#I've been debating posting this for like an hour

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Reviving that Love

Let's have an assortment of mature, (mostly) fluffy, coupley Revival fics, shall we?

This list only scratches the surface; but hopefully it's enough to soothe a particular itch.

**Note**: Another Revival list I've done is Beefy Revival Mulder (and Other Muscular Mentions)-- perfect pairing to this, I believe.

Loose chronological order below~

@oohnotvery/the_eternal_optimist's Always Wanted

But he has a key to her place, because they’ve always had keys to the other’s place, even in horrible times. It arrived in the mail one day, sealed tightly in a bubble-wrapped envelope, addressed from her to him with a handwritten note that he hadn’t even bothered to read before crushing it up in a ball and tossing it into the trash can. Several hours later, in a fit of frustration, he had fished the note out of the trash and shoved it, unread, into a kitchen drawer.

Breakup Mulder realizes Scully has been waiting for him.

@aloysiavirgata’s (Ao3, WBM, Gossamer, LJ, Alt. LJ)

Si Hoc Legere Potes, Liberaliter Educatus

"It was very important to Deputy Director Skinner that you two meet with me. He felt that you needed some guidance before you could resume any kind of professional partnership."

I grit my teeth. You're a dead man, Skinner. 

S10 Mulder and Scully run laps around the FBI recruitment therapist.

I need a fic with Scully's stolen dog Dagoo, and her wearing a Knicks tshirt.

“This is the one I ripped a piece off of for Boggs, Scully. This isn’t just my Knicks shirt. This is my favorite Knicks shirt. I’ve been looking for it!”

She pulls Tesla closer. “Stop violating the fourth amendment, Agent.”

“Stop violating the eighth commandment, Doctor.”

Post The Weremonster Mulder and Scully debate dog names and Knicks T-shirts.

What's your Mulder and Scully Thanksgiving sex headcanon?

"I'm going to die," she mumbles, her eyes half-lidded in tryptophanic stupor.

Mulder and Scully are stuffed after dinner.

@flukemen?/@pinebluffvariants/scienceandmysticism/contradictiontonature's (Ao3) Tie (prompt #1)

“Hello?”

“You know it’s me.” He did. “What are you doing?”

“I’m shopping. And I hope you’re using your bluetooth.” He could tell she was driving from the white noise over the sound of her breathing.

Mulder uses Scully's expertise to pick out a tie.

@hemisphaeric's (Ao3)

"Mulder you need new clothes"

The next day they decided to go into town and do some shopping, after Scully had had to tell Mulder for the tenth time he needed clothes and that no, he couldn’t wear those old ones just to seduce her.

Scully helps Mulder pick out new suits for his new job.

Let me carry some of the pain for you

Suddenly warm hands were touching him but he didn’t react. He couldn’t react, feeling so distant from everything. Scully was speaking, he recognized her voice, but not her words, those were like a white noise in the back of his head, which was so loudly screaming.

“I am better Scully, for real” he didn’t realize he had started talking at first, but he couldn’t stop, tears fogging up his vision.

Mulder panics, thinking Scully will leave him again.

touch.

Things had changed again in the last period though, she had come home; she had been spending time there with him more and more frequently. He understood her necessity to take things slowly, to test the territory before diving in head first, but he felt ready for it.

Mulder is glad to have Scully back.

Mulder, Scully and Elon Musk

She pushed him away and swatted at his arm. “You woke me up early to talk about Elon Musk??”

Mulder wakes Scully early for Elon's rocket news.

grumpysimon's Morse Code

He asks you for a pen. The genius always loses things. Your coffee comes and he spills a little on the napkin. He taps on the table. Morse code, maybe. You’re too tired to figure out what he’s saying to you in secret. You say his name and that smile is more crooked than ever.

Scully secretly loves Mulder's obsessive passion.

@baronessblixen/Baroness_Blixen's

Belong

He closes his eyes and counts. What will it be, he wonders. The sound of a car or their creaky door?

Another minute passes before he hears the soft squeak behind him.

Mulder tells Scully he's "done okay without her."

A few months after they're back on the x-files, Mulder's notices that his neck and shoulders are sore.

Mulder feels better and promises - with a wink - to do the same for her, she just needs to ask. She doesn't ask but Mulder knows her feet are sore a few days later, after hours of walking around. He silently starts massaging her feet while consorting in his hotel room, half-empty take-out containers on the bed next to them....

Mulder doesn't replace his chair-- which is just fine, because Scully becomes his masseuse.

Mulder giving Scully a foot massage

“Exactly. My feet hurt and I need a break. I’m not…” She trails off again as she massages her foot. 

“Not young anymore?” Mulder offers and her head shoots up like a rocket, her eyes shooting daggers. 

“Not used to it anymore.”

Post Ghoulie Scully's high heels finally catch up to her.

There's No Place Like Home (Ao3)

He loves her stubbornness. Once, she told him that she fell in love with him because he was stubborn. Well. That was the pot calling the kettle black. No one is as stubborn as his Scully. 

AU-- Nothing Lasts Forever Mulder brings an injured Scully home.

Growing Old (with You) (Ao3)

“Just wait til you’re my age,” he jokes.

“55 looks good on you.” She proves her point with a kiss on his nose. “I can only hope to look as good as you when I turn 55.”

“You will. And I will remind you of it. If I’m invited to your birthday, that is.”

“You’re always invited to my birthday.”

Scully drops in for Mulder's 55th, assuring him his aging concerns are overblown.

A Study in Chemistry

"I didn't know you cared for this kind of movie, Scully." Mulder, sprawling on her bed, in her motel room, looks slightly disgusted at the small screen where two generic actors share a truly boring, less than passionate kiss in a typical, cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie.

"I don't," she says, returning her attention to the case report they're supposed to be working on. Despite his words, Mulder's eyes are glued to the movie and Scully can't help but smile.

Mulder and Scully bridge the gap between them-- and all because of Hallmark and memories.

Surprises Are Best Served Ice-Cold - Chapter 1

They both start towards each other at the same time, laughing.

“Mulder, I don’t remember how to stop,” she says, trying to get her skates under control.

“I’ve got you,” he says calmly and she hopes he’s right because she loses her balance, stumbles the last few steps towards him and crashes right into his chest, knocking him to the ground.

Mulder surprises Scully with a frozen over lake for Christmas.

A Day in May (Ao3)

Mulder puts on cheesy Christmas music and turns down the lights, creating a mood. They share a cup of sugary hot cocoa with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. When Scully raises her eyebrows at the cream, Mulder dips a finger in and deposits a blob on her nose.

“Live a little, Scully.”

And she does.

Mulder forgoes sleep to help Scully decorate their tree on Christmas Eve.

Night Out

"I can't breathe." Mulder is pouting. She wants to be angry with him - all of this is his own fault, after all - but he looks so miserable and yet so adorable that she feels sympathetic. She strokes his cheek and smiles at him.

"I'll make you make some soup."

"Are you sure I'm not dying?" he asks again, coughing. She offers him some tea and he sips it noisily.

Mulder gets sick after a night of Squatchin.

@wtfmulder/@momdadimpoppunk​‘s (Ao3) 

post-Plus One

“You reasoned your doppelgänger out of existence,” he says flatly. She smiles against his bare shoulder, nodding.

“She was a very reasonable woman.”

He laughs softly, the rumble of it caressing her cheek. 

Post Plus One Mulder and Scully catch a few winks.

ficlet; twenty-six years

On her side of the desk, he has procured for her a plain blue baseball cap, a skinny caramel macchiato, and a not-skinny blueberry muffin.

She sits down as he hums and types away at something, taking a bite of the muffin and putting the cap on her head.

Scully always guesses which anniversary Mulder is celebrating.

fluff 🤢

They’re packing up the basement just one last time. They both learned early in life that saying goodbye is so much easier when it’s a choice, and the moment holds no bitterness, no fear.

Post Revival Scully finds flowers she'd once given Mulder in their basement office.

@myassbrokethefall's untitled rm9sbg93zxjz post-ep

Scully had chanced to see a picture of a blobfish on the internet some months ago and he wasn't sure he had ever, in their years and years together, seen her laugh so hard. It was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, frankly, watching the outsizedly hysterical reaction of Dana Scully MD, his serious scientist partner, to a picture of a lumpy, slimy, theatrically frowning fish on the internet. He had brought it up at every opportunity for weeks, renamed the wireless network at the house Blobfish Cove, found a way to work a reference to it into a meeting with Skinner, once printed out a picture of it and left it on Scully’s pillow, and watched in utter delight as she got the helpless giggles every single time. (Even the Skinner time. He hadn't even asked, just looked wearily at some point behind their heads for a few seconds before sighing and continuing on.)

AU-- Robot episode Mulder dreamed up the whole thing.

@onpaperfirst's (Ao3) Honey Hi

The doors slid open and Mulder wrangled a cart from the corral.

“They set up the little rooms and it makes you feel like you’re at home,” she said. “It dulls your senses. You forget you’re in public. And all of a sudden you’re in the middle of a fight about which rug matches the couch.”

“Let’s not fight in Ikea, Scully. It’s so bourgeois.”

Part II to Home, Home, Mulder and Scully's romantic life is examined through the lens of perfectly balanced humor... and their IKEA trip.

@ghostbustermelanieking's (Ao3) bearing north (Ao3)

“The cops out front will stop him,” Mulder says comfortingly.

She nods. Her skull is still pounding, but she feels limp in his arms, safe. “I tried to fight him off,” she says. “I almost did. But he got angry and shoved me into the pool. I hit my head.”

Mulder takes Scully home after she's injured while pursuing a perp.

"You’re beautiful, you know that?” (Ao3)

She turns her eyes up to meet his, burning blue eyes in the night. “You’re… all I have left now, Mulder.” Names are left unsaid between them, but they all register in his brain, like a knife. “I think my leaving was for the best, but I’m ready to come back. You’re my family, Mulder.”

Scully proposes to her Mulder.

@settle-down-frohike's Headcanon: It started after her first disappearance, on a flight to nowhere North Dakota.

It started after her first disappearance, on a flight to nowhere North Dakota. She was flipping through a dossier and he was dozing, as per usual. She heard a mumbled version of her name and threw a distracted “Hm?” his way without glancing up. “Scully.” Firmer, more forceful this time. She looked over, annoyed, and spat “What Mu-“ and realized he was still asleep, but fitfully so.

My Struggle II Scully hopes she can comfort Mulder once more.

@lilydalexf/LilydaleXF 's My Andromeda

He looks back at the road and answers honestly, "I didn't watch many shows. The ones I really wanted to see I wasn't allowed to watch. Except after excessive begging."

"And on nights you could successfully sneak into the TV room after your parents fell asleep." It's a statement, not a question.

"You know me so well, Scully."

Mulder and Scully imagine a night of stargazing.

Eternity Awaits

"Mulder…. We need to go to bed."

"You don't want to freeze together?"

"Not on this decrepit couch I don't."

Post This Mulder and Scully discuss their eternal conversations.

Apostrophic/@mappingthexfiles's

This

Mulder said Push a third time and they both groaned with the effort of heaving the massive piece another three feet, barricading it firmly against the bedroom door.

“What does this,” he gasped, “remind you of?”

Scully, drawing in deep gulps of air, pushed herself up on her elbows, propped on the edge of the chest. She did not say the fleeting thought that had gone through her head: maybe it was not a bad thing Mulder had not been present at the birth of their child.

“Um,” Scully said.

“Yeah,” Mulder said. Panting out, “Towers of furniture.”

Post This Mulder and Scully move their furniture back into place.

The Scully Treehouse of Horror

The automatic taps don’t turn on and off for him. He’s invisible to its sensors. The alarm, on the other hand, blares every time he walks in the door. Sometimes, even, once he’s inside the door and has been for some time. He’ll get up at night for a drink of water and Scully gets jarred out of postcoital bliss by the klaxon siren of intruder alert, intruder alert, Mulder cursing at the sink in the kitchen, yelling for Scully....

If she yells back for him to punch in the code, he does the wrong birthdate or botches the spelling of Queequeg. More often than not, she pads out in bare feet, tying her robe, entering the right code, filling the glass with cold water, sleepily herding a grumbling Mulder back to the warm bed.

Scully's house hates Mulder; and she loves him all the more for it.

Lapsed_Scholar's Wake-Up Calls

On their way into work, his phone rings. It’s just a wrong number, and the other commuters don’t really take any notice, but Scully arches her eyebrow.

At her questioning look, “Do you recognize this theme?”

“Vaguely. Should I?”

“It’s our theme song, Scully! And I think it suits us. Kind of spooky.” A beat. “Don’t you remember our movie?”

If possible, her eyebrow climbs higher.

Mulder always ratted he and Scully out to people-- and still does now, years and years later.

@slippinmickeys/SlippinMickeys's

Prompt: ballet slippers, chocolate pudding in a can, Wyoming

It was like a Carlton Varney fever dream; like a brothel with aspirations. Mulder actually paused in the doorway and leaned back out to double check the address number on the side of the house.

“Wow,” Scully said, daintily setting down her suitcase a few feet inside the door. She wanted to make a joke, but Mulder looked appalled.

Mulder books a truly terrible vacation spot.

Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 12

“I want something I can’t make.”

It was Day 18 of self-isolation and if you looked at quarantine like the stages of grief, they had rolled easily past panic and guilt, skipped loneliness altogether and were deep in the grip of isolation.

Scully shot him a look.

Mulder and Scully are sick and tired of COVID quarantine.

Prompt: Mulder & Scully vacation Christmas/Hanukah at the Quonochontaug cabin post season 11

“When was the last time you stayed here?” she asked, wrinkling her sensitive nose at the smell of dust, of mildew.

One suitcase on the floor at his feet, one still in his hand, Mulder closed the door behind him, his face ponderous. “Overnight?” he clarified. “I think I was nineteen?”

Post Revival Mulder and Scully spend the New Years in the old Mulder summer home.

outsquatchin94's Joy to You and Me

“Those hipsters… But Scully, that was such a look. Also, I hate to break this to you, but I’m quite sure it’s in the back spare room somewhere in a box.”

For a moment, he thinks she’ll spring off the couch and go find the offending object. She doesn’t though, she only smiles a little.

“I think we turned out okay in the end, even without the sleeping bags.” And Mulder has to agree with her.

Mulder and Scully discuss her old jacket.

@msrafterdark/msrafterdark's A concept : slow dancing on an ill lit front porch late in the evening while it’s thundering and maybe just starting to rain?

When they’re like this again, as though no time has passed, the pleasure of the familiarity is so good it almost hurts her. To have him well again, to be safe and wanted and in his arms is only made sweeter by the fact that the knocks and falls they have taken ultimately only made them stronger.

Mulder and Scully, the Unremarkable House and dancing.

@tofuttim's Comfort and Chaos (Ao3)

The rain pelted relentlessly against the windows of the small cabin. The night air was cold, but inside the cabin, a fire and a shared bed with Mulder kept her warm. The sound of the storm thrusted her thoughts back to the beginning. 

The beginning of forever.

Scully asks Mulder what he remembers about their first case.

@defnotmeyo's (Ao3) The Cost of Living is Just Right

The beds are wrapped in white and light grey sheets with sky blue pillow cases on the spare pillows. The tables all look like something you would have seen on the Jetsons.  

It takes a bit of time for Mulder to feel comfortable at Scully's apt.

Ingot Silver

“Birthday time, huh? We could go uh,” he licked some sauce off his finger as he moved a dish over to the sink, “we could go squatchin’.” He turned and winked at her.

Mulder learned plans an evening dinner for he and his Scully.

the “before i even needed glasses” line

Then, on days he doesn’t hate himself (and those days are multiplying and growing closer together all the time), he remembers he has a son, healthy and alive. He has the love of his life and while she’s not home yet, her toothbrush is back in his bathroom.

Post Cathedral episode Mulder isn't letting his homie get away ever again.

It really looks like Mulder when youre seeing two of everything.

“Mulder… you… you hurled a raccoon down our stairs.”

He shrugs, sheepish as ever.

“Like… you hurled him.”

“It was for Daggoo!”

A raccoon holds the Mulder-Scully household hostage.

I always laugh at that bit in detour where mulder is like “if ur lucky u get seventy-five (75) yrs. if ur rly lucky u get eighty

She refrains from rolling her eyes, instead slides in front of him and slinks an arm around him, patting that soft of his oblique threatening to turn into a love handle.

“Charlie has a decent head of hair,” Mulder mumbles.

“Charlie is four years younger. And you made it passed 50, Mulder. You won.”

Scully reassures Mulder he still looks gooooooooood.

BONUS (HAD TO INCLUDE THESE FOR THE MSR)

@monikafilefan/MonikaFileFan's

Language of Love: Prompts of Angst and Romance - Chapter 6

A sudden rise in emotion crests in her throat when she sees the wondrous look of awe and admiration seize the love of her life.

It’s the exact look she saw grace is face eighteen years ago.

“Mulder…” she whispers, raking her fingers through his silky hair as he grins up at her with a trembling chin.

Post Revival Mulder feels his baby move during the witching hour.

39 and 82 from the prompt list 😁/Just Breathe

“She’s here and she’s beautiful, honey, she’s just—”

“What, Mulder?” Scully shot up onto her elbows with her heart in her throat. “She’s just what?”

“It’s fine. She’s fine, Scully. She just looks like a he.”

Her jaw dropped. “What are you—are you sure?” Their slippery, pink baby covered in layers of vernix and blood mewled in protest as Mulder lifted the tiny bundle away from the comfort of his warm chest and pointed wide-eyed between its legs.

Mulder and Scully and unexpectedly fast Halloween baby makes a chaotically competent three.

RoseThornhill's

Spooky Mulder: The Revenge

Excited dad!Mulder wants a spooky theme for his Halloween daughter's name.

Alice is a Punk Rocker

Mulder, Scully, and their Halloween baby are happy together, despite a few bumpy patches.

@myownsuperintendent/MyOwnSuperintendent’s Renewal

She tries to shift in the bed, to touch him too, and he stops and pulls back.  “Don’t try to sit up,” he says.  “They made me promise I wouldn’t disturb you.”  He’s trying to smile at her through the tears in his eyes.  “You’re all right,” he repeats.  “Please don’t scare me like that again.  Not ever again.”

Post Revival Scully loses a lot of blood during delivery, which helps convince Jackson to stay with his family and new sister a bit longer.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #fic #Collector's Edition #Reviving that Love #outsquatchin94 #lilydalexf #onpaperfirst #sigritandtheelves #DarlaBlack #monikafilefan #RoseThornhill #oohnotvery #the_eternal_optimist #settle-down-frohike #myownsuperintendent #hemisphaeric #wtmulder #aloysiavirgata #defnotmeyo #slippinmickeys #baronessblixen #xfiles #x-files #the x files #xf fanfic #Revival #Mulder #Scully #MSR

[mayfast]

Chapter 3 WIP (Unbetaed)

Crumbs for the the TigerSeal and SeaMonkey fans. So if you've been wondering where I've been, I got diagnosed with epilepsy. So I got put on some meds that make me hella tired. Like all the time. I would sleep 15 hours a day if you let me. So it's been a struggle to get this next chapter up and rolling. But I'm close to finishing it. Afterwards I'll send it to my Beta (I feel so cool saying that), then I'll get it all posted on AO3, God bless that site.

Enjoy~

__________________________

“Jake Sully,” Somehow, he’s been expecting this all night. But he still wishes he could have another day to mentally prepare himself. He throws a casual look over his shoulder to spot Ao’nung behind him, glancing at him almost shyly.

            “Yes?” He sighs. He doesn’t want to give him the wrong impression, he’s started liking Ao’nung more. After he got over the Metkayina calling his daughter a freak, picking a fight with his kids, and almost killing Lo’ak. But hey, everyone makes mistakes, right?

            “I want to court Spider.” He’s blunt and staring Jake in the eyes. Almost like it’s a challenge, like he’s ready to fight. Jake can almost appreciate the little spitfire, but after the tongue lashing from Norm and Max earlier…he’s caught between a rock and a hard place.

            “Yeah?” He acknowledged with some gravel in his voice.

            “…Yes.” The other held some confusion in his eyes. His blue eyes wandering over Jake’s slumped form, trying to get a read on him. “I don’t know what I’m doing though.” This draws a snort out of him. Took a big man to admit when he’s lost. Maybe Ao’nung is maturing.

            “How so?” He raised an eyebrow and patted the ground beside. He had decided to take a little detour back to the center beach, where the adults are still celebrating, after laying Tuk down for bed. He was going to send Spider, Kiri and Lo’ak to sleep when he got back, but he wanted to give them a little more time with their friends. Now the current bane of his existent came and found him.

The younger man sat down on the beach as Jake observed the sky. “I… I don’t … There’s a lot.” Ao’nung breathed after a moment. His shoulders slumping, mirroring Jake’s posture.

“Well, find your first question.” He laughed, turning to watch Ao’nung roll his eyes, tail twitching as he digs his fingers through the sand.

“Is Spider old enough to be courted?” He questions after a moment. His gaze fixated on the sand below him and his ears are pinned back, distraught. Jake can almost feel pain. Dating someone younger than you can be a risky game, especially when they’re a different species with different aging practices.

“Dating.” Jake corrects him and looks up at the sky again. Finding the star that supposedly his first home orbits around. “We call it dating. And yes, he’s old enough to go on dates with you.” Norm’s going to tear him a new one. Max will stitch him up just to tear him a second one.

“It’s where you do courting practices, but you don’t mate even if you think your ready, at least not yet, he’s not old enough for sex, okay?” It feels dirty coming out of his mouth, like ash and acid. Yet, he needs to set some boundaries, some lines in the sand. He’s the only one here who understands how human teens work, kind of.

“Okay.” Ao’nung nods, good, he sounds accepting.  “How do I court the human way?”

“Why do you want to do it the human way?” Jake finds himself suspicious. Not that anything Ao’nung says doesn’t make sense, but why is he going so left field for someone’s who’s so different from him. Jake had to learn the Na’vi way, because he was on Eywa’eveng. Ao’nung doesn’t need to go out of his way to learn another culture.

“He’s ashamed to be human.” Ao’nung tells him after a moment of internal debate. He’s confident in his answer, sounds like he and Spider have already had a conversation. “I don’t want Spider to be ashamed of what he is, or who he is. So, I want to prove to him that I accept all of him. Even the parts he doesn’t like so much.”

            He’s not exactly sure how to feel about this. It’s a lot for his jar head to take in. Ao’nung trying to do this the right way. And shouldn’t Jake want the best for Spider? Someone who wants to make him happy and feel like he belongs? Still, shouldn’t that have been him? What if Spider end up with Daddy issues and acts out later in life? He could get self-destructive, well more self-destructive, or codependent on Ao’nung.

            “Humans are different from Na’vi, Ao’nung, you know this. From how they look, to how they show affection.” He grabs Ao’nung by the shoulder, needing the other to look him in the eye. “They can’t form a tsaheylu, ever. Are you okay that?” Because he doesn’t want Ao’nung to regret his decision ten years down the line and start resenting his baby. It would be unfair to both of them.

            “With him, I don’t need one.” Ao’nung clasps a hand over his forearm. The grip just as tight as his hand on the Metkayina’s shoulder. “I want him the way he is.”

            It soothes a part of his soul. Jake’s gone through most of his life without a bond. But after experiencing it, he’s not sure he could go back. It was like an addiction. The peace of mind his mate gave him. A safe space that only he and she were allowed to curl up into. Ao’nung would never have that.

            “If you’re serious about this, I need to warn you that humans don’t mature until twenty-five. That means he’s still changing a bit, figuring out who he is.” Jake retracts his hand and throws it over his bend knee. “I wouldn’t change being with Neytiri for anything, but I was twenty-two when she and I bonded. I was still figuring out my place in the world, but she helped me through it. Spider may not be the same person he is now.”

            He notices the way Ao’nung closes his eyes and smiles. “Then he is like the sea. It’s never same.”

#ao3 #spider socorro #ao'nung #ao3 writer #aocorro #aonung #avatar spider #avatar the way of water #miles socorro #miles spider socorro #Avatar #TigerSeal #SeaMonkey

[itsamenickname]

Okay, so if you recall in The Super Mario Bros. Super Show!, there's this one specific episode called, "Do You Princess Toadstool Take this Koopa...?" where Bowser's mom makes an appearance so that she could see her son marry Peach (and eat the wedding cake afterwards).

Which got me to think about this one interesting question:

If we're assuming that Bowser's mom is canonically alive in the Mario universe, do you think that Bowser's mom would be supportive of her son's relationship with his arch-enemy's brother or do you think she would do everything in her power to try to convince Bowser to dump Luigi and go after Peach instead (assuming that Bowser would be the one to tell her that he's dating Luigi)?

#luigi #luigi nintendo #bowser #bowser nintendo #bowuigi #bowser x luigi #super mario #super mario bros #the super mario bros super show #mario au #help I've been watching a lot of Mario clips from the DIC Entertainment cartoons over the past few days and I've lost control of my life #to be fair the clips were really just Bowser from “Super Show!” and the Koopalings from “The Adventures of Super Mario Bros 3” #but still #I've been rewatching the clips A LOT over the past 72 hours #also I'm counting this as a mario au post because I really like the idea of Kamek and Kammy being Bowser's official guardians #now whether they were his guardians because Bowser's parents were neglectful or because they died when Bowser was young that's debatable #although personally I like to think that Bowser's parents loved their son but they just unfortunately died shortly after Bowser was born #leading to Kamek and Kammy having to raise Bowser like he was their son #Bowser may never show it publicly (due to his ego and pride) but he does love his adopted parents very much #and despite all the headaches Bowser gives them Kamek and Kammy love their adopted son very much too

[remythologise]

2023 fujoshi wrapped

you got baited 24 times

you debated the difference between queer-coding, queerbaiting and censorship in the comments section 4 times

you revisited fanfiction for 7 hit ships from the 2000s

you got blocked 5 times for tagging paragraphs of old man yaoi ship meta on unrelated text posts

you played 585 hours of video games for a combined total of 10 minutes of gay subtext and/or sex scenes

you judged a BL manga or light novel by its cover 948 times

you told 39 friends to watch 3 gay tv shows that are 'actually really really well written and enjoyable and not just gay' and 0 of them did

#respectively: 1) my new boss is goofy. and I enjoyed it. 5 stars. would get baited relentlessly again #2) literally like. is anything queerbaiting but supernatural and maybe parts of sherlock. up for debate. anyway I still can't believe #someone called GAME OF THRONES queerbaiting. I'm still reeling from that. #3) Oh You Know. #4) I can't believe I found out paragraphs of tags annoys people. sorry for being alive on the Paragraphs of Tags blogging website I guess. #(this is because they now show up in notifications I know. I have been trying not to post like. Personal Lore as much like I used to. #trying to keep it related!!! :( sorry for annoying people... it's just how I've always blogged...) #5) disco elysium is the joke here but the hour count really. let's be real. bg3 #6) I do have a pretty good accuracy rate on whether a BL is going to be good based on the front cover art alone honestly. you can just tell #7) AND THIS IS ONLY ABOUT DEADLOCH AND IWTV WHICH I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE SO MANY OF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED #do NOT get it twisted. 6) is about THOSE two shows. and also black sails eternally #kira for ts #bored at work. ama

[dawntheduckrb]

Someone drew pearl on a wall in the art building lol

#in class for the next hour and a half #we're doing self portraits again #i hate doing these because this is where me being self conscious gets in the way of my work #and i take my own shortcomings as an artist and turn that into distaste for how i look #not feeling good but thats because I've been working on the same draft for an hour lmao #once i get settled with it though that'll likely go away so just gotta get over that first hurdle lol #im debating whether or not to post it #as you might have noticed i took the last one down #i might not but I'm still thinking (TM) #''dawn pulls out random images from their gallery so they can use their blog as a pseudo diary'' moment #not rb

[shirogane-oushirou]

thank you, tv room, for giving me a brain blast and helping me FINALLY decide between some different ren origin options after mulling over them for months :) he may have come fully formed in my brain personality-wise, but i'm still working on details.

still waiting on that voice claim brain blast tho KJANSFKJN

#literally been listening to two tv room tracks for MONTHS... and when i finally looked up the full albums last night #it was like a neon sign pointing me to something obvious that i hadn't thought to look up ;; #currently: mom's french canadian > immigrates to maine after meeting his dad there > ren's born > he moves south for college / to escape #and i'm gonna hide this in the tags bc despite it all i'm still nervous KJANSDFKJN but #after all this time i'm wondering if i'm building up the voice thing when it isn't like... i'm-gonna-be-crucified bad? #he is absolutely peak white liberal + everything but his most recent stuff is Genuinely Bad... maybe this will give it away #but i only knew about him from vine and from other white liberals talking up his most recent n/etflix special when it released... #so seeing the other stuff while looking for ren-isms Took Me Out. but he's clearly... grown? i guess?? still irony poisoned #and cynical and annoying as shit but... yknow... more harmful comedians are given bigger platforms etc etc. #if that's enough to give shit away and you know anyone who has a similar voice and isn't. yknow. him? i'm Begging and Pleading. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 #evil brain blast cursed me and i've been working to break the curse ever since... so any and all recs are VERY much appreciated ;;; #currently searching through queer comedians to see if i can find anyone w the same tone but not having as much luck as i thought i would. #SEND TWEET KJSANDFKJn been sitting on this for a couple of hours. Debating. it's gonna happen eventually tho so it might as well be now. #📌 [ my posts. ] #🍄 [ lying on the blade of an emotion. ] #🦦 [ can't escape it. ] #✨ [ oc lore. ] #✏️ [ my scenarios. ] #🐸 [ look ahead. ] #🧃 [ who is in control. ]

[unproduciblesmackdown]

have more precise & coherent words about it lately lmao so just kind of musing uponst how the concept that rian & winston for like five minutes were Sharing [media discussion] with each other & apparently willing to / already having hung out Outside Of Work to do this, and all this being more personal than their being Work Friends at most perhaps / coworkers interacting over work matters, and then the fact that This Is Shown To Change Nothing About Their Dynamic either by altering it overall or particularly adding anything new & different (& improved), and kind of topped off by this being the last moment of Quant Duo we get all season when that is definitely supposed to be a particular unit/dynamic around here, all = just really solidifying the Takeaway of how the dynamic operates here lol given that season 6 sure felt like a “okay well let’s see where they take this” situation, and then going “oh. okay” when a) not only is it that rian continues to hurt winston for fun when like in universe (and out...) it’s been Plany Off Time but b) that (a) is true While we see that More Personal kind of interaction b/w the duo that Would Be one of friendship, except that all it ends up being is another data point of a different kind of scenario that shows that rian’s treatment of winston isn’t contingent on them Just As Proximate Coworkers, i.e. she won’t reconfigure that treatment if she wants anything more personal / enters into a more personal realm w/him, and that now this was apparently just another realm in which winston can have rian get something from him / wherein he’s just More Vulnerable and this is taken advantage of to keep him as someone to get something from rather than like, oh, i’m going to be considerate & careful of this person’s vulnerability that i have access to b/c i respect them as a person & am not just interested in my having control over this dynamic to get what i want out of it, & i don’t want to hurt them....it’s right in the “rian wants to, can, & does hurt winston for fun” lol

like, it’s seemingly one of those occasions like oh they’re acting like actual friends, rian’s apparently talking to him normally as a Peer in terms of [this is another person], but even in those times it’s like. there’s probably meant to be Nonzero degree in which they Are kind of actually peers, Sometimes. things like “rian is willing to stand near/next to him / chooses to do so sometimes” like, just the highest bar to vault over there lmao; other people regarding them as a unit/duo ever; other high bars like “hey there they are in the bg of a group shot both talking to the same person (ben)” like, fucking society if both quants were kinda friends for real & in turn friends with the team ben duo who are kinda friends for real, way too galaxy brained & potentially [uh oh, employees to pwn have unionized] or whatever i guess....But it also seems like, really, when we glimpse / get reference to rian interacting with winston Earnestly, there’s a pattern wherein it’s just that, in that moment, that’s the way to Get Something that she wants from him, which generally just seems to be validation re: going like “wuh oh / what’s up with that” re: taylor or some other work matters. closest we get to something being on winston’s terms is 5x07 or 6x05 where taylor basically goes up to winston first, but then rian just happens to come over to then get the Real Substance of the interaction after winston’s gotten to provide a little exposition, ft. taking an aside to bemusingly insult him in the latter episode even. like, walking through further examples, obviously first ep of season 6 like, oh they’re peers and even united in taylor supporting until rian shoves winston under the bus for no reason & at least just so happens to Win at being that loyal employee for it i guess, b/c winston just clearly sucks, and winston has no recourse, higher ups are getting in on it & will validate/reward insulting him to elevate yourself &/or your Correct, Admirable, Meritous perspective on other already elevated people. that there’s no function to rian not letting winston claim some hobby he could feasibly have Except He’s A Loser, except [jokes] i guess, and that it’s that already established pattern that she pwns him for fun, And another instance of some hypothetical boundary she won’t exercise restraint for, that is, pwning him in front of the new higher ups, now zero restraint for pwning him in front of like, everyone. next episode yeah sure they can work together no problem, but rian Will also insult him over nothing on a dime, Again in front of higher ups, and won’t blink when winston implies a) she’s been hurting him and b) he thinks she’s been Trying to hurt him (and lbr, (c), that she’s continuing to hurt him despite trying to claim otherwise. Normal Times when you think your situation / dynamic with someone could improve if they don’t feel they’re getting the Rewards of knowing they’re hurting you), now i have to remember what they do in episode four, think i always have trouble w/that one....oh right, burn rate lmao. well she doesn’t actually try to get anything from him there, and actually kind walks back something for once but probably not b/c she doesn’t want to hurt him More than she meant to with the sarcasm, but b/c it’s like, well the priority is just making sure winston doesn’t Really try to spend time with you. quite the illustration of how a Serious, Worthy Character can do some shit that everyone else is like “yeah that’s fine & cool” about, winston’s cringe for pointing out her wayward packing efforts, taylor just conveniently waiting for his joke exposition providing moment to end before talking about like careers or whatever involves no like “seriously what tf are you doing” though i suppose they’re at least consistently flexible about their quants doing Whatever on the job lol. ep 5, they’re both doing work shit actually & on the same page but That Doesn’t Matter, rian gets to pwn winston, when winston diverges from rian in just being so hyped & taken with taylor eking out wins despite it all, that means nothing for his character rather than rian’s Discontent Thread (that apparently doesn’t really go anywhere. i guess it’s supposed to be related to hugging in the end even though like, is it....ugh. the curse), rian obviously isn’t interested in like oh hmm why do you think that, what’s your perspective as someone who’s been working w/taylor since before tmc. 6x06 is so fucking outright lmfao like she’s Actually taken something tangible from him and winston is just in the corner with no recourse. his boss isn’t like “hey rian could you not take people’s personal artifacts for your pitch. or ever,” he Asks rian for his phone back and she won’t hear it, she’ll direct a smile at him over her shoulder as her business pitch seems to be going well and then go :/ at him at the end of the scene seemingly about taylor / it Not going well, only to switch to exasperation / disinterest and disengagement when she remembers like oh ugh i guess he wants his shit back....6x07 is really a high point and perhaps not only an outlier but a fluke / one that should not be counted lol, but it can be interpreted as In Line with everything else. the quants are having a Peers / Amicable interaction b/c they’re on the same page about a work issue & about confronting taylor with the matter; rian can Again get validation about what she already thinks b/c it does happen to align with what winston thinks, also. the outliership just comes in the form of how she Doesn’t actually insult him in this episode, always a rare occasion, but he gets a little invalidation when for some reason taylor won’t let him finish his sentence, as though talking about nuts is too rude around here suddenly. on the upside, maybe i can stand to use the drinks clink gif again. something would have to deserve it though. maybe i’ll use it if the goosebumps album gets a grammy, win or nomination, idc. anyways 6x08 they only interact to be a parallel duo, then rian looks to winston for “you’re on the same page here and so might validate my apprehension, right?” purposes, which is amicable enough but again like On Her Terms and it could be understood to be within that specific realm of [rian can treat him as a peer in a specific moment b/c that Validation is something she can get from him when she wants it right then]. 6x09 they’re both absent, rip. rip for the fact my most nightmarish ideas about what we might’ve really hoped 6x08 Didn’t contain about like, [uh oh rian might wanna try partying & sex to unwind from work & that’s wags’ forte. it would be wretched if the latter especially was too wags adjacent, please] turned out to still be easily superior & preferable to what we’d get when our guards were down. it’s at least more  characterful & potentially has a shred of humor when i think of the horrors, so nice job there billions. instead we get something wherein rian’s motivations or character qualities can only be understood in the context of her material wholly Serving the writing of another character’s. which, it’d be a silver lining if her material with Taylor felt mutually characterful, but it also again seems most comprehensible when rian’s writing is pretty much All thought of as serving taylor’s, which like, shoutout to taylor’s writing to be sure, but w/the lack of anything clear abt rian’s character, it’s almost as uncertain what tf taylor’s material involving her is really about like, ever. all the nigh schisming for nothing? perhaps. that rian being that Workplace Bully and/or perhaps Something of An Abusive Friend towards winston is the most characterful thing she has going on Because winston is Not treated as more of a character than she is, and god knows if this’ll ever be Treated as character material for rian rather than [it’s just jokes] when a) she’s also pretty much a plot device for other characters just as much as winston is, she’s just also someone other characters can have regular conversations with b/c she’s Serious / Deserving or whatever, vs. winston as a joke who needs rian to intervene if someone like taylor is talking to him, so that we know like, no, for real, there’s Substance here. and b) it may be Just Jokes forever, i can’t trust the writing’s perspective to say oh i’m Sure they have as much analysis about this dynamic, and furthermore, i’m Sure they’ll eventually frame it as something other than a joke even for a moment 

and even if they Did do a Rug Pull like, whoops, here winston Is presented as as much a character / person as other characters are, funny that [character is a character] would be a rug pull when like, the only sort of flat cartoon Really Not Written As A Person(tm) is spyros, winston is written too sympathetically still even if he’s still always the butt of jokes and Not given character arcs besides in season three to explain taylor hiring him, actually. and like, that rug pull has not & may never happen, and in the meantime, it’s just this miserable dynamic that doesn’t even get framed as such necessarily lol, it being Just jokes sure is a perspective that aligns w/rian’s, in that this is not important and she nor anybody else has to regard any of this seriously, and of course, in this case, the “this” that’s unimportant and needn’t be taken seriously is “winston as a person affected by the way he’s treated,” even if this were something limited to like, workplace hostility, rather than the bonus personal component to the dynamic that adds another dimension of vulnerability through which winston Can be hurt

episode ten is like, again there’s rian looking to winston for validation via Agreement on some “what’s up with this work related shit, am i right?” and when he doesn’t give that response, she may as well Get Something Else Out Of Him, which is insulting him, ft. the potential interpretation that she’s pwning him about being autistic, or Like / “as good as” an nd person, with the Parallel Play remark. tbt the fact they do have winston keep interpreting people, including rian in burn rate, more literally than that person intends. the twentysomethings these days know about Nd Behavior Concepts and Will pwn their autistic coworker thus Appropriately....even when rian is like, oh i wanna get obsessed w/analyzing your movie too, it’s Despite the fact that winston is also into it. and then when we actually see winston being so arrogant as to think he’s allowed to get in on a tmc chat too, and trying to talk about the shit he and rian have Already been talking about, he’s analyzing with a brick wall here b/c rian has serious things to worry about like feeling responsible for the feelings / ego of someone higher up in the hierarchy here, namely, taylor, but dw she’s just doing that Naturally b/c even if taylor does something someone could be really put off by here / feel uncomfortable and even wronged about / they also manage to do it super awkwardly it’s like, none of that counts as negatives b/c they are one of the more meritous winners around here, like how i guess it’s gonna be such a surprise that the most apparently meritous winningest rando of all around here could actually suck or something? you never fucking know what billions is trying to do what with [we can have it both ways (fucks up both ways)] and perhaps the way a consistent sense of Character for anyone is handled too flexibly for the sake of letting xyz happen instead, like, see, now your subsequent character material (which may itself be important for providing like, any context for other material) is kind of indecipherable, and unforch the only cipher for rian’s material that seems to give consistent results Is “don’t look to consistent character threads as explanations for what she’s got going on in any given scene / episode / arc, look to her serving as a plot device for something else, her writing is always This Way in any given moment b/c it is primarily centered around serving this other writing that’s mostly about some other character, if anything”

anyways the point is that, if they were like, actual personal friends now for bonding over a shared interest and hanging out personally / outside work, rian might treat winston a little differently and let him down easier about “can’t / don’t want to talk about that right now, sorry” in a way that cares about his feelings at all. it’s Again just like, she doesn’t want that from him anymore, so it’s right back to the usual way she can get Something from him rn, which is the fun of hurting him, so now it’s like, oh shut up you’re stupid you’re bad at the interest that was yours in the first place & why was i talking to you before, i won’t be talking to you about it again. like Oh Kay. and then like, winston might’ve Only been shoved away from the tmc trifecta for the last couple eps so that taylor and rian could have their Serious bemusing to accursed material, but if he Is choosing that distance at all / things won’t Reset entirely at the start of s7 where he’s Not now perhaps defaulting to tuk when it comes to his Hopes For Positive / Personal Interactions, then like, well Good considering the circumstances here lmao, but B/c it’d be good, like, probably won’t be allowed to happen. and b/c again like, whoops, rian’s interactions w/winston are Still her most characterful thing going on. “shoutout” to that ep eleven moment where it’s just the most breakneck turnaround from [rian wants validation via Agreement from winston about work matters] to [rian wants the rewards of being able to hurt winston] like, the moment he’s elaborating At All beyond just going “haha um yeah sure” then the only thing making it Not A Waste Of Time for rian is being able to undermine winston like, talking about himself with too much inherent validation lmao, and just call him obnoxious when who fucking asked....but “who asked” and [the implication that winston could’ve Stopped at “haha um yeah sure”] are Inaccuracies in that i don’t expect rian to Give Up The Power in the dynamic that would be required for her to even stick to mutually agreed upon Rules, nothing’s Stopping you from having the perspective that any other person isn’t a person and deserves every negative interpretation / treatment in the world, As Though winston brings it upon himself & thus could do anything on his own to get rian to choose to see him & this situation completely differently & start treating him like One Person To Another, rather than him as her chew toy or punching bag on any given day, whether b/c she thinks that’ll boost her on the social hierarchy which’ll help her careerwise (it will, probably), whether b/c she’s just taking out a lack of her own power Otherwise on him b/c like well the only solution can be bootstrapping it & making your Own opportunities for personal empowerment, like, bully someone =) gatekeep gaslight lmao, so long as you decide that that’s like, inherently acceptable behavior / an inherently acceptable perspective on other people....or just the reward that is enjoying having the power / control in its own right, regardless of any further context of Motivation or Why someone would choose to pursue & exercise that. she doesn’t have to Think she “hates” winston to not see or treat him as a person and to have fun hurting him on purpose, but does how she thinks she Feels about anything matter here when like, if anything, flippancy about the situation is just another form of disdain for him; when noting that Rian Exercises Control In The Dynamic & Rian Gets Things From Winston In The Dynamic, Both Unilaterally doesn’t rely on answering “but like, does rian do this out of personal loathing for him all the time or any given time” to be accurate. like, not like this is Likable Behavior, but when i ponder abt say like, transformatively exploring all this matter, i’m hardly interested in (or want to, especially when canon is doing rian’s character like this (not a character; The Curse)) being like whoa rian’s definitely someone just consciously being an asshole or whatever....it doesn’t Really matter Unless the focus is on like, rian’s personal narrative here, which it can be, but my hypothetical focus is Winston’s Experience Based On What We’re Seeing wherein they Do have this unilateral dynamic wherein rian has control and gets things from winston, who’s often hurt, and has no real recourse here, besides like yeah he could quit his job i guess, which isn’t Really an option that doesn’t involve him having to give up yet more / make himself more vulnerable / hurt him, since apparently so far he wants to keep said job....rian Could be operating with like peak awareness of just paramount malice towards winston, or she Could be operating with None, b/c the conscious justification she holds for pwning winston for her personal enrichment whenever she feels like it is that it’s essentially No Harm Done b/c his feelings aren’t as real as hers, or not real at all / something she does not consider at all, there can even be that perspective of Benevolence, like oh winston’s obnoxious? being mean to him In Response will make him stop annoying people, which will also help Him b/c everyone will stop disliking him / being mean to him too, and/or the [an autistic person] style like, yep everyone Should apply organic aba and punish them for all the wrong weird offputting autistic shit they do, that’s what helps them actually so ┐(シ)┌

like, all the relationships in billions can be shitty (anything involving any central guys ever, big time) or more like, weirdly sometimes a mess, even b/w ben & tuk you see ben kind of sometimes going Mentor Mode & giving some assessment abt something tuk does, wherein that’s kind of unilateral too, tuk doesn’t do that kind of thing back, how could he also when ben’s the one who’s more of that mentor for being here longer and having learned some of the things you supposedly have to learn around here....taylor & wendy’s relationship being a mess & it actually kinda seeming like it has persisted this far via taylor tending to blame themself / roll with things regardless vs wendy’s tendency to Also blame them or anyone else / go sicko mode over shit whenever she feels wronged & decides it can have 0% had to do with any of her own choices; taylor’s apparent general trait of being completely willing to forgive, or even accept, supposedly amicable parties accusing them of being nigh literally inhuman / Not A Person / effectively having a deficient/lesser interiority, thanks besties, yet more reason it’s apparently too galaxy brain for taylor to relate to winston....but then, to compare rian & winston’s relationship to others in a way in which it’s kind of Remarkably worse rather then “well, also relationships being weird & bad is just normal (even though it is)” is how like, besides things like “well, sometimes they’re standing together” there’s never anything that indicates this relationship is reciprocal, Except for when it seems to be a coincidence that like, oh what winston wants aligns with what rian wants, but as soon as rian stops wanting that / would prefer something else from him like punching or gnawing on him and not in any good ways, that’s what’s going to happen. like, sure he can Want to talk about the same work problem, sure he can Want to talk about the same niche media, and then they do that, but it’s Still only happening b/c rian happens to Also Want That, For The Moment, and the alignment / mutual benefit is contingent upon that. like, even if it’s like “hey mafee, your support of taylor as a friend seems really limited & underwhelming, maybe not that helpful at all” that’s at least something in which it has sure always seemed like they both care, and like, certainly is possible to interpret a relationship as Bad without there also being this leveraged power imbalance. and like, rian & winston are peers, even as a new hire rian wasn’t an intern, she’s now not the ceo. but rian has personal power to leverage just one on one, b/c that is what we see play out, And really immediately more power in this professional sphere right from the start, when she’s better liked & deemed superior & more deserving / more valuable than winston, who only has higher ups who prefer rian and possibly also have expressed specific dislike for him / treated him with disdain already. like, bit bleak but fits perfectly fine with everything if, to take it all the way back to 5x05, any ambiguity like [hey dunno maybe rian likes him at all, maybe she was trying to help him out just in this basic friendly way] could well instead be like, Maybe she actually thinks having him around as The Asshole We Should Fire (which is really just based on wendy not liking his vibe, and nothing rian knows except that, i guess oh everyone immediately agrees on sight that they all agree everyone hates this guy. meanwhile bonus points for winston never before or since being a bellwether, for Before having been the sole person arguing for the impact fund inspiring strat, for Afterwards the fact that if anyone’s ever saying taylor’s not being profit focused enough, it’s rian? or like, philip i guess. in a “but that’s too risky” way) but like, if she Does in fact just decide that she Could keep him around as a punching bag & chew toy, that could line up with things more than we’ve ever seen payoff for Rian Likes Winston For Real At All beyond, again, “well she can stand next to him sometimes”....a) does still seem to be the case that Rian Can Tell Winston Likes Her, what with immediately tipping his hand there, and that she pays more attention to him in that moment has Always potentially been abt the hypothetical Reward of that, like, perhaps a more regular reward of like, well maybe i’d wanna see where that goes, perhaps a more sort of neutral reward of, well maybe i’d find that flattering / validating whether or not i’m ever interested similarly or he eventually stops being interested thusly, but really now it’s like, well, it’s also A Vulnerability, in that it sure does seem to be showing us that he Does have a genuine crush, and while rian seems to find No romantic and/or sexual interest from coworkers or bosses to be threatening, she also specifically seems to see winston’s as a) a joke at best and b) gross/annoying at worst. the material again at least does not Contradict this really, whether or not the writing agrees at all that yeah winston’s sexuality is nasty, again that there’s seemingly nonzero sympathy in his handling, but it’s also like ew this guy being horny? both out of line & Loser Shit when he does it, he’s not cool enough to have sex, or even Want To, it’s gross when he does it, it’s an immediate joke when he thinks he gets to have a crush on someone who’s inherently above him. but she can go ahead and guess that he might want to try to appeal to her, between not only having a crush clearly but his efforts to supposedly Not appeal to her / be at odds with her involve him giving backhanded insult Compliments that perhaps cue her in thusly, he’s not a threat, he’s inherently vulnerable To You Specifically, rian’s Also already an audience to the fact that their bosses seem to dislike him & are Definitely not on his side / helping him out here anyways, so that’s not only this area in which he’s Not Protected, it’s potentially compounding his vulnerability, in that “hey, stepping on winston will elevate me to coworkers and bosses who think he sucks” way / shared negative opinion as fastest social bond, which comes with professional rewards here, b/c how often is [xyz] Not really partially or entirely a Popularity Context, like a workplace? rian Is more popular, immediately, and the fact that also winston likes her too anyways, and in fact, crushes on her already, is not something he’s doing “right,” it’s just something that puts him on the back foot should she decide she’d like to mess with the entire concept of His Feelings for her own amusement, like calling him a douche not b/c she more neutrally also enjoys his attention, but b/c it’ll bother him probably as the totally self contained reason. or like, not that winston’s on the back foot, since that implies a strategic disadvantage that he could potentially recover from. while this is about a Vulnerability he can’t [personal choice/responsibility] his way out of. see that last long post and how he, and anyone else, can’t bootstraps their way out of being autistic, much less that it’s not Worse, or at all bad, to be autistic....and like, we’ve never seen anything Reciprocal. rian gets stuff she wants out of interactions with winston, interactions are ended / winston’s shut down if he’s trying to continue an exchange to get something He’d want out of it / if it’s just like, shut up, b/c i’ve gotten what i wanted already, so there’s litchrly no reason for you to keep talking / receive any attention?? winston’s motivated by liking rian, from the initial crush context to vaguer / more ambiguous efforts to Appeal To Her and/or earnestly seek some kind of personal connection here; rian is not motivated by the same. no exchange between them is ever punctuated with some beat of like, idk, rian getting moral support from winston / Enjoying his effort to be amicable/appealing, like, e.g. simply a smile in response to something he says. she sure doesn’t turn to him for the least [actually wants to have a serious convo with someone] like yeah oh of Course rian just stumbles into an exchange with wags??? in some bizarre roundabout situation like, hello, what the hell are you talking about lmao even if she Doesn’t turn to winston....we certainly don’t see anything like “it’s mutual that someone takes active effort to support / encourage the other / maintain the relationship” like we do between mafee & taylor or ben & tuk, say. totally unilateral. i can’t think of any instance in which it was clear rian’s motivation was Giving winston something, much less that everything is comprehensible through that lens of [rian interacts with winston to Get Something] and that’s what’s more textual, between plenty of exchanges ending on beats of winston being visibly hurt / withdrawing from the exchange for it, and his comment conveying “you’ve been hurting me, i think you’ve been doing it Because you want to hurt me, you’re continuing to hurt me” like, great lmao. nothing suggests that rian considers his feelings as mattering at all, i don’t think that her enjoying perhaps even simply being Able to hurt him both b/c she wants to & b/c he’s vulnerable enough in various ways, is something that she would necessarily stop doing because like [oh she didn’t realize she hurts him, now she has] or otherwise like, her idea of The Degree Of Winston’s Pain As Measured Against A “Deserving” Person’s being increased would get her to stop, although i don’t know that it Would ever increase, b/c there’s no like, external “proof” of winston’s interiority, or of his being As Real/Worthy as anyone else’s. here’s where there Could be individual choice in rian actually adjusting her own perspective here, but why would she when she is already in a place to Bring & Enact that perspective? there’s no guaranteed thing to convince her to suddenly apply the golden rule for real / to care about that more than caring about [whatever rewards she gets out of Being Able to get shit out of Giving winston shit (she does give him anything after all...& grief, a hard time, diminished sense of self worth, etc) & doing so] and here’s where Other People’s Intervention could be what changes Anything, since winston’s already vulnerable and rian’s already got the advantage of power & is Taking that advantage, that is already a situation in play, and to Not intervene is to simply Hope the person with more power changes their mind with this pretty dramatic fundamental perspective shift for some reason, or to just leave it up to the party receiving that treatment to be exposed to this indefinitely, or try to extricate themself from the situation potentially at personal losses / the vulnerabilities that put them at that disadvantage / relatively disempowered position in the first place being compounded, since that’s how it works, you can’t do anything abt it b/c [threat of greater vulnerability as its own punishment]....like, here winston could quit, but he does want to stay, and b/c he’s On The Show if he quits he’ll basically stop existing. and sure, it’s also true that b/c he’s on the show, it’s ultimately better for everyone even individually to quit lmao, but truly as before the answer shouldn’t be like, “because This Is What’s Better For You, you’ll be driven towards that with hostile treatment, bullying, even abuse even though People Take That Personally, it’s an analysis of a power structure lmao it doesn’t have to be deemed Extreme it doesn’t have to be made a matter of Judgment Of Individuals / Competition of Their Narratives”.....which yknow, speaking of, who’s gonna intervene for winston. what a twist that thinking rian might stick up for him, like was i guess coincidence in 5x05, same as her Not saying “btw i guess i’ll hook up here with no worries but i don’t want to date through work” coincidentally, b/c once again rian’s writing is not characterful so much as it is supporting some other function: here, i guess the continuation of the essential Joke of winston being so clueless as to think he’s allowed to have a crush on someone who’s not as much an undeserving cringe loser? meanwhile, coworkers have never stuck up for him, taylor kiiiiiiinda will, sometimes, but seems to really have had a more hands off approach there, and while we can’t know if it’s a matter of like, oh they’ve just never observed much of rian & winston’s dynamic, it’s like, kind of an Inherent Thing lol like if rian will bully a coworker then One Instance could at least catch their attention perhaps, but it seems rather that taylor Does center their idea of Rian’s Personal Narrative & interpret her motivations as sympathetic, relatable, worthy. seems entirely plausible that taylor could see that kind of treatment as just a) normal and/or inevitable, b) Deserved b/c winston is so cocky & not sweet or whatever the hell, c) Okay When Rian Does It b/c she can’t really mean it that maliciously anyways, just messing around, and/or whatever rewards she’s getting out of it Are indeed so worth the low, low cost of winston being hurt by it. even the idea that taylor Would see it as something fucked up of rian to do seems like it’d more likely lead to them taking action on it not to help winston but to help rian, like, hey, that can’t be good (it can’t, but).......but between the general perspective of axe cap certainly & even mpc, and taylor liking & looking out for rian personally And professionally & just on their own choosing to read into anything about her in the best light, and the backpat a season later being the only turnaround really from their weird disdainful Alignment With Wendy shift in 5x05 towards him, who can hold their breath. even when it’s like, taylor shouldn’t need to value winston even just as an employee Through rian or anyone else, tbt 5x05 he’s the one most suspicious about wendy and framing it about taylor, not just about their own jobs or just His own job, he’s right, this is not recognized, his even wanting to have liaisons to talk about how taylor’s the one who’s vulnerable? who cares....it keeps him out of the fallout i suppose, nobody else in that room would actually still be there in the very end of the season, but like. you’d think taylor could easily Consult Him Professionally more, rather than the only thing that happens is winston says some aside that’s dismissed right off and then the only further possibility is that someone more Worthy picks it up like i mean yeah winston sucks & he’s stupid & shut up winston, but, also Truue....can’t say that tertiary / quanternary isn’t the place to be for a funny little guy, b/c like, again, god look at rian’s character lmfao, what the fuck do we have to show for her being “a major player” or “a character”....winston being a plot device And The Show Knows It means a little goddamn cohesion, at least. it also means that his godawful treatment is a joke and i don’t even know if the writing realizes it’s not just the inconsequential goofin that some people deserve. kind of v relevant to the “do you think of winston as an autistic character or only as an Other People, Not Any Of Us, Who Choose To Be Weird & Annoying B/c They Suck I Guess. Maybe They Do Really Think They’re Being Normal But That’s Kind Of Tragically Pathetic At Best character,” or

shoutout then to how tuk & winston seem to have a more genuine, reciprocal relationship. 5x08 immediately, they are both pleased with their exchange, hanging out, having fun giving tanner a Superiority Paroxysm & helping drive him off, god thank you you heroes. tuk doesn’t seem to feel, much less act on, disdain for winston bringing up Nerd Shit instead of “yes i pretend to have opinions on only the most expensive of art and coincidentally truly Prefer what just so happens to be most monetarily valuable” Art. winston hypes tuk up, or certainly is just validating him on a fundamental level when tuk’s norm seems to be lacking confidence, and that may not be returned but it’s accepted without contempt or stepping on winston or invalidating him or whatever, and also winston does seem to have some basic confidence in himself & his capabilities even if this is supposedly wrong / laughable arrogance, but yknow, winston’s Also actually withering left & right & rarely arguing the point when people put him down, though who knows, maybe the Obnoxious remark from rian wasn’t something he absorbed as “sigh, she’s right i guess” even if he didn’t outright say as much....he & tuk do seem to be mutual friends where neither of them wants to Use the other, certainly not like, i am entertained by my deliberately causing you emotional / psychological pain, and diminishing you / putting you down especially in front of others might give me a helpful boost” like, it might be A Conflict that other people root for tuk to Act Righter / Be More Of A Deserving Winner and see like, treating an obnoxious cringe loser like winston as as much of a person as you even to the degree you would consider your ability to hurt him & care about Not doing that, as Antithetical / counterproductive to tuk becoming the winner he ought to be....maybe people will see winston’s friendship with tuk as another instance of some unilateral Getting Something From Winston that winston deserves, and thus winston hyping tuk up is an acceptable role for him, while tuk still actually regards him & actually treats him as a friend. maybe people will be like, well tuk’s still kind of a cringe loser too but that’s okay, he’s More of a winner, we can look the other way if winston’s giving him a hug all the time, certainly winston will be caught in some more vulnerable place easily enough so he can be kept in line by people correctly pwning & using him

anyways idk tl;dr season 6 sure went “rian & winston sure don’t have a reciprocal relationship rather than this extractive unilateral power dynamic all on rian’s terms & choices, huh” where it’s like well i guess that’s not likely to change b/c why would it (limited reasons that aren’t likely to happen in the series / wouldn’t be the Kind Of Thing given an arc anyways. including that winston’s not the kind of thing given an arc. and rian choosing to let up b/c someone, like taylor Maybe, is like, hey for your own sake: what’s up with the workplace bullying? and Personal at this point? and kind of already the whole time?? would be underwhelming when it comes to winston’s sake, in that Still nobody’s Really considering His Sake or motivated by it. but something about whatever the hell dynamic of personal somethingship and support b/w taylor and rian is more relevant / likely to be written about. even if like, it’s rare someone is Really guided more onto some rails than they were before, And like, idk, just go “well, do what you want, i’m here for you anyways” lmfao like there’s not gonna seem to be any tangible consequences here except the Possibility of, what, winston quitting? nobody’s ever motivated by that either, so.) and ummm that the fact this season Didn’t change that dynamic yet Did have winston & rian interacting in a newly more personal way over a Shared Interest (like, tbt to 5x07 where again it’s like. guess that’s just a moment of rian wanting to talk to Someone and she doesn’t really care who and she’s def not about to let winston talk about enjoying his programming languages like malbolge and shit b/c i’ve already gone into a whole separate room, i’ll come out when taylor’s back and they need to know someone who’s Not a joke is fucked up too) which means like, that’s just quantifiably more, & qualitatively more personal, avenues in which winston is More Vulnerable, which is just great in this context lmfao. if they hung out, rian went to winston’s place b/c ew gross re: letting him in where she lives, & then she made fun of his framed tron cel. no locked drawers please, gonna go through yours & get to be like wow your underwear sucks like burn rate says & if you have a condom around here like wow arrogant much? You? having sex? which you’re also a weird horny freak b/c it’s inherently deviant of you to operate in that realm instead of Normal & Cool, b/c you’re never either thing. anyways what do you think about the fans. dunno why i’m asking b/c you’re so stupid & don’t get it, but guess she wants an Analysis Discussion opportunity same as she’ll tolerate him for a workplace problem discussion opportunity, but no guarantees later, when He wants to walk up & have that discussion he can die & rian will be making sure to hurt him even while apparently worrying abt whether She hurt Taylor by not hooking up with them, personally, not even like “uh oh do you think i’ll be fired” or something. but rian does not seem to really have a handle on concerns about relative power or anything around here. meanwhile also, addendum about winston’s vulnerabilities in that like. besides liking her, at least for a while, not like anyone else has ever chosen to talk to winston that we’ve really seen, save Maybe tuk, sometimes mafee, but that doesn’t seem to have had the least substance really. winston facing Isolation otherwise during all work hours is readily a factor that could motivate him re: even like, hey, maybe we can be work friends? and i guess they kind of are, but again, simply in the [standing next to each other] way mostly lol....taylor might say winston will punch you or run you over or something, but in all exchanges we see, he’s the one being punched or run over, he’s the one often trying to appeal to, and/or at least appease, other people. he’s [autistic character] and there’s the inherent vulnerability in that, if he thinks rian Does like him at all even in the [i’ll stand near you sometimes] way, he might think that’s the best he can get around here, he might absorb the message that He’s Doing Everything Wrong / he brings it all upon himself and He has to change it, and so be seeking out anyone giving him feedback, and willing to roll with its being negative / blame himself for that. he’s Already dealing with a world of supposed “rules” he’s Failing to follow and that’s why everyone gives him shit, so what’s the problem if he thinks his dynamic w/rian is another world of rules he’s failing to follow and that’s why she gives him shit? and so on. this wasn’t really a tl;dr 

tl;dr rian & winston’s dynamic sure isn’t reciprocal & their shared interest / interacting outside work making their relationship more Personal is probably just worse

#idk what's going on in here lol just another [wrote some shit out on & off for hours; nailed it to the door] #not like Revelations I Had Just Today; more like; things i've Been mulling over that get fresh short essays now and then like #maybe i've only rotated this in my mind or via discussions vs every saying it in a post... #or just needing an update b/c of further rotation / discussion lol and/or b/c Restating it w/diff language or what have you can be different #winston billions #guess it counts as #riawin #Society If they'd just got to have another normal billions friendship even if those are wild & kinda cursed too #but frankly even more important like society if the tmc trifecta had actually been a trifecta #b/c then Taylor Material could have some more context as well. if the writers wrote taylor & winston locked in a room they'd Also write them #both failing to get to have a conversation the whole time. hanging out via escape room but taylor's just actually focused on solving it #everyone keeps saying it's b/c parallel play is better lol. winston can consider a Complaint abt this but what?? gonna go to hr??? lmfaooo #[writers creating material Textually abt an autistic person even as a concept] like wuh oh. in the danger zone already #anyways lmao. it's [handshake] anyways like #does the writing even consider winston as being Possibly Interpretable as Autistic? debatable at best #does the writing even consider rian's dynamic w/winston being one in the realm/context of workplace bullying / interpersonal abuse? see prev

[matryosika]

Extracurricular

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 9,281 words Includes — College AU, strangers to something. Shy and inexperienced Hyunjin. Explicit content, smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This was... a ride. I'm used to writing super filthy smut, but I think this one is pretty soft and wholesome. I enjoyed this idea a lot, and I enjoyed writing it too. I was between Seungmin, Mark and Hyunjin for this one, but I eventually decided to go with Hyunjin because... I don't think I've read a lot about him in this kind of dynamic haha. Also to indulge myself. I hope you guys like it; if you do, please like/reblog and leave an ask or comment! Remember that I own a ko-fi, in case you want to support my work further (link in my post pinned!) Every tip is super helpful to me.

Smut warnings: Kind of perv!Hyunjin if you squint. Hyunjin gets hard during a non-sexual context and reader catches it. Soft dirty talk, handjob, fingering, oral sex (both m. and f. receiving), deepthroating and super soft face fucking, cum eating, multiple orgasms (for both characters). Penetrative sex, unprotected sex (contraceptives are discussed), creampie.

[15:47 p.m.] You: 8, my place. 

Hyunjin tilted his head while reading your text, unsure about what he should reply. It wasn’t a question, nor a proposal; it was an order, something he had to accept rather than negotiate. 

[15:48 p.m.] Hyunjin: Yeah. 

For once, he was glad about being partnered with someone who enjoyed taking the lead. Had it been any other classmate of his, Hyunjin was sure he would’ve been forced to take the initiative. 

This time around, though, he wasn’t. But at what cost? The relief of being grouped with someone like you wasn’t as comforting as any other would think. Sure, more than one classmate would’ve done anything to be paired with you, but Hyunjin just couldn’t feel the same. 

[15:50 p.m.] You: my apartment is near Namyeong station. 

[15:50 p.m.] You: I'll text you the address later, wait. 

He spent the following hours waiting for your text, wondering how fate had played such cards on him. Was it a divine punishment? Or a devilish blessing? Hyunjin just couldn’t know.

*

He stood in front of your apartment door for minutes, debating on whether he should knock right away or wait a little bit longer. The clock on his cellphone screen Hyunjined 8:02, yet he didn’t want to look too desperate to get inside your place, even when he was.

So, Hyunjin opted to wait a few more minutes before knocking on your door. He thought about it as a way to soothe himself, though it was useless —no amount of waiting time could fight the awkwardness of getting to hang around you for a whole evening.

Despite knowing that, he tried his best. He brushed his sweaty palms against the fabric of his sweatpants, fixed his hair, cleared his throat, and rehearsed his greeting.

“Hey,” he whispered to himself. Too sharp. “Hello,” too weird. “Hi,” totally not like him.

“What’s up?,” Hyunjin finally concluded. What’s up? Casual, friendly, and not too uptight —even when that's probably one word he would use to describe himself.

With tons of hesitation, and motivated by the already wasted time, Hyunjin finally knocked on your door. He went for three knocks, one right after the other.

Surprisingly, you answered the door after the second one.

“What were you doing?”

It wasn't that Hyunjin needed to have everything under his control, but he wished to have at least some of it. From the moment you choose your own place for the project meeting, to the blunt question you welcomed him with, Hyunjin felt nothing but uncertainty.

In any other situation, or with any other person, he would've been the one leading the way. He would've been at the comfort of his place, welcoming his guest the way he wished to be welcomed. He would direct the project, choose the idea he liked best, work diligently on it and call it a day.

But he was standing right in front of your apartment door, with his cheeks flushed and a timid grimace that resembled more awkwardness than a friendly smile.

“Huh?” he mumbled, barely audible for you.

“It’s 8:20,” you stepped away from the door and encouraged the brown-haired to come in. “I was waiting for you”.

Were you? Hyunjin lost track of the time that evening. He knew he got to your apartment at around 8, but he wasn’t conscious of the whole twenty minutes he spent getting ready to knock on your door.

“Sorry,” was all he could come up with. “Hi”.

“Hi,” you said back, closing the door right behind you and guiding your shy classmate across the small living room.

He seemed nosy, you could tell; his eyes widened as he discreetly scanned the whole space. There was not much to see though —when it came to room décor, you were more of a minimalist. Still, Hyunjin was curious because it was your place, he wasn’t particularly interested in appreciating the small details but imagining how you spent your afternoons resting there.

“So,” you sat down on the couch and grabbed your laptop from the coffee table, leaving space for Hyunjin to sit next to you. He seemed hesitant at first, debating on whether he should be close to you or not for his own good, but he didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were. “Any ideas?”

“Ideas?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “for the project”.

To be truthfully honest, Hyunjin had plenty of ideas for the final assignment. But as he inhaled your fragrance, he completely forgot about every single one of them.

“I-” he hesitated. Silly enough, he was at the top of his class. In the midst of things, he felt overwhelmed —what if you expected a lot from him? “I guess I haven’t thought much about it”.

“Me neither,” you sighed, throwing your head back and against a cushion. “We have a long night ahead”.

“Wha- do you think we can get it done by tonight?” Hyunjin asked you. Of course, if the both of you worked hard and without any distractions, the final project could’ve been done in under 3 hours. Yet he had hope about another project meeting, luckily at his place.

“Maybe,” you closed your eyes and exhaled deeply.  

Hyunjin nodded silently and stared at you for a while, allowing himself to do so only because you had your eyes closed. Besides that time you were late and had to sit right next to him in freshman year, this was as close as Hyunjin had ever been to you.

He didn’t want to come off as a pervert, but it was hard not to stare at you. Of course, he wasn’t going to do it shamelessly —he respected you and the last thing he wanted was for you to think about him as a creep or feel uncomfortable hanging around him, but his own instincts betrayed him.

From the curvature of your lashes to your lips, then your neck, and a little down further, Hyunjin’s eyes fixed on your cleavage. Your clothes only revealed much, but that was perfect, it had him on edge.

“What?” Your voice caught him off guard and he quickly parted his gaze away from you.

“Huh?”

“I can feel you staring at me, Hyunjin,” you scoffed, still with your eyes closed.

“I am not,” he reassured you, shifting his position on the couch.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But I wouldn’t mind if you were”.

“I am not,” Hyunjin repeated and turned to face the small balcony next to him, pretending that the view outside the apartment was a thousand times more fulfilling than the one he had sitting next to him.

“Why do you not like me?” The question came out rather harshly, but far from intimidating him, it only made Hyunjin curious.

Up until that point, he thought it was pretty obvious —he was into you. He didn’t know you that much, but he didn’t need to; his lack of knowledge never stopped him from having wet dreams about you almost every single night.

“Why do you think that?”

You let out a soft scoff, turning to the side to face him. “You didn’t look happy when the professor paired us together”.

Well, that was true, but not for the reasons you thought.

“You seem outgoing with everyone, but you always look tense when I hang around you,” you continued rambling, feeling offended at the reminiscences of every time Hyunjin acted like a jerk around you. “Am I that annoying?”.

You were the farthest thing from annoying, but he couldn’t tell you that. Hyunjin wasn’t good at flirting or being sly around you, so being bluntly honest with you wasn’t an option unless he wanted to sound intense.

“Mh,” there was not much he could say, really. He knew it wasn’t true, but he wasn’t going to try to convince you otherwise. It was best for you to think of him as someone distant and cold rather than a complete dumbass who fantasized about you almost every single day.

“See?” you barked. “You are not denying it”.

“I don't think you are annoying,” Hyunjin murmured, trying hard not to stumble upon his words. “I guess we just don't hang around that much”.

“Mh, is that so?” You tried hard to make eye contact with him, but it was useless. It seemed as if he was avoiding any kind of interaction with you, and that amused you as much as it bothered you. “I know you are lying because you can't even say such a thing while looking at me”.

“I don't think you are annoying,” Hyunjin repeated, tilting his head at you ever so slightly. He wasn't too fond of eye contact, let alone with you.

“Ah, come on,” with a soft groan, you cupped Hyunjin’s cheeks with one of your hands and forced him to look into your direction. “I don't believe you”.

His eyes widened slightly, and the skin underneath your palm started to feel warm with each second that passed.

“What?”

You were staring at him with doe eyes and, for a split second, Hyunjin felt anger at your naiveness. Were you really that oblivious to your own charms? Or did you just enjoy feeling like a predator hunting its prey? Either scenario made him feel pathetic.

If you were that naive, then that would mean that he is nothing more but a pathetic pervert that gets turned on by everything you do. But if you weren't, and instead were fully aware of the power you held over him, that would mean that you were just toying with him.

“I don't find you annoying,” Hyunjin murmured. “If I did, I wouldn't be here”.

“Well you came 20 minutes late and can't even engage in small talk,” you continued bickering, “it seems to me that you don't want to be here”.

At that point, Hyunjin understood you were just doing that to tease him —you were pushing all his buttons trying to get any kind of reaction from him. As far as he was concerned, that was much like you; according to your friends and classmates, you were a complete tease.

Hyunjin loved that about you as much as he hated it.

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say,” he stuttered. Your skin was burning against his, and he prayed for you to not notice the rising tint in his cheeks.

You smiled, still cupping both of his cheeks as if that small gesture wasn’t weird to perform on an almost stranger —still, you could tell he was nervous. “I’m just messing with you, Hwang,” you finally scoffed, letting go of the grip you had on his face.

You didn’t think he hated you, but his behavior was, in fact, odd around you. Hyunjin wasn’t the extroverted type, but you could tell there was a difference between how he engaged with everyone and you.

You weren’t the extroverted type either unless you had to  —that night, as he was quiet as usual, you had decided to try and lighten up the mood by teasing him. Perhaps it wasn’t the best way to start a conversation, but you just didn’t know any better.

“So,” you sat down properly on your space, moving away from him as he sensed the loss of your warmth, “project ideas”.

It was impressive how much power you held over Hyunjin and how indifferent he was to you —even he couldn’t begin to comprehend such a thing.

It was such a small, playful action; you had decided to make a suggestive joke, inviting him to look at you. Then, you touched him. Even if it wasn’t anything sexual, his body reacted in such a way —his skin got covered in goosebumps, his heart skipped a beat and the unpleasant pressure between his legs didn’t take long to appear.

That made him feel embarrassed.  

He wasn’t as experienced as others, nor had much going on in his sexual life, but there was something shameful in getting turned on that easily by someone he barely knew. Even worse, by someone who wasn’t doing anything to drive him to that place.

And then you changed the subject, so casually and quickly that it made him feel pathetic. You were back to thinking about project ideas and he was still frozen in its place, imagining that your touch was still there, that your gaze was still fixed in his, and that the following events weren’t as they had been.

You had moved from moment to moment so easily, yet he was still pressing the couch cushion against his lap trying for his growing bulge to go unnoticed.

“Hwang?”

“Huh?” Hyunjin blinked a few times before facing you, tilting his head ever so slightly as he tried to bring back anything from what you had said the past 2 minutes. Nothing, he was too busy thinking about how it was a mistake to wear a pair of sweatpants that evening.

You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, “were you listening?”

He swallowed thickly and interrupted eye contact, turning to face the paper sheets scattered on the coffee table. Your eyes immediately fell down to the striped cushion which he cautiously held against his body, his hand pressing it just enough for his grip to look both rough and gentle at the same time.

“What was it?” Hyunjin shyly asked.

He expected you to start talking again like you had been doing ever since he got there, but you remained silent. Instead, you tilted your head at him, staring shamelessly at the object he seemed to be clinging to.

If there was one thing you were good at and he wasn’t, was bearing silence.

“I was- I kind of got lost in the middle,” he rambled, trying hard to hide his obvious nervousness. “You were saying something about, uh-”.

It seemed as if the only way you could make Hyunjin Hwang talk was by being quiet. The longer you stared at him, the more he talked —or tried to, better said.

“Hyunjin,” you interrupted, offering him the sweetest yet most taunting smile he had ever seen from you.

He was doomed.

By the way your eyes were lingering on the striped cushion and the corners of your lips raised in a mischievous smile, he knew you knew.

And in that split second, where your eyes met his tense body and flustered gaze, everything started to make sense.

“We don't need to have everything done by tonight,” you murmured with a flirting tone he wasn't oblivious to.

Prior to that day, Hyunjin had always stood out to you. It wasn't just his looks or physical appearance, but there was something inviting about him that, even then, you were trying to figure out.

You had a slight crush on him, but that wasn't saying much —every woman you knew had a thing for Hyunjin Hwang. He really wasn't the dating type, nor showed any interest in casual dates, yet you knew a fair amount of girls who would date him in a heartbeat.

But because of how uninterested he was about the women surrounding him, and how awkward he always seemed to get around you, you never thought of him as something more than just a pretty man.

“We should-,” he continued, avoiding your eyes who were practically begging for him to look at you, “discuss the id-”.

“Hyunjin,” you repeated, shifting your position on the couch so your body could face him. “Stop”.

His cheeks were flushed, his bottom lip was caught between his teeth and his gaze was slowly losing its spark. His eyes were no longer bright but dark —still, the characteristic softness of them never faded away.

“Are you okay?”

The question was innocent, but Hyunjin knew it hid something mischievous. Even so, he was hoping to be able to fool you.

“I think I just- need to go to the bathroom,” he murmured shyly, spreading his legs inconspicuously as he tried to fix his issue.

You glared at the striped cushion and then at him, trying to make him understand that you just couldn't be tricked.

“Is that so?” There was a teasing tone in your voice Hyunjin could pick up on well, but he chose to ignore it —instead, he was trying hard to believe his own lie.

But it was almost impossible; from the way your gaze was practically devouring him to the way your arm grazed against his ever so slightly, he just couldn't focus on anything else.

“Y-yes”.

“Right there,” you pointed at one of the doors and smiled when Hyunjin realized what he had put himself through.

In order to get to the bathroom, he would have to stand up from the couch. And by standing up, he would have to leave the striped cushion behind —otherwise it would've looked weird if he decided to walk along your living room while holding a cushion against his crotch.

“What is it?”

Hyunjin felt cornered. And humiliated.

“Think I'll just stay here,” he struggled, looking down at the object on his lap and avoiding your touch.

He was sure that if you were to cup his cheeks one more time or grab his arm in a playful manner, he would come right then in his pants. That's how much power you had over him.

“You are flushed,” just as if you had been reading his thoughts for the past fifteen minutes, you leaned forward to touch his forehead with your palm. “And you are burning, too”.

At that point, Hyunjin felt terrible. His cock twitched inside his pants as he felt your delicate touch on him again, and he was sure that his sweatpants had now a dark, wet patch on them.

All because of you.

“You were just fine when you got here though,” you were toying with him, and he could tell. “I wonder what happened”.

Hyunjin swallowed tickly once he felt your hand on his cheek and jaw, teasing the side of his neck only to return back to its original place at his forehead.

For a split second, he thought about going for it. But what exactly was he going for? His cock was hard in his pants and the whole moment just made him look pathetic. On top of that, he didn't trust you enough. Would you laugh at him and call him a pervert? Or would you like the idea that you can get him hard that easily?

“Come on,” you murmured, grabbing the cushion as soon as he let his guard down. He was too lost into his own thoughts that he only realized you had taken it away when it was already too late.

His hands flew to his crotch, but it was all useless.

The raise of one of your eyebrows let Hyunjin know he had lost a game he didn't even know he was playing in the first place. It seemed as if, from the moment he walked through your apartment door, your only mission was for him to drop that distant facade he thoroughly tried to build around you.

And oh, how you succeeded.

He stared at you for what felt like ages, his body leaning forward as he tried to hide his bulge. The worst part was that, even after being caught, his cock didn't soften, it was all quite the opposite.

“Hm,” you finally hummed, interrupting the awkward silence between the both of you. “I thought you were feeling ill”.

Truth was, he did feel ill. His head was spinning around, he felt dizzy, his heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour and his hands were sweating like never before. At some point, he felt as if he was going to faint.

But even then, when he knew you had caught him red-handed in the middle of possibly one of the most humiliating situations a man can ever be in, you just couldn't stop staring at him.

Your eyes were fixed on the silhouette of his bulge, his sweatpants only leaving much to the imagination. His hand reached out for the striped cushion yet again, establishing a physical barrier between you and what you were dying to see.

“I guess you were right,” you murmured after an awkward silence, still with your gaze placed on that specific spot. “You don't find me annoying”.

It was a subtle, amusing joke to lighten up the mood, but Hyunjin couldn't relax. All he could think of was your eyes analyzing every part of him, from his rosy cheeks to the stained gray sweatpants.

“I should probably- just, you know, I can get the project done on my own. I will just-,” he was rambling, again. It was really a pathetic move, but what else was he supposed to do? He had never felt as embarrassed.

“Do you like me?”

Hyunjin stared at you with both eyes open like plates. There was no point in asking that question, especially not after you caught him with a boner in the middle of just a college project.

“I mean, sexually,” you added.

He thought, wasn't it obvious? His cock always got rock hard whenever you were around. Whenever he jerked himself off, all he could think about was you. Even when he didn't want to, even when he tried to think about anyone but you, you were the only one he could think of as he came.

“I- you know, I'm just-”.

“It's a yes or no question, Hyunjinnie,” you taunted him.

God, how he hated that nickname. It made him feel pathetic, which was not too far from reality.

“No”.

A blatant lie. No matter how hard Hyunjin tried to pretend he didn't feel attracted towards you, his past actions could rat him out anytime. The amount of times he had jerked off to your instagram pictures, the countless occasions he got hard just from seeing you and the embarrassing moments in which your name had slipped from his lips every time he humped his pillow were enough proof that he was into you.

“No?” you asked him, incredulous.

He shook his head. “I- think we should just- focus on the assignment”.

It took Hyunjin all the courage within him to not run away from the scene, lock himself up in his apartment and drop out of college. He did want to run away from your apartment, though, but he couldn't —his whole body was frozen and he could only do as little as move his gaze over the scattered paper sheets in front of him.

“I am just trying to help you here,” you exhaled deeply, clearly upset about facing rejection from such a man.

You weren't expecting him to give in right away —you knew him fairly well, and considering how shy he was, it was pointless to hope for a little bit of initiative. Yet the thing that bothered you the most was how you could tell he wanted to, but kept on denying it and pretending he just wasn't interested.

“And I can't help you if you don't let me”.

Hyunjin fixed his eyes on the small coffee table in front of him, yet his gaze was lost. Everything felt too surreal, like a dream or something pulled out of his wildest fantasies —it was all too good to be true.

“What makes you think I need help?” he gulped while asking that question, as if the answer wasn't obvious. Still, he wanted to know if you two were at least on the same page.

“Mh,” you scoffed, changing your position to end up kneeling on the couch right next to him. “Do I really need to say it?”

Truth is, you didn't. If you did say those words, he would feel too humiliated. It was humiliating enough for him to have you knowing his filthy secret, so Hyunjin just couldn't imagine how overwhelmed he would feel if you were to say anything about the situation.

“You know, it is actually kind of funny,” you taunted. Now that he was sitting right next to you, with his cock hard and his cheeks tinted, Hyunjin’s image was everything but funny.

“I am guessing this is the reason behind you not being able to concentrate on this project,” your hand sneaking all the way to the striped cushion as you took it from his lap —this time around, he didn't stop you. “So I think it's funny”.

He couldn't wrap his head about your choice of words. Funny?

“How come?” he felt less pathetic then. Still as embarrassed, but at least the relief of knowing you didn't think of him as a pervert gave him just the tiniest bit of comfort.

“You are hard and I am wet,” you chuckled, wrapping your hands underneath his left arm. That, combined with the words coming out of your mouth, made Hyunjin’s cock twitch inside his sweatpants. “Had I not seen that, we would have spent hours working on this while being aroused”.

Now, that was too good to be true.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” your hands cupped his face with delicacy, forcing him towards you. “Given the circumstances, we can help each other out, right?”

There was something Hyunjin needed to know first, before agreeing to do whatever it was that you were suggesting. Perhaps it was his ego, or mere curiosity, but he couldn't hold the question back.

“Why were you wet?”

The short, obvious answer was because you were aroused. But you both knew he didn't want to hear that —he was more interested in knowing what caused it.

“Why do you think so?” you scoffed softly, dragging your hand along his arm until it reached his wrist. “You are here, and we are both alone so it was impossible for me not to think about stuff”.

“What kind of stuff?”

For better or for worse, Hyunjin lost his inhibitions slowly. Had you reacted differently than you did, he was sure things wouldn't have been the way they were.

“Too many questions,” you shook your head softly, guiding his wrist between your parted legs. “Why don't you tell me what made you hard?”

He repressed a moan as soon as his digits grazed against your core —even with your underwear and shorts on, he could feel how warm you were.

“You,” he simply responded, fixing his eyes on the way your hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Do I make you hard?”

Hyunjin was just applying a small amount of pressure on you, yet you felt the need to swallow thickly. Your gaze was lost in the veins of his arms and the way his hand got lost between your legs.

“Yes,” Hyunjin sighed, lifting his eyes slightly up until they met your parted lips. 

The fabric of his sweatpants outlined the shape of his bulge fine, and it was impossible not to clench at the image. There was a wet, small patch on them, and you were fighting the urges to release his cock and lick the tip of it to taste him.

“Does it happen often?” you softly cooed, tightening the grip on his wrist as his fingers started to touch you over your clothes.  

Always, Hyunjin thought, when you’re around and when you’re not. 

“I’m just curious,” you continued after a few seconds of silence, “it would be a huge compliment if it does”. 

“Would it?” he swallowed thickly, gaze fluttering between your eyes and lips. “Why?”

“You know,” you replied, followed by a sigh, “you ask a lot of questions for someone who hasn’t given a proper response to any of mine”. 

Hyunjin couldn’t argue with you on that. 

“So,” still with his hand between your parted legs, you switched your position on the couch to be closer to him. “I asked you, does it happen often?”

“Yes,” he didn’t think it through this time and gave you the shortest, most honest answer within him. If that was what you needed to answer all of his questions, then he was going to play along. “Much more than I want to admit”.

“Mh,” you sarcastically pouted, resting your hand on top of his thigh. The sudden contact made him flinch in the slightest, but you found it adorable. “Don’t be shy with me, we’re not that different”. 

If he hadn’t been biting his lower lip, he was sure a whimper would’ve escaped his lips as you squeezed his thigh, softly caressing it while you made your way to his crotch. 

Luckily for him, he was showing much more self-control than the one he thought he had.

“We’re not?”

“Well, you too have turned me on more times than I can count now,” you murmured with boldness, “Is that weird? We don’t even talk much”. 

It isn’t, Hyunjin thought to himself as a series of perverted memories flooded his mind.

Not that he would willingly share them with you. At least not right now.

“But you’re just too pretty,” a sighed escaped your lips while your hand finally wrapped around his bulge, stroking it ever so slightly on top of his clothes, “I can’t help myself”.

Hyunjin kicked his head back, resting it against the back of the sofa. His hand was still between your legs, and your hand was gripping the silhouette of his dick over his sweatpants.

It felt like something pulled out of his wildest fantasies, but he was overthinking it a lot. You were there, admittedly wet, and he was with you, painfully hard —it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, if you will, and he was about to waste it triumphantly.

“‘m sorry,” he squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing like you were hurting him albeit the soft grip you had on him, “I can’t”. 

You missed the warmth of his digits against you almost instantly, only to be replaced by his hand wrapping around your wrist. He fully intended to push your touch away —the faster he got your hands off of him, the faster he would forget how they felt. 

But his body betrayed him, and he could only do much as squeeze your wrist while you rubbed him off.

“Want me to stop?” You asked him, not knowing if you should continue, or just let the poor man go.

His body was stiff underneath your touch, but you could feel his cock twitching against your palm. It felt deliciously good, you could only fantasize about how much better it would feel inside of you.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he simply responded, still with his eyes shut and his head kicked back. Hyunjin wanted to engrave the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, just as much as he wished to remember the sound of your breathing and the smell of your fragrance. “Fuck, I don’t know”.

Your eyes gleamed with the pride of coming up with a plan.

“Can I help you make up your mind?”

He blinked a couple of times, his hazy gaze barely focusing on you but your pair of hands that were dangerously close to the waist of his pants. 

“You can say no, of course,” you squeezed his thigh softly, and that drew his attention back to your face, the corners of your lips rising into a flirty smile, “but I wouldn't do that if I were you”.

All he offers you in return is a sweet, desperate nod. A short one, at that —he basically tilted his head at his crotch as a way of saying go ahead, but that was all you needed to move on.

You went from sitting right by him, to kneel in the space he had created between his legs.

His eyes were following every move of yours, and refused to abandon your image at any moment —painfully enough, Hyunjin looked so fucking good from this angle of view.

The tip of your digits grazed against the elastic of his sweatpants, lowering them along with his underwear just as little as your plan required. And as soon as your hand wrapped around his erection, Hyunjin swore he was going to die. Or come. Which to Hyunjin’s concern, was exactly the same. 

“W-wait, just, shit,” he didn’t wrap his hand around your wrist this time, but the conflict in his voice made you stop right on your tracks even before you got to do anything. “Wait, I’m not- I’m not that experienced, you know?”

“So?” You queried without bothering to hide the fact that the sudden confession perked you up a little.

“I just don’t want to embarrass myself,” Hyunjin exhaled, “which I probably already did, and I'm doing”. 

So it really wasn't that he didn't like you enough, or that he didn't want this just as much as you did.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen, anyway?” your hands were still gripping the base of his cock, teasing it against your lips as you spoke. 

“That I might come too fast,” he stuttered, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You're not even doing anything and I can feel my cock throbbing like crazy”.

The filthy choice of words made your heart skip a beat —that, paired with the raspiness and deepness of his tone, only had you wishing he wouldn't shut up at all.

“So?” You repeated again, grinning with mischief. “I don’t mind if you come quick, as long as you can get hard for me again”.

Hyunjin let out a mixture between a moan and a grunt at your words, feeling visibly affected by them.

“If you keep saying stuff like that, I will come,” he inhaled sharply and swallowed thickly at the sight of your smile. 

“Just tell me where”. 

The small confidence Hyunjin built for himself after voicing out his concerns slowly faded away as soon as your tongue grazed against the tip of his cock —for a moment, he really thought he could hold up pretty well. But the sight of you as you made eye contact with him, while your tongue dragged along the side of his dick, was enough proof that he just couldn't stand a chance against his libido.

“Fuck,” he sighed, catching his lower lip between his teeth ever so slightly, “’m sorry”. 

At that, you cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry about what?” 

The kitten licks you were giving the tip of his cock didn't make things any easier for Hyunjin —the idea of putting together a whole sentence seemed impossible, and he knew if he were to talk in the middle of it he would just look pathetic.

“I don't mean to be this loud,” his hands were something between gripping the edge of the couch, and resting over his spread thighs; he was too focused on repressing the string of curses and moans that threatened to escape his lips. 

“But I want to hear you, Hyunjin,” you purred, stroking his dick against one of your cheeks.

The sight was to die for, quite literally —your lips were glistening with spit, just like your chin and now your cheek. Both of your hands were wrapped around his dick, and you just looked too cute despite the lewd setting you were in.

“I love it when you curse,” you encouraged him, leaving wet kisses along his shaft. “You sound so good, you know?”

The compliments were definitely getting to Hyunjin's head, and you could tell because little by little, he started to leave the awkwardness aside and get really immersed in the moment.

He seemed too afraid of screwing things up, for some reason. You, on the other hand, didn't think he could screw anything up at all —Hyunjin had always turned you by doing the bare minimum, and you wondered if he was well aware of that.

You knew he wasn't, otherwise he would've carried himself with a little more ego and pride than he did. 

"But you're a good boy, aren't you?" you continued, gently spitting on his cock to use it as lube. As you jerked him off, Hyunjin's hips instinctively bucked your palm. “You don’t curse, you don’t break rules, you don’t ever get loose…” 

“I’m not that- good,” Hyunjin hissed, biting down his lower lip. “I just- fuck".

He kicked his head back when he felt a delicious squeeze of your hands around his balls, interrupting whatever it was that he meant to say.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” You asked, based on his reaction. 

Again, you squeezed his balls ever so slightly while the tip of your tongue swirls around the head of his cock. 

“I fucking love it”.

God, he sounded so good. So good when he cursed, when he moaned and when your name fell from his lips. Sensuality looked good on him, despite him not knowing jack shit about it. 

"I swear I've never wanted to taste someone so bad in my entire life," you giggled, letting out a hiss when you felt his hard dick throbbing between your hands, "want you to come in my mouth, I’ll swallow it".

You weren't his first —despite his awkwardness and lack of girlfriend history whatsoever, Hyunjin had a couple of experiences he could trail back to. 

But none of them came close to whatever it was that he was feeling right now.

“I’m close,” he warned you, his hands alternating between grabbing your head and your cheeks, “fuck- I’m so fucking close”.

Eagerly, you continued bopping your head up and down his length, jerking off with your hands the part that just couldn't fit in your mouth. Between your strokes and the way you squeezed and caressed his balls, you had Hyunjin coming in no time.

“Shit-” he whimpered, forcing your head down onto his cock until your nose hit his pubic bone. 

You weren't expecting him to make you deepthroat his cock, but you tried to take it like a champ nonetheless. All for him and his pleasure.

And honestly, he didn't mean to do that exactly. It was an instinct, something done in the heat of the moment, but he just couldn't deny the fact that he enjoyed maybe a bit too much the sound and feeling of you gagging around his dick.

You had never seen someone looking this hot while coming —his cheeks were flushed, his eyebrows furrowed, his teeth were chewing at his bottom lip and his whole body was shaking and grinding ever so slightly against your mouth, hips raised against the couch while he chased his high.

It was a long high —he came so much down your throat, it eventually spilled out from the corners of your lips onto the length and base of his cock. 

Messy, but neither of you could begin to care.

“God,” Hyunjin exhaled, his whole body relaxing onto the couch after all the tension he had been carrying ever since got to your apartment. 

He let go of your face and you continued jerking him off with his own cum for a couple of seconds as your movements died down. 

“Did you- did you swallow it?”

Rather than giving him a response, you just stuck out your tongue —empty, clean, with just a small amount of him still in you. He tasted just like you imagined, and that did nothing more than to turn you on. 

“I told you,” you smiled, “I wanted to taste you”.

Hyunjin looked at you for a couple of seconds, blinking perplexed. His heart was still going at a thousand miles per hour, his head was spinning around your apartment and his cock was still as rock hard, despite having come just minutes ago.

And, impulsively, he leaned down to kiss you.

You were still on your knees between his legs, but he cupped your cheeks and practically forced you onto his lips. It was sloppy, and fast, but at the same time it was far from unpleasant. The feeling of his tongue against yours, tasting himself off of you, was enough to elicit a moan from the two of you. 

From one moment to another you were no longer kneeling between his legs, but laying down on the couch with your back against a soft cushion. Hyunjin was between kneeling and sitting right on top of you, with his hands on either side of your body.

“I want to taste you too,” he panted in between kisses, leaving a wet trail of them from your lips to your jaw, “want to make you feel real good, just like you did to me”. 

You were dying to fuck him, but you weren't going to reject it. More than one night you snuck your hand between your panties wishing it was Hyunjin's face and tongue, so you trembled in excitement at knowing that one of your fantasies was about to become true.

Or a couple of them.

“Please,” yours and Hyunjin’s hands lost no time in struggling you out of your bottoms, leaving them out of your rear of view. 

Embarrassingly for you, but luckily to Hyunjin, the fabric and color of your underwear did absolutely nothing to hide your wetness —stripping you out of it was a delight to him, who could catch a glimpse of your arousal sticking to your panties.

Carefully, he positioned himself somewhat flat against the couch with his face between your legs. Your back was slightly straight against the couch's arm rest, and your knees softly bent with your feet against the faux leather of it, so he hooked one of his hands under your thigh while the other caressed the side of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” Hyunjin whispered under his breath leaving a couple of shy kisses along your inner thighs. The slight contact of his breathing against your hot cunt made your back arched. “Pretty face, pretty pussy”. 

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

His half-lidded eyes looked up to you, “I've always thought you were the prettiest”.

He started off really slow, getting to know your body. You were desperate for more, for something messy and rough, but you allowed him to take his time. Even more so because it seemed though as if he was gaining confidence as he explored you, and you loved to see it.

“So good,” he groaned against your slit, “could eat you out for hours”. 

You wouldn't mind. He just looked too good buried in the heat between your legs, and his wet tongue felt heavenly against your clit and folds. 

After some time, his fingers came into the mix as well. Two digits stretching your cunt open, cautiously, while he kept on licking and sucking your clit.

“Right there Hyunjin,” you arched your back, gasping when his digits brushed against that spot. “Fuck, you just- shit, right there feels so fucking good”.

Seeing you like that, gasping and writhing underneath him, contributed a little to his ego. 

“Is it good?”

“Fucking perfect,” you cursed, rolling your hips against him, “can’t wait to feel your cock”.

Hyunjin knew that things were eventually leading up to sex, but it didn't feel real until you named it. Until you told him you wanted to feel him inside you, until you implied that it was only a matter of minutes before he got to enact his fantasies with you.

His hips grinded against the couch, too, as he ate you out. 

Needy to feel your warmth, desperate to give you all of his cum again.

“I want you to come first like this,” Hyunjin murmured, with his fingers buried in your pussy and his nose brushing ever so slightly against your swollen clit, “with my mouth and fingers. Then, I will make you come with my cock”.

You moaned at his words.

“It’s a promise?” 

“It’s a promise”. 

You kicked your head back against the couch’s arm rest, and arched your back when you felt the tension threatening to unravel down your lower abdomen.

His tongue was moving deliciously where you needed it, and his fingers never lost its pace and rhythm inside you.

“Hyunjin,” you chanted, latching your fingers onto his dark hair, “don’t stop”. 

Not that he was planning to.

“Are you going to come?” 

“Yes,” you nod frantically, moving your hips as much as his grip allowed you to. “So close Hyunjin, I’m so close”. 

Heavenly. 

His name falling from your lips felt right, just like it did your mouth around his cock and his tongue flat against your clit. You felt right, much more better than whatever he had been imagining the past years while masturbating on his own.

“Like that,” Hyunjin hissed, watching in awe the way your pussy and ass clenched at your orgasm. But as much as he wanted to enjoy the view, he also wanted to feel you getting wetter and wetter as you came, so he quickly returned to latch his mouth on your pussy and his eyes on you. 

“Shit!” your hips were bucking against his face frantically, almost aggressively. But he didn't stop, and elongated your high as much as he possibly could, “Can’t stop- fuck, can’t stop coming”. 

It felt like a never ending orgasm, one prompted by Hyunjin's lustful gaze —the more eye contact you made, the more aroused you felt.

“More, more Hyunjin,” you sounded desperate, and that made his dickthrob against the couch. He wanted to make you come again, and again, and until you no could no longer take it.

But he would be lying if he said he wasn't impatient for fucking you. 

“I’ll give you more,” he murmured, withdrawing from your body when you finally came down from your high. “But just- want to give it to you with my cock”. 

Whenever you thought about sex with Hyunjin, you always pictured yourself being on top. Maybe it was because of his shyness, or because you felt like you needed to take the initiative, but you almost always came at the thought of you bouncing up and down his dick.

Much to your surprise, he didn't lose time before positioning his body between your spread legs, not before removing his shirt and doing the same with yours as well.

He was going to fuck you in missionary, you figured. And you almost came at the realization of it.

Most men these days all they want is to get their dicks wet with minimal to no effort —Hyunjin was trying hard to please you, and that was alone much more satisfactory than any other experienced you had so far.

“I want to see your face when I'm fucking you," it was almost like he read your thoughts. Not that you had any complains, but quick fucks never cared for the intimacy sex entailed.

Hyunjin was different.

“Definitely not my best look,” you swallowed, thinking about your ruined make up and post-orgasm fucked out face. 

“I could come just by looking at you,” he confessed, eyes falling to your spread legs. “I swear”. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pumped his dick a few times before realizing that he was missing something.

“You uh-” he felt embarrassed, but he honestly didn’t think he would get to fuck you, out of all the people. He came to your apartment to work on a school project, not to get laid. “I don’t have a condom”. 

“Want to do it raw?”

He gulped.

Of course he wanted to. Using a condom was never part of his fantasies —shit, almost all his fantasies ended up with him filling you up, despite how risky that was. 

“I honestly want to, but I’d understand if you-”.

“Are you-”

“I’m on the pill,” you reassured him, “and I’m clean. I want you to fuck me raw if that’s what you want too”. 

“I do,” Hyunjin sighed, licking his lips at the thought of getting to really feel you. “Fuck, I do”. 

And despite the logical, rational part of him that insisted it probably wasn't the brightest idea ever, Hyunjin guided the tip of his cock against your clit. The sudden stimulation made your body jolt, but he didn't stay there for too long. 

His cock slid easily right inside, and the way your walls clenched around him as they got used to his size almost makes Hyunjin come.

“Finally,” you exhaled, closing your eyes while he bottomed out slowly.

Hyunjin groaned quietly, softly pressing your hips against his. 

“You’re so tight,” he gritted his teeth, “squeezing me just right”.

He hovered you, leaning down to kiss you yet again. He wasn't moving, just fully enjoying the way you felt wrapped around him.

He didn't know if he was going to have another chance to experience this, so he intended to memorize everything —from the way your tongue tasted, to the way your pussy clenched on him.

Only this time, the kiss wasn't as sloppy; it was intense, deep and it left you breathless. He kissed you ardently, brushing his tongue against yours, biting down your lower lip and pulling it ever so slightly.

“I’m going to-” he sighed in between kisses, “are you- alright?”

“Yes,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his hips, “fuck me already, Hyunjin”.

Slowly but surely, he started acquiring a pace of his own. And fuck, it felt delicious.

His pubic bone slammed against your clit, providing some stimulation; his cock reached the deepest spots inside you, and his mouth worked wonders on your neck and chest. 

It was unfair how perfect he was —so good at everything.

“Harder,” your hands reached out to cup his face, pressing your forehead against his. “Fuck me harder, please”.

He understood what you wanted.

Hyunjin didn't necessarily fucked you faster after you plea, no. He smacked his hips against yours roughly, going impossibly deeper into you. His pace was slow, but each thrust made you moan and gasp every time.

“There you go,” he murmured in a quiet, drowned groan.

You hid your face on the crook of his neck, sucking on his flesh meaning to leave red and purple blossoms all over it. For some reason, the idea of seeing him the next day at college campus and peeking to see the marks you left on him kind of excited you.

It was also going to remind you that this was real, and that it happened.

“Right there, Hyunjin,” you enjoyed the feeling of him ruthlessly pounding into you. He was sweet, gentle, and caring, but his movements weren't. He appeared to be someone innocent, but he wasn’t —at least not when he was fucking you good like he this.

“Feeling good?”

“Perfect,” you replied, “you’re so- hard inside me, you feel perfect”. 

The harshness of his thrusts suddenly died down as he regained his pace; they become hotter, more sensual. 

His eyes went from looking at you, to closing shut at times. He licked his lower lip constantly, alternating between chewing on it softly, too. 

When Hyunjin wasn't too focused on his overwhelming pleasure, he was focused on your body.

How it reacted, how sensitive it was, what things you liked. He kissed your chest and sucked on your hardened nipples, and he soon understood you loved it —at least judged by the way you clenched around his dick. 

He also realized he liked the feeling of your fingers latched onto his hair —he enjoyed when you pulled it a bit too roughly, and he didn't mind the pain of it.

“Can you come with me?” Hyunjin asked in between grunts. “I’m close- but I want you to come with me, come at the same time”. 

“I’m close too,” you sneaked a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit lazily. “Want to come with you, and feel you coming inside me”. 

It suddenly became much more intimate than you initially intended to —his eyes were glued to yours, saying way more than his words could ever do. You could see the lust, affection, and even perversion in his gaze; the longing of always staring from afar, but now getting to have you underneath him with your legs spread and your pussy around him.

It didn't take you any long to reach that sweet release you both had been chasing ever since he stepped a foot into your apartment.

“I’m coming,” you gasped, digging your nails onto the flesh of his shoulders and back, “come”. 

Hyunjin pressed his forehead against yours, and when he felt your walls clenching, he immediately released too. 

He didn’t want to think about his cum filling you up, nor the image of his arousal oozing out of your pretty pusy. He didn’t want to think too much about what you just let him do, and he didn’t want to think about the risk of it although it kind of turned him on.

A loud moan escaped his lips when he thrusted his cock harder into you, reaching yet another deep spot inside your walls. With each slam of his hips, he shot his orgasm painting you white from the inside. 

A warm, eerie feeling you hadn't experience before, because you just refused to fuck anyone raw.

But Hyunjin isn't just anyone.

“God,” he gulped loudly, panting and out of breath. 

You could feel his cum dripping out of you, despite his dick still filling you up, and you just couldn't believe how much he came twice in a row.

“Was it good?” your voice sounded exactly the same, hoarse and strained. You could barely breathe, but you didn’t care  —he collapsed on top of you carefully, without wanting to hurt you, and you both tried to stabilize your breathing together.

“Better than my imagination, that’s for sure”. 

You kissed his cheek and enjoyed the intimacy, wondering if the shy, awkward Hyunjin was going to make an appearance any time soon. In very little time you got to see a whole new side of him, just as shy but a lot less shallow than what you “knew” about him prior to that day, and you were still not ready to find out how things were going to be after this.

“I should probably- get something to clean you up,” you only realized how messy a creampie is when Hyunjin pulled out, making his cum to drip out of you and onto the couch. 

But you came up with a better plan.

“What if we take a shower?”

He looked at you, but soon diverted his gaze to the pile of unfinished work you had. 

“Come on, don’t get shy on me,” you pouted, sitting carefully on the couch right next to him. “I’m not getting shy it’s just-”, he makes a long pause and smiles to himself. A very faint, almost imperceptible grimace, but you caught on it, “I don’t think I can be naked around you without ending up fucking you again”. 

“Sounds like a win to me”.

“I expected much more from the two of you,” Mr. Jung handed you the final essay you allegedly worked so hard on. Judged by the stern tone of his voice, and the deep exhalation your project partner let out, you can only assume it was a bad grade. “Not the greatest work you’ve had delivered”. 

Your gaze fell down in embarrassment, and Hyunjin cleared his throat, “we’re sorry. With the end of the semester we kind of- got distracted”. 

And if by distracted you mean fucking like animals at every chance you were alone, whether in a private or a public setting, then yes.You got so fucking distracted.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations. tom riddle x reader

part ii here.

summary. you've been going to hogwarts for four months, and find this whole school-wide obsession with tom riddle a little bit ridiculous, and a little bit contrived. surely not all the rumours are true...

tags. smut (minors dni -_-), fem anatomy, fingering, reader who is soooo in denial, trying to worm into tom's brain like a parasite and failing miserably (me projecting), i think reader is implied to either be short or tom is implied to be tall, ooc tom because i am so far from the belief that he would ever just spontaneously hook up with someone but… it is what it is.

note. this is my first post so support is much appreciated!! god forgive me, i've never written smut in my life, and it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also, i tried my best to make reader fairly neutral, but it's late, and if i've fumbled over some description bc i'm sleepy i shall fix it in the morning ♡

word count. 5.1k

Your first observation is that nobody has Tom Riddle quite right.

He’s beautiful, yes (obvious, repetitive, shallow), and undeniably intelligent (being paired with him in Potions has proved that in a matter of weeks), untouchable (this one is a bit interesting), and, above all, unusual. The latter you like the most. It makes you feel unabashedly exceptional in all the very unexceptional gossip about him. No one ever uses that word to describe him. A rarity of charisma and charm — austere, refined, and clinically polite. Unusual has a negative curve to it that most people don’t attach to the elegant litheness of Tom Riddle, but your observations cannot be stated without the word.

It’s prompted and peddled by Selwyn’s much-too-enthusiastic vehemence in the wake of your first.

You narrow your eyes at her and say it again, no less certain than the first time. “Tom Riddle has not had sex with half the school.”

It’s a bit of a jump. Some necessary context is removed.

Riddle, once more, rarity of charisma and charm and austere blah blah blah, has been rumoured since you arrived this year from your last school to be some silent conqueror, oh-so nimble with his hands and nimbler even with his other appendages, and you — you’ve only been here four months and it’s laughable how many people believe it.

Backtrack to untouchable (this one everyone agrees is a primary characteristic of Tom Riddle, there’s no debate there) and the reason you find it interesting. Untouchable doesn’t exactly work if everyone in the bloody castle has been touching him this whole time. And it’s not as if he could hide it, not as if people wouldn’t be giddy to tell their friends of their exploits with the beautiful, revered Head Boy. And such exploits would be whispers among the halls in a matter of hours. You’ve considered this, with almost scientific determination, and it’s impossible. Tom studies all day, and when he isn’t studying he’s corralling Slytherin first-years away from forbidden corridors, attending to Dippet’s newest errand, escorting third-years to Hogsmeade, dining with the Slug Club, and — point is, someone would have noticed by now if he was disappearing into broom closets with a new lay every weekend.

But Selwyn shakes her head, because this rumour is such an integral part of Tom’s allure. He is, somehow, both untouchable and a master at touch. Distant until he isn’t, and then he can break you apart with practised, perfect hands. It’s all very mythical.

“Look,” she says, “maybe if I’d only been here four months, I’d think so too, but everyone else knows—”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve only been here four months that I have the objectivity to recognize how ridiculous you all are. He’s not a god, Selwyn, he’s a scholar, and an obsessed one at that — has it ever actually occurred to you he might not have had sex at all?”

This, now, is sacrilege. 

Selwyn gapes at you, and you shake your head in surrender before you burst out laughing at how offended she looks. “Fine, whatever. Consider the matter dropped. I give up.”

You don’t really give up. It’s very fun research.

Your second observation is that unusual is not an apt enough word for Tom, and maybe you don’t possess the vocabulary to think of one that is.

You’re in the Restricted Section. This is unrelated to your Tom research, and perfectly sanctioned, with a key granted by the librarian who you feel sorry to admit you have not remembered the name of, and the library, by all means, is still open. It’s a late Thursday night, but not past curfew. You’re there with a study partner you rather wish you weren’t — Gregory Godefrey, Gryffindor (the alliteration is nauseating), and the only half-decent fellow in your Ancient Runes class, but not especially bright. You feel more like his tutor than his partner. In short, the regular books on the topic you’re writing your end-of-term essay on are slim pickings, and thus — Restricted Section.

“So,” you say, “the scriptures might look the same, but they’re written in vastly different time periods, so the meaning has changed. If you were to charge a spell with one of Ashe’s runes now, there’s almost no doubt you’d get a completely different result.”

“I don’t get it,” Godefrey grumbles sleepily into his sleeve. “How’s anyone meant to use runes if they can just change like that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Any magic can change, Godefrey. Half of the stuff we learn is based on intention and skill. Uagadou barely even uses wands — all of this is arbitrary.”

“My head hurts.”

“Then… just… just go to bed. I’ll finish up here and we’ll try again on the weekend.”

He grins with heavy eyes, lugging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you a packet of sherbet lemons you bitterly wish he’d pulled out sooner. “Wicked — you’re the best. See’ya.”

“See you…” you mumble, unwrapping one and popping it in your mouth.

You don’t stay for long, twirling the key to the Restricted Section around your finger as you tuck your books back into their shelves.

“It’s ten past curfew,” says a voice from behind you, all cool, measured authority, and you nearly collapse.

You stare up from where you’re grabbing onto your knees for balance, your heart halfway out of your chest.

Tom Riddle is there, his Head Boy badge somehow still glittering in the dim light of the library, and it’s only by the half-smile quirking at his lips that you can detect his words weren’t some sort of threat.

“Right, thanks.” You gather your breath. “I was just leaving.”

“Pity about Godefrey.”

You blink. Having worked with Tom in Potions since September, you’ve become perfectly adjusted to speaking to him… only about Potions. He indulges in polite small talk, he smiles freely, but your distance from him is the same as it is with everyone else, if only for the fact that, you suppose, you aren’t actively pursuing anything closer.

Oh. That is interesting — would he be so easily intrigued? It’s a bit cliché, but you suppose he is too.

You’re making an awful lot of assumptions from the words ‘pity about Godefrey,’ and then, you don’t actually have a damn clue what Tom could mean by that.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“Godefrey,” he repeats. “I assume you’re being made to tutor him.”

Right. He must have seen him on his way here. That would make sense.

“No, actually. It’s entirely voluntary — he’s my study partner for Ancient Runes.”

His chin lifts in some nearly imperceptible way, smiling still, and you know he’s a polished thing, an unusual thing, but it reads as an especially fake smile then. “Ah.”

… Oooookay?

“Well —” you start, a mechanical smile of your own forming — “curfew, then.”

The charm fixes onto his face like a damn ornament. You want to flick it away with your finger. “Of course. I’ll see you in Potions?”

You nod, leaving the key behind the librarian’s desk as you slink awkwardly away. Into the corridor. Off to bed. Yet another note to scrawl on the enigma of Tom Riddle.

You see him again first thing in the morning. You’re yawning into the archway of Slughorn’s stuffy classroom, eager to dump your bag over your table and empty the many contents necessary for today’s lesson. 

There’s one girl, the oldest of the Lestranges, who glares daggers into the back of your head every class. Tom is, as always, nonplussed, asking you about your morning as you both prepare your phials and ingredients. You can’t help but shake your head at him this once, a bemused smile on your lips as you glance between him and the Lestrange girl.

“Have I offended her somehow, or is it just that I’m paired with you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I daresay that is the offense.”

You can’t help it. You’re mumbling to yourself in amazement at the bizarre, borderline cultish devotion this school has to Tom Riddle. “Unattainable commodity that you are, Riddle…”

“Well," he begins, his smile small but his voice amused, “I hope you don’t think of me as quite that far outside your grasp."

You freeze.

Are you — have you missed something? Has your casual (really, very casual and not at all unwarranted or peculiar) research for the sake of dispelling Selwyn’s obsession skewed your memory of Tom? Has he always said things like this to you? Have you always read into them like this?

One of his eyebrows rises, and it might be his notorious flattery — but if so, he makes it sound like an obvious truth, and you stammer over the jar of foxglove in your hand. Then you look away, unscrew it, do well not to put too much weight on his words.

“Hm. I have no need for you to be within it, Riddle." You say it with all nonchalance you can muster. To spit it at him in some aggressive dismissal would be to treat it like a big thing. 

It isn’t a big thing. He’s talking to you like he talks to everyone else.

But you catch the barest flicker of disappointment on his face, a flash of something that might even be annoyance. Then, though, it’s gone, and he’s back to that same unshakable, confident smirk.

As the lesson proceeds,  he’s once again the sharpest thing in the room.

You watch for him in the library that weekend, a bit distracted while you and Godefrey study. Without your guidance, there isn’t much studying occurring at all. Godefrey is sort of skimming the pages of a textbook, yawning, as always, like he’s never had a good night’s sleep in his life, and you’re suckling sherbert lemons until the roof of your mouth feels raw.

“What was it you said about Calarook’s Method?”

Your eyes snap from the empty doorway to Godefrey’s face. “Huh?”

“Calarook’s Method.”

“Oh.” You sink boredly into your seat, twirling your quill between your fingers. “It revolutionised the usage of runes globally. She incorporated — um — a much simpler means of translating the scriptures for different methods of magic.”

“Ohhhh, I remember now. Did you write that down?”

“Yes, Godefrey, I wrote it down.”

The final hour before curfew dwells agonisingly longer than it should. It feels like three, at least, until you’re packing your things and bidding Godefrey goodnight, tired legs dragging you down the corridors.

And then you straighten. You stand tall. (You’re absolutely normal about the sight before you.)

Tom smiles at you as he turns the corridor to approach.

“On patrol?” you ask in a friendly tone.

You’re… friends, right? Being someone’s Potions partner for four months qualifies as some degree of friendship, does it not? After all, he did say not to think of him as too far outside your grasp. That was a line if you’d ever heard one, but — you could be Tom’s friend the way everyone is his friend: wholly detached until you were needed.

“Leaving detention,” he answers with a timbre to match.

Your eyebrows raise at that.

“Leaving the second-years I watched in detention, I should say.”

You shake your head. “I should have known.”

“And you?”

“Studying again.”

“Ancient Runes?”

“Mhm.”

“...With Godefrey?”

“That is the concept of a recurrent study partner, yes. It’s recurrent.”

He doesn’t look very much like he appreciates your sarcasm.

“So, then,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Curfew, I suppose.”

“You performed well in Potions today,” he says after you. It feels like the sort of thing someone says when they don’t want someone to walk away.

You bite your cheek between your teeth — such assumptions will get the better of you. Such assumptions will lead you down a path of crude, obsessive analysis (though you suppose you’ve been doing that all this time, haven’t you?) where you think, in some unspooling knitwork, that there are really only a select few reasons he could want such a thing. Your mind draws to the irresponsible conclusion, as he walks toward you again, a new glint in his eyes, that it’s exactly the sort of thing someone says before rumour has it they disappear into the nearest broom closet with the one they approach. This, you’ve decided an observation ago, Tom Riddle does not do.

“Thank you,” you say carefully. “So did you.”

“We make for a good pair, don’t you think?”

Crude, obsessive analysis. “Slughorn certainly does.”

“And I am asking you.”

He stops a respectable, inviting space before you. His weekend attire is a grey jumper and black slacks, his dark hair in its regular, pristine waves, hands laced behind his back. Everything about him is a request to be met, and not to step forward and close the distance himself. Close the distance, pristine waves, inviting space — you’ve lost your damn mind. You sound like Selwyn. The sugar of a whole packet of sherbet lemons has rendered you imbecilic. You’ll be off to bed, then — sleep this absurdity off.

“Of course, Tom,” you say with a polite smile. “It’d be hard to disagree with the grades I get in that class.” You grab onto your bag to have something to do with your hands, to perhaps signify you’ll be making your exit now.

He seems a bit amused to have to contort himself through the specifics of his meaning. “I was referring to our… rapport.”

“Rapport?”

“We work well together. We communicate efficiently.”

We communicate efficiently? Damn if you couldn’t suddenly make sense of the rumour he’d be applying for the DADA post in the future — that one was definitely true.

“Yes, we do.”

He steps closer. “And I remain far outside your grasp.”

You blink, and there’s a stark, sinking feeling as your eyes drift over the unmarred ivory of his skin, his jaw, his throat, his — no, absolutely not his hands — and you let yourself wonder for the first time if the rumours, albeit exaggerated, have even a shred of truth to them. One exploit, perhaps, to satisfy his endless curiosity. Something academic, like — oh, God, like the way you’ve been studying him for weeks. His hands carving a path down someone’s body to etch it in his memory, another skill added to his arsenal, a new way to work his fingers without a wand, a new way to work his mouth without a word.

It’s only a moment that you wonder it. Some flash of pictures in your head. It is, nonetheless, a moment far too long, and one you don’t know that you can return from.

Tom looks at you from under his eyelashes with an expression that suggests he's the only one in on a very funny joke, and the air is… different. Thick like the Potions room but in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar, not cloudy with the steam of cauldrons but hazy with the proximity of him, cologne and quill ink and something you can’t catch because you’re trying too hard to breathe it all in at once.

But he steps forward again, and seems to say in the slow way he moves, that if you’ll let him, he'll place a hand on your shoulder, and if you’ll allow that — well — then he'll move that hand up to gently frame your cheek. And then, and you no longer consider yourself at all versed in the realm of Tom Riddle, but you think you know what’ll come next.

You allow all of it. You know very well in advance you’re going to allow all of it.

And still, like it’s a surprise, you shiver at the feeling of his hand on your cheek, at the gleaming, certain look in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for just a second (a fleeting, tiny second you pray fruitlessly he doesn't notice) but his lips curl into the barest of smiles. Something so like him, small but unrestrained, like it never had any hope of growing bigger, but then — you’ve seen the way he grins at you sometimes when you say something stupid in class — you know he’s capable.

“You know what I'm going to do, I assume," he says quietly. It's not a question, per se — more of a statement, and he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on yours as he says it. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. And then he leans in so slightly it might be imperceptible if you weren’t staring, holding your damn breath. “Are you going to let me?"

“I..." You're humiliated to find you are actually struggling to speak. His lips are so close to yours you can feel the ghost of them, can imagine what they might feel like on you. Your mouth is very dry. “We’re… friends, right?”

His voice only wavers for a moment, even as his lips inch ever closer to yours. His voice is tauntingly low, and there's an intimate sort of smile there, a chastising, humorous gleam to his eyes. “Friends," he breathes, and then his lips do close that short distance, and you feel the barest trace of his mouth against yours — his lips, soft and supple against your skin. A moment's kiss. Gone as quickly as it came. “Should we be friends?”

You gape at him, breathing far too heavily for such a chaste kiss, and you imagine your eyes are blown wide, and you lick your lips for a reminder of his taste but it isn't enough. You don't think before standing on your toes to find his lips again. Of course, Tom is stood impeccably straight, his chin almost pointedly jutted so that he can look down at you, and you actually — it's horribly embarrassing — you groan, or whine, or make some sound of blatant discontent at the fact that your kiss doesn’t reach him.

To his credit, his laugh is a very small one. Had it been the other way around you would have been far less forgiving. “I suppose the answer is no, then?" he says, with the implication that the next move might be yours.

“Tom," you as good as hiss (really very foolish of you to use the word forgiving to describe Tom Riddle), “you're being... you're being mean." And you refuse to make the first effort again, even though you probably appear to be a train wreck, your chest is heaving, and you... you want him.

“Am I?" he asks, and he tilts his head to the other side, almost as if to get a better look at you. “How so?" You think he's enjoying himself far too much. But he remains where he is: close enough for you to reach him if you would just yank him toward you and be done with it, and far enough away that you can't take that step without giving him the win.

You stare at him for a long moment, and then with teeth gritted so tight you might chip one, turn to walk away. Tom makes some very hollow, annoyed sound at your stubbornness, and thank god you feel him behind you: soft, lulling, not so immovable as you. 

You stop. His fingers brush your hair to the side. His mouth hovers over the skin of your neck. You shudder.

“Tom..." you sigh, half-exasperated, half-sighed, half-surrendered, but he doesn't answer or stop or do so much as acknowledge your mumbling. He only presses forward, until his breath is right by your ear and his lips, soft, gentle, are against the junction of your exposed neck, and you feel his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin... so tender, so light that it doesn’t feel at all like something merciful.

It feels singularly, purposefully cruel.

Your third observation (if you can manage the thought) is that Tom is driven by your reactions. Every little mewl, every shudder, every gasp, he wants more of. He wants whatever you're willing to give him, and you suspect it wouldn’t be hard for him to take it all. Every movement of his hands, his mouth, his — oh, oh no — his tongue, abide by whatever you respond to most. He draws in patterns. He stops. Appreciates the speed of your pulse on the curve of your throat for a moment and then tastes it again. It doesn't seem like he particularly cares what he gets out of it. The intrigue for him is having the proximity (he greatly enjoys that you’ve allowed him it) and capacity (that, you think, he’s always had) to make you fall apart.

He's spinning you then, so you're pressed facing the wall, his chest against your back, and the way he whispers against your skin makes you shiver. You dare to think he feels it, his chest heaving against your back, his breath warm and steady by your ear. And as he kisses you you can't help but imagine what might happen if he were just a few inches lower, if he were to sink to his knees, kissing the soft flesh of your chest, and down, and down, and down…

Your eyes flutter closed, and it's clear you like what he's doing by the sound that escapes you — something loud enough for him to stifle your mouth with his palm. Perhaps a little too much. Perhaps you’ll be embarrassed about it later. But right now his tongue is brushing against your skin again, and there’s something very dizzying and hot that starts with his mouth on your neck and works its way down until it's a challenge just to stay standing. You wonder if he can tell just how weak in the knees you are right now, whether that only makes him push forward, and —

And that must be it. He must know, because you think you're trying to say something but you can't form the words, and he has to feel the reverberations with his teeth bracketing little violets on your neck, he must feel the way your legs buckle, how you're held up only by the weight of him behind you.

He must know.

He pushes forward, his fingers bury in your hair, and he pulls your head back slowly — not necessarily to expose you further, but to better see your face. Your eyes lock with his over your shoulder, and there's that hunger there, lips swollen with the print of you... and his voice, when he speaks, is as if he's only barely stopping himself. “Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head before you think he’s actually finished the question, swallowing the cotton-dry feeling in your throat. No, no — him stopping is the very last thing you want — you feel entirely rational and not at all melodramatic in saying you might just die if he stops. You want more, and he's looking at you like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He bites down gently on your neck, and you gasp as your knees finally go out from under you (you almost think he planned for this with how quickly he catches you), and you wonder if he'll do something you can't bear; if you'll be reduced to a mewling, drooling mess before he's finished with you.

Your fourth observation — which really is the last one you can muster before it starts to melt into something else — is that you make him human in the only way he can understand: panting into him, fingers in his skin, white-hot and damp at the centre of his obsession. The object of his affection. You make him understand something more singular than ambition. 

Want.

And then his spare hand is dipping past your skirts, and you dig your fingers into his wrist — the combination of the hardness pressed against your back, his hands marking a path to forbidden territory, his finger curling into your mouth as his lips continue their assault on your neck — it's too much. It’s deliriously, disastrously not enough. Your vision is starting to blur.

His fingers stop at the curve where your thighs part and you bite gently down on him to quiet the noise that wants to escape you. He hums against your throat, continuing to kiss and lick and bruise you. You're dazedly aware of the cool air on your thighs as your skirts halo your waist, the heat inside, the shudder as his fingers find your core, and carefully begin to circle you. You feel self-consumed, immolated, devoured and spat out again. You feel like you're still falling, and Tom is the only force that keeps you standing.

He draws in slow, expert patterns — and you think, nonsensically, somewhere very distant where you still have sense, that they can’t be expert, he must have read something or observed some — oh. He’s pushing the thin fabric aside until his fingers are pressed directly against your flesh, and he makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as the evidence of how much you need this soaks his fingers, as they begin to sink in without resistance. Oh. Right. You don’t remember exactly what you were saying. 

You gasp at the feeling of having him inside when they finally curl into you. 

His finger is pulled from your mouth with a small pop, and you can’t even really muster the capacity to be embarrassed by the lewd, wet sound of it. He watches you over your shoulder, at his fingers vanished between your legs, at the drool clinging to the digit he’d quieted you with. He’s smiling into your neck now, proud and grateful all the same.

“Mine,” you think he murmurs, but it’s more something you feel than hear, some vague, hazy consonants pressed to your throat. It would be very like him, so you decide that yes, that’s probably what he said. And there’s something funny about it — the idea of being his — about what it means for him to want you so badly that he says it out loud. It feels a little bit like he’s yours, too.

Tom’s breathing is harsh, the fingers inside you moving as if they have a will of their own. Every muscle in your body constricts and squeezes around them; every cell, every neuron, comes roaring to life; and you’re fucked. You’re so completely fucked. His teeth scrape against you again, wholeheartedly pleased. This is what he wanted to see — the utter loss of you — when you are nothing but sensation, barely aware of your limbs as they slump against him. Tom is it; Tom is the only thing you can think of.

Tom is, inexplicably, upsettingly good at this.

“Look at you," he says softly. And his touch changes; it becomes slower, more deliberate and careful.

You’re trembling hopelessly. The way you coil and collapse under his touch is just further encouragement. He doesn't even bother to speak anymore, only pants, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen and slick when they attach to your throat again. Your whole body is on fire, and he's the one setting you alight — there is not a single inch of you that is not alive with the feeling of him, and you can barely breathe through the slow, heavy rush of it. 

You think you cry at the divine curve of his fingers carving inside you, slow and soft and then intense — when you grip his arm for more friction, and one of his hands is coming up to wipe a tear away but the feeling flares in your abdomen and you're only half aware of it, really — you think your eyes have rolled back. You think you've gone somewhere else. 

He keeps you just on the precipice, just shy of losing control, just far enough to leave you craving for more.

“To—Tom," you sob, gasps cleaving his name in two — you're on the brink of something incomprehensible, building inside you to something you can't help but think is about to shatter, your eyes clenching shut as you grip him so hard you're certain your fingers will leave marks. “I'm gonna—"

“I know," he breathes against your neck, hands running a familiar path along your body; he's so very, very proud that he's made you like this. He just barely bites into the spot above your collar, curls his fingers, and then you’re falling — something unfurls inside you and can’t be collected, something hot and depthless that your hands can’t clutch at from where they’re clinging so desperately to him — and you think, coming down from it with trembling, debilitating ecstasy, that he looks very much like he’d be proud to make you like this over and over again.

You're flattened, and that triumph in his eyes — the absolute satisfaction of seeing you this way, of knowing that that he's the one that did it to you — that feeling fills your mind and makes you collapse even more, makes you want to melt and flow into liquid at his feet; to give in, do whatever he says, even if all he says is just be like this for him.

He slowly removes his fingers as you come down, and your eyes are blinking for focus when he turns you around, his thumb coming up to brush over your bottom lip and you sigh at the taste of yourself as he pushes it inside your mouth. His other hand brushes away the damp, stray hairs that have fallen across your face, almost reverently, a silent worship as he takes you in, appreciates everything you just gave him.

He smiles gently at your half-blinking, half-vacant expression, his thumb still in your mouth; he watches you for a long moment in silence. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he's got a small quirk at the corner of his mouth as he pulls his thumb away and swipes it once more over your lip.

You're still not quite sure you can find words. Still not sure they'd form right as your tongue darts over the residue of Tom's finger and you flush impossibly hotter at the feeling of your own arousal on your mouth. Tom fixes your hair behind your ears and it doesn't seem like he's ready to stop taking you in in this state — your hair wild,  lips swollen, throat bruised and dress askew — and he leans in so tenderly it startles you, pressing a faint, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

“Tell Godefrey he’ll be needing a new study partner. I think you’ll find yourself committed elsewhere." And with that he turns on his heel, perfectly composed, and disappears into the darkness of the midnight corridor.

Oh God, you think, and you’re too stunned to even react as you watch him vanish. It takes you a moment before you regain your senses, and you can only just manage to sputter out a breathless, miserable sigh into the air before you.

You are so completely, utterly fucked.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #for now... #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

[heartofwritiing]

could you write wilbur soot confessing his love to a crush? 👉👈

something about how he's been pinning after this crush for so long, but the crush seems a bit avoidant or something

but that's because the crush also has a crush on him and is very very shy qpwimsmanssjslslek sorry im not good with requests

You and me need never be, lonely again.

Paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!cc!reader

authors note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you don't mind the reader being a content creator and i’m sorry she’s not super shy because im not really sure how to write shy lol but i hope you like the request! I just thought it would add to the idea and I've wanted to do something similar to this for a while! This is a request back from august. I am so sorry this took me so long to get out. I've been going through some shit irl but I'm finally starting to come back to writing because I genuinely love it and posting on here since it is my safe space!

line from this prompt list

warnings: friends-lovers, reader lives in the US, brief description of anxiety, the reader sends mixed signals, swearing, kinda angsty, happy end, super unedited!

"No! That was such bullshit!"

The voice of Tommyinnit ran through the speakers of your computer causing you to let out a chuckle that you were the reason for his outburst.

You were playing Gang Beasts on stream with some of your closest friends, and you had grabbed Tommy's character and thrown him off the map by picking him up.

Laughter rang out amongst the group as the screen card popped up saying your username won. You cheered as everyone groaned but dispersed into 'ggs' then that's when everyone started to bid goodnight. You hadn't realized it had been four hours of streaming and playing games, showing the good time you were having with friends.

"Alright chat, that's gonna be it for me today! Please remember to click the follow button if you're new to stream that way you'll know when I go live! byeee!" You did your outro, quickly closed your stream down, and logged out of Twitch.

It was an uneventful stream session, thank god. You’ve noticed more and more how your chat gets when you even mention wilburs name.

“you logging off completely y/n/n?” Ranboos voices asks through your earbuds.

“No, I’ll play a few more rounds if you guys are down,” you respond.

“HELL YEAH!” Tommy boasted. “IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS THIS TIME Y/N/N!”

“Oh, it’s on gremlin child!” you replied.

Wilbur listened to this conversation on his end, letting out a chuckle. He honestly doesn’t know why you make him laugh so easily. Anytime you threw a genius comment toward Tommy that was deemed insulting, or calling him a name Wilbur fell for you more and more. If only he had the guts to tell you.

You as well wouldn’t admit it but every time Wilbur laughed all you could feel was butterflies punching your stomach and a smile that made your cheeks hurt. You were also falling hard for him.

After about another fifteen minutes, Tommy and Ranboo had bid their goodbyes for the night and ended their calls. You were left in call with Wilbur, the silence could be cut with a knife.

Knowing him for two years was hard. Wilbur was everything to you. He was funny, smart, charming, and overall made you feel comfortable. Something you thought you’d never have with anyone. Having to only talk on call and video made things easier for you. On call you could hide your blushes and smiles from him, but not from your chat who caught every interaction between you and Wilbur when you streamed. The constant ’Wilbur x name confirmed?’ tweets and comments in your twitch chat were recently repetitive and you wondered when you became such a beacon of attention. It gave you such anxiety to have all eyes on you when you wanted to spend time with your best friend.

It was getting obnoxious to the point where you debated making a tweet to get the fans to stop shipping you both, even if you were dating it was no one’s business. Still you never dared to say anything out of fear of stans coming at you in anyway. You didn’t need to draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

“You logging off? it’s getting pretty late for you,” you spoke up.

“Yeah, we both should, by the way what times your flight tomorrow?”

Right, you were flying less than eight hours from now to finally meet your friends inperson. You all had planned this for months, booking hotels and flights, making a whole deal about it. Then you really wouldn’t be able to hide from him for a whole week.

“Around seven-thirty,” you reply.

He hums.

“I’ll let you get some rest, see you tomorrow night darling,” his voice purposely going lower on the ‘darling’ part that you almost didn’t catch it, making your knees go weak.

“N-night Will,” you stutter, end call and slump back into your desk chair trying to calm your racing heart. Meanwhile Wilbur all the way across the ocean in Brighton has a smile plastered across his lips.

About a plane ride, a train ride and car ride later, you are stood in the hotel lobby in Brighton waiting for a late Tommy and Wilbur to arrive. You were super nervous to meet them. Having only been friends for what was a short time, it felt like you knew them for years, so why was this so scary?

You debated in your mind about texting them to see if they were close by, but you didn’t want to come off as annoying and impatient. You wanted to make a good first impression, but again these were your friends. Why were you shaking with nerves?

You fiddled with your thumb’s absentmindedly until you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump out of your skin. You spin around to be met with a cackling Tommy who is clucking his stomach from laughing so hard at your reaction.

“Fucking gremlin child,” you huffed under your breath, not realizing the evident blood rushing to your cheeks from being startled so easily.

“It’s nice to hear you say that in person,” a deep voice said from behind Tommy. You shifted your eyes to see a very tall Wilbur, who was wearing his round glasses pushed up his nose and curly hair fluffed to the side.

His dark sweater selves rolled up to revel his arms tucked into his side as he gazed at you with a soft smile. Finally after two years of being separated by seas, your best friend was standing right in front of you. It was surreal to say the least.

You laugh and jump forward to embrace him. The number of times you’d tease him over-call about his height made you regret your words. He towers over you as he bends down to your level to give you a long awaited hug. His arms are soft, yet firm as they wrap around your back and cage you into his embrace.

You both pull away, both grinning from ear to ear. He looks down at you with a hint of something behind his eyes, he seems to be genuinely happy to finally meet you in person. which makes you blush at the thought of him looking forward to this moment since you told him you wanted to come here. You're quickly brought out of your moment when Tommy speaks up behind you.

"So he gets a hug and I don't?!" his tone slightly offended.

"Yup, cause you're annoying," you bring a hand up to flick his forehead, causing him to let out a irritated noise. you had only just met him in person but something compelled you to do that. Maybe it was just a reason for you to break the ice and it was working because you all broke out into giggles.

“Im just kidding Tom,” you motion him into a hug.

Wilbur just stood observing the entire interaction between his two best friends. He was thrilled to finally have you here, he couldn't wait to show you all his favorite places, hang out, and get to know better in person. Finally.

The two boys had managed to drag you to the beach, and even though it was freezing Tommy insisted on going to the arcade to try and win another 'vlog gun'. After suffering through loosing a few games, Wilbur managed to win you a little stuffed cat that you promptly named Mr Whiskers.

It was endearing to watch him struggle at most of the games so he could get enough tickets. It was all worth it in his eyes to embarrass himself by losing ski-ball to you, twice, he saw the evident blush on your cheeks and the look you gave him. As if he hung the stars in the sky just for you. It made his chest hurt in a good way.

The rest of the night went smoothly for the most part. More and more, Wilbur had been getting more touchy with you. Though you didn’t mind it at all, maybe he didn’t realize how much he was putting his hand on you as you walked side by side as he led you through crowds. How he held doors open for you. It was sweet.

Maybe he was doing it just to be nice. That small voice in the back of your head telling you thats all it was. Because thats what friends do.

Eventually, the three of you met up with Ranboo and Charlie. They were just how they were online, which made meeting them a whole lot better. Walking around Brighton, making inside jokes and teasing each other. You hadn't been this happy in a while. You can remember the last time you genuinely enjoyed yourself, your friends were the product of that. You were fortunate to have found them when you did. Quarantine was hard on you, much like the rest of the world. So when you were invited to join a group game call, you couldn't pass up the opportunity. That night, something had clicked between you and Wilburt specifically. Then you started to join more calls with the gang and the rest was history.

Sometime in the night, you found yourself walking behind with Wilbur by your side chatting about nothing in particular. Until the comfortable silence filled the air between you, you took a moment to take in the nightlife of Brighton. The street lamps guide your way through the beachside and the pubs on the corner were starting to fill up. As if the city was somehow more alive at night.

"I'm really glad you came," Wilbur speaks, sincerely.

You stop your wide-eyed gaze to look at him and smile softly at him.

"I am too," You gush. "I'm honestly considering moving here,” Now he’s smiling.

Wilbur's brain starts to go a million miles a second. His heart leaped at the thought of you living closer to him. Seeing you in person everyday seemed like a dream come true. He begins to slow his step and a frown replaces your smile. Your own thoughts running rampant now, assuming you might've freaked him out by voicing that you wanted to move here so soon after meeting him in person. Maybe it made him uncomfortable. it was too soon to say something that bold. You had only just met him in person today.

"Listen, Y/N..."

You stopped and your brain got the best of you with his tone. You shouldn't have said anything like that to him. It was too soon.

“I don’t want to sound cheesy, but I need you to know how I feel.”

Oh... OH.

You knew what this was leading to. Realizing why he was acting the way he was all day.

"I like you, more than like you. You're funny, beautiful, smart, and everything I could've hoped for in a best friend. But I can't keep pretending I don't think of you when we aren't talking, or how when I look at you my chest hurts."

Wilbur liked you. Really liked you. You would jump for joy and shout to the rooftops about how much you reciprocate his feelings but something in the back of your mind told you not to. The doubt in your mind from yourself, both your fans online judging. It made you slowly start to panic. You felt as though you weren’t good enough for him.

You saw the aftermath of when his fans shipped him and Niki together. It almost ruined their friendship. You didn’t want that.

"Please say something?" he stops his rant to notice you are staring up at him with blank eyes.

"I-uh," you stutter. "can we maybe not do this now?"

His face falls and it instantly crushes you with regret. His disappointment shows as he gives you a forced smile and nods.

"Y-yeah, let's catch up with everyone, Tommy wants to do this big stream at his place." he gestures for you to move along with him, all while you feel horrible for doing this.

You wish you could take back what you said. You know you've hurt him, It's painfully obvious when he doesn't talk to you for the rest of the walk. You glance at him a few times but he keeps his eyes forward and stoic.

If only you didn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. You had to talk to him at some point, but for now you pushed it aside. The rest of the group didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension between the two of you, if they did nothing was remarked about it.

As you continued the journey to Tommys flat, you and Wilbur still walked silently side by side. With what little courage you had, you reached out your hand and held his in a moment of truce. Giving it a gentle squeeze with your fingers to seal the deal that you would talk later. You heard his soft inhale at the contact and he squeezes back. Your shoulders drop from the weight of tension being lifted off. Maybe, just maybe this ment this conversation wasn’t over.

Back at Tommy’s, the monitor in his cramped bedroom with everyone packed together like sardines; shows the twitch chat flashing by with viewers comments.

“WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM EVERYONE!” Tommy shouted causing you to hold your ear in slight pain.

“God Tommy, could you be anymore loud?” you wince.

“Look who’s here chat!” he gestured to you with his hands, ignoring your complaints. You waved at the webcam as chat went crazy. He introduced everyone else as they all broke out into a chorus of conversation.

Wilbur was mostly quiet on your left, an occasional sarcastic comment made here and there. You could practically feel his eyes buring into the side of your head. Hopping chat wasn’t noticing how he was looking at you, your eyes shifting to your lap to fidget with your fingers.

Out of view, Wilbur reached over and took your hand picking at the skin around your nails. You had stopped your nervous tick and opted for squeezing his hand. Nobody seemed to notice the sudden shift in both your behavior.

Suddenly you felt tense, the feeling of having everyone’s eyes on you made your mind start to spiral.

Letting go of Wilburs hand, you quickly had excused yourself and walked out of Tommys room and into the kitchen.

Everyone had a mix of concerned and worried expressions as they watched you leave the room but didn’t say anything about it. Wilbur had followed you in pursuit. He found you in the kitchen hyperventilating Your panic had taken over and now your lungs were paying the price for the burning sensation from not breathing.

“it's okay,” he took your face into his hands and held you. “just follow my breaths.

he took a breath in, and you followed.

When you came to your senses, Wilbur had asked you what was wrong and you just began to cry. Everything came rushing down on you.

“Im sorry. I-Im sorry I shot you down earlier, Im sorry for h-hurting you. I-i,” you stuttered over yourself. Wilbur shakes his head at you. He probably thinks you’re such a mess.

“I don’t understand, I know you like me too, so I don’t understand why you rejected me after I poured my heart out to you. Then you go and hold my hand while we're walking.'

Wilbur was right. Playing with his feelings was selfish and cruel. He was completely in the right to question you. You were practically flirting with one another all day, and then you shut down his advances of trying to open your relationship.

“I do wanna be with you.” you sniff. “I'm just really scared.”

"Why darling? It's just me, your silly old Wil." he pokes at your sides causing you to let out a giggle. Your best friend, who looked at you with the prettiest chocolate eyes, who stayed on call with you all night when you couldn't sleep. The only person you told your deepest fears and dreams to.

You take a shaky inhale as you begin to explain. "I don't wanna ruin our friendship, we have something I've never experienced with anyone else in my life. I care about you too much to let me be a distraction in your life, and I am scared that the fans will-"

Wilbur interrupts you with a hand on your arm.

"The fans? darling who cares about that, I care way too much about you to even care about what strangers think. It's no one's business who I, or you for that matter have a relationship with." he clarified. "I love you and nothing or no one will ever change that."

Those three words made your heart leap in your throat.

"Y-you l-love me?" you stutter in disbelief.

"Yes, of course I do."

Tears roll down the apples of your cheeks as you lean forward to engulf Wilbur into another hug. His arms wrapped around your back reciprocating your embrace. your face buried in his neck as you inhale his cologne and your tears dampen his skin.

"I love you too Wil," you whisper.

He squeezes you closer to him in return and this time you don't hold yourself back...

-

taglist: @trashcanduck @ax-y10 @mysticalsoot @idontreallyexistyet @loonalvjy @toastyliltoasts41

#wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot x reader #fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x fem!reader #x reader #request #anon request #writing #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fanafiction

[adventuringblind]

Nerospicy has never been so cute

Oscar Piastri x Nerodivergent!reader

Genre: fluff... angst if you squint.

Request: nope but they are open! Max, Charles, Oscar, Lando, George, Daniel and Pierre are on the list. Also open for poly fics if anyone is interested.

Summary: just cute fluff between Oscar and his autistic coded partner

Warnings: idk people who can't mind their own business IG

Notes: This is self-indulgent, and I do not care. I just wanna feel supported, okay? T_T

Also, I've sent up my account to let tips be enabled. I was debating whether or not to say this because i dont want to sound like im begging, but frankly, people opinions do not matter me me. If you like my writing and want to support me, please consider tipping my posts or my blog. I put a lot of effort into my writing, and it would mean the world to me. Obviously, I won't have my feeling hurt if you ignor this but I wanted to put it out there.

Masterlist

You weren't sure if you'd ever fit in with people. Something about you always felt different from others.

Maybe it was that you didn't understand their antics. Their jokes weren't funny to you, or you didn't understand them. They seemed you as sensitive, but you're really just incredibly empathic.

You were interested in things that they weren't. You hated certain foods, textures, and feeling in general.

Then somtimes it all became too much. Alone in a dark room with headphones in. Attempting to soothe yourself from the overwhelming feelings running through your mind and body.

Your friends wanted to go out of a Friday night. Previously, you were feeling alright and decided to go with. Instantly regretting your decision as soon as you walked into the door of the club.

It was here that you met Oscar.

He didn't really want to be here. He'd given into the pleas of his friends who didn't want to go without him. He liked people and going out to have fun, but he wasn't in the mood right now.

He noticed you sitting at the bar nursing a drink. You looked like you wouldn't bother him, and the bar was already crowded, so he sat down on the stool next to yours.

You briefly looked over at him. Finding your drink to be more entertaining than the male next to you.

You were getting more overwhelmed by the second. The discreetly hidden earbuds only help so much. The vibration of the bass and the lights combined made you want to puke. You wanted to get out of there, but your body was ever so slowly shutting down.

Oscar noticed how your body was shrinking into itself. He didn't want to stare, but it was obvious you were in distress.

"Are you alright?" Asked the Australian.

You didn't look up at him, and words became too difficult, so you settled for shaking your head no.

Oscar thought about it for a minute. "Do you want to get out of here? I'm not in the mood to party, and you don't seem like you are either." He grimaced at how awkward he felt like he sounded. "I promise I'm not a serial killer or something." He laughed but it was more at himself then anything.

Eager to leave, regardless of who the man was, you stood up and made your way towards the door. You didn't have a tab, just water in your glass to make you feel like you belonged.

Once outside the door, you breathe a sigh of relief. Less people, less vibration, and less light.

You wanted to cry, though. Your body still feeling everything.

"Do you need anything? A ride home even? I probably seem like suck a creep right now." Oscar rubs his temples.

For the first time, you fully examine the male. Shocked to see kind features and gentle eyes. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans.

"Thank you." You managed. Not wanting him to feel like a weirdo any longer.

He paused and looked up at you. Wanting to find your eyes but noticing your eyes did not want to find his. "I'm Oscar, by the way." He reached out his hand for you to shake.

Which you did hesitantly. "I'm Y/N."

~

You had explained to Oscar that you didn't live close to here. Over an hour away at best. You'd been exploring the town with friends earlier in the day when they decided to end the night at the club.

He offered you a stay at his apartment for the night and then he could take you home in the morning.

"Actually, can I take you on a date first?" He'd found you intriguing and beautiful, and he didn't want this to be for one night.

You were nervous, to say the least, but when he offered to take you anywhere you wanted to go, the deal seemed appealing. Furthermore, there was a music store you wanted to look at that your friends had passed by. So when he offered, you pointed him in the direction.

"Can I ask you something?" His eyes never left the rode, and you were grateful for it. It helped the conversation flow easier for you.

"Sure." You shrugged.

"Why are you wearing earbuds?"

Oh. You dreaded this. Talking about the way your body and mind work had yet to end well.

Your hesitancy did not do unnoticed, so Oscar quickly followed up with "you don't have to answer if it's uncomfortable."

"Well, it's just that- loud noise makes me overwhelmed, and things like headphones help drown it out." You fumbled.

"Oh I use those at work too sometimes cause it can get loud."

He seemed so natural saying it. His calm demeanor helping you to read him a bit better.

He then proceeded to tell you about his job and ask questions about you. He was very clear when he spoke. Eventually helping you to wind down.

This guy you just met was taking you on a date. Was it a good idea to out yourself? Probably not, but if you didn't care for people opinions much. "I'm autistic."

"I was wondering that but didn't want to ask. I had a friend in school that was, and in some ways, you seem similar to him." He hit his head on the steering wheel. "I'm not trying to stereotype. I'm sorry that probably sounded rude."

You laughed at him. His response was one of the best you'd been given. "It's alright, it's actually kind of cool that you picked up on it."

When you arrived it the music store it was ten minutes to close. The records lined the walls, and boxes of CDs were packed to the brim. Not many people use them nowadays, but it felt comfortable in the little store.

You and Oscar browsed the music and talked about the different kinds of music you like. It felt natural. Even when you knew you were info-dumping, he just listened intently and asked questions about your interest.

Soon enough, the shopkeeper asked you both to leave. You waved a thank you and slid back into Oscar's car.

"Thank you for indulging me. I really enjoyed this." You were shocked to hear that come from him. Mainly because you felt like you talked his ear off.

The drive to his apartment was quiet, but not the awkward kind.

He opened the door for you when you arrived. His apartment was comfortable. It's not super empty or overly decorated. It's just comfortable.

"Right, so you can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and take the room, and I'll take the couch." He didn't even give you a chance to protest as he sped off to gether the essentials.

You two didn't do much sleeping that night. Wasting away the time. The clock moving two fast for your liking. You two spent hours conversing and laughing with each other.

Somewhere along the line, Oscar passed out on the couch, and you had made your way to his room like he said to.

You two exchanged numbers when it was finally time for you to leave his car. He promised to stay in contact with you.

A promise he followed through on. It didn't take long til you were following him around to races.

You were mostly watched from the quiet places in the McLaren paddock. Sometimes, it even curled up in Oscar's driver room. He didn't mind, though, making it a small game you played between the two of you.

You and Lando got along nicely as well. Oscar only getting frustrated when it comes to both of you and your eating habits.

You were manageable, but Lando was just ridiculous in his eyes.

You didn't actively say your autistic but definitely explained why you are the way you are. Eventually, people came to their own conclusions. The gossip pages included.

You didn't really understand the criticism at first. People had always misjudged and misunderstood. But when they started nitpicking your every move, it became annoying.

The names didn't bother you. It was them saying Oscar deserved someone who wasn't as weird.

It followed you everywhere. These labels that the media had given you.

You were happy with Oscar. He treated you so well, and you were doing your best to support him. You two created your own small routines that you enjoyed.

You couldn't even walk through the paddock without journalists trying to question you. The physical souch of their bodies and shouting so they could be heard sending your body into overdrive. You liked the environment of racing, but this was over your limit.

You were so glad you texted Oscar you had arrived. Him responding that he was already on his way to you.

He noticed the journalists first, then you at the center of attention. Your hands in your hair and your breathing rapid. You looked like you might scream.

His legs moved faster than his mind as he put himself in between you and anyone else. Very gently, placing a hand on your shoulder to try and guide you away.

You did end up screaming. Your body needing to release all the pent-up emotions you'd been wanting to release earlier. Thankfully, it was somewhere private and muffled by Oscar's jacket.

You didn't want the so close like that. They were too much. They questions they asked were incredibly invasive. Some even going as far as to ask about intimate things.

You managed to explain to Oscar what happened. His listening intently, watching you play with his fingers in the pattern your head had come up with.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make things hard for you."

Oscar smiled and simply shook his head. "You aren't making things difficult, and on the contrary, you and your nerodivergent brain have never looked so cute."

"I just got done screaming and trying to self-soothe."

"It doesn't matter. You still look absolutely adorable." He kissed the top of your head, hoping to convey what he was feeling without words.

Am hour later, Oscar had posted to his socials about you. A letter to anyone who wants to form an opinion.

"Leave my girlfriend be. Neither of us likes having our personal lives invaded. You like to assume things but don't have all the facts. I love her very much, and that should be all that matters."

As you read it and looked at Oscar, who was giving you a goofy smile for being proud of what he'd just done. You realized just how much he loved you. Despite your labels, he saw past them and loved you for you.

#x reader #fanficion #f1 fic #formula one #racing #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar #oscar piastri #piastri #op81 #autism #autistic #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #mclaren racing #papaya #fluff #nerospicy #lando norris #ln4 #formula racing #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #driver #open requests #requests are open #oscar piastri imagine

[nicksnosering]

I Hate Myself For Loving You

~Toxic Chris Sturniolo One Shot~

TW: toxic! chris, marijuana, no aftercare, chris is a dick

This is my first story I've ever posted on tumblr, so pls be nice!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

me: hey, you coming over tonight?

read at 9:06pm

It’s been 4 hours since I sent that text, and almost 2 since it was marked as ‘read’. I bit my lip, sighing as the internal debate on whether I should double text or not was practically eating me alive. Grabbing my phone that I’d been trying too hard to ignore off of my nightstand, I swiped it open and decided fuck it.

me: christopher. stop ignoring me.

The response came through almost immediately.

DO NOT ANSWER: why?

I rolled my eyes, pushing aside my pride as I sent my next message.

me: just come over.

DO NOT ANSWER: i’m busy.

me: doing what, fucking ur other bitches?

DO NOT ANSWER: yeppppp

me: ok 👌🏼

I groan out of frustration, throwing my phone back onto my nightstand. God, he’s infuriating. We’ve been fucking for close to five months now, and every time it seemed like there was any sort of breakthrough, like maybe he actually liked me or cared about me, we went right back to where we started. I press play on the remote, but my mind is spinning far too fast for me to actually focus on the TV.

I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. If he’s going to treat me like an option instead of a priority, he can go fuck himself. I grab my phone off of my nightstand again, hovering over his name before shaking my head and pressing ‘Block Contact’. Just like that, five months down the drain. 

I ignore the aching feeling in my chest, like I’m about to be ripped open from the inside, snuggling further in my sheets and letting the warmth envelop me before slowly drifting off to sleep.

The peacefulness of being unconscious didn’t last long. 

I woke to the sound of my front door being pounded on so hard, the hinges sounded like they were about to fly off. I turn and check the time on my phone blearily, the screen reading 2:13am. I pull the covers off and pad over to the door, rubbing my eye as I unlock it. The door immediately opens, and I look up to find Chris staring at me, eyes slightly red and hair messy. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are narrowed, briefly looking me up and down before brushing past me and walking straight into my living room.

“Get out, Chris,” I say tiredly, vaguely gesturing toward the open door I’m still holding.

“Nah, I’m good,” he responds, falling back onto my couch and kicking his feet up, resting them on the coffee table. His hands go into his hoodie pocket, and I watch as he pulls out a preroll and a lighter.

“I’m serious. Get the fuck out,” I say, slightly more aggressively, ignoring the way my heart squeezes in my chest. I watch as he flicks the lighter and the end of the preroll turns a bright red. He takes a hit, inhaling deeply and looking back up at me.

“So am I,” he breathes out. “You’re not going to block me and expect me not to fucking show up expecting an explanation.”

I shut the door and sit down next to him on the couch, turning to him. His hand immediately goes to wrap around my waist, and I hate myself for the way I want to curl into it. Even with me being as mad as I am, he still looks insanely hot, his sleepy eyes tracing over my figure in my pajamas. He knows I love when he wears that stupid fucking black hoodie. 

I push his hand off of me, scooting a little further away and wrapping my arms around myself.

“You’re such a dick, you know that?” I ask. 

He smirks, throwing an arm around the back of the couch before shrugging. “You love it.”

“No, I fucking don’t,” I growl, watching as he takes another hit. “And open a window or something, Jesus.” He knows how much I hate it when he smokes in my apartment. The smell lingers for a few days and all it does is remind me of him, of how much I can’t stand myself when he leaves after letting him in, again and again.

He leans forward, placing his hand on my thigh and rubbing it softly before blowing the smoke directly in my face. I stare at him, unimpressed, and he chuckles. “Come on, ma. Don’t be upset. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Do you really expect me to forgive you for being an asshole just because you’re here now? At 2 in the fucking morning?” I glare at him. Goosebumps emerge on my thigh as his fingers continue to rub small circles into it, and I shiver.

His lips curl upwards as he takes another hit. “Your body sure seems to,” he says cockily, putting out the preroll and wrapping his arms around my waist. My body does betray me this time, and I lean into him as his fingers trace my hipbone. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight,” he whispers lowly.

“Yeah, I’m sure I was the first thing on your mind when you were balls deep in another girl,” I huff. 

He laughs. “Okay, she was first. But you were second.” His hand comes up to my jaw, cupping it softly and forcing me to look at him. “Stop acting like you hate me. We both know how this night is going to end,” he says, leaning in and capturing my lips with his own.

I whine as I try to pull back, but his hand on my jaw stays firm, holding my mouth against his. His other hand slowly slides up my thigh until he finds the waistband of my thong, and his finger hooks underneath before letting it go, resulting in it slapping harshly against my hip. I yelp and pull back, and he chuckles as his fingers rub the red mark softly.

“God, you know how hard it gets me when your cheeks are all flushed like that,” he mumbles, dipping his head down and beginning to suck on the skin directly above my collar bone. I let a small moan slip, and grit my teeth at how little willpower I have when it comes to this man.

“Chris, stop,” I whisper, but it sounds too breathy for my own liking. He pulls off of my neck, admiring the mark his teeth made briefly, before looking back into my eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, grabbing my hips to pull me onto his waist. My thighs rest on either side of his and he grinds up into me, his hard erection rubbing against me through my paper-thin pajama shorts. I groan, letting my head fall onto his shoulder, and his fingers dig in, grinding me against him roughly. A small whimper leaves my mouth, slicing through the silence in the room. I wince, stilling my hips, trying to regain the last semblance of composure I have. 

My heart squeezes in my chest as I look down at him beneath me, my brain flooding with every toxic memory of us together. The time he kicked me out of his car, leaving me stranded on the side of the road after an intense screaming match. The time he called me a fucking bitch in front of his friends, laughing in my face. The time he swore he didn’t go and fuck that girl I hated in my biology class, promising he wouldn’t do that to me. 

That one hurt the most, considering I had to find out from my own sister 2 grades below me. 

But with the bad came the good, such as the mind-blowing orgasms and the way his mouth fit against mine and the way his fingers fit into me just right, crooking and teasing and pumping exactly the way he knew I liked. Like he knew my body better than I did. 

With my jaw set, I place my hands on his chest, steam practically blowing from my nostrils. I hated myself for this, and he knew that, and I knew he knew that. Any attempts I have at stopping this now are futile. My body needs him. 

“Fuck you,” I breathe heavily, rolling my hips against his. My mouth trails to his jaw, his neck, down his chest, and a low moan escapes him as his fingers find their way to the waistband of my shorts, slipping down the front and past my thong to gently rub at my entrance, before plunging two fingers deep inside without any warning. My hips jolt forward, meeting his fingers where they connect to his hand before he starts curling them inward, and… my last shred of self control has completely dissipated. 

I feel his chest rumble with laughter as a few small moans leave my lips. “If you insist,” he whispers, thumb finding my clit and giving it a few lazy circles. My head falls forward onto his chest and I can’t stop myself from biting into his shoulder to quiet my moans.

His other hand tangles its way into my hair, yanking my head back and forcing our gazes to lock.

“You can cum if you want to, but you know I’m getting inside that cunt one way or another.” His thumb speeds up across my clit and I can feel my body shaking, getting close to plummeting over the edge.

My eyes flutter shut, and I’m quickly rewarded with another sharp tug on my scalp. “Look at me,” he commands. And when my eyes meet his, I feel the waves washing over me, convulsing as he speeds up his fingers, mercilessly working me through my orgasm. 

I slump forward into his chest, and he pulls his fingers out quickly, leaving me empty in more ways than one. He wraps his arms around my waist and stands up, carrying me to my bedroom and tossing me onto the bed carelessly.

He pulls his hoodie over his head, tossing it into the corner of my room, and strides back over to the edge of the bed. His stature towers over me, and my mind is swimming with a thousand thoughts, not a single one of them protesting this any longer.

I’ve accepted what this is.

More than that, I’ve given up.

I’m irrevocably in love with him, regardless of his feelings toward me, and I can’t bring myself to care about the hurt it’ll bring. The hurt it has brought. All I can think about in this moment is getting him inside of me, and I try to disregard the niggling feelings in the back of my mind about how I’ll feel after.

There is no after. There’s only now.

My hand shakes slightly with anticipation as I reach up, tugging at his belt buckle and popping it open. I slide his pants and boxers down in one motion, and my legs spread on their own accord as he leans over me, lining himself up.

“I love you.”

It’s nothing I haven’t said before, but each time I do, I hope for a different outcome. Something other than the eye roll he always gives me, huffing and silencing me with a palm over my lips. Each time, I hope the sting is lessened, that he cracks and shows me the soft side of him I know has to be in there.

And if that’s the definition of insanity, then I should’ve been locked up months ago.

He scoffs, pushing inside of me to the hilt in one quick thrust. “I know,” he responds, hand coming up to wrap around my throat and prevent any further confessions from coming out. 

My moans are unstoppable as he pounds into me with brutal thrust after thrust, only caring about working towards his own orgasm. I thrust back against him, rolling my hips to meet his each time he’s fully inside, thinking that maybe… maybe if I’m good, maybe if I’m better than that other bitch he fucked tonight, he won’t run off like he always does.

Maybe he’ll want a round two. Maybe he’ll stick around for another joint. Maybe he’ll cuddle me after.

Maybe he’ll stay.

I push the thoughts aside, trying instead to focus on the intense amount of pleasure coursing through my veins and lighting up every nerve ending in my body. 

His chain rocks back and forth, slapping his chest in time with his thrusts, and I watch as his tongue darts out to lick away a stray bead of sweat trailing down his face.

His grunts are filling the room, mixing with my own to create a beautiful melody I want to record and play on a loop forever. His curls are falling in his eyes and his stomach tenses with each snap forward of his hips, and he consumes all of my senses as my body shakes and writhes beneath him, pleading for him to slow down and begging for more in the same breath.

I whine when he pulls out to just the tip, and his eyes stay glued to mine as he slams back in, causing me to let out a loud gasp. A smirk settles on his lips as he repeats his actions, and I feel my body coming completely undone, succumbing wholly to him.

“Such a good little slut for Daddy, aren’t you?” he muses, panting heavily. He releases his hold on my throat, gripping the back of my calf instead and wrapping it around his waist, moaning at the pleasure the new angle brings. “So needy and wet every time. Like you were made for me.”

And I was. There is no one else.

It’s just him.

I can feel his thrusts getting sloppier, and I watch his eyelids droop as he continues his conquest over me, every muscle tensing before I feel his release inside of me, hot and heavy, marking me as his. Claiming me.

He groans loudly as he works his way through it, not sparing a single drop. I wrap my other leg around him and pull him as close as I can, not wanting to to let him go and be forced to accept it’s over.

When he’s finished, he drops down onto me for a moment, and I take my opportunity to brush my fingers through his hair, placing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. We lay like that for a while, but it’s far too short for my liking when he peels himself away and stands up.

My eyes follow as he goes over to where he threw his hoodie, pulling it back over his head before grabbing his boxers and doing the same.

All I can do is watch helplessly, begging with my eyes for him to stay. To get back into bed and hold me, kiss my shoulder and whisper that it’s always been me too.

He chuckles as he buckles his belt, situating it on his hips before looking back at me. “That was probably one of our best ones yet.”

“Yeah,” I respond emptily. I sit up and wrap the blanket around myself, feeling far too exposed now, both physically and emotionally.

“Alright, ma. See you later,” he says, messing with his hair absentmindedly before deciding its okay, and I watch as he grips the handle of my bedroom door, swinging it open.

“Chris?” I ask.

“Hmm?”

“Stay.”

He looks taken aback for a moment, but regains his composure quickly as he chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I’m good.”

And with that, he’s gone, and I feel my heart shatter a little bit more as I’m left alone, sticky and sweaty and naked, with nothing but the smell of weed lingering in my apartment to keep me company.

——————————

PT 2

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #toxic chris #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturn #matthew sturnio

[happyandticklish]

The Joke's That Make You Laugh

Notes: Inspired by this post by @nhasablogg because I've been fixated on the concept ever since I saw it. Anyways, Wonka gives off insane lee energy and I refuse to believe he wouldn't get up to shit like this. Based on the new Wonka movie.

Summary: Wonka's newest chocolate creation has him in stitches.

Willy's heart raced as he looked down at the creation on his table. It was a beautiful thing. The appetizing treat curled slightly into a bow with golden tendrils spanning out into dozens of soft barbs. It very nearly seemed to flutter with the breeze flowing in through the window with how lifelike it appeared, though Willy knew this was impossible.

A feather. A simple creation when compared to the hundreds of wonders Willy had stocked his factory with, but its appeal was not held in its design. It was in what it could do.

He sat back in his chair, holding his chin as he stared at it. His leg jumped and jerked under the table in an unsteady, anxious rhythm. He and the feather held a silent staring contest as he debated adding finishing touches. Behind it sat several copies of the same chocolate in a pile—he always made sure to create back-ups. Perhaps he should add speckles to the top for realism, or splatter a black coating on the quill to appear as ink. None of this mattered, really. If he was being honest with himself, the chocolate had been finished thirty minutes ago and all of his tinkering and fussing was mere procrastination.

Willy wasn’t embarrassed. That was silly, after all, to be embarrassed of something that no one will see but you, that impacts no one but you. Not quite nervous, either. He had wanted to try creating something like this for a while now, even if the idea hadn’t quite formed into a coherent thought yet. He was excited about this. He wanted this. No, if he were to put it into words, it was a vague apprehension, a worry that it wouldn’t work, or worse, that it would work too well.

He tapped his fingers against the table. He leapt to his feet. He paced around several yard before whirling back to face the innocent feather.

“It’s just chocolate,” he muttered to himself. “Familiar territory.”

Before he could overthink it anymore, he snatched the treat and popped it into his mouth.

He rolled the chocolate around with his tongue. White chocolate, notes of hazelnut, all with a sweet vanilla glaze. It was, as always, delicious. He held it in the pocket of his cheek, allowing the warmth of his mouth to dissolve it.

Stalling.

Willy frowned, before determinedly swallowing it.

The effect was not instantaneous. He had made sure to calculate in a slight delay as there had been some fear of choking by accident. He was hyper aware of his own nervous system, unsure if what he was feeling was a tingling sensation or merely the butterflies swooping in his stomach.

Now that he had done it, worries began to flood Willy’s mind. He was alone, as he often was. There was Noodle and the rest of them, and the Oompa Loompas of course, but not here, not in his personal bedroom, not in his factory after hours. Sometimes they would stay late to finish up orders, and the Oompa Loompas slept here at the factory. If something had gone wrong, it would only be reasonable to get him. What if someone came in? What if it didn’t fade out in time? What if he had gotten the calculations wrong and it never wore off?

What if it was a dud and he was working himself up over nothing?

Just as he was about to go and check if the door was actually locked, however, Willy felt it. It was faint at first, a mere spark of something in his stomach. Soon, however, the spark multiplied until it was less of a spark and more of a crawling sensation over his lower abdomen, like spiders with feathers for legs.

“Oh. Oh.” A grin was breaking out across his features, his legs far less steady than they were mere moments before. He thought about making a break for the bed, but the sensation was only getting worse, and he found himself crumpling to the ground, arms wrapped protectively around his stomach.

It tickled. God, it tickled. More than he had anticipated, despite having created the recipe himself. It was spreading out from his stomach now and heading toward his sides. He dug beneath his coat, his own fingers gripping frantically at his undershirt in an unconscious effort to stop the feeling. Giggles welled up in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep them in. But it just wouldn’t stop. It was all just so intentional and teasing. Swipes up his sides, pokes at his ribs, fluttery fingers scuttling across his hips and down to his lower back. It was an overwhelming force of gentleness that he couldn’t fight off no matter how much he wanted to.

He knew logically that the chocolate was merely activating his nervous system and making his mind believe that it tickled when in actuality he was fine. One of the core ingredients to the chocolate was a rare hallucinogen he had found while out on his travels that was meant to interfere with one’s nervous system.

The idea for a tickling chocolate was one he had been working on for a while by then (secretly, of course, in the late hours of the night when the longing for it transferred into a desire so intense that he thought he might actually die if he didn't have it fulfilled), so when he stumbled across the plant, he knew immediately what to do.

He had tweaked it of course, taken out any dangerous elements, and only added in enough for about twenty minutes—nothing too crazy. So, rationally, he knew there was nothing really happening to him.

Still. It felt real.

Red crept up Willy's neck, tinging his ears as he twitched and jerked away from his invisible oppressors. It was a strange feeling, being tickled by one’s own mind—no pesky hands to fight off, no people to plead to. Just a grown man giggling to himself on his bedroom floor. And the only person he had to blame for this was himself. All of this was going on in his own mind, after all. As such, it was easy to convince himself that all he really needed to do to get it to stop was stop believing that it tickled at all—even if it was a goal that he hoped to fail at.

Willy forced his eyes open, taking deep, shuddering breaths. He glared firmly down at his own legs, holding the image of them in his mind. He could see nothing touching him, therefore there was nothing touching him. Thus, his mind had to be wrong in its attempts to convince Willy that something was squeezing devastating pinches higher and higher up his legs.

“It doesn’t tickle,” he gritted out, his wide grin saying otherwise. “It doesn’t… mmhmm… doesn’t tickle!”

Fingers crawling up toward his torso.

“Doesn’t—”

Scribbling over his stomach.

“Ti—”

Thumbs digging into his hips.

“—ihicKLE! Oh, what’s the pohohoint!” He doubled over at last, cackling wildly as he held his stomach. “Why does it hahave to tihickle so much!?” To who he was speaking, he couldn’t say, but some part of his mind was convinced that if he put the information out into the universe that maybe it would lend a helping hand. When that didn’t work, he attempted a more accepting method.

“N-now, now,” he assured himself, as though condoling a wailing child. “It’s just, ah, tihickling! Nothing t-to get so wohorked up about!” This was answered by several rapid-fire pokes to his ribs that sent him falling back and rolling about the floor. He knew it was impossible for the tickling to in any way be impacted by himself, as proven earlier, but it was starting to feel a tad bit personal as time went on.

Willy’s shoulders scrunched as soft touches flicked behind his ears, seeming to almost kiss his neck. He covered his face, groaning into his hands. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. How was he going to survive the next fifteen?

Willy continued to lie there as he waited for the chocolate’s effects to wear off, squirming frantically in desperate mirth. What he didn’t see was the shadow of a man right outside his window that he had failed to notice in the excitement of his creation. They perched on the sill, observing him carefully until Willy’s laughter transformed into a few trickling giggles as the effects of the potion wore off.

They watched him as he carefully stood up, still a bit wobbly from the tickling, and walked over to lock up the remaining chocolates on the table in a little sealed jar that he shoved behind some books on his shelf.

It wasn’t until Willy had finally gone to bed that they emerged, shuffling carefully into the room and quietly sneaking over to the bookshelf. They scaled the wood paneling with ease, careful to make sure Willy was still out. The tickling had exhausted him, however, so it seemed, and so the man had no trouble sneaking behind the books and opening the little jar, sticking his orange hand inside.

The Oompa-Loompa smiled as he beheld the ornate sweet. It was true he was no longer conspiring against the chocolatier, but he hadn’t yet lost his penchant for mischief. Besides, it was just tickling—a harmless prank. He shoved the chocolate pieces into his pockets, quickly hopping down from the shelf and sneaking out the window before his plans could be ruined.

He held high hopes that this was going to be an eventful week.

#tickle fic #wonka #willy wonka #tickling #fanfiction

[genericpuff]

zoo wee mama, the new Hbomberguy video is a RIDE and it's absolutely relevant to everything going on in webcomics. let's talk about it.

I'm sure a lot of you have heard about this video going around already (it's gotten 2+ million views in just a little over 24 hours) but if you haven't, I highly recommend you set aside time to watch it yourself, I was surprised to see how much he had dug up especially regarding Youtubers that I never suspected were plagiarizing. He also says some very on-point stuff about how we view content creators and plagiarizing in this "do it yourself" industry that really resonated with me because it's stuff I've been saying for years in the webcomic sphere.

I won't spoil the video much because I think it's best experienced watching it for yourself (especially because he's putting all the money he earns off this video towards compensating the people who had their work plagiarized by one Youtuber in particular who's especially guilty... I'm not even gonna mince words, it's James Somerton) but this passage in particular just felt so validating to hear from someone who clearly holds themselves to the standards that more Youtubers - and creators in general - should be holding themselves to:

"I think a lot of people are inclined to protect creators they like on the grounds that plagiarism is a very academic-sounding problem, like something that happens in research papers or journalism, not something that you can do in a silly video made for entertainment purposes. Why are we holding Youtubers to standards? That would be like expecting accurate history from someone whose name has 'historian' in it! Because Youtubers often project a sense of being scrappy, do-it-yourself amateurs, it feels almost wrong to expect them to be professional... but a lot of them are professionals, regardless how authentic their persona may be. Youtubers are now among the most recognizable faces on the planet, and have become immensely wealthy doing this. Some are so influential we literally call them influencers. Maybe it's a good idea to have some standards for not stealing. Maybe." - Hbomberguy, "Plagiarism and You(tube)" timestamp: 3:35:32

Obviously this has nothing to directly do with webcomics but I do think it's something that reflects very similar behavior within the webcomic community that's, frankly, worth discussing. Many people justifiably want to make a living off their work, want webcomics as a whole to be taken more seriously in the mainstream next to traditional publishing, and for webcomic creators to be taken more seriously as professionals.

But at the same time, I still see a lot of infantilizing of the people in this industry, done by both their fans and the people within it, the idea that being a professional (noun) isn't mutually inclusive of being professional (adjective). It's how we've gotten creators in the past like Snailords, mongie, and yes, Rachel Smythe, who are often shielded by their fanbase on the basis of, "they're just indie comic creators doing what they love, leave them alone!" when they're very much not that, at least not anymore. At least two of those three creators have TV deals (though whether or not they'll make it to the screen is debatable), and all three of them have or have had Webtoons seemingly wrapped around their finger more so than any other creator (though mongie has argued she left Webtoons over unfair treatment, it really doesn't seem like that to the people who know how much mongie was intentionally pushing the rules of what she was allowed to post on the platform, particularly with her Sam x Charles smut).

They are not 'indie creators' anymore and they are not exempt from criticism just because their younger fanbase mistakenly assumes them to be the same age as them. Rachel, mongie, and Snailords are all in their mid-to-late 30's. They all have merchandising deals and either have TV deals or want to have TV deals. They've all been given priority advertising by Webtoons even at the cost of undercutting all the other creators and series on the platform that need it more. They are not "scrappy" creators, they're contractual professionals now and they all do not act like it. Whether it's reacting poorly to criticism or using their characters as a mouthpiece for their own egos or even just using their comics as a poorly disguised fetish, they're all contractual professionals who do not act professional. And they're not the only webcomic creators who do this.

And again, I've talked about this before on here and in the discussions on reddit concerning LO and other webtoons, so it's incredibly validating and refreshing to see Hbomberguy put those feelings into words (albeit about Youtubers, but let's be real, Webtoons is definitely trying to be the "Youtube of webcomics", as is Tapas and other competing webtoon platforms) because that sentiment rings true for a lot of the webtoon creators who have practically failed upwards and only forgo their advertised "professional status" when they're under fire for their actions and writing. Rachel is an "award winning creator" and "self-proclaimed folklorist" until her comic is criticized for its blatant misrepresentation and disrespect towards an entire culture, then all of a sudden "it's just fanfiction". Mongie is the creator of the bestselling series Let's Play until she's called out for racist depictions of Asians and Hispanic people in her work, then all of a sudden she's "just trying to make a fun comic" that's not meant to be taken that seriously. And of course, their audience of teens and young adults who don't know any better keep forgiving them and vehemently defending them because they wrongfully assume that these creators are scrappy teens just like themselves who just started making webcomics for fun and then achieved fame and glory overnight (which they're not!)

We should be having bigger discussions about what awaits the webcomic and "content creator" industry as a whole in the future and what standards we should be holding creators and their work to. We can't possibly expect these mediums to be taken seriously as a professional industry if we don't set better expectations for the quality of the work that's being created and the creators who are building these platforms for themselves.

"In current discourse, Youtubers simultaneously present as the forefront of a new medium, creative voices that need to be taken seriously as part of the 'next generation of media'... and also 'uwu smol beans little babies who shouldn't be taken seriously when they rip someone off and make tens of thousands of dollars doing it." - Hbomberguy, "Plagiarism and You(tube)" timestamp: 3:36:18

#hbomberguy #webtoon critical #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical #let's play critical #Youtube

[bella-rose29]

the jockwood universe (college au)

basically jockwood is a thing now, and these are the generic world building hc's of this au :)

essentially what's going to happen is a bunch of x reader fics set within this universe, all probably slightly different but every one of them set with this same background to them, so... yeah!

(also a special thank you to the multiverse of George for helping answer my pestering questions)

Lockwood is on the football team/part of the university football society

Also the fencing society

George and Lockwood are friends from high school but are in separate circles in college

George is also on the ice hockey team 

Kipps is on the football team too

When they were like… preteens or something Kipps and Lockwood had a friendly football match where they were on opposing teams

Lockwood’s team beat Kipps’ by… a lot (and Kipps totally isn’t bitter about it)

Holly is a student rep

Lucy is in debate club and fencing

Skull is a campus cat who hisses and scratches everyone but Lucy

He’s called Skull bc he’s got a weird patch on his head that looks a bit like a skull

And also Lucy seems to always know what Skull wants?? It’s like she can actually talk to him or something 👀

Barnes is a very tired senior lecturer who is the academic advisor to the trio + Holly and Kipps, and he wishes they would stop hogging his office hours

The Winkmans are a family who live in town and sit on their porch every morning shouting abuse at people who walk past

Bobby!!! On the football team and also in band (plays the clarinet probably)

Kate and Ned as well - both on the football team and hang out with Kipps obviously, along with Bobby

Rotwells College is in the same town/city and often competes against the Fittes university (that Penelope is head of)

Flo goes to Rotwells’ and is in their fencing society, but she sneaks onto the Fittes campus all the time to feed the ducks and throw frozen peas at passing students

Visitors - there’s a lot of local folklore and haunted buildings, and Lockwood and Co go and investigate because they’re Like That

Technology is modern, and as such they have phones

And group chats

Obviously Lockwood and Co is the name of Lockwood, Lucy, George, and Holly’s group chat

Lockwood is surprisingly old-fashioned when it comes to technology though? Like he has a record player and cassette tapes in his room that he just whips out every now and then

People’s courses/degrees!

Lockwood’s course is chemical engineering with fine art/art history

George - chemistry

Lucy - English (language and literature)

Holly - English literature + publishing

Kipps - Architecture (but he’s a dick about it)

Ned - Spanish/Spanish + international development

Kat - chemical engineering

Bobby - history

Flo - classical and archaeological studies

tag list:

@no-morning-glories, @t2sh0, @informedimagining, @strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @ahead-fullofdreams, @light-23, @locknco, @briar-rose23, @mischivana, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @superpositvecloudshipper, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @mitskiswift99, @anathemaloren, @ran23sblog, @taygrls, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @augustisintheair, @wordsarelife, @tournesol77, @novelizt, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @curseofhecate, @karensirkobabes, @mrsklockwood, @whenselenefallsinlove, @zoom1374, @a-taken-url

and the multiverse of George (of course): @avdiobliss, @neewtmas, @oblivious-idiot, @bobbys-not-that-small, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, and @maraschinomerry 💕

I'm aware that there are a lot of people and if I've forgotten you then I am so so sorry (my tag lists are all over the place whoops), so if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

I am aware that it has been a while, but from now on I will be checking this post every time I write a new fic to see who is there, so head on over to give a comment or a like and I'll pop you on for next time! <3

#jockwood #lockwood and co college au #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #quill kipps #quill kipps x reader #lucy carlyle #lucy carlyle x reader #george karim #george karim x reader #skull #holly munro #holly munro x reader #maybe #I think that's it???

[unrequitedloveletter]

Cal, my love, how are you???

If heard your call for Kaz x Reader requests. If LOVE to see what you come up with for Kaz x Grisha!Reader (I'm feeling inferno, squaller, or Durant, but obviously it's up to you!) where the reader gets sicker and sicker from not using their small science! It's such a fascinating concept to me and hardly ever explored!

Back To Normal- K.B x gn! Squaller! Reader

Okay, hi! It's been nearly two weeks since you sent this in and I did write it! Editing it just took me longer than I expected and I woke up after a nap last night to discover that I have a bit of a cold developing so I couldn't edit the remainder of it and post it like I'd hoped, but I got it done today so yay, I hope you like this one!

This concept is one I've never seen a fic for but one I've debated writing a fic around in the past because the concept in and of itself is a really intriguing idea to me, and this gives me an excuse to write it and also an excuse to write a squaller! reader, which I've thought about doing but have never actually done, so I was really excited when I saw this in my inbox! Thank you so much for sending this in, and if it's not exactly what you had in mind, feel free to reach out and let me know, I'll totally rewrite if you'd like lol.

Fic type- hurt/comfort with moments of angst

Warnings- mentions of sickness, frailness, feelings of weakness, heart palpitations, loss of appetite, and there's reference to the second chapter of Six of Crows so slight spoiler warning too for people haven't read the books

As a Grisha, once your abilities to summon the small science were discovered, there were consequences for not summoning. You grew sick, your body grew weak, your bones fragile and you felt frail, even the smallest actions leaving you winded.

It was the universes way of punishing you for not using the gift you'd been given, another show of like calls to like. Refraining from summoning calls to sickness, and summoning calls to health.

You'd read Grisha theory, both in your time at the Little Palace before you left in the last few months before the war and in the time since, in the times wherein you needed something to read and happened upon a book containing Grisha theory and figured it would be good to pass the time.

You knew that you wouldn't last if you didn't summon, but you eventually stopped finding reason to. Nobody in the Dregs knew you were a squaller, and what good did wind do, anyway, unless it was summer and grossly humid as Ketterdam always got when the weather warmed up? You saw no point in using your small science, so eventually, you just stopped.

For a while, the differences weren't really noticeable. You didn't notice them, nobody in the Dregs noticed them, none of the crows did. You hadn't relied on your abilities as a Squaller since you'd lived in Ravka, and before you'd decided to stop, you mostly used them in summer or when Kaz needed a distraction in the middle of a negotiation in the rarer times they'd taken place outdoors, something to put the opposition a little on edge.

But then, they became noticeable. You stopped sleeping quite as comfortably as you used to, spending hours trying to get comfortable, trying to will your mind to quiet. You woke up and took to coffee to keep you awake, often running on between two and four hours to boot.

Because of your tiredness, dark circles developed under your eyes. Your appetite lessened and you grew to be tired all the time, even on a rarer night where your body rested for seven or eight hours. You still relied on the coffee even then, and Nina was beginning to take notice of the fact that you hardly ate.

Kaz had long taken notice of the exhaustion you exhibited even after jobs that you'd always considered pretty easy, ones that didn't require as much effort, as much physical strain, as the bigger heists always tended to.

Jesper had long taken notice of how much coffee you drank, the fact that you always seemed to have jurda on you even in the middle of the day, and Inej noticed it when your pace began to slow, afraid to walk at the pace you normally did because you didn't want to risk heart palpitations.

Wylan was beginning to notice when those heart palpitations kicked in, was the one to grab your hand and look at you, brown eyes silently trying to ask if something was wrong only to receive nothing in response.

One by one, each of the crows noticed something, and still, none of them said a word. They could've been wrong, they knew. All of them acknowledged that they could've been dramatizing things, making things out to be worse than they actually were.

The only one who was sure of the things they'd noticed was Kaz. You were someone who mattered to him. Of course he was going to notice if you were out of sorts. Observance was his pedigree.

So, one day, Kaz showed up at your door. "What's wrong?" He'd asked. "What is wrong with you, Y/N?"

You'd laughed, a lame, tired laugh. You'd barely slept three hours, and the long-term exhaustion was starting to finally have an impact. Kaz's tone was humorless, blunt like the edge of a knife gone too long without being run across a sharpening block.

It was normally gravel, normally coffee grounds being poured into a coffee press, but it was not that, not that day. It was the unsharpened edge of a knife, the voice that did not belong to the man you loved but rather to one they called Dirtyhands.

"What's wrong with me?" You asked. "Nothing, Kaz. Nothing is wrong with me."

"Exhaustion," Kaz said. "You drink coffee and chew jurda near constantly. You sleep hours after jobs that aren't even tiring. You are constantly tired because you can't sleep unless you are at the point wherein your body will die without resting. You get two hours most nights, four, six, on luckier ones. Nina has also noticed that you eat less lately. Wylan says you've been having heart palpitations and Matthias has noticed you zoning out. Why?"

"Why do I feel like that's a rhetorical question?"

"It's not. Stop trying to flirt."

"I'm not trying to flirt," you laughed again, a shallow, hollowed out version of the laugh Kaz recognized. "If I were trying to flirt, you'd know. I would know it was working because your cheeks would be tinged pink, which, of course, is something you'd deny."

Kaz laughed humorlessly once more. "What, are you sick?"

You paused. Some part of you had known he'd guess at that. With that realization came the one that he already knew why you were sick. Inej must've known, must've snooped for Kaz when the trust you shared was still developing. He was Kaz Brekker, and he had to know somehow, didn't he?

"You're a Squaller," he said, the words falling from his lips like they were something he'd forgotten, like the fact that you could summon the wind was something he'd merely heard and disregarded after having deemed it unimportant. "You're a Squaller, and you're one who hasn't summoned for at least six months. Why not?"

"I saw no point," you said. "Let me guess, though, you've known since I came in, since I joined up?"

"I've known since the night we confronted Bolliger about double dealing," Kaz said. "Geels, the negotiations. It was the day before--"

"The day before you came to me with the Ice Court proposition," you said with a nod. "I remember. What tipped you off?"

"The breeze," Kaz said. "It was late winter, and breezes like that are commonplace, sure, but after a bout of rain? Wind like that doesn't just happen. Especially not considering the fact that it nearly tipped Geels over, and Geels was nearly seven feet tall. It gave me something to use in the moment, and I just kind of noticed whenever you'd do it while I was falling short from then on. Nobody else knows."

"Well you'll need to grant me some leniency, Brekker. I stopped summoning because I didn't see a point."

"if the point of summoning is to keep you alive and healthy, I have to say, I see no sensible reason that one would stop," Kaz said. "You're deteriorating. I know you think it can't get any worse, but it can, and it will."

"I know," you said. "Relax. Let me find the proper time, when it doesn't feel like it'll be an inconvenience, and I'll give it a go."

Kaz looked at you solemnly for a minute before he nodded.

"Right, then," he said. "Work needs doing." He turned to go, and you watched him leave, not saying a word as he left, only closing your eyes and hoping for even another few moments of rest.

-

The next time you summoned, it was June and you hadn't summoned in a year. You were sitting in Kaz's office, the window open as you discussed heist plans with him, Jesper, Inej, and the rest of the crows.

The heat was growing unbearable, so you willed a strong breeze to flow gently through the room, making the area feel a bit colder, much to everyones delight. Kaz shot you a look because Ketterdam in the summer was not prone to breezes on humid days like that one, and you felt some of the energy that was long gone move back into your system, a spark of joy and pride at your small science lighting up in your chest.

You allowed yourself a small smile as you leaned back in the chair you'd occupied.

You were still sick, still frail and tired and coffee-reliant, but you were getting back to normal. You decided, in the moment, that that was what mattered.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix