#420 words in maybe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

system-to-the-madness · 2 months

Text

Secret Notes and Misunderstandings - Sugawara Kōshi x Reader

Pairing: Sugawara Kōshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 3 420 Warnings: Use of y/n, Tanaka and Noya Summary: You receive secret notes from someone. If only they were from your crush Suga A/N: I’m not really happy with the style of this one…

Masterlist

It had to be every schoolgirl’s dream, receiving cute notes written by a secret admirer, pushed into her locker every morning. And the notes were cute, they really were. Never creepy or offensive, just sweet.

It had started almost a month ago. One morning you had opened your locker, only to find a small note fluttering out. Not recognizing it, you had unfolded the paper that seemed to have been ripped from a Kanji exercise book. In an unfamiliar handwriting, using what seemed like a fine 0.3mm black ink pen, a few words had been scribbled down, making a smile pull at your lips.

“I’m too shy to tell you this in person, but your presentation on the United Nations yesterday was crazy good.”

You had folded the note back together, and placed it in your pencil case, where it made you smile every time you glanced at it.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Sugawara, your classmate, had grinned when he had passed you during lunch break on this way to the sink.

You had shrugged, your heart beating faster when you had realized that Suga had addressed you. The feeling that ran through your body at every interaction with him was so different from the feelings the note had sparked, so much better.

The notes had started that day, and there had not been one day of school since then, that there hadn’t been one shoved into your locker in the morning. Over time they had gotten more personal, leaving less and less doubt about the author’s attraction to you. He (and you knew it was a guy by the words he used), was never offensive or creepy, just plainly sweet, complimenting the hair clip you had worn the other day, or sometimes even admitting how he wished he would be brave enough to talk to you normally, without these notes.

And the more he revealed his own thoughts, his own insecurities and wishes, the more he revealed of his heart, the worse you felt. The notes were cute, sweet, and normally you would have been dying to know who went through all the effort just for your sake. Maybe you would have been trying to find out who it was and asked them out, just because you felt like after all the effort he had made, he deserved you take a risk too.

But no matter how much you wanted to feel excited and honoured by these notes, there was still Suga. Suga who was in the same class as you and your mysterious admirer, Suga who was working hard in every subject, who helped the other students when they struggled, who laughed loud and unashamedly in the breaks, who’s smile was warm like summer sun beams, even when it was only late February. So really it was Sugawara’s fault, you thought to yourself, that you couldn’t reciprocate the feelings these notes conveyed. If it weren’t for your stupid, stupid, unrequited crush on him, you’d have tried to get into contact with the author of these notes weeks ago. But your heart was hopelessly hung up on someone else, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to let these feelings go.

So, when you stared down on what had to be the boldest note yet, you felt a little sick.

"I've been trying to work up the courage to ask you to sit with me for lunch for weeks now, but every time I think about getting up and asking you, I get so nervous that I can't even think properly anymore. Maybe I’ll ask you tomorrow. I want to make salmon onigiri, I know you like those. What do you think?"

The nervousness of the author as he had written these words and then pushed the note into your locker was basically seeping out of the paper into your hands, pleading you to be as nervous about him as he was about you. But instead, you knew he was just setting himself up for heartbreak. This had to stop. Now. You had allowed this boy to bring up his hopes for far too long now. You had to end this. Even if it would hurt him. Even when you would feel awful for breaking his heart. But it was better to end this now than to have him work up the courage to face you and then tell it into his face.

Although he did deserve a gentle let down, he didn’t deserve to torture himself before it. So, after your last class, you ripped out a page of your notebook and grabbed one of your pens. During class, between paying attention to the teachers’ words and the way Suga was bouncing his leg under the table on the other side of the classroom, you had mentally prepared what you wanted to write.

“Dear friend, thank you very much for all the notes over the past weeks. I have enjoyed reading them, but I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t reciprocate your feelings. I already have someone I like, and it wouldn’t be fair to let you keep hoping I will return your feelings. In fact, I should have told you this a lot sooner, and I’m sorry for the pain I’m causing you now. Let this be the last exchange.”

You had been tempted to add words of reassurance or comfort, but you were worried they might make him hope against hope that you would eventually return his feelings. When the last class was over, you used a thin strip of washi-tape and stuck the note to your locker so it was blocking the little gap in the door. This way the note couldn’t possibly go unnoticed by whoever had sent you the others.

The next morning rolled around, and you were almost nervous, when you took off your shoes and placed them in the rack, going to your locker to grab your books for the day. The note you had stuck to its door the day prior was gone, and you already feared someone else might have removed it, but when you opened the locker, no new note came sailing out. You were almost a little disappointed. But you had asked him to stop writing, so you had gotte what you wanted. This was for the best. Let him be disappointed or maybe even a little heartbroken, and by next week he would have moved on.

When you entered the classroom, you found, much to your surprise, that yesterday’s note hadn’t been the last. Instead, someone had placed two wrapped onigiri on your table, and a note underneath. Up until now, the paper had always been torn neatly out of notebooks, the signs evenly paced and written with precision. This time, even though it was the by now familiar handwriting, the page seemed to have been ripped out in haste, the words smeared over the paper, smudging the ink.

“I already made these, and I thought you should have them. If you don’t want them, leave them on the desk during lunch break and I’ll take them back. This is my last note. Thanks for your honesty.”

You bit your lip, staring down at the paper. You could tell his hand had shaken when he had written this note. While nervousness had seeped out of the other notes, this one seemed to ooze pain. He’ll get over it, you thought to yourself, over me.

Quickly you crumbled the note in your hand, pushing the onigiris to the edge of the table, not intending to eat them. With a few steps you made your way to the paper basked, discarding the final note of your secret admirer. On your way back to your desk, your eyes skipped over to where Suga was sitting, as always when you got the chance.

He sat backsided on a chair, arms crossed over the backrest, chin propped on his lower arm. He had taken off his jacket, leaving him in the short sleeved, white button-up of the uniform. Warm spring sunlight flitted in through the window, catching in his silver hair and making it gleam like star light. He looked angelic, you thought to yourself. Even though Daichi was telling him something, and laughing at his side, Suga barely seemed to listen, his gaze absentmindedly directed into the distance. He looked pale, you realized, pale and tired. Hopefully he wouldn’t get sick in the last weeks of the school year.

Suddenly his gaze drew away from wherever he had stared of to, and directed itself to you instead. You felt like your heart almost stopped at the way his coffee brown eyes bore into you, and feeling your cheeks heat up, you lifted your hand to wave at him with a smile. Instead of returning the gesture, he only seemed to tense, before tearing his eyes away from you and sitting up, saying something to Daichi instead.

Confused at his unusual reaction, you walked back to your seat, sitting down. The onigiri in front of you seemed to mock you, and far more frequent than usually your gaze flickered over to Suga during the day. His mood didn’t seem to better though, and in fact it grew only grimmer when he caught you staring at him once.

You were not the only one who seemed to pick up on his unusual behaviour, because as the bell rang for lunch break, you overheard Daichi ask him if everything was okay. Suga only answered he was fine, even though he sounded upset and annoyed, but the rest of the conversation got drowned out by the voices of other students.

Like every day, you left the classroom at the beginning of lunchbreak to refill your bottle at the water fountain in the hallway. Today you made sure to take an extra few minutes; hopefully giving the author of the notes you had received enough time to retrieve the onigiri from your desk. And sure enough, by the time you returned to the classroom, they were gone.

The rest of the day went by without any other incidents, unless one counted Suga’s terrible mood. Even across the classroom it seemed to rub off on you. Originally you had wanted to pay closer attention to the other boys, trying to see if anyone’s behaviour differed from usually which might give them away as the author of the messages, but instead your focus was entirely on Suga and what you could do to cheer him up.

When the last class ended, and you still hadn’t thought of anything useful to say to Suga, you just opted for a wave and a smile, as you usually did, bidding him goodbye before heading off to your club. But unlike all the other days, he ignored you completely, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and your heart heavy.

It was already growing dark outside when you hasted through the corridors of the school again. Your club had finished only a few minutes ago, when you had remembered there was a book you needed for homework, so you were on your way back to the lockers. You had almost reached them, when suddenly the voices of two students made you stop.

“He explicitly said not to get involved,” the one nagged.

“But have you seen him? Can you really just stand by and watch him suffer like that,” the other voice replied.

Carefully you snuck around the last corner, finding two boys standing in front of your locker. Even in the dim light you could make out the one’s buzzcut and the other’s unruly hair. They were both in the year below you, you realized, and members of the volleyball team, teammates of Suga’s. The one with the unruly hair was trying to push a piece of paper through the gap below the door into your locker.

You were about to ask them what they were up to. After all, neither of them couldn’t have been the one writing the notes you had received; that person was in your class. You knew that from the references to your classwork he had been making.

“You know, he’s gonna hate you when he finds out you got involved.”

“So what, let him hate me! As long as he gets his girl! (Y/n) just has to give him a second chance!”

“Who am I supposed to give a second chance,” you asked out loud, stepping out from behind the corner.

The two boys jumped in surprise as your presence, the one with the unruly hair, quickly hiding a piece of paper behind his back.

“Well, you see, the thing is our set-,” he started, immediately receiving a harsh nudge from his friend.

“And what were you trying to push into my locker,” you added. Usually you were not very intimidating, but being a year older than them had its perks: they had to respect you. Demanding, you held out your hand.

The boy with the blond streak in this dishevelled hair shot his friend a side glance before stepping forward and dropping the paper into your outstretched hand.

“Have you been the ones putting notes into my locker,” you asked.

“Yes, well, no. Maybe. Sometimes,” the boy with the buzzcut answered. Tanaka, you remembered.

“What is it now. Have you or have you not?”

“Sometimes,” the other one – Nuka? Nayo? Noya? Oh yes, Noya was his name – answered. “Sometimes we delivered them for our friend, when you had club late and there was the chance of you running into Su-“

He got interrupted by another shove between his ribs. He coughed.

Biting your lip, you twirled the paper between your fingers. You could find out who had sent you all these notes, you realized. You just had to ask now. Tanaka would probably be quiet, but Noya seemed eager to make you like whoever had sent them to deliver them. But did you want to know? Did you really want to go to class tomorrow, look at the person who had written these notes and pretend you didn’t know?

“Please,” Tanaka interrupted your thoughts. “Can’t you give our friend a chance? We know you like someone else, but you’ll forget about that guy in no time, I promise! Our friend is like- he’s the best guy there is really. He’s smart, and patient, and funny-”

“Charming, good-looking, athletic,” Noya continued. “A little chaotic sometimes maybe, but he has like the biggest heart-”

You shook your head. “Listen guys, Tanaka-kun, Noya-kun. I appreciate your effort and I know you just want to see your friend happy, but as I already wrote him: there is someone else I like, and it wouldn’t be right to let your friend hope that my feelings will change eventually. That’s just not fair.”

“But you should’ve seen him today during practice,” Noya continued. “He was not himself! He was devastated! And Suga’s ready to let you walk away because he respects you, but I- we think-”

“Wait, wait,” you lifted your hands in the air, signalling him to stop talking. Your heart was racing. “Say that again.”

“He respects you and-”

“No, you said his name,” you disagreed.

The boys exchanged glances.

“He’ll kill you,” Tanaka mumbled to Noya.

“Did you say Suga,” you asked.

Their silence was answer enough.

All this time you had wanted Suga to notice you and all this time it had been him who had sent you these notes? And then you had rejected him? Was that why he had been so pale today, why he hadn’t smiled at you today? Because you had rejected him, not even knowing who you had rejected? Your heart dropped and the floor felt like it was giving way beneath your feet. You had to fix that. Somehow you had to fix this stupid, stupid situation.

“Do you have a pen?”

Tanaka rummaged around in his pocket, before handing you a blunt pencil. You took it anyway. Unfolding the paper you had taken from Noya, you placed it against the closest locker, flipping it to its empty side.

“What’s Suga’s favourite onigiri filling,” you asked, glancing at Tanaka and Noya from over your shoulder.

“Salmon,” they answered at the same time without hesitation.

You furrowed your brows. “Are you sure?”

“We talked about it just the other day,” Tanaka assured you.

“He said, he likes them because you like them,” Noya added. You exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh. This sounded so much like something Suga would say.

Putting the pen down, you began writing.

“Noya and Tanaka ranted you out. Don’t be mad at them, I made them tell me. Let’s eat lunch together. I’ll make salmon onigiri, I know you like those. We can eat outside under the plum tree. The blossoms are your favourite, aren’t they?”

Quickly, before you could change your mind, you folded the paper, and pushed it into Suga’s locker, making the two boys exchange wide eyed glances.

“What did you write,” they asked excitedly as you returned to your locker to retrieve the book you had come here for.

“Are you giving him a second chance?”

“You’ll see,” you answered with a smile.

The next morning, Suga was already sitting in the classroom when you entered, like he did every morning. When he saw you sitting down behind your own desk, he quickly exchanged a few words with Daichi, before walking over.

Pink was dusting his cheeks, the colour almost matching that of the plum blossoms outside. He was nervous, you could tell, fiddling around with a piece of paper between his fingers. Watching him walk over, your own pulse spiked. Yesterday you had been filled with confidence when you had written the note, but today it all seemed unreal. That was until he dropped the small piece of paper on the desk in front of you, leaning against the table.

For a moment you looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes nervous but also filled with warmth as he glanced down to you, then you reached for the paper. He had rolled it into a tight scroll, probably an act of nervosity while he had waited for you. For the first time the note didn’t contain any words, only a doodled Smilie. The smile on your face was instantaneous, and quickly you looked back up to Suga, who was full on blushing now.

“I know, I said I’d stop it with the notes, but…” he shrugged bashfully, making you laugh quietly.

“No, that’s okay,” you let him know.

“I do gotta ask though- not that I’m complaining, just curious – what changed your mind?”

He’s still smiling, but you could hear the insecurity in his voice as well.

Inhaling deeply, you settled for the truth. “Turned out the guy I rejected was actually the guy I was rejecting him for.”

Suga just furrowed his brows in confusion.

“What I mean is,” you shuffled in your seat a little, wondering if the words would come any easier if you sat differently or if Suga weren’t nailing you to the chair with the intensity with which he was considering you now. “You’re the guy I was talking about in that note, the person I like. I didn’t know you were also the person sending me these notes.”

Finally, the last bit of hesitation seemed to melt away from Suga. “Lucky then, that I like you, too,” he teased, making your heart stutter and his cheeks tint an even deeper pink. “Sooo, are we eating lunch together?"

You nodded. “I made onigiri, like promised. Is salmon really your favourite filling?”

Suga laughed. “Yeah, it is. Always has been, since I was little.”

He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by the teacher, calling the beginning of the class.

Quickly he pushed away from your desk, winking at you mischievously. This Suga was so very different from the disappointed, heartbroken Suga from yesterday. You knew exactly which one you preferred. He turned around and hurried back to his desk, but not before dropping another note to your table, this one folded several times.

As the teacher began the class, you quickly unfolded the paper under your desk, reading the few words Suga had written down. This time they were a lot neater than the note he had left with the rejected onigiri the day prior.

“I mean it. I really like you too.”

And underneath he had drawn a tiny, almost hesitant doodle of a heart.

276 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 8 months

Text

420

for the bonus round technically for @steddiemicrofic but also started as just @wynnyfryd's request for a shotgunning microfic with 420 words to celebrate us reaching 420 followers. it got silly. i'm not sorry. rated: M wc: 420 cw: drug use, drinking, shotgunning, steve is in outer space tags: getting together kind of bonus round prompt: “I have sleepy princess disorder. I have to lounge.”

Smoking weed was not a new concept for Steve.

Smoking while drunk, though, that was.

Robin was chaperoning, or at least trying to, but mostly failing.

Argyle and Jonathan were giggling in the corner.

Steve was in Eddie’s lap.

He didn’t remember how he got here anymore, just that Eddie had held the blunt to his lips and told him to breathe in, so he did.

The room was blurry, but only around the edges. Eddie was solid under him and in front of him.

He probably wasn’t even that affected by this shit.

“Doing okay, Stevie?” Eddie’s voice was soft, quiet, like he was keeping a secret.

“Mhm.”

His mouth was numb, or maybe his tongue? He couldn’t be sure, but he knew talking was hard.

He’d never drifted this far when he was high before.

“You wanna try something?” Eddie asked.

Steve blinked at him, knowing he needed to give an answer, but too lost in the way his eyes were glistening. Did they always do that?

“Stevie?”

“Hm?”

“You wanna try shotgunning?”

“Nancy has ‘em locked up, silly,” Steve giggled.

“No, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. “I’ll take a drag from this and blow it into your mouth. Secondhand smoke, but better.”

Eddie’s lips on his sounded great, actually.

“Yeah, okay.”

Steve’s mind was too cloudy to process Eddie’s next movements, especially when his hands left his hips (when had they even gotten there?) and didn’t even notice the small whine he let out at the loss.

“Sh. Just a second, Stevie.”

He could wait a second. For Eddie, he could do it.

A second was either really fast or really slow, but Eddie’s hand was touching his cheek, and the second didn’t really matter anymore.

His skin tingled under his touch.

And then his mouth was open, Eddie’s lips were against his, and he felt breath against his tongue.

“Close,” Eddie guided him, and Steve listened.

Steve could taste everything.

The weed, sure, but the aftertaste of Eddie’s last cigarette too, and whatever beer he’d been drinking before they started smoking.

Something just Eddie, too.

“Doing okay?”

Steve was laying down now, his head in Eddie’s lap. He was losing track of how he got in these positions, but it didn’t matter. Eddie would keep him safe.

“I have sleepy princess disorder. I have to lounge.”

Eddie’s laugh was loud, shaking Steve.

“Okay, princess.”

“Like that,” Steve said before closing his eyes.

“What?”

“You calling me nice things.”

Eddie’s lips touched Steve’s forehead, lingering for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember #bonus round #what a silly thing i just did #so stupid #i really only threw in the bonus round prompt at the last second because it could kinda fit

382 notes · View notes

hhy5lost · 2 months

Text

NO ESCAPE

GENRE —> ANGST, HURT

PAIRING — > H. Jisung x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS —> You feel intoxicated by your own thoughts and burdens. You should be grateful, but it's hard when life doesn't seem too worthy of living. You just feel bad your boyfriend has to deal with it

WC —> 420

A/N —> this is more self indulgent so like...it won't be as good as the rest cause this ain't even a real plot nor story per say.

There doesn't feel a way to escape. I could kill myself, though, I'm too young, too scared and too many people to disappoint. I hate that we have to be selfish for wanting to disappear because of everyone who so suppose care about us. It's a big step. But, I know I don't want to live anymore, such big desires for such a stupid, dumb girl like me who can't decide anything for herself. I want to be happy, I really do. I should be grateful. I have an amazing boyfriend who’d do anything and everything for me in a heartbeat, no hesitation. A roof over my head, food, clothes. All you could imagine. Although, what's the point of having all of these expenses when I don't feel alive most days. I think I'm okay, and soon in a depressive mindset not too many days later and in a cycle that rotates, continuously. it seemed to get, easier, somehow. I just want it to end. Is it so hard to want? Maybe death is the way. though, i have a feeling the mental suffering wouldn't end even when I'm dead. I wish I was normal. I don't want this mind anymore, please, I want a new one. I don't want to live like this anymore, in constant battle within myself. Maybe, trying to change my life style will help. maybe eating healthier, being more active. Or maybe… a new start?

I'm so lost, yet no one seems to understand. They say they do then say completely different things that aren't even what I'm talking about. Why're you talking about yourself? This isn't about you. This problem is about me and my suffering. Why does no one understand that? Are you even listening to me? You sound like a foul. Go away please, I want to be alone. I feel suffocated, intoxicated within your presence and what feels like verbal abuse.

Jisung feels defeated, I know he does. He acts like he cares and loves me so much to the point of being so understanding. He probably pity’s me or is just taking care of me because he feels bad, doesn't want to hurt my feelings.

…He brought me flowers today..they were my favorite, smelt amazing too. “These are for you. I wanted to get you something, because you deserve it, my sweet girl.” Those words always felt so sincere to me. I feel bad he forces himself to love and take care of me…maybe I'm the fool.

🏷️: @jinnie-ret @hannahhbahng @sharonxdevi @amararosesblog @lolareadsimagines @dunno-wut-to-do @baribaaari @miniminverse @lil-kpopstan @qweebsarse @atinyniki @michelle4eve @newhope8 @hongying52 @depressedvee @iyeeeverydee @kpopsstuffs @writingforstraykids-reblogs @palindrome969 @sona1800 @loveforhyunho @straykidsholicleigh

99 notes · View notes

janmisali · 1 year

Text

Number Tournament: Honorable Mentions

well, you've all asked for it, and I guess there's no point in waiting any further now that round one is almost over. here's some highlights from the numbers that didn't get enough nominations to make it into the tournament. (as you can work out from looking at how many nominations the numbers that made it into the tournament got, my cutoff was seven nominations, which left room for me to hand-pick three numbers that only got six to fill in the bottom seeds)

six nominations

these are the numbers that were the closest of all to making the cut. in the end, I picked ten, Rayo's number, and omega to fill in seeds 62-64, but four other numbers got six nominations but didn't make it:

25: perfectly fine square number. notably funnier than 24

81: another square. I only wanted one "boring normal integer" for the bottom seeds and like come on it had to be ten.

5040: Plato's favorite number, a very fun one

42069: both 420 and 69 already made the cut, so this would have been excessive

and now for some miscellaneous fun ideas that not enough people suggested to make the cut!

cool math things

c (the speed of light) could have been a strong contender, but physics fans were pretty much universally putting their efforts behind the fine-structure constant and the Avogadro constant, leaving other universal constants behind

the Euler-Masceroni constant got five nominations super early on in the process, some of which were even intentional (there are so many things named after Euler but I made the call that people who said "Euler's constant" without specifying were talking about this one) but never got any further than that

a lot of infinite ordinals more interesting than the standard omega were in the running, but given that omega itself only barely made it in, numbers like omega to the omega power never stood a chance. of course, given how well omega did in round one maybe those other bigger infinities could have held their own if only more people suggested them before the tournament began

Not a Number's presence in the tournament is I think very fun, but other floating point things were also nominated, just not as frequently. negative zero was a fun one, as are the handful of nominations for just slightly-off multiples of one tenth

besides star, a lot of game theory not-really-number numbers had a few fans supporting them, such as dud (deathless universal draw), a couple of tiny numbers, and one suggestion for {69|420}

meme numbers

fans of boobs were split between 80085, 58008, 8008135, and 5318008, so none of the boob numbers made it individually

perhaps even more disappointingly, only five people suggested 1312

1337 is a super dead meme so that one being unpopular isn't as surprising. but then literally nobody suggested 9001? weird!

the AACS encryption key (an illegal number) only got a handful of suggestions, which is a shame because that's a really fun one

only three people suggested "your credit card number" but if it made it past the cutoff I 100% would have put that in the tournament

meta jokes

a few people suggested variations of "the number that wins the tournament", which I think is a funnier meta joke than either of the ones that actually made the cut

a couple people also did versions of "the sum of all other numbers in the bracket" (or "all other numbers people suggested in this google form"), with a couple people who said that also thankfully adding in some conditions to only include numbers where you can actually do that

a couple people have asked me what the smallest natural number was that nobody suggested, and unfortunately (by which I mean I love this) I can't answer that because a couple people suggested "the smallest natural number nobody else suggests"

another fun one was "the number of notes on this tumblr post", which only one person suggested

three separate people did "five (the word five not the number)", "5 (the symbol not the number it represents)" and "V (the roman numeral)" (looking at them all together it kinda looks like this was the same person all three times but that's because I'm paraphrasing all of them)

googologisms and otherwise big numbers

shockingly, the famously large numbers googol and Graham's number didn't get nearly as much support as the googologisms that made it to the bracket

five people suggested numbers in the Busy Beaver sequence, but none of them suggested the same Busy Beaver number

there were also things like "the smallest counterexample to the Collatz conjecture", fully hypothetical numbers

"zillion", "bajillion", and "fuckton" got two nominations each, any of which would have been extremely fun to see in the tournament

other

a couple people just said "fibonacci number" which. do you mean like the whole sequence? maybe these should have counted for phi

two people suggested "a grizzly bear". I'm assuming that's a reference I'm not getting, because it's way too specific of a joke for two people to say that independently

there was one suggestion that was the coordinates to a restaurant in yemen called burger king 2

anyway there's literally thousands of these, and I have no intentions of at any point making a full comprehensive list of what people suggested, but I think this is a pretty good sample of what the nominees were like. there were a lot of really good candidates, but I think the 64 that made it into the tournament are a pretty dang good set of numbers!

thank you to everyone who suggested your favorite numbers, it was genuinely very fun reading through everyone's suggestions.

#number tournament #jan misali #math #mathblr

737 notes · View notes

justjams2003 · 4 months

Text

Fast Pace- 12

Before we start, I'd just like to wish you all a very happy New Year! Know that there is plenty more to come from me in the coming year. And also thank you all for 420 followers (haha nice), I'm still in shock that people keep coming back and wants more. Believe it or not, this is the most active community and website I have ever written for and I'm so glad to have found Tumblr. Anyways enjoy xoxo

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Part 11~Part 13 (coming soon)

“Echanté de voi rencontre, Monsur.” Carlos is trying his best, but at the moment he is butchering your home-tongue. You can’t but be nervous, he however seems as calm as a cucumber about meeting your parents. He’s got the sunglasses on that you gave him. You can see from where your sitting, your initials carved into the side. “No, no, mon cher. Good try, but it’s Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Monsieur.”

He sighs, rubbing his face in his hands. He looks so much more relaxed already. He’s got short khaki’s on and a casual button up shirt. You’ve hired a more practical car for the week, one with a big trunk. You got your family lots of presents and might have overpacked a bit. Still not used to having such a big amount of money. But even still, you have the sunroof open, enjoying the county side air.

“I’m sorry, mi querida,” he shakes his head and rakes his fingers through his hair. You can’t help yourself, tucking the stray hairs that fray in the wind behind his ears. “I should’ve gotten a haircut before we came.” He sighs, but you can see that he enjoys your touch. “No, it is the perfect length, don’t change a thing about it.” He gives a side-eye but you can only laugh. “No, it’s in the way.”

You pout, “No, your hair is just long enough to...grab...” you mutter, taking a handful of hair and pulling on it ever so slightly. Surprisingly, a growl escapes his throat. The noise causes a warmth to spread through your body.

The sunlight hits his skin just beautifully, he looks like hot caramel. Something you want to drizzle into your mouth. You’re sure you could cook a steak on his sizzling skin.

“This is your home then?” He asks, while caring the bags. He refuses to let you carry a single one. You nod and then knock on the door. “It is a small house for 7 people, no?” He’s not wrong. “Oui, us three girls had to share a room and the boys shared a room.” He grimaces at your words, “Then one day we will have a big house.” You blush at his words and wrap your arms around his, all while subtly taking a photo.

The door opens, you only now realise how short your mom has gotten. Or maybe it really has been so long. “Ah, ma fille, tu viens enfin rendre visite à ta vieille mère. Cela fait si longtemps et enfin tu ramènes un homme à la maison!” She instantly starts rambling and then opens up her arms and gives Carlos a big hug. “N'es-tu pas si beau? Quel est votre nom et pourquoi êtes-vous avec ma fille?”

Carlos looks like a fish out of water. His face is entirly blank and he just seems to be nodding along. “Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Mademoiselle,” he stutters through the French, his Spanish accent still blatantly obvious. Your mother just frowns at his bad French. “He doesn’t speak French.” Her wide smile turns sour, “Pourquoi faire venir un homme inutile qui ne parle pas français?”

You sigh and then nudge him, “the presents,” you whisper. “Il s'appelle Carlos et il a apporté des cadeaux.” Now she really does smile as he holds up the presents. “Oui, come in, come in.” Like always, he allows you to walk in first.

“What did she say?” He asks to you in a whisper. You sigh and shake your head. “Nothing that you need to worry yourself about.” You give him a kiss on the cheek, trying to soothe his usually worry.

“Apportez-lui quelque chose à boire, je suis sûr qu'il est fatigué après son très long voyage.” You sigh, of course she asks that of you. As if you and him didn’t have the same trip. You turn to Carlos after he sat down along with your mother to open her present, that you picked out.

“Carlos, what would you like to drink?” He frowns and then stands up. He takes your arm and then leads you to the couch. “You must be tired, mi querido, it was a four-hour trip, I’m sure you are tired.” He leads you to sit down next to him, he pulls you into his side. Everything in you wants to cuddle into his side, but you can feel your mother’s judgemental eyes on you.

Instead, you shake your head, “My mother insists that I get you something to drink. You did drive after all.” You can see the tick in his jaw, clearly not happy with this. He smiles, forced clearly, “Please tell your mother I don’t need anything to drink.” You sigh and do just so and she replies with some comment insisting you do just that. Yes, you are exhausted but even still you stand and pour him a drink.

“Je vais lui montrer la chambre.” You grab him by the arm and pull him up towards your old bedroom. Quite ungracefully you fall on your childhood bed. He smirks, but his smile is quick to fall. “Mi dulce niña, does she always make you feel like this?” Carlos asks you give and exhausted laugh. “You don’t even know what she said,” you peak at him, and he pulls you into his lap.

He kisses your forehead, “Tell me," You sigh and rest you head on his shoulder. “When she met you, she went, ‘you’re so handsome why are you dating my daughter?’ And then she went, ‘you’re so stupid bringing a man that doesn’t even speak French.’ Then after that it was, ‘poor thing he’s so tired bring him something to drink.’ As if I wasn’t on the exact same trip as you!”

His jaw locks and his arms wrap tighter around you, “Does she always speak to you like that,” you sigh and sink deeper into his arms. “Why do you think I brought you with. Call you my armour,” you laugh, actually hiding behind his arms. He laughs, but it’s the same type of awkward type, “Where is your dad, is he any better?”

You hum and then walk down the stairs again after taking your breather and then ask your Maman where your father is. “He is outside with your brother, working hard as always,” she says, still in French.

“Really, which one?” You ask, opening the back door, only to see your oldest brother chopping wood while your father carves the same wood right next to him. “Bér!” You call out and once he sees you, he smiles.

You walk into the back fields, Carlos trailing behind you and when you do finally meet your brother, he gives you a warm hug. “Finally, back in your own country,” he comments, and you can’t help but furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask, you haven’t told anyone about anything. “You think I haven’t noticed? I am not like Mama and Papa who do not own a phone and use the library’s computer to email you.”

You frown and watch his eyes. They’re train on Carlos who seems to be struggling with the mud and his very expensive shoes. “Traveling the world with mister Armani,” he teases you like always, and you can’t help but step on his shoes. “Enchanté, Monsieur.” Carlos holds out his hand and it makes you and your brother laugh out loud. “Don’t worry, race-man... I am not her father.” You jab your brother in the stomach.

“But he’s even worse.” He groans and then begins complaining in French but you’re quick to stop him. “Connard, you know Carlos doesn’t speak French, clearly, you’ve been stalking him. So don’t be an ass,” Bérenger sighs at your words and then translates for Carlos.

“I was just saying that I you see in your fancy Ferrari and your expensive shoes, no one in the family can understand someone like you being with a dull girl like her.” He shrugs and you both laugh, it’s the way you talk as siblings.

Even so, Carlos’ expression turns sour. “He much more than that Bérenger, now, play nice.” Before you turn to leave to say hello to your father, you ask your brother one last thing. This time in French, because you’d rather not have Carlos know just yet. “How is Papa today?” You brother hesitates, knowing exactly what you’re talking about. “He’s there, like before, no confusion yet today.”

You nod and make your way over. “Bonjour Papa, I’ve come to visit.” Your father looks up to you, his eyes clear. Not that his personality has changed much, he replies in a gruff tone. “Who’s the boy?” His eyes are like daggers on Carlos.

“He’s my boyfriend,” your dad rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. And for how long is he going to put up with you?” You laugh, like always keeping the peace. “I’m not some terrible burden. At least, not in his eyes.”

Like always he just replies with a scoff.

Before long, you’re washing dishes after dinner. “Mi paloma, please tell your mother the dinner was delicious.” You can feel his big strong arms wrap around your waist. You’re sure he's feeling a bit alone. It’s only been you and your brother here who can even speak English.

You smile, “Thank you, Carlos, but she didn’t make it.” It’s the truth, the whole evening Bérenger and Carlos chopped wood, all while you have to take care of your mother’s ever whim, like always.

It doesn’t bother you; it’s always been like this. But you can tell it’s getting to Carlos. “No wonder I liked it so much, it’s your cooking. But, mi dulce niña, you barely ate, aren’t you hungry?” He caresses yours even as you continue washing. “Thank you, Carlos, it’s nice hearing some positive words after that dinner.” He sighs, burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.

“You’re avoiding my question.” He places small kisses here and there. “It’s not in the diet plan,” it’s an excuse, your mother had been commenting on your weight all evening. Yes, it’s true you’d gained weight, but you’d been working out and most of it is muscle. But her words are sharp, and the thoughts are springing up. If it makes her happy, better so. He does his usual noise when he’s unhappy when something.

“Tomorrow I’ll cook dinner,” you gasp, turning to him, his words have caused delight in you. “I’d like to see that,” his brows furrow but a smug look is on his face. “What? You don’t think I can?” In your mind, yes, he has a difficult life, but that’s just stress. He has personal chefs and personal trainers and likely his father had too. Not way did he ever learn to cook. “No, not at all.”

You cross your arms, and he just laughs. “Fine then, I'll show you. You can even post it on your Instagram.” This sparks joy, you love seeing people’s reactions to you and him.

So far, they’ve been nothing but positive. In these short three weeks you’ve gotten 50k new followers. If they’re there for you or Carlos, doesn’t matter to you. You’ll give them what they want either way.

“You mean it?” Your hands reach up and take hold of his shirt. “Only if you eat,” and with that you bite your lip and nod. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He sighs, takes a drying rag and begins helping you by putting away the dishes. “Oh Carlos! Ne perdez pas votre temps avec la vaisselle, Y/N la fera. Laisse-moi te montrer ses photos de bébé.”

You sigh, leaning your head against his chest. “Oh no,” his brows furrow pulling you away to see what the matter is. “She wants to show you my baby pictures.” A deep laugh escapes his chest. “Mi querida, I’d love to help you finish this, but I can’t miss that.” You laugh but do allow him to see little you.

“What colour are you choosing?” You ask your mother, watching as she scans through the different nail polishes. Like expect she chooses a toned-down pink, she rarely does her nails but when she does, it’s always that same colour. “Why don’t you choose something different? Look I’m going with this black with gold shimmer. We’re somewhere nice, don’t you want to use the opportunity?”

Your mother just looks at you over her glasses. “And why is that?” It’s already Thursday, the week had been going by slower than you expected it would and only made you realise why you visit so little.

The only good thing so far has been your father’s awareness, he’s had a few moments of unclarity these past few months. Even so, just like growing up, he doesn’t exactly stand up for you against your mother’s badgering.

Like always, it's just the usual gruff short replies and relative quietness. Carlos, however, has been nothing but kind. The dinner he cooked was amazing, the fans swooned in your comments. At night he’d hold you tight and whisper sweet nothings. All about how beautiful you are and how you’re perfect as is. It helps, yes, but nothing compares to motherly love. You do everything you can, but still don’t feel like enough.

“Ah, Mama, don’t be like that.” After that, she continues about the gossip of the town and the lives of your siblings. That is of course until you’re sitting at the dinner table again. Enjoying the food Carlos has crafted to fit both of your diets, showing him your nails. He loves them and makes sure to kiss your knuckles.

That is, until your mother interrupts your bliss. “Y/N, what did you say Carlos does?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “He is a Formula one driver.” You mutter, trying to hide yourself behind her sharp glare. “And are you still a chef?” You swallow your food; you’ve been avoiding this question for as long as possible. You shake your head, “No, Mama,” her bitter stare grows stronger.

“So, what is it that you do?” She raises her voice, now your father seems interested. “I am working on my modelling career.” Both your parents groan and gasp in raised tones. “This again,” your brother mutters, he too has been harsh with you. “Why do you keep going on and on about this modelling. Ever since you were small. My daughter, you know I love you, but you aren’t like those pretty girls.”

Her words are like knifes; knifes reopening wounds you’d been working so hard to heal. Carlos takes your hand under the table. This whole time he’d been encouraging you to stand up for yourself. Convincing you that what they’re saying aren’t normal and that you shouldn’t tolerate it. You’ve tried persuading him or more yourself that she’s your mother and she does it out of love.

But she’s been ungrateful all week. As if she hasn’t been begging you to come home and talk to her. She comments on everything, your weight, your hair even your laugh. Saying you squeal like a pig, you tried to laugh less after that one. She hates her nails and all the presents you brought home. More than all, you’ve been dreading this happening. Hoping that it never would.

“No, Mama, I do not know that you love me,” she gasps and begins screaming even more. “How could you not know? I raised you. I fed you, clothed you, gave you the deposit to get your degree. Which you don’t even use now!” The anger over comes you and you rise from your chair. “Carlos will gladly pay back all that money if I was such a burden on you!”

The whole table goes eerily quiet. Soon it is interrupted by a scoff from your brother. “So what? He’s like your Sugar Daddy, right?” You take a moment to calm down, trying to decide if you’re going to say the truth. But they're your family. You should never lie to your family, right? “Yes,” you take his hand back into yours. You can see that he’s picked up his name and knows he’s being discussed.

“What is that, Bérenger?” Your mother asks, switching between you and your brother. “She fucks him for money. A glorified prostitute!” His words are harsh and spit flies as he screams. You know for a fact that if Carlos understood French, he’d be raging.

“Unbelievable!” Your mother gasps out and another raging fire starts in you. “What? Is it so unbelievable that someone could actually love me so much that they’d pay to see me?”

Years and years or anger and trauma, built up due to constant belittlement finally breaks through. “Why does it shock you all so much that he thinks I’m beautiful. That he thinks I’m more worth than all the riches in the world. You hate it that someone actually respects me, because you can’t knock me down anymore.”

Again, the table goes quiet before your brother speaks again. This time in English, clearly wanting Carlos to understand what he’s saying.

“He doesn’t respect you. He doesn’t care for you. And he most certainly doesn’t love you. He just wants to fuck you. And once he’s bored of you, he’ll take what he’s given and leave you with nothing.” Before you can curse out your brother, a sharp crack is heard. Your brother is on the floor, nursing a bloody nose. “Don’t you ever, ever talk to her like that ever again.”

You can hear your mother rambling on about her poor son and can only scoff at her reaction. “I’m not some city boy who doesn’t know how to throw a punch. You won’t believe how strong 6G’s of force make you.” Through all the commotion, there is a muttering that can be heard. Listening carefully, it is your father. “Get out, get out,” he repeats over and over.

You bow your head down low, right by his ear but just shake off his words. This irritates him and he too raises his voice. “Get out, you’re no daughter of mine.” You laugh at his words, “Don’t be silly, Papa, you must be having one of your episodes.” You go to rub his back, in your mind to soothe him but he grabs your wrist before he can.

“Hear me when I say this girl, because I am clear of mind when I do. While you are still whoring yourself out to this man, you are no daughter of mine.” The realisation hits you like a truck. So much so, that you stagger back, Carlos catching you as your head becomes dizzy. “Mi pequeña, what is the matter?” All you can do is shake your head.

“Come, Carlos, it seems that we are not welcome here.”

Just so p.s. me not translating the French and Spanish is for a reason. I'm not just being spiteful, it is part of the storytelling. If you want to get a good grade in fanfic reading (which is totally possible and a very normal thing to want) feel welcome to translate it 😉

Tag list is open, just ask!

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

119 notes · View notes

onlyhuis · 1 year

Text

april 20th: pot luck

member | fwb!chan x f reader genre | smut, fwb to lovers word count | 3.2k synopsis | you're no stranger to smoking in the park on 4/20, but smoking in the park while chan begs you to let him make you cum? that's new. content warnings | marijuana use (smoking), there's angst for like 3 seconds but not really smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), fingering, sexual acts in a semi-public setting (they're in a secluded area of a park), sexual acts while high, shotgunning, chan is clingy & cute when he's high :) disclaimer | this story is a work of fiction. both chan and reader are portrayed as consenting adults above the legal age of 21. always make sure your partner is someone you trust and have talked with beforehand while sober. remember to practice safe, consensual sex! notes | requested by @angelwoozi 🧸!! this concept is going to sit in my brain forever now agsdjkfahsd i hope you like it! also tagging @bitchlessdino because it would be a sin if i didn't. happy 420!

you hold the pre-rolled joint between your fingers, watching the way the thin smoke spirals off the end of it. chan holds out his hand as you exhale, and you pass it back to him for him to take his turn.

it's the secluded end of the park, where the trees are thicker and shadier and the grass is always a little bit damp, even during hot summer afternoons. a cool breeze blows today, and distantly you can hear birds chirping and the shuffling footfalls of joggers making their way around the park's running paths.

you lay back, settling down on top of the worn, quilted picnic blanket you keep in your car. for the first time in a while the weather's been nice enough to draw you outside, spring gradually melting into summer.

he holds the joint out towards you but you wave him off, so he sets it at the edge of his ashtray, the little yellow painted one you made him for his birthday in a ceramics class from a few semesters ago.

chan leans back too, propping himself up on one elbow as he reaches for his water bottle absently.

laying on your back, you can see each leaf on the tree, and when the wind blows you can see bits of blue sky peeking through the swaying branches. you hear chan call your name, but you ignore him, just wanting to watch the world go by for a moment. or maybe, you just pretended to hear him call your name. you seem to do that a lot recently, imagining him doing things until you aren't sure what's real or dreamed.

ever since new year's eve when you accidentally on-purpose slept with him and then maybe kept sleeping with him for months afterward, nothing's been the same. despite the fact that you definitely like him as more than just a friend you have sex with, you’ve never talked about it with him because he seems more than fine with keeping things simple; you wish he didn’t, but you don’t want to push him, so you just stick to having sex and sharing your weed.

it turns out him calling your name was, in fact, real, because a few seconds later you see his figure looming over you, blocking your view of the leaves and the sky.

your words come out lilted. "what is it, chan?"

"can i eat you out?"

you blink slowly a few times, thinking and processing his sentence and repeating it in your head so many times until you'd forgotten what he'd actually said.

"eating what? we had tacos earlier. i’ll make you a sandwich or something when we go back, i told you you should’ve brought more snacks to munch on."

“noooooo.” he whines and flops down onto the blanket on his side. "wanna eat you," he grumbles. his fingers find your arm and begin drawing shapes and patterns along your skin as he waits for your response.

it finally clicks in your mind what he's asking, and with much effort you roll your head over to look at him. "why?"

"because it's a nice day outside," he says, fingers trailing down to your wrist. "and i like it. oh my god, you're so hot. like… woah. why wouldn't i want to?"

your heart jumps, and you can't tell if it's completely from his words or mixed with how stoned you are, but you feel so happy. he sounds almost affectionate.

you shift your legs, your pants starting to grow uncomfortable the more you begin to think about chan between your thighs. it's a sight you're familiar with, but one you can never quite seem to get used to.

you throw your arm over your head, tugging gently at the cool grass beneath your fingertips to ground you to earth. "but there's sooo many people out, chan," you say, a little more giddy than you intend. "you’re too high. somebody'll see."

he closes his eyes slowly and furrows his brow, thinking deeply.

"put your bag here, then," he says finally, rolling over onto his stomach to grab your tote bag from the edge of the blanket and haul it over to your hip. it was a good idea in theory, but in reality it barely covers a tiny part of your body, and it would only be effective at blocking his head from onlookers at a very specific angle.

his fingers brush over your thigh on accident, and you sigh, legs parting just slightly. chan doesn't seem to notice, though; he's latched himself to your arm again, tracing his name across your skin over and over like a kindergartener learning to write their name for the first time.

"you really want to?" you ask, peering over at him through foggy eyes but grinning when you see him now focused on the tiny hairs on your arm.

"yes, please," he hums, and he starts kissing the inside of your elbow along your forearm. his lips are warm and so, so soft, it feels like rays of sunshine tickling your skin. until he opens his mouth and he starts gnawing on you, biting gently at your arm.

you swat at the back of his head, and then once more, laughing at how silly he is. silly feels like the right word. silly how cute he is and silly how maybe you're a little bit in love with him.

"oka-ay," you say finally, tugging on his hair to get him to stop biting you. he rests his head on your stomach and gazes up at you with big, soft eyes, and you know there's nothing going on in his head right now. honestly, there's not much going on in yours either, but there's enough happening up there to know better than to not let him have what he wants.

you pull the bag closer to yourself and lift your hips, shifting your pants down just enough to expose the top of your thighs.

"don't let anybody see—" you start to say, but chan is already diving in. he shimmies down your body, positioning himself between your legs so that it would look like he's merely resting on top of you if anyone passing by were to steal a quick glance.

in your present state of mind, neither of you are quite as sneaky as you probably think. you can only pray no one walking around the park is paying much attention to their surroundings, though your spot is far enough away from the main paths that someone would have to be intentionally looking in order to find you.

one thing you know for sure is that chan is a messy eater. in the privacy of his apartment (or occasionally, yours) he'll spend hours between your legs, making out with your pussy until you're so exhausted and overstimulated that just the thought of another orgasm makes you shudder. usually he doesn't go that far, because at the end of it all he still wants to have his cock inside of you, but that doesn't ever stop him from making a complete mess of you anyways.

but to your surprise, when he kisses you over your underwear before pulling them down your hips, his lips are slow and gentle, like wading through water. you feel his fingers kneading your waist, and you realize belatedly that you've been tensed up. you'd been preparing for a fast, rough onslaught of pleasure but clearly chan has other plans today: taking his sweet time with you. and with how fuzzy your head feels right now, going slow is more than fine by you.

he flicks at your clit, laying his tongue flat and smoothing it over every inch of you before flicking again, and subconsciously you angle your hips upward, chasing his mouth. his spit covers your cunt, and when he moves his head back you can feel the breeze cooling the heat between your legs, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

you hear a shrill scream from behind you, and you tilt your neck back to see where the noise came from. upside down, you can see two kids distantly running around in the grass, playing a game.

you yank chan up by the back of his collar and pull your pants up as far as they'll go, ignoring the insane wedgie you've just given yourself as you scramble to look like you haven’t been doing anything suspicious.

you stay on your back, craning your head around to look at your surroundings. once you’re certain nobody’s around, your eyes settle on chan, who’s staring blankly back at you. his face glistens in the sunlight from the amount of wetness all over his face that he doesn't even seem to be aware of.

"wipe your mouth," you try to scold him, but the whole situation is suddenly so funny you can't help the laugh that comes out instead.

chan sits up, a little disoriented at first but he pushes through the clouds in his mind and finally brings his hand up to his face, swiping at his mouth once with the back of his hand. he looks around and he spies the ashtray with the half-smoked joint still sitting in it, and with a lazy grin he leans over to grab it, fumbling with his lighter to reignite it.

he takes a long, slow hit, and you're surprised he's not more out of breath from just having his face shoved in your pussy for what seemed like eternity.

he holds it out to you with a little grunt, and you finally find the energy to prop yourself up onto your elbows to take it from him. you inhale then breathe out a fine cloud of smoke as you pass it back to him, and he sets it back down, giggling to himself.

you smile, his laughter contagious with your already content mood. "what're you laughing at?"

he rolls his head around in a circle, staring off into the distance with a dopey grin on his face. "i… dunno," he answers finally, and he looks back at you, his eyes full of emotion you can't really understand fully.

"well, you almost got us caught, dummy," you tell him, an involuntary pout forming on your lips as you lay back down. "if you wanna have sex we should just go back to your apartment now."

"i don't want to," he whines, and you frown at him. he opens his mouth, stops and closes it again, then finally speaks, seemingly having gathered all his words together in the right order. "of course i always wanna have sex with you but right now i wanna make you cum first. like, right now, right now." he looks over at you again with those big, stupid, pretty eyes of his. "ple-ease?"

"but somebody might see again, channie. you can make me cum at home."

he shakes his head slowly. "but we still have to finish this, anyway," he protests, pointing at what's left of the joint.

you lose focus and stare off at the trees again, knowing he's right. you'll have to stay until it's out, then clean up your blanket and put away your stash, so it's not like you were gonna get home anytime soon then, right?

he turns towards you suddenly, his mouth half open like he's just thought of something crazy. he carefully transfers the joint to your hand, wrapping your fingers around the end of it. "how about i finger you, and you can hold this for me until you cum, and then we finish it and we go home and fuck. holding two birds with one stone."

you glance around, hoping nobody heard him loudly exclaim that he wants to finger you. you think about telling him to keep it down, or at least correct his attempt at a metaphor, but the words feel like too much effort and you're still weary from the almost-orgasm just a few minutes ago.

you stare at the object he had put in your hand for a second before you decide to take a drag, putting your other hand on chan's neck to pull him close so you can exhale the smoke into his lips.

clearly he wasn't expecting it, and he coughs a couple times, but he recovers and immediately goes in to kiss you again. he kisses you for so long it feels like he's never going to pull away, and when you do finally let go for a second it seems like he isn't even breathing.

he just sighs dreamily, his eyes still closed. "i love kissing you," he says, and the way he says it makes it sound so important.

you elbow him in the chest lightly to get his attention, and he lets out a little "oof!" and opens his eyes.

"hurry up so we can go home. i wanna suck your dick," you say, clearly deciding to let him have his way as you push your pants down once more.

his hand slides over your body, and the way he smiles when his two fingers make contact with your pussy gives you goosebumps. his touch feels heavenly, and you have to put all your focus on holding the joint upright so you don’t accidentally drop it. but it’s so hard to stay focused when you can feel his fingers so deep inside you, moving in and out and curling and scissoring and it drives you crazy.

at least in this new position, it’s not as obvious what you’re doing. with shaky hands you take another hit, a bigger one this time, trying to finish it as fast as you can so you can go home and not have to worry about being seen.

chan pushes a third finger into you and you hold back a whimper, wrinkling your nose in pleasure.

he opens and closes his mouth at you, and there’s a few seconds before your brain catches up and you realize he wants you to help him smoke while his hands are occupied. you carefully hold the joint up to his mouth and he wraps his lips around it.

the sight of him laying on his side, his hand cupping your cunt as you act like his personal helper is hotter than you expect it to be, and you clench around his fingers, heat burning in your abdomen.

he sucks in a sharp breath and leans his head away from your hand to cough again. “are you— close?” he asks once he’s recovered, his tone almost pouty. “you’re squeezing my hand so hard and now my dick hurts because i imagined fucking you instead.”

you sigh, leaning your head back against the blanket and letting your eyes close again, your hand propped up in the air. “yeah… i reeally wanna fuck you.”

he pries the joint out of your hand to take a hit by himself, then puts it back in your grip and moves his other hand to massage your breast over your shirt. you whine, not expecting it, and buck your hips up.

“fuck, chan– faster, please,” you mumble, your head swimming.

he puts his thumb to your clit and presses down, his fingers moving more roughly inside of you to draw you closer and closer. after a while you open your eyes, and you find him staring at you with such a sweet, empty look on his face, it makes you want to kiss him forever.

you pull him down on top of you and push your lips against his. your teeth clack with his but you don’t care, because you feel too good everywhere else to even pay attention to one little bad thing.

just like the way chan eats you out, he’s messy when he kisses you, and even more so when he’s high. you can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you whine into him, the rest of the world falling away so that the only two people who exist in the entire world are you and him.

without warning you feel familiar waves wash over you and you practically go limp under him as your orgasm knocks the breath out of your lungs. he stills his fingers inside of you but continues to pet at your clit with his thumb as your walls spasm and contract around him.

when you start to regain some of what’s left of your senses you grab his hand to stop him, pulling him out of your aching pussy. he sighs and pushes his face into your chest, humming against your boobs.

caught up in the moment you hadn’t noticed when you’d dropped the joint, but luckily there was a god or some being out there in the universe that was on your side, because you’d dropped it directly onto the ashtray and not the blanket or the grass.

chan sits up and folds his legs cross-legged as he lights it one more time and hands it to you. there’s not much left of it by now, so it doesn’t take long for you both to finish it. your clothes stink of smoke and you’re a lot clumsier than usual, but you’re more content than you’ve been in a long time.

it’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him while high, but something feels different this time. maybe it was the way he clung to your arm walking back to his apartment, giggling with glee about how he couldn’t wait to have you all to himself. but it was probably more the fact that he told you he loved you right after you came and then proceeded to beg you to let him kiss you again.

of course you let him, your heart and your head soaring as you laid in the grass, casually making out for at least a quarter of an hour. you were in no rush to be anywhere, especially not when you had everything you wanted right here. and it seemed like he had everything he wanted, too: when you finally started to pack up your things to leave, he’d panickedly asked if you would stay with him.

“of course i’m staying,” you laughed, pushing him off of the blanket so you could fold it and put it away. “aren’t we going back to your place?”

“yeah, we are,” he said shyly, plucking a dandelion from the grass. “i meant like… all the time. i don’t wanna do this anymore.”

you looked at him, suddenly scared and a little confused at the sudden change from how excited he’d just been. “…you don’t want us anymore?”

he shook his head. “no, i want you! serious, like boyfriend and girlfriend! i want us to be us.” you don’t immediately respond, and he frowned.“you don’t want to?”

your eyes softened. “i do want to,” you smiled, crawling over to him to cup his cheeks in your hands. “i want to, very much.”

it would be a while before you finally made it back to chan’s apartment, but it was worth the wait. everything was worth the wait.

next year, when you sat in the same spot at the same park to spend your anniversary together, you joked that he had waited until april 20th to make it official because he’d wanted your anniversary to be on a funny date. but really you didn’t mind, because it just gave you more reasons to celebrate.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it lets me know this is something people want to see more of and it helps a ton with being motivated to write. thanks for reading!!

> taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns

> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings

> if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

#kflixnet #k-labels #[📌] — june.writes #[💟] — dino #[❤️] — smut #dino smut #lee chan smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #chan smut #svt imagines #dino imagines #dino x reader #chan seventeen #dino seventeen #dino fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic

729 notes · View notes

ohpike-mycaptain · 9 months

Text

Pay Attention

Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x Reader

Prompt: "Did you just kiss me?"

Word count: ~420

You pace back and forth across the ready room, rereading the report on the PADD in your hand for the umpteenth time. Repeating the details over and over hasn't made anything any more clear than the first time the problem presented itself. Maybe if you try starting from a different point, or cross checking with the science report from-

Your face is gently tugged to the side and something warm quickly presses against your lips. Blinking away the confusion, you try your best to reorient yourself. You see Christopher Pike standing in your space with an amused grin.

"Do I finally have your attention?" He asks with a laugh. You trace the fingers of your free hand over your mouth as Chris carefully takes the PADD from your other hand.

Your eyes meet his clear blue and everything makes sense. "Did you just kiss me?"

The captain gestures across the room. "I tried other things, but you were so focused that nothing else worked."

He's already served the meal and poured the wine. You feel a twinge of guilt when you realize how long you must have been ignoring him.

"This is why we agreed to leave work at the door when we can." Chris guides you over to the table. "Is it really something important?"

"I know, I'm sorry, Chris." You sit and stare down at your hands. "I just can't figure out what went wrong with the tests."

"Well, perhaps," He pauses and nudges you to get your attention before continuing, "A break will help you clear your head. I appreciate your dedication, but continuing to push yourself will only make things worse."

You smile at his concern, deciding it's time to let it go for now. "You just want me to compliment your cooking and tell you that you're pretty." Your tone is flat, but your grin gives you away.

Chris laughs and picks up his glass. "It is nice to hear, especially when you say it." His eyes sparkle over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip of the wine.

"I'll make sure to say it more often then, captain." You pick up your fork without breaking eye contact.

"Careful, lieutenant. I might think you're working again." He grins. "I'll have to try harder to keep your attention if that's the case."

"Please do…" Your voice trails off as you take your first bite. "Oh, this really does taste fantastic." You both laugh when the mood breaks and happily enjoy the meal together.

#captain pike imagine #captain christopher pike x reader #captain christopher pike #captain pike x reader #captain pike #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike

181 notes · View notes

whumpy-bi · 10 months

Text

“I’ve got her”

Word Count: 420

Warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of non consensual drugging, deliciousness, aftermath of torture

Whumpee was absolutely terrified, her senses dulled and distorted by days worth of torture and drugging, her eyes and ears still fighting to pierce through the haze whatsoever.

Someone was holding her, keeping her close to their chest. They were moving, she was moving—where were they taking her now? Her head still hurt so much, she hoped they wouldn’t do another round of interrogations today…

A voice began filtering through, from somewhere. Whumpee couldn’t tell where, everything sounded like she was underwater, but it was the first time she’d been able to make out words in quite some time. The voice was low, smooth.

“I’ve got her, I got her. Get the medical guys ready, I—I don’t think they broke anything, but they definitely gave her something. She isn’t…”

The voice kept talking, but Whumpee couldn’t make out the rest of it. She tried again to blink through the haze, fighting harder now to keep her eyes open. She could still hear the person holding her, and she wanted to grip onto the sound for dear life. She couldn’t pick the words apart, but the sound itself felt so safe, like the warm breeze she’d been desperate for after that cold cell. A stray thought occurred—maybe this was a dream after all. A hazy vision of safety, with a beautiful voice and strong hands, giving her a few hours of respite.

Whumpee let out a quiet sigh, her fear and apprehension giving way to relief. She still couldn��t make sense of what was happening, but this voice wasn’t going to hurt her. It was a natural instinct, something deep in her mind that persisted past the haze and delirium—she was safe with this person, and she knew it.

“Hey, Whumpee, can you hear me? Might be hard for you to talk, that’s okay…I just need to make sure you can understand me.”

Whumpee frowned. Why would a dream ask her that? But, she nodded anyway, worry stirring in her gut with how difficult the simple action was.

Caretaker frowned back, carefully setting Whumpee down on a stretcher. “You can? That’s good, honey…that’s good. I’m gonna stay with you.” He pushed her hair from her face, brow furrowing with worry. She looked completely out of it, her eyes unfocused and her expression distant.

Whumpee closed her eyes, trying her best to maintain her grip on Caretaker’s hand. She still wasn’t fully convinced any of this was real, but she knew she didn’t want to be left in the empty haze again.

#whump #whumpee #writing #whump writing #caretaker #interrogation #aftermath #rescue #rescue whump #tw drugging #this is self indulgent who cares

208 notes · View notes

bughugz · 3 months

Text

DNI minors, zoos, pedos, transphobes, homophobes, racists, detrans, eating disorder blogs, self harm blogs, cishet men, 'men dni' blogs, ableists, blank and ageless accounts there's probably more if any of these things are you or you give off a not good vibe or whatever i'll block you

my name is rory but you can also call me bug, bun, or worm! it doesn't much matter to me which of these you use for me i'm a 20 year old 2spirit gnc trans man i only use he/it pronouns please perceive as like effeminate boyish and creaturelike with some sprinkling of cultural and spiritual context to confuse the masses i'm also neurodivergent and chronically ill please be patient with me and maybe use tone tags

i'm very non monogamous and don't really label my sexuality i'm simply attracted to gender fuckery usually very t4t and i love woman and nonbinary people in a boyish way i have a big masc lean on here it's very faggy i mostly post transmasc for transmasc content

feel free to flirt with me and be like gross and horny i love attention my dms and asks are open i love interacting with y'all but consent is valued i have a life and i will not tolerate disrespect you can also send pics if you ask nicely and i might send back i may however also choose not to respond to your advances please do not act entitled i don't make a habit of creating close personal relationships on the internet and i don't owe you anything if you really want my attention or just like my content ... tip me! my venmo and cashapp are both $bughugz

i'm basically a subby bottom bitch boy the vast majority of the time i would not feel comfortable domming most people i'm just occasionally feral and sadistic will dom bottom if i feel like it i find more power in being the one receiving and i'm much more shy and inexperienced when it comes to topping but love to service sooo do with that what you will

kinks & limits + terminology and names you can use for me + some stuff to get to know me outside of kink below cut:

key to my heart as a sub is petplay (mostly bunny sometimes puppy) but here is a way too long list of other things i like and may also post about in no particular order:

intox (420!)

cnc (might include uncensored use of the word rape)

overstimulation / edging

bondage / restraints

praise / degradation (not of looks)

crying

sadomasochist

dumbification

manhandling

impact play

spanking

breeding (not pregnancy)

biting / scratching

marking / bruising

free use / public play / anonymous sex etc

group sex / gangbangs / spit roasting etc

objectification !!!!

limits ie things i won't be posting about or engaging in for my safety and comfort but to each their own

ageplay (abdl / ddlg / other variants)

incest / fauxcest

scat

beastiality

piss

vomit

race play

detrans / misgendering

body mods ie play piercing

any sorta of burning or just open flame

if you're curious to know more of my thoughts on something that is or is not here send me an ask or dm!!!

terminology and names you can use for me include:

chest, tits, t/dick, cunt, hole (bunny, puppy, or boy prefixes are fine ie puppycunt, boytits, bunny hole)

bunny, puppy, mutt, bitch, angel, baby, good boy, love, slut, whore, (fuck)toy, pretty boy, sweetheart etc

i also like masc compliments and being called pretty!you can definitely ask if you wanna call me a particular pet name i love them and most are fine but i do not like little one, the word girl, or princess !!!

get to know me outside of kink:

i'm an herbalist and i love plants and ethnobotany especially

i'm in college slowly working towards an environmental science degree

i love bugs and crystals and anything miniature

i like cozy games and fashion and books

i'm a fiber artist and like to experiment with lots of different mediums and styles

i like to roller skate badly

exploring in nature is one of my favorite pastimes whether it's tide pooling or admiring all the little things in a small stretch of forest

this is 100% a horny blog and i will be spamming my silly horny and sometimes non horny thoughts so often that you might hate me not great with words mostly rambling. but please don't hesitate to try and befriend and get to know me and ask me about any of this stuff i like dms just so long as you're respectful i do have social anxiety so i may not dm first!

pics of me are tagged #wormy pics

audios of me are tagged #wormy audios

original text nsfw and sfw is all mostly lumped into #bun ramblings

asks are #wormyasks

anons: 🌸, 🦊, 👾,🪼,💀

72 notes · View notes

mlm-writer · 1 year

Text

Pins and Needles (Peter Parker x M!Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker (A.G. ver.) x Virgin Cis Male Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1548 POV: Third Summary: Peter gets put in jail for crimes he did not commit. At least his cellmate is a nice dude. Note: For the prompt ‘virginity kink’. See my kinktober 2022 masterlist here. Tags: prison AU, virgin reader, the virginity kink is barely there I’m sorry, blowjob, frotting, hint of body worship, weirdly fluffy, Peter was a hoe in college (hinted) and facial

The uniform was a great fit for his well-built frame. It was all the positivity Peter could find in himself as he was guided through the long hallway in handcuffs. He had expected the other inmates to leer at him, but it was awfully quiet in this prison. Maybe the heavy metal doors were soundproof.

When he and the guards arrived at the door with a white ‘420’ painted on it, Peter could not help but snicker a little. However, his smile vanished with the look one of the guards gave him. The black metal door opened with a heavy creak. Peter was met with the sight of a small cell consisting of two bunk beds, two chairs, a sink and a toilet. “Finally! I was getting lonely, boys!” A masculine voice called, before Peter saw a man jump from the top bed. He was handsome, Peter noted. There also was an aura of dominance around him, as if this prison was the hotel he owned.

The handcuffs were unlocked and the guards left Peter alone with the stranger. “I would give you my real name, but then I’d have to kill you,” the man spoke cheerfully. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. He shifted on his feet, body trying to take up as little space as possible. “Oh don’t look like that, we will have a blast!” The man stepped closer and tapped the collar around Peter’s throat. “So… a mutant, huh?”

Peter nodded nervously and hummed. “Yeah…” The man offered his hand and Peter slowly took it. “I’m Peter,” he offered, but he did not expect a name back. He noted that the man had no collar around his neck.

“They call me ‘Pins’ around here. You’re so skinny, boy. From now on, if anyone asks, your name is ‘Needles’. As long as you stick with me, nothing will happen to you, all right?” Peter nodded as he shook the man’s hand.

“Pins and Needles, huh?” Peter tried to joke, but it was obvious that was the gist.

Pins made Peter hold the inside of his pocket most of the time. Peter followed his cellmate diligently, hung around with the other guys Pins associated himself with. They were a decent bunch, though they liked to mess with the guards from time to time. They were harmless pranks. Peter got to know them all by first name and what they were in for. However, getting information out of anyone about Pins was impossible. Even Pins avoided answering any question about himself directly. All Peter got to know was his favourite song, which was at least a decade or two old.

It was another evening in their cell, the moonlight shining through a tiny window. Pins was humming his favourite song again. Peter was enjoying the background noise, when it suddenly stopped and Pins’ head appeared upside down as the man hung over the side of the top bunk. “Hey, Needles, can I ask you something?” He still sounded jolly, but Peter recognised the seriousness hidden in his voice. That same tone was there when Pins asked if anyone or anything was bothering him. It was that same tone when Pins asked if Peter slept like sleeping beauty. Peter nodded and sat up in his bed. “Would you kiss me if I asked you to?” Pins whispered.

Peter frowned. Pins had never asked him anything like that. “Uhm…” Peter started. He then crawled over to Pins and framed his face with his hands. The last time he did this, Peter was the one hanging upside down. He leaned in slowly, allowing Pins to push him away in case the man had been joking, but Pins stayed still. His lips were chapped, but warm against Peter’s. When they parted, Pins smoothly jumped off the bunk bed and kissed Peter again.

Peter got so easily lost in Pins’ kisses. They were full of passion, as if Pins had been waiting for this. It was at this moment that Peter realised he had been waiting for this as well. He grabbed his cellmate by the neck and dragged him onto his bed. Their heated kisses were put on hold, when Peter pulled both the orange and white shirt over Pins’ head. Pins could not speak a word, before Peter was pulling him in for another kiss once more. Peter ran his hands over Pins’ chest, determined to remember what he felt like. When Pins pinned him down by his throat, just above his collar, Peter let out a very soft ‘oh fuck’.

“Where is this going, Needles?”

“Well I have not been able to masturbate or have sex for the last few months, so feel free to… you know… do whatever.”

Pins was awfully quiet and unmoving. Peter wondered if he had been too forward. His fears only seemed to be confirmed, when Pins let go of his neck. “Would you let me fuck you?” Peter hummed affirmatively. “Needles… I… must confess something.” Peter sat up and took Pins’ hands in his own. “I’ve actually never done anything like that. You know… have sex.”

Peter blinked at his cellmate, who was avoiding eye contact. “Have you ever had a blowjob?” Pins made a sound that definitely meant ‘no’ and Peter’s mind was reeling. “Handjob?” Same sound. “Not even with a woman?” Same sound. Peter could not believe it. Pins, the baddest inmate he knew, was a total virgin. It was a strange thought, but at the same time, Peter not only wanted to be Pins’ first, he needed it. “Then… may I?”

Pins seemed hesitant with his silence, but eventually, he guided their entwined hands to his crotch. Peter felt the bulge there. He explored its shape in the dim light of the moon, after Pins let go of his hand. It was a slippery slope from feeling Pins through his uniform pants to Peter being on top of the other man and rubbing their bare cocks together.

The scary criminal was no longer here. Peter muffled Pins’ sounds with feverish kisses that got them drunk on pleasure. “Needles, I’m gonna cum real soon if you don’t pause for a second,” Pins whined. Peter remembered how soon his first time was over and he wanted this to last at least a little longer, in case his innocence was proven tomorrow and he would never get this chance again.

Peter climbed off his cellmate and completely rid himself of his uniform. He heard Pins doing the same. “Can you do something for me?” Peter asked, while he climbed back onto his thin mattress. Pins pulled him down onto his chest. It was weirdly intimate for the image Pins built around himself, but Peter liked the idea that he was the only one to see this side of him.

“What do you want?” Pins whispered while his fingers traced lines across Peter’s skin. Peter snuggled into the other man’s chest. He smelled of the standard bland prison soap and a hint of just Pins.

“Can you call me Peter? Just for tonight?” Peter did not get an answer for a moment. The fingers stilled on his bare shoulder. He was afraid he asked for too much. Then he felt Pins’ lips brush the shell of his ear. Warm breath hit his skin as the man whispered a name to him. Peter repeated it under his breath. It was beautiful. It belonged to the man he had fallen in love with.

Peter shifted and kissed down Pins’ body. Peter had already seen it every time they took a shower, but now he also got to touch it. He slid off the bed and pulled Pins’ hips to the edge of the bed. When Peter reached the other man’s cock, he licked a long stripe up the length. Pins let out a delicious sigh. Peter savoured the taste of him, wettening his cock with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. It had been some time since the last guy he fooled around with in college, but Pins seemed to enjoy the little graces of teeth. Pins had his hand in Peter’s hair. Peter relaxed and let Pins guide him.

“Fuck, this feels so good… Peter,” Pins whispered through his teeth. Peter could hear his breathing and recognised the laboured breath of a man trying not to cum too soon all too well. He started stroking himself. It did not take long for Pins to pull Peter off his cock. Peter awaited the inevitable with his tongue out, stroking himself vigorously. Warm cum hit him in the face and Peter had to cover his mouth so the entire cell block would not hear him moan out Pins’ real name.

When he finished covering his own hand in cum, Peter dropped his head onto Pins’ thigh. He sighed and kissed the skin, contented in his post-orgasmic bliss. A hand ran through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Did you cum?”

Peter chuckled. “That’s so typical of you to ask,” he giggled as he closed his eyes. “But yeah, don’t worry. How are you? Don’t regret your first time?” Peter could feel Pins shift. Then warm lips kissed the top of his head.

“You can be my first everything, Needles.” “I’ll hold you onto that, Pins.”

#peter parker #andrew garfield #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x male reader #male reader #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x you #mcu x reader #mcu x male reader #MCU x Y/N #mcu x you #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x male reader #kinktober #kinktober 2022

588 notes · View notes