his chair to let it dry, now leaving him in a black tee, looking down at you with the softest eyes, holding up the headphones.

Another loud flash.

You body jerked at the sound and he had immediately grabbed your hand. You hate thunder. You hate it so much. you’re holding onto something. Oh shit it’s mingi. But he doesn’t seem to mind? He’s now making you wear the headphones, plugging them to his own phone. The Smiths started playing. He’s a Smiths fan? Your brain is now fogging up with thoughts of him and only him, the man in front of you giving you the softest smile you’ve ever seen.

As the rain slows down and eventually turns to a low drizzle, you two decide to share the umbrella as he drops you off to your building.

“mingi, what about the book you needed at the library?” it had completely slipped your mind that his real motive to be there was this book he said he needed. “oh don’t worry, I’ll get it later” he still has that stupid smile.

“but you said-“ “do me a favor y/n, keep the headphones with you in case it rains again tonight.”

Oh he looks so beautiful. This moment. This exact moment when you look up at him, he feels safer than a warm blanket. But wait, how does he know that. You may have stared at him for a good minute cause as soon as you open your mouth to ask what he meant, he hits you with the “I’ll see you later, yeah?” and jogs off.

One new message

Yunho: shit I just found your earphones in my bag.

Yunho: U alright? It rained pretty bad..

The next day as Yunho walks up to you right before to return your earphones, he stares at the headphones on your neck.

“hey where’d you get those from? Mingi has the same pair! That’s weird because I saw him run off outside with them last night in the rain and he didn’t even tell me where he’s going…..” he tilts his head now as if he’s arranging all this info in his brain because the pieces aren’t fitting together.

“oh yeah he came to the library last night for something, let me borrow them. Dude where’d he get em from cause it’s noise cancelling, I need a pair hello??”

You joke around but Yunho has a full question mark on his face. Then it looks like a light bulb went off over his head.

“SO THAT’S WHY HE RAN OFF LAST NIGHT!”

“what?”

“y/n. hear me out. When it started thundering, I remember myself saying, “oh it’s pretty bad today. Hope y/n will be fine” he asked me what I meant by that and I mentioned you not liking thunder and it looked like his brain went static for 2 seconds and then he immediately bolted with an umbrella and these headphones in his hands.”

He ran in the rain for you.

It hadn’t even occurred to you yet. He had ran in the rain for you all the way to the library.

You had thought it would be awkward now. But it wasn’t. because he never implied anything. You had returned his headphones and you went back to being friends. But he was always extra attentive of you. a little more noticing, little more caring that he is to others. And by the end of the year he would be the one you hung out with the most. Now it was you and mingi who were the pair. If they looked for mingi they knew they had to call you. if you’re invited at a party, of course mingi’s the one picking you up. he’s doing a coffee run? you’re right behind him. Though as friendly and platonic as it seemed, it was never just that. There had always been something more. Him holding your hand while walking you back to your place. Laying your head on his shoulder during your movie marathons with everyone, wearing each others clothes to classes or outside without a care in the world because it doesn’t matter who thinks what. You didn’t care. He was just always …. there. Unmoving. unwavering. It was just around halfway through the last (third) year where you had wanted a little more.

You had been acting like a couple, in public and in private. You had been sitting on his lap at parties, holding hands in campus, if anyone had dared to ask mingi the dreaded question, “are you guys dating?”, you could feel him grow cold again. He never said anything. He would just give them a smile that would make them run off like little kids. He never said anything.

So when you were cuddling on the couch while watching a random Netflix show, you had looked up at him, memorizing his face, his features, everything because you know in six more months, you might never see him again. He had noticed you staring.

“I can hear you thinking y/n”

“no I’m not. I’m just looking”

“you’re staring”

“okay and what if I am?”

He now stares right back at you. you don’t even move. You could see some sort of restraint in his eyes. Like he was trying to hold back. But he can’t anymore. Fuck it, it’s been long enough.

He dived right in and took your lips by surprise. It was soft at first. Testing the waters, going as slow as possible. And it was so so sweet. And passionate. His hand holding the back of your neck and other hand gripping your waist. Your own fingers playing with his hair. You had wanted this for so long you don’t even pause for air. And because you wanted him like this for so long, you don’t stop.

Things didn’t change much. you were now a couple but you were never the type to say much of your relationship. He was so on and off, cold and hot at times it confused you. but it didn’t affect you all that much. he had always been like that. He will be the sweetest boyfriend for a week, helping you cook, posting pictures of you on his social media, holding your hand in his pocket when its cold outside. But he will also disappear the next week, only texting you to tell you where he is so you don’t worry. He had always been like this. caring but cold. Distant but so close. He never opened up, never said anything sweet, no ‘I love you’s, or “hey you look beautiful today”. He would just smile so wide and give you a kiss so you would know exactly what he meant. He was in no ways a terrible boyfriend. You just wished he would talk to you more. Like “hey I love you. what are your plans after the year ends” or “hey I love you, please stay in the city for me” or even “hey, if you’re wondering, I won’t leave you after university ends”. What you had was enough for you now, but you wished for him to be with you in the future too. Would you be too clingy if you asked? Is this relationship just something casual? It won’t be that big of a deal if we break up before I leave right? hell, does he even know I’ll have to leave? You were gonna have to go back to your hometown with all of your things. Before you could start looking for a job, your family needed you back for a few months. You weren’t even sure where you would go next, but before that, you will have to go home. And you’re not even sure if he knows that.

You had accepted that he did like you enough to be around you all the time. You knew he was not fooling around, he was only yours. You knew his friends from the art department knew you as ‘his girl’. You knew and everyone knew too. So you didn’t ask for more. So now as you were running around trying to find a pair of jeans and a shirt to run to the campus for your last final, it had been 2 weeks since he had spoken to you properly. It had always been like that during exams. He would go completely MIA to study and rarely ever meet or speak to you. you didn’t mind it as you needed your time and space too. He would still text you good morning and good night and the usual “did you eat?” or “eat well ok”. It was only that this time that you wanted him here with you. you would be leaving next week and he doesn’t even know the amount of things you have to do and arrange all by yourself. You had been panicking all week with the packing foam, bubble wraps, moving boxes, trolley bags, along with managing to study for finals altogether. You had felt like crying. You had been so okay with everything but you wanted him to be serious now. Why wasn’t he serious about you? you really need him right now. You don’t even know if he would just break up with you when you leave. You had mentioned having to go visit your parents after finals but does he not realize what that meant? All the reaction you got from him was just a nod. You were still in denial, still trying your best to not think about it and just giving your last exam. So you rushed to the venue as fast as you could and didn’t bother asking if your friends or even mingi had reached yet. You just went to your assigned room exactly as the bell rang and after 3 long hours, it was over. Finals were over. Your university life was finally over. As much as you wanted to be relieved, you could feel tears threatening to spill. You had been so frustrated the whole week it was insane, so as you walked out of your classroom you find mingi waiting for you right outside.

Don’t cry y/n

Don’t cry

You can’t cry. Not right now. Not in front of the entire campus.

“how did it go?” he asked.

“pretty good. And yours?”

“same as you.”

That same beautiful smile, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours, and him guiding you outside as if you were now entranced by him, not even being able to think for yourself, let alone walk. You soon realize he’s taking you to the philosophy building’s terrace, the usual hangout spot. Everyone’s there. Hongjoong and Wooyoung with cigarettes in their hand, the others just chatting. They greet you warmly, ask you how did the exams go, the conversation was smooth. But mingi was not beside you. as soon as he brought you through the terrace door he went off the smoke with Wooyoung and hasn’t even looked at you since. Seonghwa now asks you about your plans while he and Yunho sit around you. you say how you’ll have to be back home for a few months and that nothing’s really decided yet after that. You mention your flight being next week and Yunho immediately asks, “does he know?”.

You fall silent for a second. You know what he means. He means that mingi can be distant and off the grid and he can be painfully cold at times, but he does love you. he does care for you. he always has. So Yunho means to say that his best friend could be an absolute dumbass but he deserves to know. You say how you haven’t really talked to him about it. he knows about you moving out, and he knows about all the stress from it. but he never reacted. You doubt he knows your flight is next week but you know he won’t be surprised to know.

You say you’re going to head back because you had some errands to run and mingi doesn’t say anything, again. He just nods. Okay maybe it is casual for him. again, you ignore it. you leave. You walk down the stairs. You’re just about reach the bottom floor as a notification sound breaks your attention.

One new message

WOOYOUNG’S BITCHES:

Mingi: 10 cardboard boxes. 4 rolls of packaging tape, 10m bubble wrap roll, Thursday 4pm train for sending luggage, Sunday 11am flight. NOBODY be late. Jongho and yeosang will help with the furniture btw. Some 5m rope as well. Who’s bringing dinner?

San: ME ME ME

Mingi: done. y/n’s place. Just us, bring booze.

Hwa: ay ay captain

He knows everything. He planned everything. You wanted to hit him in the head for being like this, but now you’re just smiling like an idiot. He does love me. he’s such an idiot. There’s footsteps from the staircase and then there’s a 6 foot man crashing onto you from behind, hugging you tight.

(first person pov)

Turning around I crash into him, I crash into him like I had never before. I hold him tight and sob into his shirt, hard. He’s holding me tight, stroking my hair gently. I feel him kiss the top of my head before I look up to him. “why didn’t you speak to me properly?”

“I’m so sorry baby”

“I’m leaving, mingi”

“don’t leave.”

“……”

“please don’t leave. Or do leave but come back to me. I do love you. I’m aware I don’t show it like others do. Why do you think I’m not serious about you? I’m consumed 80% by you and everything about you. I know your flight details. i know the grocery items on your list, I know it when your favourite moisturizer runs out. I know the perfume you wear, yes all three of them. I know when your wifi goes out and I know all of your period cravings. You say I don’t communicate, but why do you never ask?”

“…..”

“because you’re scared of love. But y/n I love you and I’m not scared to show it. no matter where you go I’ll still love you. I’ll run to you baby. If I can’t run, I’ll walk. If I can’t walk, I’ll crawl. But I’ll always make it back to you. that’s why I don’t care that you’re leaving for a few months. Because it’s either you coming back to this city or I go wherever you go. It’s simple.”

I’ve never been this silent. He’s never spoken so much. I feel the burn on my chest like someone’s ripping my heart out. I’m so in love with this man and it never hit me as hard as it does now. He’s still holding me, arms around my back and waist. He waits for an answer. I think he knows I was fully prepared for a breakup today. I don’t know if he hurt me or I hurt him anymore. But what I do know, is that I’m not going anywhere. Or that I’ll go but I’ll come back to him.

“you never said you love me before”

“is it too late?”

“it’s not, mingi”

It’s not too late. It’s perfect timing.

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junkfoodcinemas · 12 days

Text

You’re Next (2011) dir. Adam Wingard

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queenofmoons67 · 3 months

Text

The Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club: An IceMav Fic

Summary: Maverick is a captain in his own right, but he’s also an admiral’s spouse. Or, five times someone else calls Maverick “Admiral Kazansky’s husband/spouse,” and the one time Maverick refers to himself as such.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Notes: Back in October / November 2023, I asked which of my Top Gun ideas I should write next, and a solid third of you chose this one! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

This fic takes place shortly after DADT was repealed in 2010/2011.

Maverick is a captain. At the beginning of the fic, Ice is a two-star admiral / Rear Admiral, Upper Half.

Fanfic!

The first time someone addressed Maverick as “Admiral Kazansky’s husband,” he flushed red, but slipped his hand into Ice’s and squeezed. They had only been married for a month—only even been out as a couple for the two months since DADT was overturned—and it still thrilled Maverick to be able to claim Ice as his own, and to be claimed in return.

They were in love, and they could tell the whole world. The only thing Maverick wanted more was Bradley back in his life.

The second time someone addressed Maverick as “Admiral Kazansky’s husband,” he frowned, and purposefully straightened the collar of his uniform so his silver captain’s eagle caught the light. This was Captain Mitchell’s meeting, and Captain Mitchell had been a captain long before he became an admiral’s husband.

The third time someone addressed Maverick as “Admiral Kazansky’s husband,” she didn’t use the word “husband.” She came up to him in the commissary, a lipstick-red smile across a lightly sun-tanned face, blonde bob just brushing her cheeks, and said, “Hi! You’re Admiral Kazansky’s spouse, right?”

Maverick paused, and lowered his hand from where he’d been reaching for the dinosaur egg oatmeal—Bradley’s favorite, and the only kind Maverick himself could eat now after having it for years.

“That’s me,” he said, though the words came slowly. ‘Navy spouse,’ he thought, implied someone like the woman before him, left behind lamenting their husband’s deployments. Someone like Carole, who had been raising Bradley mostly on her own even before Goose died.

‘Navy spouse’ did not mean someone like Maverick, who went on deployments himself more than Ice did now.

Maverick had never been good at hiding his emotions, so his hesitation must have shown, but the woman didn’t seem deterred. Instead, her smile widened.

“Excellent! I’ve been trying to find you to ask if you’d be interested in joining the Point Loma Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club? My name is Melissa Royce, I’m Captain Royce’s spouse, and we—”

“I’m sorry,” Maverick interrupted. “I think you have the wrong idea. I am married to Admiral Kazansky, but I’m a captain, too. I wouldn’t…”

Maverick trailed off, hands waving to try and communicate what he wouldn’t be. Belong, in a group of spouses? Know what to do, amongst a group of people who had all given up their own ambitions to support their husbands, while Maverick gave Ice more trouble than he was worth?

Melissa’s smile grew smaller, but she reached out and patted him on the arm. “Honey, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You wouldn’t be the only officer in the group; lots of us are two-officer pairs, though heaven knows I don’t know how you do it.

“But beyond that…” She arched one eyebrow. “This is a support group, honey. For us, and for the base. How do you think it stays standing when all the sailors are deployed? How do you think it stays standing when you’re all here?”

Maverick stared at her. Somehow, he thought the protest that he was an aviator, not a sailor, would just prove her point. It hadn’t been so long since he was a young lieutenant that he’d forgotten the havoc they could wreck on shore leave.

And if Melissa really meant it, that ‘spouses’ could include ‘officers’… What did Maverick have to lose?

“When’s the next meeting?” he asked.

Maverick eased open the door to the community room, situated on the second floor of a building that also housed the base’s library, after school childcare, and a general store. It was a bit of an “everything building,” Melissa had explained, and the Point Loma Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club—also known as PLSOSC, because apparently even Navy spouses loved their acronyms—booked the community room once a week, every Saturday morning.

Saturday, she had said, because those with kids could rely on spouses or babysitters, and those with jobs had a better chance of making the meeting on the weekend than during the work week. Mornings, she had said, because nothing got ideas flowing like free coffee and a bunch of gossipmongers.

She hadn’t specified what “ideas” they needed to come up with. Hadn’t specified much of anything beyond when and where, and that he “just needed to bring his handsome face; it’s not a potluck!”

So there Maverick was. Empty-handed, handsome face freshly shaved, handsome husband abandoned in bed on a Saturday morning, when normally they’d be taking the chance to sleep in together.

Ice hadn’t been happy about that, his hands reaching out as Maverick left the bed, lips pouting and cheeks puffed out, though he’d perked up a bit when he heard what Maverick’s plans were.

“I’m glad you’re making new friends,” he had said, even as the perpetually cold-blooded admiral curled his hands back into the comforter and tucked it under his own chin.

Maverick… wasn’t as sure that “making new friends” was what he was doing. He also wasn’t sure if it was going to be worth leaving Ice alone like that.

But he’d told Melissa he’d try it, so here he was; Maverick regularly flew upside down, just because he could… He could handle a bunch of Navy spouses.

Although, even just opening the door and immediately being bombarded with loud voices had him second-guessing that ability.

One voice rose above them all.

“Pete!” Melissa called. “Everyone, this is Captain Pete Mitchell, Admiral Kazansky’s spouse. Pete, this is everyone!”

Melissa waved at the crowd, and Maverick shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked forward, taking the room in.

Folding tables had been put away against the walls, but the chairs were all out, accommodating about twenty people sitting in a circle. Several of them had clipboards out, pens poised over paper already half-filled with ink.

“Come in, come in!” Melissa beckoned. “There’s an empty seat right by Bryan.”

A middle-aged man with cool, dark brown skin nodded at Maverick, his longer-than-Navy-regulation black locs swaying with the motion.

The woman on the other side of the empty seat, brown hair sheered short in a buzzcut over pale white skin, snorted under her breath, “Melissa is not subtle.”

“Shut up,” Bryan laugh-whispered. “She’s doing her best.”

“She’s making a point,” the woman replied, and offered her hand to Maverick. “Hi, I’m Lieutenant Emily Brock. Stationed with Submarine Squadron 11. My wife is a THIRD Fleet officer.”

Maverick shook her hand, then shook Bryan’s when he offered, too. “Bryan Matthews, civilian,” Bryan said. “My wife is also with THIRD Fleet.”

“Captain Pete Mitchell,” Maverick said, grinning a bit at the realization Melissa had put him in-between another officer-spouse and a male-spouse. “You can just call me ‘Maverick’ though. And my husband is, uh—”

“Admiral Kazansky,” Bryan and Emily finished. They both laughed, and Emily gave Maverick a friendly nudge with her elbow. “Hope you stick around, if only so I can tease Becca I’ve got an in with her boss.”

The wife, Bryan mouthed, and Maverick nodded back.

“Is Becca here too?” he asked.

Emily shook her head. “Nah, submariner spouses have their own group. So do aviators—your husband will probably get an invite there soon, if he hasn’t already.”

Maverick blinked. He hadn’t even considered if Ice belonged in a group like this. He was Rear Admiral Thomas “The Iceman” Kazansky, rising star of the US Navy, on-track to be COMPACFLT someday. He wasn’t like Maverick, desperately holding onto the captain position with both hands while trying not to be discharged or promoted.

But if Captain Mitchell qualified as a Navy spouse because he married Admiral Kazansky… then wasn’t the reverse also true? That Admiral Kazansky was a Navy spouse because he married Captain Mitchell?

“Huh.” Maverick leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and tuning back into the conversation and atmosphere around them.

Melissa was certainly a leader amongst them, which made sense; Captain Royce, while lower in rank than Ice, was the CO of Point Loma itself. But none of the spouses were shy about barking ideas to the people with clipboards. Several people had broken off into smaller groups, like Bryan, Emily, and Maverick, while others moved from group to group. Others still congregated at the one table that was set-up with—Maverick sniffed—coffee.

Most people wore comfortable clothes, just jeans and t-shirts, and others wore uniforms. Some people drifted in, and others drifted out. The room was a constant flow of movement and ideas.

“So… what exactly are we supposed to be doing?” he asked, turning back to Bryan and Emily.

“Gossiping,” Emily said.

“Brainstorming,” Bryan said.

Maverick looked between them, eyebrow raised.

“Brainstorming,” Emily said.

“Gossiping,” Bryan said.

The answer, Maverick found, was both. PLSOSC focused on building a community out of people who were often in Point Loma for only a few years, or even just a few months, at a time. That meant people were welcome to just chat and catch up, but they could also throw out ideas for trips off-base, donation drives, dinner parties—anything and everything a group of adults could do together.

And it wasn’t just PLSOSC, named the Point Loma Surface club for a reason. Emily had been right: Ice received his own invitation to the Point Loma Aviator Officers’ Spouses’ Club, or PLAOSC, and came back from the first meeting with tears in his eyes from all the funny stories the other spouses had heard second-hand about Mav.

“‘Captain Mitchell’s spouse!’” Ice gasped, voice high in a falsetto. “‘Oh, I must know, did he really moon an admiral in o-eight?’”

“‘Why yes,’” Ice answered himself, voice dropped even deeper than his natural tone, “‘but the admiral in question was his boyfriend, and they were in a locker room, so it was only natural.’”

Maverick almost broke a rib, he laughed so hard at Ice’s retelling.

In joining the two groups, Maverick also knew that he and Ice had had an entire world opened before their eyes. They had known every inch of aircraft carriers in the past, all the docks and offices, runways and classrooms, everywhere a Navy aviator might go.

Now, they also knew what happened behind-the-scenes: The stories that spouses whispered to each other about visiting officers, the stories they told about Point Loma’s own officers, and even the stories they told about Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell. They’d been able to get ahead of more than one potentially bad rumor because Melissa whispered it in Maverick’s ear before anyone else’s, or because someone told Ice what the latest story was.

“Admiral Kazansky’s spouse,” Ice would sing as he opened the door to their home, “just what have you been up to?”

“Only the usual, Captain Mitchell’s spouse,” Maverick would respond, leaning his head backwards over the arm of the couch to look at Ice. “Buzzing towers and mooning admirals.”

“But only one admiral, right?” Ice would whisper, leaning down, and Maverick would whisper back, “Right,” as he returned his husband’s kiss.

No matter where they were stationed, there was an Officers’ Spouses’ Club waiting for them: Gossip, community, and all.

There was even one at TOPGUN.

Rooster had to admit, being back in California and living in his childhood home was a lot less stressful the second time around, now that he had a huge successful mission under his belt, half a dozen new friends, a dozen solidified old friendships, and a renewed relationship with his godfather and uncle.

Leaning back in his chair, the rubber back-straps squeaking, Rooster popped the last of his tater tots in his mouth. It was fall, but being on the California coast meant the morning was both heated by the sun and cooled by the ocean breeze—the perfect combo for a squadron brunch on a diner patio.

The squad did tend to take up the entire patio, leaving no room for anyone else, but the seats were filled, so the owners didn’t mind.

Rooster hummed under his breath and tapped a beat on the table with his fingers, grinning at Phoenix when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” he laughed. “It’s a good morning.”

She shook her head. “You’re so like Mav.” Her eyes slid past him, and Rooster sat up, twisting to see—

Maverick, chair creaking on the back two legs, fingers tapping along the table edge, grinning at Ice and shaking his head. The admiral was probably trying to get Maverick back on all four chair legs again; Rooster wished him luck. Only his mom had ever been able to get Maverick to sit properly, and only then when he had Bradley himself in his lap.

Rooster stood at the thought, a grin already forming.

“Watch this,” he told Phoenix, and strode over to Maverick.

“Hey, Mav,” he said, faux casual, and dropped his butt in Maverick’s lap like he was five years old again.

Being a few decades older than that, of course, his weight pulled Maverick’s chair back down to earth, Maverick squawking under the sudden pressure and Ice barking a laugh, raspy from his recent bad cold, but his humor clear.

Around them, the daggers broke out laughing as well. Maverick groaned, but wrapped his arms around Rooster’s waist.

“You can just ask, Gosling,” Maverick cooed.

Rooster froze, stomach twisting with a bad feeling. The gleeful look on Phoenix’s face—even more than when Rooster had first sat in Maverick’s lap—only made the bad feeling grow.

“Ice, look what—Oh, hey guys! What are you doing here?”

Rooster blinked. A group of people had been walking down the sidewalk, but had come to a stop right in front of the diner. Right in front of Maverick and Ice’s table, actually.

An older Black man with a short, graying afro grinned at them. “You’re the one who recommended this place, Mav,” he said. “Didn’t say the patio would be off limits, though!”

Maverick laughed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Bryan. It’s kind of turned into our Sunday morning hangout spot.” His hand patted Rooster’s knee, and Rooster stood, suddenly realizing that he had been sitting on his godfather’s lap still.

Bryan shook his head. “It’s all fine. We’ll find a spot inside.” His gaze turned to Rooster, brown eyes piercing. “Bradley, right? Nice to meet you. You’ll have to come to one of our family events sometime.”

Rooster swallowed. He’d never introduced himself to Bryan, but he’d known his name—and not just his callsign.

“Ooh, that’s a great idea!” Maverick agreed. “Don’t have any on the calendar right now though, right? We’ll have to talk next Saturday.”

“Are you coming then, Mav?” One of the people behind Bryan leaned forward, eyes lit up. “You’ve missed the last ones!”

“He’s been busy, Cheryl,” another woman hissed, poking the first in the side.

Cheryl pouted, but Maverick just laughed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

Rooster slid back over to Phoenix as the group walked through the patio and into the diner, each person saying hi to Mav, and some to Ice as well.

“Was I just threatened?” he hissed in her ear.

“Nah,” she replied. He relaxed, and then—“Well, maybe a little. Don’t hurt Mav again, though, and you’ll be alright.” She patted his side, laughing.

Rooster backed away slowly as Halo pulled her into conversation, naturally ending up by Maverick and Ice again.

“What was all that about?” he asked.

“Huh?” Maverick paused mid-sentence to Ice, looking up at Rooster instead. “Oh, that was the TOPGUN Surface Officers’ Spouses’ Club.” He paused, then added, “Which I’m part of. Because I’m this guy’s spouse.” He poked Ice in the arm, and Ice rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” Ice sighed. “‘This guy’s’ spouse.”

Maverick laughed. “Well, everyone else says I’m Admiral Kazansky’s spouse. But I just call him Ice.”

Maverick leaned across the small table, meeting Ice halfway in a chaste kiss, and Rooster turned on the spot, hurrying back to Phoenix.

“I’m going to puke,” he hissed at her, and she grinned at him, eyes crinkled and wicked.

“You’re the one who engaged the lovebirds.”

“My mistake,” Rooster sighed, but smiled when he glanced back to see Maverick and Ice holding hands.

Yeah. Life was pretty great.

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#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun fanfiction #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #fanfic

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