#be who you are not what they want you to be
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Oh my god, it’s Cody with a chair!
Woo! Fan comic of @frostbitebakery ‘s Zombi-Wan fanfic: “Who Ordered the Resurrection Special” 💫💫💫 It’s a fun read, highly recommend.
#chiligerart#comic#frostbitebakery#commander cody#commander wolffe#obi wan kenobi#codywan#star wars#fanfic fanart#now how can anyone blame cody for trying to defend the handsome zombie? who i ask#jango at cody’s funeral; leaning close to the casket: see this is what happens when you want to date people#had this on the back burner for a few months but finally got around to it!#kinda wish I did better on the monster but creature design is not my forte
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Hope They Catch Us - G.S.
Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.
Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.5k
A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.
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---
You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius.
Well, usually.
“I…shit- I’m in love with you.”
Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie.
Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star.
And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him.
Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-
“CUT!”
That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.
“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.
“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”
“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft.
“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”
“Ooo kinky~”
It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions.
“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”
And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”
If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”
Ah, right. The sex scene.
How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth.
“We’ll ace it, you just watch.”
You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”
God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course.
“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth.
“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”
Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”
“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”
You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this.
Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”.
It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”
Rip the clothes off each other, huh?
With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-
“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”
He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance.
“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”
“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”
Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.
“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.
But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”
You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”
“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks.
“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.”
“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”
“At least I can act and-.”
He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!”
This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you.
“Nuh uh.”
“Yuh uh.”
“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”
Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.
Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”
And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”
Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”
Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”
“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”
If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it.
“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”
At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen.
“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?”
“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”
“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?”
He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.
Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”
Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”
And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.
But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”
“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”
And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again.
Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.
You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-
“Sh-shit, Goj-”
“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.”
Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips.
Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair.
“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”
“Hmm, I doubt it.”
And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.
“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”
“Record it?”
“Record it.”
“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”
“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”
“Fine by me.”
The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off.
“You probably broke-”
“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone.
“It was expensive.”
With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs.
“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.
Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right?
“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”
“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”
And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.
Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“
“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”
He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”
Rip!
He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him.
“You’re a tease.”
“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips.
“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”
“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”
And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed.
Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue.
Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs.
“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds.
Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more.
And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt.
“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit.
“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”
“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue.
And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”
Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”
“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”
Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.
“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”
And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.
Well, two can play that game.
“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”
Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.
So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”
And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-
“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”
“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping.
“Go on. Cum f’me.”
And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face.
And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him.
And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…
“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him.
“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”
Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same.
“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”
With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”
And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly.
Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit.
One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.
And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-
“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”
And oh you can’t not look at him.
Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt.
“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.
“Sweetheart?”
“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”
And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt.
“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”
And then it’s like something snaps.
Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs.
“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”
You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come.
“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”
Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”
Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right.
Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”
That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls.
“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth.
So he lets his hips do the talking instead.
Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.
“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”
You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over-
And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier.
Close - too close.
So, so desperate and debauched.
“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.”
“Ngh- f-fuck you.”
“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling.
“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”
“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close.
“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”
“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth.
“Doesn’t have to.”
Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips.
Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice.
“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum.
What?
It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?
“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.
And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”
Those weren’t from the script either.
Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.
It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.
The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”
He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.
“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”
“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”
“No.”
“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”
Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.
Not anymore, at least.
---
The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.
Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.
“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.
Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”
A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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lovers of hardbacks, unite (or, more likely, divide)!
dear reader! hello! do you enjoy hardback books? do you love having opinions and pressing buttons on tumblr dot com?? then oh, boy, do i have just the poll for you!!
say you're reading a hardback book that comes with a dust jacket--a book you own, perhaps, or have borrowed from a loved one or lifelong rival or sworn enemy, or anywhere else besides the library (for the purposes of this poll, we must both Have and Be Able To Remove The Dust Jacket, i'm sorry, it's very important for Science™).
please answer for your IDEAL/MOST COMMON COURSE OF ACTION--weird exceptions need not apply (unless you want them to, or you want to holler about said exceptions in the tags/replies/reblogs. i don't know your lifestyle, but i DO want to know your polarizing opinions on the care and keeping of dust jackets) (you can also holler about why you chose what you did in general, even without weird exceptions. in fact, i look forward to reading this Discourse).
***this is SPECIFICALLY ABOUT HARDBACKS, please don't skew my science with paperback propaganda :( i myself tend toward a paperback way of being, but right now Inquiring Minds Need To Know About Dust Jackets and Dust Jackets Alone***
#books#book polls#booklr#hardback#bookish polls#hardback books#dust jacket#dust jackets#hard cover#ez behold: the poll u will like :)#my polls#please reblog this to the far reaches of booklr i NEED TO SEE SOMETHING
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warnings: mentioned child abuse, fem!reader, arranged marriage, implied obsessive behavior.
Imagine being reincarnated not as the heroine of the dark romance novel that you fell asleep reading, but the male lead’s villainous stepmother. Although it would be many years before you would marry his father, and your family would get out their mountain of debt from this arranged marriage. You swore to not take out your anger on the poor child as you laid in your crib.
Just because the duke still held a candle for his first wife and the mother of the male lead, his son did not deserve such cruel treatment from a woman who would never receive any affection from her husband. Arranged marriages rarely result in mutual happiness, but there is always the possibility of creating a respectful partnership between each other.
So that is what you will do.
You became ambitious in your studies and etiquette lessons, making connections with other young ladies of high society as your own reputation grew. Instead of becoming known for being a spiteful and superficial noblewoman, invitations to soirees, tea parties, and banquets arrived at your household every other day.
The Mad Dog of Macaluso became The Blossoming Flower of High Society. Despite the marriage proposals your household had received, none of the gentlemen in the Umbra Empire were as rich as Giovanni Lombardo, the grand duke and the male lead’s father.
So, the marriage still happened; but you were not bothered by your new husband’s declaration on your wedding night that he would never have a child with you, citing that he found you unpleasant and nothing at all like his deceased wife as his tall frame towering over yours as gray orbs glaring down at you with icy disdain. You stared at him for a moment before you smiled.
“No one can ever replace a loved one, and it is a relief to know that you do not care for me romantically, Your Grace. This is a situation that is beneficial only to my house, and the Emperor had forced you to select me because he was tired of hearing everyone talking about how his most trusted aide has refused to remarry since his wife’s passing six years ago during childbirth. Your son is your heir, so there is no need to have another child. If you would permit me, I would like to get to know him more. If you do not believe me, you can assign a servant to watch me interact with him and the rest of the staff. Is that acceptable?”
The baffled expression on the duke’s face at your words had been worth all the hard work you have placed into being a better side character that wouldn’t be killed in the novel’s third chapter. You would not disappoint him.
You would prove to be a valuable partner and protect the male lead until it was time for you to leave the stage.
Three years passed. You performed your duties as the duchess, overseeing the household and organizing any functions that were to be hosted in the duchy. When you weren’t doing paperwork in your private office or speaking to the head butler on how to improve the workplace and other matters, you spent time with the male lead.
Alessandro was a sweet little darling, possessing his father’s shiny platinum silver tresses and his mother’s bright blue eyes that sparkled in delight when you praised him for doing so well in his studies with a big hug or a kiss on the cheek. He was precocious for a six-year-old, though he still could not understand why his Papa didn’t like Mama. Mama being you, even when you have had to gently correct him more than once that you are his stepmother, not his birth mother.
“Some day when you are older, you will understand.” You said, resting your chin on top of his head as you carefully adjusted your grip around his middle. He liked to sit in your lap under the garden’s pagoda during tea time, and you saw no issue with it. “Papa may not like me, but we love you. That will never change, and we only want the best for you.” You ran a hand through his hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear.
In the original work, he became obsessed with the female lead because he did not receive any love from his father and was abused by his stepmother. Her gentle demeanor, her kindness and loveliness triggered his desire to have her all to himself. He had even commissioned the construction of a human-sized golden cage so that he could keep the female lead by his side forever.
Alessandro pouted. “But I don’t want to wait that long! Can’t you tell me now?”
You chuckled. “Good things come to those who wait, my dear. Believe it or not, being a grown-up can be hard in this big, scary world.”
“That’s impossible! Papa is super cool and can do so many things!”
“Yes, he is quite something, isn’t he? Now drink some tea or it will get cold.”
What you did not realize at the time was that the duke had returned home early from work and went to search for you. The head maid had told him where you were, though the duke had not expected Alessandro to be with you in the garden. He heard what you said about him, and how you have come to accept that you will never be loved by him and it was not his son’s fault. How affectionate you were with him, smiling and ruffling his hair while reminding him to pay attention to his arithmetic tutor because it was important for him to understand numbers because they were just as important as knowing all colors in a rainbow or which fork to use for salads.
You had kept your promise to him.
You did not demand his affections, prioritizing the duchy and his son’s wellbeing. You did not take any paramours nor spent more than the allowance you were given to shop for dresses and other accessories in the capital. You attended tea parties, and did not bring shame to his family name. You were a perfect wife. You were worthy.
Would you object to him spending time with his son as you do? Would you allow him to get close, to spoil you with gifts? Would you even consider the idea of giving Alessandro a younger sibling? It’s been too long, and he does have needs.
Happy Mother's Day, guys~! :)
Taglist: @nunezs-stuff @imperfectbloodmoon @yandere-dark-cupid @aiimee9 @cassanderasblog @facelessfionna @ixchelhernandez4 @yourdoorisunlocked @faux-ecrivain @julietdelamare @reiivven @ghostdoodlen @persephone-kore-law @dreamlessnight @obsessedwithromance @f4turemom @pinkgoldweebgirl @yandere-writer-momo
#forbidden-sunlight#yandere imagines#yandere imagine#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere male#yandere fic#yandere oc#yandere manhwa x reader#yandere!duke#fem!reader#tw obsessive behavior#tw obsessive love#cw obsessive behavior#cw obsessive love#tw abuse mention#cw abuse mention
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simon riley x deaf!reader
tw: none, literally just pure fluff
“It’s just one date. I promise.”
You didn’t know how your friend had convinced you to go on a blind double date in the first place. In fact, you weren’t even the first choice, but when your friend came by to ask you to fill in for another girl who had bailed out last minute, you pity-agreed to help her out.
You weren’t sure if you were making the right choice. Dating wasn’t your thing, and you avoided it like it was the scum of the earth. Not to say you had bad experiences, per se, but you also didn’t have the best choice of men. None of them understood your situation to its fullest, but that was okay! You didn’t need their validation, and you were perfectly content with the way things were.
There was no harm in going on a fun date and having a few drinks and good food, you thought. One night, and you’d never have to see your blind date again.
Besides, your friend seemed to really be into her date from the way she’d gush about him after they met online (not your favorite choice, but you’d support her anyway), and you didn’t want to ruin that for her.
That’s what led you to be here, shoulder to shoulder with your friend as she rambled on about how excited she was with speedy hand gestures, how grateful she was that you came, that she’ll make sure your dinner and drinks are paid for. You weren’t exactly sure where the two of you were going, but judging from what she forced you to wear, it had to be a bit fancy and lavish.
You didn’t have the heart to tell her that was also not your favorite choice.
She guided you inside of the building, which was a preview of what was to come — high ceilings, ravishing decor, and low lighting that made everything much more romantic. You took in the fluorescent scenery as she spoke with the hostess. You didn’t know what they were saying, but as the waitress gestured with a hand for the two of you to follow, you assumed the two men were already there.
Your arm was looped loosely with your friend’s as the two of you walked after the hostess. When you approached a table, you took in the sight of one man that looked familiar — your friend’s date, a man with smooth, tanned skin and a smile that could cure sickness. The other man was new to you, and compared to your friend’s date — Kyle? — he was much more phlegmatic.
Kyle gave a polite nod towards you with a blinding smile, and you have one back, bowing your head in greeting. You sat next to your friend, watching as Kyle pulled out the chair for her, to which your date definitely didn’t do the same.
That was alright. You weren’t planning on making it past the first date anyway.
Your friend began to chatter with Kyle while you and your mystery date sat in silence. Your hands remained in your lap as your eyes scanned the menu that sat on the table.
Focused on appearing as busy as possible, you were unfortunately snapped out of it before it could last long when your friend nudged your shoulder with hers. When you looked up at her, she was smiling, and she lifted her hand to signal the man in front of you.
Blinking at him, you realized he was possibly trying to talk to you, and you shifted awkwardly. He probably thought you were rude.
“Sorry, Simon. I forgot to mention she’s deaf, so she didn’t know you were introducing yourself,” your friend apologized, and you watched as he stared at her before nodding in acknowledgment. “It won’t change anything, yeah?”
You sat in tense silence as you averted your eyes back to the menu. Your date had eyes that could pierce right through you if they wanted to, and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to be their next victim, date or not.
A phone screen was slid across the table from where you were studying the menu, and your eyes flickered to see a string of words typed out in the notes app.
“Sorry if that came off as rude. I’m Simon.”
Glancing up at him, you flashed him a smile that was relieved. He gave you an awkward one back, and you thought maybe he didn’t do it much.
You picked up his phone from where it sat in front of you and began typing out your response before slipping it back to him. You watched as he read it, a look of amusement in his eyes as he did so.
“Not rude at all. Sorry she didn’t tell you. You can back out if you’d like, I won’t take offense.”
Kyle and your friend were conversed in conversation with one another while Simon and you had your own back and forth.
“Why would I do that?” his next note read, and you tilted your head at him. He offered you a shrug, and your fingers tapped along his screen in return.
“Most men wouldn’t like being blindsided by not knowing their date is deaf.”
You saw his mouth part open when he read it, and you wondered if he was chuckling to himself. You wished you could hear it.
Was it deep? What if it was one of those contagious laughs that sounded like the literal gates of heaven opening up, and you wouldn’t ever have the chance of hearing it?
You didn’t have time to think about it when he placed the phone back in front of you, and when you glanced down, you couldn’t help but smile bashfully to yourself.
“A pretty girl’s a pretty girl. I’d be an idiot for backing out on the prettiest one I’ve had the gall to see over something like that.”
Fuck.
You weren’t supposed to like your date, much less so quickly. You only came for the food and for the sake of your friend’s happiness, but here you were, cheesing to yourself like a stupid teenager with a new crush.
But as the date continued, with the both of you eating alongside Kyle and your friend, shamelessly passing his phone back and forth and filling his notes app with evidence of your growing infatuation, you knew it wasn’t only for the food anymore.
He was sweet. Sure, it was all on paper (well, screen), and you told yourself to always be cautious with men.
But when he asked you out on a second date, then a third, you allowed your concrete walls to crumble.
And when he showed you the new signs he’d been working on so he could communicate with you on the fourth date, spelling out your name with cautious, slow fingers, eyes searching for your approval? You could’ve already married him then and there.
#call of duty#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod drabble#cod imagine#fluff#deaf!reader#cod mw3#cod mwii#cod#kyle gaz garrick
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‘ CANDY BOY ! ’
ᡴꪫ sum. who would have thought that the #1 camboy in your city was no one other than your virgin roommate gojo, who’s totally putting on a show for his fangirls. he talks too much, but maybe you can shut his mouth and put his sweetened little fantasies to reality.
wc. 5.8k
warnings. fem! reader, camboy!gojo, college au, gojo's a virgin, switch! gojo, unprotected, dirty talk, he gets pússy drunk quick, overstim, "good boy" usage, cunnilıngus, premature ejaculating, nipple play, lots of spıt, handjōbs.
if someone would have told you that your loser of of a roommate who stuffs his mouth with a bit too many sweets, cries at romcoms, and is just an overall dork was a camboy, you’d call them crazy. batshit crazy even, yet that’s exactly what happened—
gojo was rightfully one of the top camboys in the city, probably in the world too. he was sort of a household name, it was more of a side hustle for him. he did it only for the money—sure, he adored his fans, even the ones that went a little too extreme with the provocative thirsting. but that’s all part of the job, he’s about seven months strong in his little gig. every saturday and sunday, he logs on under the user of: @/GOJOSLUTORU.
the moment that same notification pops up that he’s live, a plethora of his fans join immensely, wondering just what their favorite camboy satoru was up to today. his streams would last for a good two hours—longer sometimes if it was some kind of special event where he’d reach a massive amount of donations, a special treat for his fans. gojo was beloved for his flirty personality, he’d make his fangirls swoon with his words, despite knowing full well he doesn’t know the first thing on how to please a lady.
that’s until you came along—more like catching him right in the act. it couldn’t have been any more embarrassing though. eleven thousand eyes were cheering him on, showering him with lewd "good boy" praises until you drop your bag.
“satoru?” you utter, curling your brow into a surprised furrow once you take in the scene in front of you. tossing the spare set of keys into the bin, you glance at your roommate—he freezes mid stroke with the most flustered expression. his hands were a bit … occupied, and a glimpse of a familiar cloth you once wore catches your eye. “are those my panties?”
“no….?”
with a deadpan, your shoulders drop before you drag your feet towards him to take a quicker look. oh, those were definitely your panties. so that’s where they ran off too. gojo tries to shield his nude exposed lower half with a nearby towel but it’s no use—you saw everything you needed to see.
“anywhooo,” he swallows, taking a brief peer at his chat that was flooding with all types of questions. they wanted to see you, they wanted to see gojo’s pretty roommate who he’s always rambling about on stream. clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before pitching his tone. he tries to sound more attractive but ends up butchering right away, stuttering at his first pathetic sentence. “ i- i didn’t think you’d get here so early. how was the exam?”
“it was … fine,” you mumble, barely acknowledging his words. your mind was racing vigorously, trying to process how you’d just seen your roommate half naked. going up behind him, you lean in towards his neat set up—you grew a bit curious, immediately, your eyes meet the other eyes that stare back at you. near the top right displayed his large following of eight hundred thousand, the top left displays his current view count, a whopping amount of almost twelve thousand. peeking at the chat, you’re met with dozens of freshly new comments saying how pretty you are, asking if you’re his girlfriend he always talks about, and so on. “you’re a camboy?”
“heh, camboy’s kind of an exaggeration but,” and he’s nervous, you can hear the slight tremor in his voice. it’s cute, gojo was prepared for you to judge him for his side hustle but instead you don’t. he relaxes a bit, shifting his attention away from his crude chat and towards you. “i like to label myself as a um, streamer..”
you have a growing simper. “i don’t think streamers usually get naked for their audience,” and you take a quick stare at his attire—he was practically shirtless, his boxers were covered although he was wearing some kind of tank that had ‘submissive and breedable’ printed on the very front. you furrow your eyebrow, though you choose not to question it. his nervously sly smile only grows once he catches your eyes quite literally checking him out. glancing at the comments again, you hum. “why do they keep asking if i’m your girlfriend? you don’t have a girlfr-”
“woah, s-shut up!” he whines, cupping a hand over your mouth. you giggle, feeling the warmth of his palm rub against your lips. gojo lowers his voice, speaking in a faint whisper. “they think you’re my girlfriend,” and he peels his hand away before running a finger down his nape. “i told them that because-”
“satoru,” you roll your eyes, noticing how he was quite stiff with his body language. being this close to you, your mere elegant fragerence was so exhilarating for him. you made him this nervous, truth be told ; you were far too caught up in your academics to even realize your roommate had a little crush on you. however, you do wish you found out in a more … non less of a lewd way, a way where he wasn’t caught red-handed fondling with a pair of your pretty sage-colored panties. with a sigh, you mumble to him. “you wanna fuck, don’t you?”
that’s definitely not what he thought you was gonna say,
with pouty shimmery lips, gojo’s eyes widen before a sheepish grin marinates against his features. “pft. do i wanna fuck, whaaat?” and he doesn’t even last a second before sighing, dropping his head down in defeat. “y-yes..”
the ringing from his monitor — dozens of women sending him gifts, tickets, donations, begging for their favorite camboy to notice him only gets more disruptive.
the ringing grows louder, the repetitive chiming sound of bells, the blaring notification it makes whenever someone sends him a sweet contribution. pretty soon, he was on the verge of meeting yet another goal. ever since you got spotted on the stream, his viewer count doubled.
“well, why didn’t you just ask? besides, there’s other ways than using my panties to get off.” and a wave of embarrassment washes over his face. the towel’s still covering his torso before he shoots you a shy smile. any closer you could’ve got to him and he thought he was gonna explode. the heat radiating from you had his head going in a crazed ditz. stroking his cheek, you speak softly.
“i’m sorry,” he whines, bottom lip poking out. you end up sitting flat on his lap, and instinctively, the curvature of your waist was met with two big hands snaking around it. you’re so pretty like this, he wanted you so so bad. swallowing, he peeks towards his chat before you cup both of his temples to stare right back into your eyes. “i was gonna ask you but- but i’ve never done this, you know,” and the way you slide a finger behind his neck, skimming the texture of your middle finger down his undercut snatches a purr from him. “i- i want you, but i just don’t know what to do with like .. i wanna make sure that i don’t embarrass myself.”
oh, he couldn’t have been any more cuter,
you heard the slight crack in gojo’s voice at the end of his candied sentences before you sling your arms over him. “don’t be embarrassed,” you softly reply, still straddling his lap. “i can always show you how.” and he gulps, your voice was smooth as silk. sweet as honey, the more you strum your thumb down his undercut, the more he can hear the rapid pulse of his heart beat throb through his ears. the simplicity of your touch was enough to have him weak.
“please..” he murmurs in a hushed tone, loving the way how gentle, how tender you were with your touch. gojo mewls out a needy whimper, feeling a sudden tent rise near between his legs. he was hard, you’d giften him a pretty solid boner and whilst you were propped up on his lap, you felt it rub against you all too well.
gojo awaits for you to make the first move, but you’re teasing . . seeing if he was going to initiate, and he does, inching his sheeny lips into yours.
your roommate pulls you into a deep kiss, he tastes like candy, candied. with your arms still occupied, wrapping around him, you glide your tongue against his, parting lips, teeth clashing amongst each other in sync. you could hear the faint sounds of whimpers run from his lips, he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands though—so gingerly, a hand of his strums down your back, giving the fabric that stuck against your skin a soft yank. he wanted you, the strain beneath his half on boxers only grows the more he starts to suck on your tongue.
heavy, wheezing breaths collide against each other, hitting each moving muscle like a wave,
he’s so eager,
gojo’s mind clears everything out of his head and he’s just focused on you. the saccharine tang of your signature lip gloss, he tastes it and it’s so delicious.
through cerulean-pristine hazed peripherals, gojo looks towards his chat to read some of the comments . .
chososdoublehomicide: i miss choso
zorosthroatwarmer293: i wanna be gojo >:( she’s so pretty
secksybabeamy: Hey hot stuff ;) Subscribe to my only fans!
throatgoatemily: His whines omg
as the kiss deepens, gojo whines once your hand slithers its way down between his legs. slowly removing the towel that sheaths his exposed body, you feel against his dick. at first touch, he whimpers, then whines, then whimpers again.
he was so pent up—you could feel it, you were gentle with your fingers, brushing it against the length of his dick before gently wrapping a hand around its girth. gojo moans in your mouth, feeling hitched breaths arise from his lungs. he could never get enough of how fucking sweet you were,
and he didn’t even want to.
pulling away for a long gasp of fresh air, he bites his lip as he looks down to feel your hands stroke his cock. gojo had quite the staggering inches on him, he shivers at how precise your hand movements were—
up and down,
with a hand of yours gripping over his fat length, a thumb of yours runs down the vein that coats his shaft. its pulsing, he’s needy for more of your touch so bad that it sends shockwaving static to rigorously coarse through his bouquet of neurons.
“y-your hand feels so much better than mine, heh,” he breathes, swallowing the imaginary balled up lump that resides near the back of his throat. blue irises, dilated and all stares at you—a hand reaches towards your back before his thigh starts to bounce. “not to be weird but i kinda had a dream about this, angel.”
“a dream about me stroking you?” you hum, amused before sneaking a wet kiss near the crook of his twitching lips.
gojo nods wearily, forever deeply captured by your beauty. your hands swiftly resumes to stroke him, feeling the tender skin that lives near his frenulum peel back every few seconds. gojo moans, burying his face into the very depths of your neck. so desperate, he wanted more and more. “aw, is this too much? should i slow down?”
“no.. don’t stop,” and his desperate plea was so sweet, though he wanted to go further. you giggle once he suddenly lifts you up, dragging you towards the bed. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry. can’t wait anymore,” and he hovers over you with that crazed look of total desire. “can i … eat you out?”
with a coy smile, you’re laid on your back as he just stands over you — eyes gawking at your entire physique, the way your thighs were all out with the short hem of your shorts reaching against your ass. you could tell gojo was impatient, that hungry stare in his eye never once faded.
“yeah,” you coo, parting your legs slowly. oh, you were a fucking tease.
not only were you a tease for him, you were a simple force to be reckoned with. no panties on either, gojo felt himself get hard yet again before he kneels down. with your roommate positioning himself between your legs, he lets off a soft sigh.
combing your fingers through his soft tangles, he looks up at you with a craving yet impish expression. you giggle, making him look right into your eyes. peering at his chat that was going ballistic over his girlfriend, you speak in a soft tone. “do you know how to even eat pussy, ‘toru? i can h-”
“girl i know how to eat pussy,” he grumbles, and he sounds almost offended at you asking if he needed any sorts of help.
sure—gojo literally didn’t know the first thing of eating a woman out, maybe visually.
but now that he’s up close, he has to stop himself from folding right then and there. so soaked, he gets a full view of your slick entrance, your pussy was the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes upon so far.
as he’s a few inches a apart, with sprawled open thighs—the last thing you’d expect was for to gojo to start drooling all on your cunt. a stringy, syrupy concoction of his own saliva pours out of his mouth and onto your folds. just a quick glimpse and he’s pussy drunk. fuck, he’s more embarrassed than he’s ever been but he can’t help it. gojo didn’t even get a taste and he’s already salivating at the sight of your sopping wet arousal. a thumb of yours wipes the spit that dribbles near the corner of his mouth and he whines at your touch again before he finally digs in.
lolling out his tongue, the very tip licks near the inner moistened entrance of your pulled out labia. gojo for probably the umpteenth time lays his tongue flat before he goes all in. a broad left hand of his attach towards the fat of your thigh as he remakes a long striping lick. “s-shiiit, ‘toru.” you gasp, the coldness on his tongue taking you by sheer surprise.
the texture of it .. you’re weak, gnawing on metaphoric bars of your enclose as well as the skin on your lip, you whine.
for someone who’s never had much experience, let alone no experience, you’d easily second guess. your back arches forward while gojo’s tongue rummages through every part of your clit. he sucks on your nub, closing his eyes and fully sinks into bliss. gojo’s pristine white brows cock into a furrow before he slides a thumb down your wet entrance. he just can’t get over how wet you were for him. sopping wet, inept lips of his constantly quivers before he gives your cunt a sweet kiss.
wet for him, he breaks his lips away for a few seconds just to smear his face against your pussy.
“m-mhm,” he whimpers, wanting your scent to linger on his face for as long as it could, your scent .. it was hard to not get obsessed, a few minutes in and he already felt his mouth watering.
as bundles of minuscule taste buds of his tingle with excitement — his tongue swiftly swirls through every orifice, not missing any spot. he searched through the gooey crevices of your walls, lips moving in complete tandem. his dick strains between his thighs that it’s almost painful.
if eating you out tasted this good, he only imagined what it’d feel like to be inside,
shoved deep into your pussy, stuffing you full with his luscious thickset inches . .
that same repeated whine that always sounds raw dies straight out of your esophagus, you yank on the strands of your roommate’s messy hair as his pace quickens by a mile. in the midst of devouring your heat, a broad hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs—he kisses the long slope inside of your entrance, lips all glossy and glittering with gloss thanks to you. that same panging throb starts to grow within you again. your toes curl up tightly before your eyes meet the drywall splattered on the ceiling. his tongue, the way it continues to scrabble all through every part of your cunt, he grows addicted almost immediately. gojo can’t help but lather a few sloppy kisses on your folds, sliding his tongue through your slit.
he even starts to tongue fuck you, softly thrusting the swollen tip of his tongue in and out until you’re about to whine out again for him.
that was his favorite part by far, pushing his tongue in and out of your puffy folds — relishing the way your pretty pussy coats the underside of his chin with a lustrous amount of sweet, burnished slick.
“ngh, ‘toru,” you’d wail, and your hips start to jitter against his face. he doesn’t mind . . in fact, gojo brings two hands to grip against the curves of your hips.
once he maintains a secure grasp, he lets you rub your wetness all over him. with his tongue thoroughly exploring in every part, he starts to whine too .. so eager to touch himself but he wants to keep his hands on you. a whiny whimper wrenches from the back of your throat before you start to babble. “satoru, ‘m gonna cum, fuuuck. jus’ like that, keep l-lickin’ there, baby.”
he was such a quick learner, part of you thinks he maybe had more experience than you oughta thought. gojo can’t help but attack your sweet syrupy folds with a multitude of kisses, drooling lips of his making you more sticky than you already were. your legs could barely hold themselves open.
he had to pry them open with clammy hands, slurping in every drop as if he was dehydrated with thirst. a thirst you happily quenched with him being propped between your legs. after a while, he runs a thumb down your slit once more, pretty eyes glancing up at you, wanting to see your sweet face. “a-am i doin’ a good job?” and his voice was a bit hoarse, the way he speaks, drooping eyes and a sheepish grin—visibly pussy drunk, you grab onto his strands before rocking your hips into his mouth. he giggles, muffled noises eliciting from his mouth, taking your eager jittery movements as a yes.
he just couldn’t get enough of his roommate’s taste.
occasionally, he likes to depart his lips to gather a nice concoction of saliva—only to then spit right onto your sopping folds, whining at how it was so shiny. so pretty, he’s mesmerized again at how it looks, and you end up cumming with the cutest shrieking orgasm. it snatches out of you roughly, your speech is slurred for a moment as your legs quaver in utmost pleasure.
you’re shaking, feeling him clean you up with the flatness of his tongue—gojo moans, white lashes fluttering as he takes your beauty in. this was so much better than one of his risqué wet dreams. so much better,
without even a single word leaving from his lips, he gets up to pull you into a kiss. almost immediately, you taste yourself that lingers on his tounge. it tastes sweet, gojo props himself between your thighs as you sit up, a free hand of his sliding between your stretched out legs. the constant rings of his donations continue to scream out that same annoying chime before he leans in to shut his computer. he’d probably have left so many—thousands of his fan girls devastated, but there was only a new fan girl he was fixated on.
you.
gojo was addicted, with tongues colliding against each other, hot breaths wafting against each own, he feel his breath hitch at your touch. a hand of yours snakes down to feel on his erect dick. he whines, gnawing at the bottom of your lip before his tongue gets more curious. he licks the bottom of your chin, the side of your mouth, only to then pull you into another deep kiss. “f-fuck, ‘m so hard,” he rasps between sultry kisses, heaving from each breath. you still couldn’t get over the taste of yourself that loiters all on the flat of his pink tongue. “i wanna feel you from the inside, angel.”
“but your stream,” you tease once he finally pulls away, taking a second to catch your breath yourself. you felt the heat roam across the room before stroking his cheek — flushed lips of his burn with such intensity, you had him feral. “your fans, i wouldn’t wanna interrupt them, ‘toru.”
“fuck them,” he pouts, the cute frown on his face tugging against his lips. “okay that’s mean, they help me pay rent but just- i want you right now,” and he’s so needy. he paws at your t-shirt, glossy eyes widening, god. his bottom lip pokes out, squinting for two seconds before seeing how your nipples invitingly poke out. so perky, he could feel his mouth watering sporadically. he lays you back before swallowing, a loud gulp before he hovers over you. “you knew this was gonna happen, didn’t y-you? such a tease.”
you simper, opening your legs for him and he gets a good glimpse. gojo sucks his teeth, still so soaked. he only dreamt of what you’d feel like inside.
probably so tight and warm,
the more he thinks about it, the more he could feel himself starting to drool. gojo’s panting as if he’d just finished a marathon. a hand of his wraps around his length—giving it a few solid pumps. “i thought you’d wanna do doggy for your first position,” you sweetly say, and oh, he pouts for you again. you sit up, awaiting for him to take the lead first before smiling. “missionary though? you’re not so good with eye contact, baby.”
“i know how to do missonry.” he grumbles.
“missionary,” you correct him with a titter.
he pouts again, preparing to align himself. so wet, your pussy was sopping wet, swollen from just being eaten out so good. a warm breath fans out through his lips before he rubs it against your slippery slit. “and don’t call me baby,” he moans, although the simple pet name for him a lot harder than he thought it would. slowly, gojo’s fat leaky tip continues to ghost against your folds. you hold back a sweet moan, laid all out on display for him on the mattress. he’s waited for this moment, had dreams about it, even fantasized about it. “fuck,” he’d huff out, and his voice cracks. you’d laugh but he’s staring at you the entire time with that cute pouty expression. “can- can we hold hands? for you know, leverage?”
“leverage, sure,” you play along, your fingers locking against his. damp, perspiring palms squeeze against yours before his rounded tip starts to slowly make its way inside. immensely, a breath gets caught in his throat and he whines. the warmth he’s rudely greeted with makes him gnaw his pearly whites together. “you’re kinda b-big, so go a little slow, ‘toru.”
“i’m big?” he repeats—cutely enough, it boosts his ego that you think so, yet his confidence fades the further he dumps a few hefty inches into your entrance. as you expected, you were a bit tight and stiff for a few seconds—unyielding against him for a moment, you moan. saying gojo was big was a mere understatement, he couldn’t help but lean in to lay against your chest. “how’s it feel? s-slower?”
“it’s good. that’s good,” you start to heave, gasping once he inches his head closer to latch his lips against your neglected cold nipples. he doesn’t even lift up your t-shirt, he runs his tongue through the fabric and sucks on your perked tits. “t-toru, fuckk.”
it was a soft twinge sensation at first before he’s close to bottoming out . . so close,
it’s at the moistened tip of his tongue. gojo’s shaft resumes to go in further, you feel him pulse inside before once he’s all the way in, he’s already out of breath. with his mouth occupied—he’s still sucking on your nipples through the shirt, whiney. a free hand of his runs gives your left thigh a nice firm grasp before he starts up a single few thrusts.
you whine, tossing your arms over him and he glances down at you—beads of sweat race down the sides of his brow before he sits up in a proper position. gojo can’t get over how pretty you look for him like this, he’s fully in and he sneaks a kiss onto your lips. “can i m-move?” and the falter in his voice was adorable, gojo’s breath continues to get more heavy before you give him a nod. he peppers various kisses near your mouth, neck, and of course, your precious chest. his personal favorite,
with frail arms wrapped around him, pulling him close—you run your ankle down his back and he moans. “oh, ‘s even better than i imagined,” he whispers against your ear, hot breath sending you antsy judders. the more his breath goes against your skin, the more you smell how minty it was. fresh, you desperately yearned for more so you pull him into another kiss for the nth time. “ugh. the way you clamp down, ‘s gonna kill me,” he babbles in a low puff. he’s speaking between staring up at decent pace for you to get accustomed to. you whimper, trying to get adjusted to his barreling length but he was just so fucking big. it was an ongoing rumor that between gojo—and his best friend suguru geto had the top biggest dicks. of course, you always wondered exactly how whoever started that rumor would even know, but gojo was definitely a packer. he stretched you out in ways you’ve never felt before. with strained breaths, he coats your mouth with many wet kisses. time and time again, the feeling of himself going into you raw has him drooling again. “pussy’s so wet, ‘m gonna die, oh my god.”
“don’t be dramatic, you’re not gonna die.” you try to reassure him. the grip on your hand only grows tighter, crimson lips of his suck against the underside of your chin.
so damn needy,
mussed strands of white tickle against your forehead the closer he presses his body into you. gojo was shivering, just a few minutes in pussy and as if it was a game—he’d be on the last level, game over. albeit, you feel it too. the warmth, it turns into a sweltering hot. as his hips rock, his whines start to become more vocal. he sneaks a hand down to feel the area that’s being stuffed, a thumb skims against your tummy before he moans,
“feel me t-there, yeah?” he whispers, a cute attempt at dirty talk but alas, it’s subtle. gojo easily folds once your eyes meet his gaze.
you moan, intertwining your fingers with his, moaning out a soft, “yeah,” and you sound out of breath yourself.
he’s jerking back and forth — his pace, his tempo . . wasn’t too slow or two fast, perfect.
with a quivering bottom lip, he leans in to lick against the outer shell of your ear. your cunt’s singing in harmony, sloshes of wet that leaves its metaphoric vocal cords and you start to get a bit louder. “f-fuck, ‘toru right there—fuuuck.”
“s-shit, you’re so pretty,” he pants, repeating his ways at coating your entire face with his wet kisses. you had him weak, entirely. you found it a bit silly considering how this could have happened anytime—anytime at all, all he had to do was ask. but gojo being gojo, he was not only a man with barely any experience, but he was nervous. he’s always had a bit of a crush on you but confessing sounded way scary. it was as if this entire thing was mere coincidence though, you happen to find out he’s not only a sloppy eater but,
he’s a camboy.
part of you wonders what he does on his streams. if you saw him rubbing one off while thinking about you—you could only imagine what other lewd antics he participated in.
gojo’s rutting into you at a much more quicker pace, he’s whining into your neck;
forgetting to praise you, and it’s more of the other way around. you’re cupping his face, stroking his cheek before repeating in that same melodic voice, “good boy, ‘s so good, makin’ me feel good, ‘toru baby.”
your voice, oh your voice, he could listen to it all day. you feel the constant twitch of his cock inside you and he whines every time your ankle rubs down his back. with the way your pussy holds him hostage— it’s so provocative, his reaction time was as slow as a sloth, droopy eyes stare at you before he grunts out a pleading, “f-fuck, ‘s gonna come,” and his voice sounds like a soft purr, gojo was like a kitten to you— so cute, his pout always make things more true too. he’s groaning in your ear, fat balls thwacking against you before his ears starts to ring. you’re moaning with him, bodies thrusting in sync that it’s almost like a pornographic choreography. “ugh, i- i feel it, ‘m gonna cum so much. so hot, gonna die.”
“breathe, baby,” you whisper, pulling his face closer to you. his chubby cheeks squish together once he’s within your grasp, the sharp piston of his hips makes you moan. his thrusts gets a bit sloppy and you press a kiss onto his mouth. “mwah,” you hum, watching how flustered he gets at a lick of your affection. “you wanna finish inside, don’t you?”
gojo whimpers. “yeah, yeah. really bad,” and the moment you suggest that, his ears perk cutely. he’s gotta be careful though—with a cunt as addicting as yours, he just might end up falling in love.
speaking of love, it’s as if heart eyes pour into his irises as he glances at you—again, metaphorically of course. gojo gulps at the tender touch of your fingers, leaning in to nip a kiss near your neck. through muffled words, he mewls. “i wanna fill you up. ‘s only fair since you’re milking me s-so much, ‘m so thirsty,” and he’s just babbling, pulling him close—he whines once he feels your finger glide through his sensitive undercut again. “hngh, gonna break me. let me make a mess in you please? i’ll even eat it out of you once ‘m done.”
you’re tempted at his pleads, giggling before dragging him into a deep kiss. “such a blabbermouth,” you tease between kisses, staring to feel the tears of sweat race down the sides of your forehead also— with a sly smile, you lick the drool that was about to run down the side of his lip. “finish in me, ‘toru. it’s okay. be my messy boy.”
his eyes dilated once he hears that,
your messy boy.
he even repeats it, “y-your messy boy, yeah, ‘m so messy for you, roomie,” and as he’s preparing for his inevitable release, he sinks into your warm embrace. “one more kiss, h-hold me.” and as if on command, you yoke his head in close, giving him a deep, passionate kiss. his pulsing heart beats through his ears. gojo—by this point, he was already whipped. the way his hips pick up, growing more sloppy and deranged—he’s feral.
the feverish under parts of his thighs burn, longing for its incoming conclusion climax—yet, as your smoldering heat gnashes against his, it finally comes.
with a primal gasp, it’s here.
the nirvana—euphoria, whatever it could have been called to describe this feeling, it was here.
gojo whimpers, going into a complete spazzing fit once he feels the slow orgasmic waves of himself starting to shoot literal humid blanks inside you.
it’s hot, parching hot— your heat against smelts his, it scratches a fervor itch in your brain. his tongue rummages the inside of your mouth again as he’s painting the insides of your gummy walls with his snowy white color.
satiny ropes of your roommate’s seed trickle into you, it’s so gooey and hot that it starts to stick against the inner parts of your thighs. each rough kiss reflects the same desire the both of you share before he shudders.
slow thrusts, he’s barely moving as fast as he was before but he’s still active. he wants to make sure you feel every inch he’s saved for you,
for weeks, months, maybe even years—
“god,” he whimpers out, pulling away from your glossed lips—a pretty cobweb of spit departs from each and he happily laps it up with his tongue. who knew your roommate was nothing more than a mere freak.
not you, not by a long shot.
it takes a moment for him to catch his breath, with a flustered look— gojo’s now clingy.
he doesn’t wanna move away from you, nor does he wanna exactly pull out. not just yet, he’s plugged you full of sticky cum that was threatening to ooze of your hole before he kisses the bridge of your nose. “that was so awesome.”
and just like that, the mood’s ruined—you pant, he’s hovering over you, his weight barely on you before you sigh.
“you know,” you change the subject, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “your moans, you sound more like a girl than me, ‘s kinda hot.”
“whaaat?” he grumbles, his sweetened pout forever returning. “that’s not nice, ‘n besides if it’s anyone who moans louder it’s you, angel.”
you kiss near the twitching corner of his lip, watching his sudden attitude shift like a light switch and he’s now a puddle. “you finished a bit early though,” and with your arms wrapping around him again, you speak in a soft voice. “wanna go again? you’re a natural, ‘toru.”
“please,” he whines with a nod, feeling how sweltering hot it felt to be still buried into the comforting tightness of your cunt. “this time, i wanna try doggy.”
“okay, pretty boy,” you tease, leaning in for another one of gojo’s sloppy, need kisses. just before he could pull out, the door springs open. the hinges scream once it pulls back and the two of you both look to see what the racket was.
as the door opens, it was geto—gojo’s best friend, and he had the most disgusted look on his face.
with a scrunched up face, he utters. “i’m never running errands for you two again, what the actual fuck.”
and as he turns his heel to leave, gojo snorts. “suguboooo! aw, don’t leave just yet. you can always joinnn.”
#★vegasbaby.#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader smut#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#anime smut#female reader#jjk fic#cw sex mention
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Drinks and Jackets
pairing: lando norris x reader
summary: lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you
warnings: drinking, slight cursing
word count: 0.9k
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
A long sigh left Lando’s lips as he pushed his bedroom door open, stumbling slightly in his steps as he did so, needing to cling onto the door frame for support so he didn’t go flying face first into the carpeted floor of his bedroom.
After inhaling a deep breath from his nose- the man's eyebrows furrowed in concentration- he pushed off of the frame and attempted to shrug his jacket off of his shoulders. Which only ended in him banging into the wall next to his bed with a small, “Ow,”.
“Lan?” A soft voice rang through the darkness of the room after the thud was emitted.
Norris jumped at least a foot into the air with a small, high pitched squeal of surprise, whipping around with wide eyes just in time to see a figure turn on the lamp beside the bed.
You were tiredly rubbing at your eyes, pushed up on one elbow as you looked at him from across the room, imminently taking note of his wide eyes and tousled hair. Not to mention the fact that he only had one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.
Slight amusement crept onto your features when you realized you had startled him, though a hint of guilt kept you from openly laughing as you gently asked, “Are you alright?” Sleep lacing your tone.
The wide eyes of Lando didn’t shrink. In fact, they only seemed to widen as he looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads right before his very eyes, “Who are you?” He hissed, panic and confusion seizing his tone.
At his words, all of the exhaust suddenly disappeared from your body and you finally pushed yourself to fully be sitting up, now wide awake and alert, “What-”
You didn’t even get to finish voicing your bewilderment before Lando- literally- stumbled over his own feet to reach the opposite side of the bed you were sitting on, “That’s my girlfriend's spot!” He exclaimed, eyes still wide as he stared at you.
Your eyebrows drew downwards, “I know, it-”
“Listen, I’m warning you lady, you need to get out of here before she gets back.” He was nodding along to his own words. While he clearly thought he was looking very serious- and maybe even threatening- it was difficult to even consider him whilst he looked hilarious. Clearly drunk and jacket half hanging off of him.
And just like that, the mumsnet flickered back inside of you and a slow grin slowly lifted the corners of your lips, “Is that so?” You asked, playing along when you realized just how drunk he was.
Lando nodded again, “Yeah, and she could kick your ass.” He said it so matter of factly with his chin raised, clear pride laying in his words, even as wasted as he currently was.
Unable to hold it back anymore, you let the first chuckle slip out of your lips as you pushed yourself to your knees and made your way over to the other side of the bed until you were in front of him at eye level.
You reached out and hooked your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at him lovingly, “And what if I wanted to kiss you right now?” You teased.
Just as the brunette man's eyes widened in a panic and he looked as though he was going to move to swat you away, he froze, blinking once. Twice. Three times at you.
“Love?” He looked like a little, lost puppy dog when he tilted his head to the side, the first bit of recognition flaring through his eyes when he finally realized that it was you in front of him, not some random girl sleeping in his bed.
“You had fun with Carlos and Danny, I take it.” You joked, subconsciously toying with his curls.
“Oh, love, I missed you so much.” Lando gushed suddenly, face automatically becoming alight and housing a lovesick expression.
A laugh escaped your lips as the man wrapped his arms around your center and brought you both flying down onto the mattress before holding you close, his eyes already shutting as he let out a hum of content.
You chuckled, watching as he snuggled closer to you, inhaling the scent of your hair with his eyes still squeezed shut.
Gently, you maneuvered the two of you so that his head was resting against your chest and you were the one cradling him. He let you do so without an ounce of argument, the soft smile still sitting on his lips as he held you close.
Despite the fact that his jacket was still only half off of him and he was yet to change out of his clothes that he was in to go out, you knew from past experience that there was nothing on earth that could pull Lando off of you at that moment. Even to get fully ready for bed.
So, instead, you held him close, running your fingers through his hair after flicking off of the lamp light and waited for your boy to fall asleep.
“I love you,” The words were mumbled against your old sleep shirt with the man himself being halfway to sleep.
“I love you too, Lan.” You dipped your head to place a lingering kiss on the man's forehead, “So much.”
#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris#f1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic
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could you please do lando and a stem girl who goes to uni but has a private life please
they don't know about us | ln4 smau
pairing: lando norris x private fem computer science major!reader
a/n: this took me forever but hope u still like :) also, if you've got requests could u add if you want it to be smau or fic pls <3
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[ caption 1: 🕒✈️ ] [ caption 2: miami 👋 ]
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[ caption 1: shoutout to the inventor of coffee i owe u big time🙏 ] [ caption 2: uhm i was just going to rest my eyes for 2 minutes?? good morning i guess💀 ]
f1gossip
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f1gossip Y/N L/N, current girlfriend of Lando Norris, has been photographed arriving at the paddock for today's Miami GP.
Y/N's presence comes as a bit of a surprise, considering she was absent during practice and qualifying sessions, and rarely attends races. Speculation about a potential breakup has been rampant, but her appearance suggests that there might not be trouble in paradise after all... 👀
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username she always looks so classy and put-together, i'm obsessed <33
username no bc am i the only who has no problem with her only attending a few races a year? some ppl don't have time to jet off across the globe 24/7 like
username it's the fact that they literally travelled to miami together and she still didn't go to quali or practice😐 the other wags do it, why can't she?
username i just know lando had to beg her to come smh
username why are y'all so rude omg?? some ppl are introverts...
username when you're in the public eye, you don't get to be "introverted"🙃
username that's an insane take wtf?
username GUYS i think she's a uni student cause peep lando's story a few days ago🧐 that explains why she's never at gps
username so? i'm a senior and i went to the aus gp this year
username okay... do you want a cookie ?
username if a wag is at all races she's fame-hungry, and if she doesn't she's unsupportive like make up y'all's minds pls 🙄
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[ caption: YOU DID IT!!! HE DID IT!!! MY BABY IS AN F1 WINNER OMFGGG🥹🥳👏 you deserved this so so much, i'm sooo proud of you ❤️❤️❤️ ]
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landonorris
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landonorris Memories for life ❤️
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username aw the 5th pic🥹
username do you think number six is y/n??👀
username 100%
username 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
username LANDO NOW WINS IKTRRRRR‼️🤩
username ofc y/n couldn't even be bothered to comment... and the most unsupportive wag award goes to y/n l/n!! congrats hun x
username y'all are weird YOU DON'T KNOW THESE PPL!! username it's the 'be kind' in ur bio for me miss gurl 🤡
username best day ever 🤧
lewishamilton 👏👏👏
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riabish sooo happy!!!
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username not ria being more of a gf then y/n oop
username thanks for being such a good friend to lando, we love you💖
username next goal: beome world champion 👀👀
username yessirrrr
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[ caption 1: back to reality 💔 ] [ caption 2: jkjk it's not that bad, i don't cry nearly as much as i did in first year 🙂↕️☝️ ]
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harvard
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harvard Final projects, theses, dissertations, and more! Check out what these soon-to-be graduates explored in some of their last assignements on campus.
Y/N's thesis navigated the intricate relationship between privacy and secure multi-party computation, enhancing data analysis while safeguarding sensitive information.
2. Steve's environmental science project examined urban development's impact on local biodiversity, providing insights for sustainable urban planning.
3. Nya's dentistry research poster explored new methods to improve dental implant success, promising better patient outcomes and oral healthcare.
—
We are celebrating the extraordinary members of the Class of #Harvard24 🎓
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username 👏👏👏
username Awesome!
username Very good! Congrats to all these students!!💪
username wait am i tripping or is this y/n as in lando's gf y/n???😳 btw my biggest dream is to go to harvard in '26 !!!! 💕
username 😍😍
username streets are saying y/n goes to harvard so i had to come check and omg??😩
username no bc wag AND harvard girly?? just looked at myself and sighed fr...
username now i feel bad for talking shit🫤
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[ caption 1: pulling an all-nighterrrr 😁 ] [ caption 2: nevermind, lando just made me promise to get some sleep :( ]
A few months later...
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[ caption 1: couldn't ask for better shoulders to cry on srsly 🙂↕️ WE DID IT MY LOVESSS 🎓❤️❤️ ] [ caption 2: this us? 😏 (corny, i know...) ]
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username LMAO are we the same person?
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"How many of you like have you ever been to Jerusalem? Raise your hand if you have ever been to Jerusalem. We have 60 students here, and we have one... two, probably three... That's that's very few of you! I've never been to Jerusalem. We're Palestinians; we live in Gaza; we can't go to Jerusalem because of the Israeli occupation.
But we love Jerusalem, right? [A chorus of students saying "yes".] We love Jerusalem because of what it means to us. We've never been there, but believe me, when you go there you will feel that you've been there hundreds of times. Because you read about Jerusalem in literature, in stories. Of course it doesn't mean that that's it, that we should take the Jerusalem that's in the stories and that's it, no.
But in literature, Jerusalem comes back to us. It's true that there is suffering; there is pain; there is occupation, and that's why Tamim Al-Barghouti, as a young Palestinian poet, I think is doing a great service to the Palestinian cause and the Palestinian struggle.
When you listen to him reciting his poem from Al-Quds, or other poems, he takes you to Jerusalem. You live in Jerusalem. He takes you back to it. You liberate it for just a little bit of time.
And if there is hope; if you can imagine a free Palestine, a free Jerusalem, probably you will work towards that, and the same thing applies to occupied Palestine. We've never been to other parts of Palestine because of the Israeli occupation, but we've been told so many times by our parents and our grandparents, especially our mothers, they've been telling us stories about Palestine in the past, the good old days, when Palestine was all beautiful, unoccupied, unraped.
Therefore, I say in in this case how our homeland turns into a story. In reality, we can't have it; we don't have it, but it can turn into poems, into literature, into stories, so our homeland turns into a story. We love our homeland because of the story. We love our homeland because of the story, and we love the story because it's about our homeland, and this connection is significant.
Israel wants to sever this relationship, for example between Palestinians and the land; Palestinians and Jerusalem, and other places and cities, and literature attaches us back - connects us strongly to Palestine, so in my thinking, this is a very significant thing that literature contributes to. Creating realities; making the impossible sound possible.
In real life, again because we are here in Palestine and Gaza, I'll be giving you examples from Palestinian and Arab literature so we can compare and make things clearer. We all know Fadwa Tuqan, the Palestinian poet - and please do not introduce her as Ibrahim Tuqan's sister, let's talk about her as Fadwa Tuqan and then somewhere else mention that, "by the way, Ibrahim Tuqan was her brother". Let's not throw her under the shadow of a man, even if it's her brother, who was a great poet, we can't deny that.
So this is Fadwa Tuqan, a Palestinian poet, 40 years ago or 50 years ago, writing poetry... Of course, we always fall into this trap of saying "she was arrested for just writing poetry!" We do this, even us believers in literature, "Why would Israel arrest somebody or put somebody under house arrest if she only wrote a poem?!"
So we contradict ourselves sometimes. We believe in the power of literature, changing life as a means of resistance, a means of fighting back and in the end we say, "She just wrote a poem!" We shouldn't be saying that.
Moshe Daya, an Israeli general, said that the poems of Fadwa Tuqan were like facing 20 enemy fighters. Wow.
She didn't throw stones; she didn't shoot at the invading Israeli military jeeps. She just wrote poetry. And I'm falling for that again, I'm saying "she just wrote poetry".
So this is what how Israel's dealing with Palestinian poets, and the same thing happened to Palestinian poet Dareen Tatour. She wrote poetry celebrating Palestinian struggle; encouraging Palestinians to resist, not to give up, to fight back. She was put under house arrest. She was sent to prison for years.
And therefore I end here with a very significant point. Don't forget that Palestine was first and foremost occupied in Zionist literature and Zionist poetry.
Palestine was presented as these things, I'll be mentioning some of them, but there's a contradiction here, there's a paradox always. "Palestine is a land without a people to our people without a land", "Palestine flows with milk and honey", "there's no one there, so let's go". We'll see how later on, how many even Jewish people were disappointed when they came to Palestine. Number one, there was no milk and honey, because "flowing with milk and honey" sounds like you're just going to be groping around, and milk and honey will be thrown at you - and there were people! There have always been people in Palestine.
The fact that Israel worked hard to ethnically cleanse Palestine, to kick Palestinians out, first and foremost in literature - yes, in politics and everything - shows how significant poetry is.
To sum up, Palestine was occupied metaphorically in the poem long before it was physically and militarily occupied in your life, so let's do the same. Let's fight back; let's restore Palestine in in our writings; in our poetry; in our stories."
-Professor Refaat Alareer explaining to his students the power of poetry as a means of resistance, and why the occupation targets poets, during one of his lectures at IUG.
#refaat alareer#free palestine#literature#poetry#i'm always in awe of him when i listen to him#i'm thinking of making summaries of his other lectures too though i'd rather people hear it from him
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the reason i shared my great-grandmother's story on here a few months ago is not for sympathy or anything, its to illustrate to you just how deeply, deeply anti-Palestinian the idea of zionism is.
i remember my grandmother, the one who watched her mother die in her home, she called us with a plain tone of voice, and she said "she asked to be buried in [her village] but of course the the zionists wouldn't let that happen." the thing that will not leave my head was the way my grandmother said it, the way it just seemed so natural and so obvious to her. my grandmother is *not* a quiet woman, she yells everything she ever says, whether happy or sad but this she said softly. like she was resigned to this, she expected this.
this woman was exiled once from her village, then again from Palestine, then again and again and again and eventually forced to live in poverty in a refugee camp, she knows the 'israeli' state more intimately than anyone i know, she knows what it will and won't allow in its genocidal apparatus and to her it was obvious that they would not respect her mother's body or last wishes. she knew that.
and i always go back to it when i see discussions on here or on twitter or in academia, like you guys (the moderates, the apologists) have never ever spoken to a nakba survivor or a naksa survivor. you don't know just how deeply its affected our families.
so when we ask you to completely reject zionism, when we demand it from allies, we aren't saying this to be stubborn or nonsensical, we're saying it because we know where zionism will lead us. we've been through the "we just want peace" and the "we need to just talk it out" phases already, how can you not think we've been through those phases after 75 years. we've had our meet and greets and our appeals and now we're at literally the worst stage of genocide against our people and you're still insisting on "talking it out" or some variation of it.
the truth of the matter is that we don't have patience for zionism anymore because look where it got us. look where we're at. even soft zionists, you need to stamp those people out from pretending they've got good points, or that you need to build community with them or whatever. we are literally at the worst part of Palestinian history ever, we need to stop pretending there are grey zones to this. Zionist apologists and the like are creating ambiguity that literally gets our families killed under the guise of "complication". I'm sick and tired of watching these same discussions over and over again about how "Israel is a result of antisemitism" when it very much is not. I'm sick of seeing people who know NOTHING about colonization push their own agendas and provide cover for zionists to do whatever they want. Just stop talking about things you don't understand because I promise you, you're directly contributing to the violence you claim to abhor.
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I'd like to talk for a bit about the genre of post that's like "sure you're a boygirl fagdyke genderfreak but do you respect [trans identity]?" I think these sorts of posts do address a lot of important points, such as:
Even if you're genderqueer and going "gender isn't real! smash the binary!" there's a real possibility you haven't unlearned or might still be upholding some very transphobic sentiments, and you should do some introspection about that
Some people only want acceptance for their trans identity but don't want to do the work to deconstruct what gender looks like, stop holding other people to their own gendered expectations, and unlearn their internalized bigotry about different trans identities
Sometimes the [trans identity] is specifically relevant to the identities referenced, such as people who will do surface level acceptance of "boygirls" but then call multigender people problematic for using "contradictory" terms like male lesbian, or asking "are you normal about intersex people?" to point out the prevalent intersexism in the multigender community.
But if the [trans identity] or intersex identity being asked about isn't related to multigender community issues, it seems a little strange to consistently single out labels like boygirl and fagdyke that tend to be used by multigender people in these posts. All kinds of trans people can be transphobic about other trans identities. All kinds of trans people are capable of fighting for their own acceptance but not anyone else's. But these posts are pretty frequently just about boygirl fagdykes.
It reminds me of posts about a "theyfab named Sock being transmisogynistic." Are there transmisogynistic FTX nonbinary people? Yes, no one is immune from perpetuating transmisogyny. But these types of posts are still exorsexist.
Similarly, though I'm not saying the pattern of "sure you're a boygirl fagdyke genderfreak but do you respect [trans identity]" is necessarily exorsexist or transmultiphobic, since like I said they do address important points, some of which actually are multigender community issues. But people do use those types of posts to be really transmultiphobic and exorsexist, but in an "acceptable" way, because the boygirls are transphobic so it's okay to hate them.
Some examples in the notes of this sort of post asking 'are you normal about trans women?":
This assumes that multigender identities are only an online thing, only a young person thing, that all multigender people look cis in real life, that no multigender person has experienced real transphobia.
Again, this assumes that no multigender person "looks like a freak" for their gender, that they never struggle with transphobia offline. And straight up saying they have a "huge issue" with girlboy genders.
Multigender labels aren't "performative titles," they're our genders. This person is just straight up admitting they think our genders are fake, that they're only "titles" and not real fucking identities.
"I tend to Not like multigender people" okay so we're just saying the quiet part out loud now
By all means, keep talking about intracommunity transphobia. It's important. But don't throw multigender people under the bus to do so.
#transmultiphobia#was having a discussion on this with some other trans people and thought it might be worth posting about
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Sweet Temptations
Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: Azriel enters a bet with his brothers on who can go the longest without sex with their mate, Reader makes it hard for him to win.
Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ | p in v | creampie | rough sex | shadow play | the slightest bit of bondage | pet names (love, baby, angel) | 2k words of smut cause I love all you freaks
6.2k words
I tread softly down the long hallway, following the golden tether connecting me and my mate. Shadows weave through my fingers and twirl up my calves, following at my side until I stop at a familiar door.
I creak open the private library's door and peer my head in only to find Azriel in a large leather chair that I would be drowning in if it was me who sat in it. He was lounging carelessly, a book between his hands as he flipped through the pages.
If he knew I was at the doorway he didn’t show it, just continued reading without a stir, he didn't look up to me either. So I took the opportunity to gawk at the beauty that is my mate, to admire his elegant features. It was no secret Azriel was the prettiest of the three-winged Illyrians. It didn't matter what your type was, my mate seemed to be able to make anyone flush bright red with a few words.
My gaze wandered over his complexion that I’ve admired countless times, those sharp cheekbones that seemed to be able to cut steel, his tousled black waves that drifted over his forehead, those hazel eyes rapidly scanning over the page of his book, and his golden skin that was fully on display due to him being shirtless, I was the culprit for his missing clothing, the soft black shirt draped over my frame, going down to my exposed thighs.
"I can feel you staring." He finally speaks and I startle but he still doesn't look up to me. I decided just looking wasn't nearly enough, because anybody could look at him, and I didn't want to be anybody, I wanted my hands on him the way only a lover could have. I step into the private library and close the door behind me. My steps are silent as I approach his side but again, he's still not sparing me a glance.
Something like envy makes me frown, being jealous over a book was foolish but Azriel's eyes were always on me. He is constantly observing me, silently watching no matter the circumstance. It was such a normal occurrence in our relationship that I had grown used to his eternal notice, not realizing how much I loved it until now, until this foreign attention-craving attitude took over my emotions that screamed look at me.
"Azriel," I sit on the armrest of the large chair, I feel pathetic being so desperate like this.
"Hm?" That's all he replies with, but he still won't look at me, why won't he notice me? It wasn't that I needed the attention. He could do his own thing I didn't mind, but I also didn't want to be ignored.
"I'm going to make some breakfast, do you have a preference?" I place a hand on his arm, tracing my nail over his tattoo, something I do so often that I don’t have to look at the tattoo to know where the inky lines are.
"Whatever you make will be good." He said, his words slightly clipped. I crease my brows but nod and place a kiss on his temple before sliding off of the chair. Perhaps he was just preoccupied with his thoughts.
I walk back to the door, giving him one last confused glance before leaving the library and aiming my way towards the kitchen.
I decided on making a breakfast quiche, something simple so I could mull over my thoughts while I baked. I learned the recipe from Rhys's mother so it comforted both me and Azriel I suppose, growing up in that house every winter when they weren’t preoccupied at windhaven held some of my favorite memories, as well as some of the worst. I mated with Azriel in that house, on my twentieth birthday it had clicked and we’ve been together ever since— but this was the first time Azriel has ever ignored me.
As I cooked I wondered what was going on with him, to be distracted over what he was reading I could understand, I've done that to him nearly a hundred times but the way he spoke almost sounded restrained? Like he needed to hold back from saying anything else or even doing anything else but sit there still reading.
I played the quiche once it was done on two ornate plates. I've always liked to cook, but the three winged males seemed to be against it when we were younger, saying that I didn't have to since we were in Illyria, that just because I was a girl didn’t mean I had to pick up that lifestyle. I had to make it clear to them that I wasn't their maid and I wasn't even Illyrian, it's not like I went around cleaning up after the messy boys anyway, in fact, Rhys’s mother gave them more chores than me, which has always irked Cassian.
"Az, food is ready!" I shouted down the hall and to my surprise he came down the stairs in mere seconds, without the book in his hands. "For you." I slid one of the plates over to him and he blinked down at it, still not looking at me as he carried them over to the table.
"My favorite," He hummed as I walked over to him and placed utensils beside his dish. "Thank you." He picks up the fool and cuts into his quiche. I frown. He usually kisses me after I make a meal for him, or at the least gives me a hug. I muffle a sigh and opt to lean down and kiss his cheek instead, then take a seat beside him in front of my own meal.
We ate in silence like always, but today it was slightly uncomfortable, not fully awkward, but just... off. The food was good and Azriel had it disappearing in minutes, at least he still likes my cooking. When I finish he collects both of our dishes and takes them to the sink where he'll wash them later tonight.
"It was delicious as always my love, thank you." He calls over his shoulder as he wipes his hands, but he doesn't look at me. I would do anything right now to get him to look at me.
I look at the wall of windows to my side and notice the sun rising, golden and pink hues painting the sky. "Don't you have training with Cassian today?" I ask, flitting my eyes back to him.
"Mhm, I'm going to get ready now." He says at the base of the stairs. My stomach twists anxiously, have I done something wrong? Why is he being so distant?
“Can I come?” I ask once he’s halfway up the steps.
“If you’d like to, get dressed,” He replies dryly and a frown tugs at my lips. He only talked to me in vague words, not weighing in on his own opinion on anything like I was used to, normal flowing conversation. And maybe I was in my head, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to watch my mate train under the golden sun.
I rush up the stairs and enter my shared bedroom, going straight to the armoire and finding a simple outfit. I pull a pair of pants on, I wasn’t training and only spectating but it’d feel wrong to show up to a training ring in a gown. I swapped out Azriel’s shirt that still clung to my body for a top that matched my flowing bottoms, the style reminding me of what Amren typically wore.
“Az can you tie me?” I approached his side of the bedroom where he was adjusting the siphon on his gauntlet. I turned around and held my hair up before he could reply, but instead of his hands that grabbed ahold of the strings it was silky shadows, cold against my bare back as they tied the strings into dainty bows.
He walked out of the room before they were finished and I chased after him, feeling pathetic while trying any ploy to get his attention but if he would just tell me what was going on I’d be willing to help him, but I couldn’t do that if he ignored me.
I intertwined my hand with his and he squeezed it on instinct, then quickly loosened his hold like he wasn’t allowed to show me any form of affection.
He wasted no time before shadow-walking us to the top of the house of wind where Cassian always trained with my mate. He doesn't say anything, just lets us slip into that darkness of realms. I cling to his arm tighter, just in case I fall into another pitch-black realm full of mysterious creatures. The darkness only lasted a mere second until we were on the roof of the mansion Az and I used to live in.
I steady myself with Azriel's arm but he doesn't return the movement, as if he didn't want me to be anywhere near him. I disband our arms as soon as I can stand on my own. I notice Cassian across the rooftop, Nesta beside him, seething so noticeably I thought steam might come from her ears. I walk over to the sitting area where the water station resides, Nesta following suit as our mates warm up with their usual movements.
I knew better than to ask Nesta why she seemed so irritated but when she sat right beside me I felt safe enough to say she wasn't mad at anything to do with me.
Nesta and I had become close friends while I resided at the house of wind, Azriel and I only moved out about a year after her and Cassian’s mating bond clicked. But during that time Nesta would often confide in me. When she felt she couldn't talk to Cassian but needed someone, anyone who would understand. I happened to be that person. It started with romance book recommendations the house hadn't already given to her, then moved to deeper things. Things like Tomas or problems she was having with Cassian, or even her struggles with the power from the Cauldron. However, there were still things she refused to talk about, her sisters for example.
"I'm going to kill him." She gritted out as the two males began to spar.
"Tell me about it." I huffed, staring at the warriors fighting so roughly, not their usual fluid movements. Like they needed to get an anger out that's been pent up. Sweat glistened off their tan skin, discarding their shirts minutes ago— not going past me or Nesta's notice. The golden sun beamed down on them like a spotlight as they battled, swords clashing and slamming down onto the others, they were uncontrolled and savage, so far from the routine maneuvers and clever counters.
"What'd he do this time?" I ask, propping my elbows on my knees and leaning my chin into my hands, boredom enveloping me with open arms.
"He's not paying any attention to me." She huffs and I freeze. "I went as far as to try and give him head this morning and he outright ignored me," Nesta grumbled, picking at her nails. My confusion doubled over.
"Azriel's doing the same," I mumbled, sitting up to look at her confused. "He won’t look at me and will barely even talk to me," I explain and she glares at the two men on the mat, her stare so deathly I thought lightning might strike down on our mates.
"There's no way they've turned celibate right?" Nesta creased her brows and I snort at the idea alone.
"Them two? No way." I shake my head, leaning back into my chair.
"Maybe we should contact Feyre, perhaps Rhys has something to do with this." I offer.
"The three of them always seem to be up to something." She glowered.
"I'll be right back unless you want to come to the River house with me?" I ask. She shakes her head no and I nod, understanding.
I winnow straight into the foyer of the River House. Feyre who was sitting in the living room looked more than pissed. She glanced at me but wasn’t shocked when I suddenly appeared in her home. "Is Rhys ignoring you?" I sigh and she nods with a frown. "Where is he?" I glance around the sitting room as if the High Lord might be hiding.
"Out with Nyx," She kicks the toddler's toy by her foot weakly.
"What the hel is going on?" I sit beside her on the couch.
"They're doing a bet." She rolls her eyes. "Who can ‘hold out’ the longest." She makes a quotation gesture around her words and I scoff.
"You're kidding." My jaw nearly drops.
"Nope. They thought it'd be the only thing they could beat Azriel at, so you probably have it the worst." She huffs. "Stupid Illyrian pride." The high lady uttered. I'm going to strangle my mate.
"So they’re doing a sex ban on each other." I scratch the back of my head in astonishment.
"Sounds typical." She hums.
"I'm going to fix this. We’re going to make them lose." I stand from my seat. "Put on your sluttiest outfit and get Nyx a babysitter," I order her, an idea blooming in my head. "They might be prideful but not even Rhys can resist a wanting female," I explain and a feline smile curves over her lips.
I had told Nesta the same as Feyre, dress in something her mate can’t resist her in, drive him mad. We both left training before it was over. The males didn't bother noticing so we didn't say goodbye.
I took my time in choosing an outfit. The idea of Azriel's pride being more important than so much as looking at me made me beyond furious. If he wanted to ignore me over a stupid bet then I'd give him a taste of his own medicine. I selected a lingerie set that was a cobalt blue, his favorite color to see me in, due to it matching the color of his siphons, it was some possessive nature to have me dressed in a color that so clearly connected me to him.
I put the set on, delicate lace and soft mesh that he's yet to see, the kind I know he loves to rip off. I put on a white nightgown over the garments, sheer enough to still see the sapphire underwear but also opaque enough to prompt curiosity. I leave my hair down, I don't mess with it at all. He likes it down, and likes to run his hands through it. Another thing I won't let him do until he admits to losing this stupid wager between him and his brothers. I put a thin garter on my thigh, the only blue piece fully visible.
I run my fingers along a shelf of perfumes, selecting the one I usually wore when we went on dates, reminding him of those nights he'd run the tip of his nose along the column of my throat and smell that insatiable scent. I sprayed it on me, but also misted his reading chair with it, he couldn't escape the thought of me if he tried. A devious smile curved my lips as I placed the perfume back into its rightful place.
The front door of the house opens and I freeze. I know it's him. I grin and exit our bedroom, padding down the stairs until I'm just across the hall from him. His hair was pushed back and he was still glistening in sweat. Gods, he looked so perfect it was hard to stay mad. But when he didn't bother glancing at me all that rage returned.
A shadow swirled up my thigh and I allowed it to travel around the garter. Another zipped toward me, curving around my waist as if to recognize what I was wearing. I smiled down at the dark tendrils and they zipped away, quickly returning to their master and brushing up his wings, those perfect and large wings I needed my hands on. Shadows curved around his ear, telling him all about what I was wearing and immediately his gaze snapped to mine.
Those hazel eyes finally came into contact with my own. And gods how nice it was to be seen again. I remained strong. I gave him a gentle smile and walked closer.
"What are you doing?" His eyes followed me, that familiar attentiveness I missed so much returning.
"What do you mean?" I tilt my head innocently.
"Why are you dressed like that." His hands fist at his sides and I allow his eyes to drift everywhere.
"The nightgown was a gift from the boutique in The Rainbow, on the house after I bought all those presents for solstice," I explain, the lie easy on my tongue, I had bought this for our anniversary which was only a few weeks from now, but seeing that utterly desperate look on his face made showing him earlier worth it. "Do you not like it?" I do a small twirl and his knuckles turn white as the dress flows up and reveals a portion of my underwear.
"It's see-through." He gritted out and I frowned, looking down at myself.
"Is it? I hadn't realized. It's hard to tell in the darkness of our bedroom I suppose." I shrug, looking back up to him.
"It's pretty, just wear a slip under it if we leave the house." He hums casually, then brushes past me and goes into the library. Anger simmers inside of me as I hear the door close. How had that not worked? How much more direct could I get?
I sigh and quickly follow after him. Opening the door and shutting it behind me. He sat in the leather chair, as expected, book in his hands.
I wandered the room absent-minded, peering at the shelves with curious eyes, plotting my next move.
I smile at the idea I get and begin reaching for a book far out of my reach.
“Az? Can you help me?” I mumble, but my reaching causes my dress to lift so when he looks over at me he’s met with the most tempting sight he had ever seen. His movements were rigid as he stood up, coming closer but I didn’t move out of his way, just continuing to jump for the book. “The green one,” I gestured to the dusty spine and he nods, easily grabbing it for me but once I stop reaching for it I settle flat onto my feet, the curve of my ass coming back to press against his hips. He let out a quiet, low grunt that I wouldn’t have been able to hear if he wasn’t right behind me.
I turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. He holds the book I had no interest in reading out to me, his white knuckling grip proof of his restraint.
“Thanks, Az,” I take the book and he nods with a grunt before going back to his chair, sinking into it with a slightly defeated demeanor, his pitiful expression making me smile.
I bound over to his chair, settling myself on the armrest, my legs draped over his as he continued to ignore me. I place a hand on his bare shoulder and begin massaging the tight area.
"You're sore Az," I mumble. "Maybe we should take a bath?" I tilt my head. His face remains stoic, but he is gripping his book like the edge of a cliff.
I move my hands lower, to his shoulder blade where I could knead the knot of muscle there. "What do you think? I'll even wash your wings." I brush my fingers over where his wings began at his muscular back. He jolted, his book slamming shut and his head whipping to me with a wide lust-filled gaze. "Is that a yes?" I chuckle. He only narrows his eyes, like a silent interrogation. "Az, I'm going to need some words." I place a hand on his cheek.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" He says through his teeth.
"Doing what?" My voice was innocent, if he didn't know any better he'd be buying it.
"I just know those training sessions are so long and hard, I thought it'd be nice to reward my mate." My selected words weren't helping his case.
“What do you know?” He says the words like a threat and I giggle nervously.
“Are you alright Az? You’ve been acting weird all morning,” I observe and a muscle in his jaw feathers as he tightens it shut, I run my fingers down that very jaw, feeling it flex under my touch as he attempts to read me. “Are you worried about something? You know I’m always willing to help you relieve your stress,” I hum, slowly slipping into his lap, straddling over his hips and his eyes just follow the action, admiring the way I fit so perfectly on top of him.
“No, love I’m fine,” He defends and I dip down, trailing kisses down his neck, finding his pulse point and swiping my tongue over the area.
“You sure, there’s nothing I can do for you?” I tease my hips over his erect length, painfully straining against his pants. I return to the area of his neck, sucking hard as he attempts a reply.
“No, I, fuck— love, I’m fine,” He curses and a smile curves my lips in triumph.
“Alright,” I pull from his neck. “If there’s anything you want me to do I’ll do it, okay?” I stress my words with a slight lift to my brows and he nods hesitantly. “I think I’m going to take a nap, why don’t you join me? It could help call your nerves?” I offer and he nods, thinking it a good idea to sleep through the rest of this stupid bet until one of his brothers gives in but by gods was he wrong.
I get off his lap and grab his hands after he sets his book down, pulling him up and then guiding him to our bedroom with an effortless sway of my hips they had his hands tightening on mine.
Once we were in the comfort of our bedroom he shut the door behind us and I let go of his hands in favor of grabbing the straps of my nightgown and dipping them from my shoulders, allowing the sheer fabric to pool at the floor, revealing my lingerie set to him entirely.
“What are you doing?” He grits through his teeth, I look back at him and I nearly laugh. He was backed up against the door like prey trapped in a lion's den. I smirk at him and crawl into our bed.
“That nightgown is too itchy to sleep in, this is much better,” I sigh and he swallows thickly, slowly approaching our bed like it might explode at any sudden movement.
He eventually strips down to his boxers and slides into the sheets beside me, I waste little time before throwing myself over him like a second mattress.
My legs intertwine with his, my arms wrapping around the back of his neck, my body pressed to his. He flexed at the feeling of my breasts brushing against his bare chest.
“Are you always this touchy?” He said and I asked, pulling him impossibly closer.
“You don’t like it?” I feign a pout and he pales, brows creasing.
“No, I’m sorry my love I just, I hadn’t noticed it until today,” He stumbles over his words, making my frown turn into a sickeningly sweet smirk.
“You’re so cute Az,” I mumbled, leaning up and pecking his lips tenderly. “I love you,” I whisper so softly that if he wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. But he did, and it wasn’t the lingerie, or the perfume, or even kissing his neck that made him snap, no, it was those three words that he thought he’d never hear romantically, and I just gave them to him so casually he thought the world stopped spinning for a moment.
“Oh, fuck it,” He grumbled before crashing his lips onto mine, the tension leaving my body as he rolls over me and settles between my legs. His kiss was starving, like he couldn’t get enough, he had been craving me all day and ignoring that feeling but now it was all crashing down onto him at once and it was impossible to get enough. His kiss was all-consuming as his thumb came to my chin and opened my mouth manually, his tongue slipping inside without forethought. My tongue met his just as quickly, they didn’t battle but they danced around each other, a steady balance of give and take between us.
“You have no idea how much I need to fuck you,” He pants onto my lips and I smile.
“What are you waiting for?” I tease and he shakes his head.
“No, it’s not making love, I need to fuck you,” He warns and a primal part of me loves the tone of his voice, the neediness of his words.
“C’mon Az don’t be shy, fuck me already,” I plead and he moves from my lips down to my neck, his mouth mapping every expanse of skin he can find.
“You’re evil,” He sighs against my chest as I arch my breasts into his face.
“You ignored me all morning, you’re the evil one,” I claim and he smirks.
“I’m sorry baby, let me make it up to you,” He hums, then moves lower, so much lower until his breath was fanning against my inner thigh and he was leaving hickeys trailing up to my heat. His eyes glow golden as he looks up at me, pure lust as his expression.
"Please." I nod my head and he's like a fucking beast ready to have a full-course meal.
He wastes no time, not one second was I not being pleasured. Scarred fingers dip into the waistband of my panties, pulling at them with a force that makes them tear. His breath fans over my slick and I arch up, grabbing onto the sheets to keep myself steady.
He lifts a leg over his shoulder and a long swipe of his perfect tongue passes through my folds. It all happened so quickly, how soaked I was for him. I could feel him smiling against my cunt, as if he was craving the taste of me all day and finally got it on his tongue, his tongue that was swirling over my clit in tight circling motions.
I mewled, my back arching as fingers swiped through my sex, lubing himself with my ecstasy before entering two long fingers where I needed him most.
"Oh fuck," I breathed out, my head falling back against the shelf, it was all so fast, so needy.
"You’re so perfect like this, spread out like a good girl who can’t wait to be eaten," His baritone voice against the apex of my thighs reverberated up my spine making me shiver.
"Mhm," I nod helplessly, relishing in the feeling of his scars rubbing against my sensitive walls, those scars that added so much to the feel of his fingers inside of me, toying with that spongy bundle of nerves that was so relentless for more.
I moaned his name repeatedly, grinding down on his hand and his face as he sucked and licked at my clit. The stimulation was too much and I was hurdling toward a release.
"Az, I'm gonna—" My breath gets caught in my throat as he lays his tongue flat against my folds, his nose digging into my clit.
"I know baby, go ahead." Cold air fanned against my slick and my hands twined into his hair, forcing his face into my cunt as I ground my hips up onto his tongue, matching the thrusts of his fingers as that knot in the pit of my stomach tightened. He groaned at the feeling of me shoving his face into my heat, letting out a grunt as he ruts his hips down onto the bed, needing to be inside of me.
"Cum on my tongue." His voice was a demand, the kind of voice that made people fear him, the kind of voice that had me unraveling on his fingers, just like he ordered.
A string of moans escaped me, my head lolling back as euphoric waves crashed into me. He supported my hips since my legs were rendered useless from shaking too damned much. He gave gentle kitten licks to my now overstimulated cunt, allowing me to gently come down. He slowly lifted from between my thighs, slick coating his lips and he licked them clean, as if savoring the taste of me.
He brought his mouth to mine, allowing me to taste myself as I threw my arms around his neck carelessly, pulling his weight down onto me, needing to be entirely consumed by him as I sampled myself off his tongue.
“Fuck me Az,” I murmur.
“I won’t be able to control myself,” He shakes his head but I didn’t care, I needed more, needed his heavy cock sheathed inside of me.
“I don’t want control, I want you feral,” I beg and something primal sparks in his gaze, a slow smirk forming over his lips.
“On your stomach then,” He orders and my chest fills with both nerves and excitement as I do as he says, flipping over and hiking up onto my knees, my pussy throbbing in anticipation as I straddle my legs, my body forming a perfect crescent moon as I arched my ass up, arms supporting the rest of my body so I don’t fall into the pillows.
His hands come to my hips, dragging from my waist to my thighs, over the curve of my ass, then repeating. He was savoring the feel of me, the view I was so generously offering him.
The rustling behind me hinted that he had freed himself from his boxers and I was proven correct when his leaking tip pressed into my folds. I whimpered at the feel of his head running through the expanse of my pussy, pre-cum mixing with my arousal, the natural lubricant preparing him for his entrance.
He leans over me, his chest slick with sweat as his lips come beside my ear, pressing kisses to my shoulder. “You going to be good?” He hums and I nod with a whine. Shadows twine around my wrists, bounding them down onto the bed forcefully. “Three taps if it’s too much alright?” He says and I nod, closing my eyes in a slow blink, mentally preparing myself as he aligns his cock to my slit.
Slowly, he pushes himself in and I take every inch with a never-ending stream of euphoria. His movements started slow but he was right, he couldn’t control himself and his thrusts quickly turned impossible to keep up with.
A moan tore from my throat as he finally managed to stuff himself completely inside of me, his balls slapping against my sopping folds, the arousal dripping down my purple-marked thighs. “Az,” I mewl, throwing my head back as he continues his relentless pace, his thrusts rough and hungry and everything I had ever craved.
“M’yours, I’m all yours,” I sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the intense feeling of him nestled so deep inside of me. “That’s right, my perfect slut to ruin,” He grunts and my back bows into his chest at the words, making him hit me deeper. He curses and goes so much faster at the new angle, every other drive into me left a soft whimper slipping from his throat, his noises so quiet yet so close to my ear and allowing me to hear just how much I was affecting him.
I clamped down on his thick length, slowly grinding my hips down onto his, gradually growing quicker and meeting each of his thrusts.
If I thought he was savage on the training mats then he must’ve been untamable when pummeling every inch of him into my puffy pussy that pulsed at each movement.
“Gods, Azriel,” I scream his name, his pace relentless as my mind loses thought, becoming incoherent to anything but the way he shoved himself into me, past that bundle of nerves and kissing up against my cervix. A ring of my arousal formed on the base of his cock. “That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl,” He sighs, his breath fanning over the shell of my ear and making me squeeze around him, needy for more.
He loves the visual of me splayed out for him, swallowing his cock, hips clapping against mine each time he rams into me with an unmatched force, each of them landing perfectly on the tip of him grinding against the most sensitive part of me as I convulsed, my legs spreading wider as I sink lower, making his thrusts faster, harder. Tears roll down my cheeks as I continue to take it, taking all of him without hesitation. “Your perfect fucking pussy is so— fuck s’gripping me so tight,” He grinds out and I know from the underlying whine of his voice that he’s close, and thank gods for it cause I doubted I’d last another moment with my sanity.
“Az, please, please,” I cry, unable to say anything else as he continues to hit home every, single, time. “So full, Az,” I murmur, my head heavy with lust as he fucks me senseless. “Yeah? All you can think about is my cock, isn’t that right?” He purrs beside my ear and I nod fervently, agreeing to whatever he wants me to do, I just needed more.
Shadows listen to my silent request and brush down my stomach teasingly, feeling the way Azriel pumped into me so deep you could see him in my abdomen, the silky darkness curling downward and coming to my clit, making me gasp in ecstasy.
His fingers join his shadows, scooping through my folds and gathering my arousal before smearing it along my clit and then rubbing it harshly in tight little circles that left me defenseless. My entire body obeyed his touch as his ministrations continued. “Fuck, need to come Az, please,” I whine, feeling that coil tighten until it was bordering on snapping. “Come for me, wanna see you milk my cock,” He nips at my shoulder and thrusts forcefully inside of me, his head ramming into my cervix so very close to my womb, his fingers dig into my clit rougher, his calloused fingers providing so much more friction. Saliva pools in my mouth as my orgasm crests and I finally feel that immense relief I’ve been craving all morning. “I’m coming, m’comin—” I was cut off by a lewd moan, rapture surging up and down my body as I gush around his cock, white-hot pleasure consuming me.
I lay beneath him as I slowly come down from my climax but his movements don’t cease as I jolted in over stimulation, his shadows eased off my clit allowing relief but my pussy wasn’t given the same treatment, he continued to bury himself inside of me, harder, faster, deeper.
I whine, not daring to reject him like his perfect doll, clenching at the sheets as he ruts into my aching cunt. “Fill me up, Az, want your cum so bad,” I whimper and he smiles against my neck. “Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up ‘til it’s leaking out? Stuff you full?” He asks and I mewl, lewd sounds rolling off my tongue without permission.
“Mhm,” I nod, writhing against the sheets at the intense feeling. I clench hard around him and he twitched, letting out a low grunt and without another warning, his warm seed released and spurted from his cock, into my cunt. He moaned, his sounds equally arousing as his movements inside of me. “You’re a fuckin’ angel, baby,” He pants, hands roaming along my waist as he slowly pulls himself from my slit, a whimper leaving my throat at the emptiness he left me with. He stares down at the apex of my thighs, where his cum seeped out of me, mixing with mine.
I flip onto my back and stare up at him panting with a drunken smile, my pussy throbbing as I come down from that stimulation.
I tremble as his fingers brush up my inner thighs, gathering any liquid that escaped me and then pushing them back into my cunt with ease. I gasped, my back arching, it was too much, it was all too much. And I loved every moment of it.
He lazily fingered my pussy, his languid movements making me babble in protest. “I know baby but we can’t let any of this go to waste, can we?” He hums and I shake my head no with a pout. “That’s right, m’ gonna fuck you all day, make you feel so good,” He said and my body tremors at the promise of his voice, and I knew immediately walking would be impossible tomorrow.
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This made me sick to think about so maybe you would like it. Sorry this is so long 😭 but my brain worms were at it.
Three months later, Pup reader eventually going into a catatonic state. You stop eating so the handlers eventually put you on an IV and a feeding tube, but when you stop moving, they worry your muscles may start to atrophy. You have already developed sores but still don’t move.
One of the handlers goes rogue and calls John. His number was still on your paperwork when he surrendered you. The handler asks John to reconsider without mentioning what’s happening. He stands firm and says no, just assuming that someone must have returned you back to the shelter. He knows you’ll find a home eventually, but he had enough to deal with at home.
Meanwhile, Simon, Johnny and Kyle are pissed. The new pup John had got was a handful to say the least. Three months of correcting the pup’s behavior over and over again. She was too rambunctious. Not docile like you and didn’t respect boundaries. Where your playful nips at Johnny’s arm would barely register, hers were sharp and painful. She constantly got in whatever bed she pleased and took whatever resources she wanted.
Kyle just relented he became so annoyed, only showing his teeth in warning. Johnny would straight up shoulder check the pup.
Things eventually come to a head when Simon straight up attacks her. He was having as PTSD episode and pup thought it would be a good time to jump on him while he was asleep.
The attack luckily didn’t injure her too badly, but after that she wasn’t submissive, she was aggressive. To everyone. The other pups and even John. Snapping and baring her teeth. It wasn’t until her teeth made contact with John did he realize something needed to be done.
So he called Laswell. She knew the pup needed a female presence and her and her wife were happy to help.
A month passes since the phone call from the shelter. The boys were even more tense than before the other pup left. None of them wanting to be around each other more than necessary. John knew what he had to do.
So he called the shelter, asking had you been adopted yet. An awkward pause before the volunteer on the other line says they need to get their supervisor.
Supervisor informs John that you stopped eating and moving. Because the volunteers could only do so much, they had to put you into a facility that could better help with the long term care you would need.
John is able to pull some strings and get in contact with the facility.
Option 1:
When John goes to the facility, you don’t snap out of it. You don’t believe he’s really came for you. Not when he puts the collar back on your neck or has practically carry you to the car. Not even when the boys surround you, sniffing and pawing.
John has to hand feed you. Even then the boys take over with that, now hating John for what he did to you.
You eventually “come back”, but the fear is always there. You don’t go outside without the boys and you’re always afraid to be alone with John. Forget car rides. The last time you were due for a check up, even having everyone in it did nothing to help your panic attack. Pleading not to go back to the shelter. That you’ll be good. John can hear your soft cries at night before one of the boys eventually crawls in your bed, promising to not let you go again.
Option 2 (I’ll make this short I promise)
The facility didn’t intervene when it came to you wanting to die. That was your choice and the resources couldn’t be wasted. So when John receives a very sincere apology from the facility coordinator that you had chosen to be on the euthanasia list, he is in consolable.
However, a vet tech sees how adorable you are and just can’t let that happen, so they call their cousin.
Zeus was looking for a new pup for oversized hounds to play with.
König all too happy to have a new playmate. He and Nikto often fought over who you would be sharing a bed with before finally just laying down with your in yours. In the middle of the night, Horangi would pull you out of the pile and take you to his own bed.
You eventually started to come back to life. The boys weren’t the same as your other ones, but it was still nice.
John tells the boys you had already been adopted, too afraid of what the truth would do to their dynamic. He has to forever live with the guilt of thinking you had died.
let’s go with option one
c/w: mentions of abandonment trauma, hybrids
there was a period of time where john lost hope that you would get better even after he bought you home. it certainly wasn’t going to stop him and the boys trying, however. john knew how much he’d fucked up when he heard the boys sad whines and yowls when he walked through the door with you
johnny instantly got to work making a nest in the space under the stairs. a cozy dim light hanging above a big pile of duvets and blankets, soft pillows that smell like them. john would give you space as the boys trap you in their arms, scenting over you and nuzzling into your skin until you smell like them again :(
they hold you when you cry, placing kisses to your shoulders and cheeks and the top of your head whisky you let all your sadness out. sometimes, you push them away. wailing that you don’t want them near you right now but eventually you let them back in to cuddle you. you feel weak but you’ve been so lonely and you’ve missed them terribly despite what they did
thinking about how the grief you had been dealing with had thrown your body right off track. not having a natural heat cycle until a good few months after returning home. you didn’t allow any of them in the room with you during that cycle, despite how kyle and johnny whined at the door, begging you to let them come in and take care of you
their whining didn’t last long when simon comes over and snaps at them, telling them to leave you alone whilst the sulk off with flattened ears
it had taken a while for you to warm up to john again. he understood completely. he had completely shattered your heart and trust in them. he wouldn’t put your collar back on until you were completely okay with it. he wanted you to ask. wants it to be something that you want
he begins to think you’ll never forgive him until one night you shuffled into his room nervously, fiddling with your hands in front of you, “can I sleep in here?”
he’d hoped you would at least sleep in his bed with him. let him snuggle you under his big plush duvet and scratch your scalp until you fall asleep but he understands. it’s baby steps. at least now you’ll actually be in the same room as him one on one
#mw2#cod mw2#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost x reader#john price x reader#captain john price#john price#captain john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#john mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish#pup!141#owner!price
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“I had a Zionist grandmother who grew up, she grew up in Poland, she was supposed to go to Israel to study. Her father had paid for her for the first year of tuition. And then in 1939, when she was in her last year of high school, Germany and the Soviet Union invaded Poland.
She ended up for a couple of years in the Soviet-occupied part of Poland, which was how she ended up in Moscow. And by the time Germany occupied all of Poland. So then she spent the rest of her life living in Moscow.
And 45 years after the end of the war, dreaming of being able to go to Israel, but not being able to because she was now stuck in the Soviet Union. And so I think I was very infected by, infected in a non-derogatory sense, by my grandmother's dream of Israel. And I had my own dream of Israel growing up as a, as a Jewish kid who was bullied and beaten up and teased.
I just wanted to live in a country that, that was majority Jewish. I could not understand why my parents would want to go to the United States and live in another country where Jews are in the minority. My parents on the other hand just didn't want to be Jewish.
Like their only experience of being Jewish was being systematically discriminated against. They were both born during the Second World War, so they were second generation, utterly non-religious and separated from any Jewish tradition, except the tradition of being a targeted minority. So they just, they just wanted to go somewhere where they wouldn't be Jewish.
And so when I was 15, a year after we moved to the United States, I actually went to Israel planning to stay there and didn't. For a variety of reasons, but one of them was being confronted with, with what I found at the age of 15, a shockingly racist society.
So the first time I went to Israel was when I was 15, it was 1982. And then there was like an 18, 17 or 18 year gap.
And I started traveling to Israel regularly from 1999, 2000. And the first time I went back was to actually complete the research on the book about my grandmother's. So it's been a good 25 years that I've been coming back.
And I think Israel has undergone a lot of changes in that time. But no, I don't think that like the kind of Ashkenazi Sephardic racism that shocked me in 1982 has found subtler expressions. But politics of settlement have only been exacerbated.
And I still find them extremely painful to observe, especially because some of my beloved relatives are settlers.
I did visit them this last time I was in Israel, because I really wanted to see what it looked like for them.
I was compelled to go visit them because of a Facebook post that my cousin made. And just to give you an idea, I really hold these people very, very dear. But for years, I would go to Israel, Palestine and not tell them that I was there, because I kind of couldn't face them.
So it's been a number of years since I last saw them, a number of years since I went to that settlement. But my cousin had posted something on Facebook. It was a picture of her son playing the violin.
And she wrote, in one of the houses where they stayed in Gaza, there was a violin. He played for his soldiers and then put the violin back. And I found that post-heart trending and eye-opening, the picture of him playing the violin was not from Gaza.
It was from earlier, but he had apparently told her about playing the violin in Gaza. And obviously she was worried about her son serving in Gaza and so she's posting about it. And she wants to assert that he is a good boy.
But also, entirely missing from that post and from her world view is that somebody lived in that house in Gaza. That violin belonged to somebody. Like, it was such an extraordinary example of the blindness that we were talking about a little bit earlier that I wanted to go visit them and kind of engage with that blindness more.
And I got a really good dose of blindness to the point where, and we had this incredible moment when we went walking around the settlement after Shabbat lunch. And we sort of got to this hilltop where there's a swing and there's a little free library.
And we're looking out on a Palestinian village. And I said, what are we looking at, to my cousin? And she was trying to get her bearings.
And she said, where are we looking? And she named another settlement, which was kind of, which was not on our line of sight. It was like this literal example of looking at an actual Palestinian village that she drives past every day.
And before the village was sealed off after October 7th, she used to get gas there. And she knows it exists. But somehow she, also it also doesn't enter her geography.
It is nameless.”
—Masha Gessen, the descendant of Holocaust survivors, discusses the dehumanization of Palestinians (part 2 of 3)
#politics#palestine#israel#masha gessen#antisemitism#anti zionisim#anti zionism ≠ antisemitism#weaponized antisemitism#weaponized zionism#hasbara#israeli propaganda#identity politics#weaponized identity politics#🇵🇸#idpol#israel is a terrorist state#israel is an apartheid state#college protests#dehumanization#settler violence#settler colonialism
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“Why’s she so rude?” (She’s Not)- Stereotypes, pt2
So I'm sure that you all thought I was going to give a blow-by-blow list of "visual stereotypes to avoid". I'm going to be honest here, I thought about it, and figured it would be redundant. My page already includes sensitivity on depicting Black people. So instead, I'm going to focus on stereotypical "character" concepts, so that you can 1) not write it in your stories and/or 2) recognize it in media (fiction and reality!) and in life!
Two major resources: the Jim Crow Museum website is an EXCELLENT resource to understand the imagery of antiblack racism in U.S. history and society. The other, White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad. The book focuses on the many racist stereotypes projected onto women of color and how that purposeful, systemic negative perception of us bleeds into every aspect of our lives- specifically by white women/white feminists who believe that they are not contributing to said oppression.
I'll start with Black women, just because I’m passionate about it (obviously) and there are so many things I wish I had and hadn’t seen growing up. We deserve better by the year of our lord 2024.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of sexual assault, assault
Misogynoir
What I want everyone to understand, before I get into this, is the concept of intersectionality, and more specifically, misogynoir. Misogynoir is the specific type of contempt and prejudice that Black women face at the intersection of race and gender. I say this because you might read these things and go “oh, as a woman, I experience these things!” I get it, but I want you to PAUSE, and remember, that right now, we are talking about Black women’s experiences. And those will often be different, due to that intersection of identities. And that understanding will have an effect on how you understand (and thus, write) those experiences.
The Jezebel
The link goes into much deeper detail, but the Jezebel is the idea that a Black woman or girl who is sexual is somehow “fast”, “salacious”, “a hoe”, “driven by desire/doesn’t understand purity”, and at its worst, unable to be r*ped/a victim because she is less valuable yet somehow inherently seductive to men.
This gets thrown around CONSTANTLY in media and life for Black women (my first experience of treated like I was ‘fast’ was when I was like… twelve?) One major, visible example is Megan Thee Stallion. Meg has a college degree, she likes anime, she’s a brilliant rapper, and has an entire personality and struggles she’s shared… But she also likes to dress scantily clad and have sex. By doing those things, she ‘lessened in value’. And because of this, when she was shot at and assaulted, even Black people questioned her character, rather than understanding that she could have been anyone, and she still wouldn’t have deserved to be assaulted. She's not allowed to be multi-faceted; she "brought it on herself".
Black girls and women who happen to take charge of their own sexuality, to the discomfort of society, are treated as Jezebels- as whores. Think about it- if one of Taylor Swift's recent boyfriends shot at her, would the media question her value or her word? Question her equivalently high ‘body count’?
Question how you write your Black woman- she can enjoy sex! She can be sexy! We love to see it! But if you're punishing her specifically, or judging her within the narrative, versus your other characters who are allowed to safely explore and act upon their sexuality… Check your judgment! Why do you feel the way you do about this character? Why do you think that your Black character is the one that should be judged for her actions. Would you feel this way if it were a nonblack character?
The Sapphire/Angry Black Woman
Ohohoho, I have infinite amounts of feelings about this one.
This is the "sassy Black friend", the "aggressive Black boss", “step on me angry mommy”, the one who does the z formation and makes everyone "uncomfortable". She’s not allowed to be confident, assertive, or self-assured- she’s arrogant, rude, and aggressive.
I discussed it in part one, but I'll reemphasize it: your Black woman doesn't have to be an ‘Angry Black Woman’ in order to be angry! Just like any other human being on the planet, we are allowed to be mad. (In my honest opinion, we have a lot to be mad about, but I digress 😅)
If the only character that ever gets angry is your Black character, I want you to consider why. What is she angry at? Was this something you wanted the reader to understand or empathize with? Are we supposed to disagree? How does everyone around her treat her anger? Is her anger righteous? Is she always shut down or dismissed for it? Is it only meant to defend her friends, but never herself? Does the narrative suggest that it’s only good in use of others and not herself? Would this be the same reaction if one of the nonblack characters was angry? Is this something you did on purpose?
Very often, we're called 'angry Black women/girls' to invalidate our emotions. My therapist once said anger is a protective emotion. We might be hurt, overstimulated, sad, depressed, frightened, anxious… But we are often not allowed the grace of others digging deeper to see that. Even if the other characters do not understand her anger, even if her motives are not meant to be understood at the moment… you as the writer should be aware. But if every time it’s time to show anger or upset, it’s your Black character… consider why this is the one you thought would best convey that message, and how your Black readers might feel seeing that this character (who may not even be the ‘bad guy’) is the one that is ‘only’ angry. No other development, no other emotions, just… there to be mad.
I take this one to heart, as someone who feels very passionately about things… this is one of those things where I wish, in life and in media, people would have more grace for Black women. We're human, too. We have feelings, too.
The Mammy
This one isn’t as visually blatant anymore in media as it was in the past (like every Mammy doesnt look like Aunt Jemima), but you may have seen this one as "the mommy figure". The "lesbian that parents the silly gay boys". The one that’s always encouraging the ship of the white boys, but never the one allowed to be in the ship (especially when her ship is canon!)
A good example of this was how people expected Jessica Drew from ATSV to be "more loving" to Gwen, rather than the mentor and boss she was (plus, as a Black woman with a Black mother… trust and believe, she was quite direct and gentle). And in comparison to her counterpart, white man Peter B. Parker, was decried far worse for similar detrimental actions.
The Mammy often serves in opposition to the Jezebel and Sapphire/Angry Black Woman. What makes the Mammy particularly annoying is that it implies that the only good Black woman character is a ‘nice’, demure, unthreatening, homely, motherly figure whose job it is to make sure to center the (usually) white ones. The Mammy is expected to coddle everyone, to her own detriment. She's a ‘good Black’ because she causes no issue, raises no fuss, never shows a negative feeling, knows that she has to ‘be strong’ but to always defer because the white characters know best. She’s ‘not a threat’, and that’s why she’s ‘allowed’ to be around. We shouldn’t have to be those things in order for our stories to be heard and understood, in order to be empathized with or treated like someone of value.
The Strong Black Woman
If I never hear this phrase again in my life, if we eradicate it from future generations for Black girls and women, I'll cry of joy lmao. I hate it, and it's not for the reasons most nonblack people would expect. Lord, this one. Anyway. The ‘strong Black woman’ is meant to protect everyone, no help needed! Whenever something is wrong and we all need a pickup, here she comes to ‘let me do it’ and everything is going to be okay! She did all the necessary suffering so that your characters don't have to! She can sweep in and save the day!
Now here's the dissonance kicks in. This one on its surface probably sounds like a good thing. She's a hero! She’s resilient! She's great! Who wouldn't want to be superwoman? Who wouldn't want to reject being a love interest, all women are always love interests! Let us be the badass that kicks ass and shows the men what for! Who wouldn’t want that, 24/7?!
The answer: US. 👍🏾🤣
This is a long, separate conversation on its own, but we have to understand that Black women (women of color, really) and White women do not always share the same end goals and understanding of "strong woman character" or even feminism. We certainly aren't always the love interest. Very usually not, in fact. We are always pushed to the side. We are already the hero in our lives, we're already the "strong woman".
Not everyone yearns to be the Singular Hero who will Fix It All as many of us are already expected to do. It's exhausting having to swallow your own needs for everyone else all the time, especially when it's suggested that you have no value otherwise if you don't. Heroism is Exhausting, and it's something worth looking into when you’re characterizing your Black girls and women. I’m not saying that we can’t be strong! We are, and it’s impressive! But I also want us to add some nuance to that strength, the way we would for any other character. What it means to have community, rather than to do it all alone. How even if she wants to be the hero (and that’s okay! That’s fine!) how it would still wear on her. Surrounding your Black girl character with unconditional support, to have a lover that actually wants to pull some weight- that's something many of us actually would like to see, because we're usually shafted to the side as 'someone who can do it all herself' (in order to hide that no one thinks we need or are deserving of the help).
It's okay to let your Black woman and girls show weakness, to rest, to be taken care of! It's not "less feminist" to accept that we're humans that need help and can't carry it all, too. That it’s okay to want to feel valued and protected. Because god knows, I wish I didn’t grow up strong and resilient, I wish I grew up knowing that the world cared that I was safe.
Standards of Beauty
These standards are not the same! I've mentioned it before in my lesson on skin tones, but very often when we think of "beauty", it’s easy to fall into the idea of whiteness. Pale skin, thin hair textures, etc. If those are our existing standards of beauty, then it doesn’t matter what any of us look like- we’re ugly! When I was in high school, I remember a classmate saying that Swedish people were the most beautiful people because of "white hair and pale skin". Without even meaning to, that guy basically said everyone darker than a stack of loose leaf printer paper was ugly by proxy of not being Nordic White (no matter how pretty they actually might be!!) 🤣
It’s also of note that whiteness/paleness tends to be connected with innocence and cleanliness in western culture, while blackness/darkness tends to be considered dirty, sinful, fearful. Now, while the origin of this idea may not be racist itself, when you spend hundreds of years implying that Blackness is bad- to the point that, in the U.S. they came up with an entire slur one step past “negro” (meaning ‘Black’) to deem you less than- it’s hard to say that the societal connotation didn’t apply.
Now we've already discussed working on describing our Black characters better! I continually remind you all that you should be describing them as wonderfully made as you do your white characters. Keep in mind that we live in a world where from day one when we enter the world, Blackness and Black features are not seen as beautiful nor emphasized. Whiteness is the standard of beauty that we, for a long time and still, are expected to adhere to. If you'd like to do better by your characters, remember that you don't have to give them "white features" or use "white" as an adjective to do that!
Black Women as Women
“There was literally nothing, not a thing, that a white woman could ever have that was worth more than her sexual virtue, and this obligated mandatory chasteness and sexual vulnerability… If the most important thing a woman has is virtue, and only white women can have virtue, then by definition, only white women can be women.” Ruby Hamad, ‘Only White Women Can Be Damsels’, White Tears, Brown Scars
Often, Black women by definition are not included under the societal banner of “women”, from our features, to our personalities, to our 'role' in life. "True Womanhood" is denied us, cis and trans, because of our Blackness. The things that make women ‘women’, we are not included under, because systemically, the only ‘women’ that were meant to mean anything were white.
I bring up Megan Thee Stallion again. Meg is probably one of the most beautiful, feminine women I've ever seen in my life. Men still call her a man, due to her height, due to her confidence, and due to their insecurities. Same with Serena Williams; Serena is damn near built like a god in my eyes. She was told she was manly from the beginning of her career, no matter how beyond skilled she was in women's tennis. Even when she damn near died giving birth- the most basic of 'tasks' women are seen as having in this society, it didn't matter. Black women are 'less womanly', 'less valuable', 'less in need' of that protection and identity that society swears Women™ need (and not in the honest way that we do need protection).
Consider that you're making sure that your Black women have the options of range of gender expression and emotions (and if they aren't allowed to, is that on purpose). If you're only ever creating us and we're in service of some dainty white woman and never the other way around... consider how that may reflect what you think our role is in your story, and in your mind.
Adultification
“Awkward moment when Rue is some black girl and not the innocent blond girl you imagine.” twitter: sw4q
It has been shown that Black girls the same age as their white girl counterparts are deemed older and less in need of protection, and supposed to 'be more mature'. Imagine that. Deemed inherently less innocent, due to your skin color. Having to parent our siblings, get jobs to contribute, do all the cleaning, and more. Yet, when we act with the maturity that we've been forced to grow into, we're "fast". A little 12-year-old girl, now to society, the Jezebel. All because she wanted to try pink lip gloss or wear a skirt; things that little tween girls might try to understand the big world around them and push boundaries. Now she's a woman, now she can never be a victim. Now she can be beat on and hurt and it's her fault.
I explain this for two reasons: One, for you to think about how your write your Black girls, and Two, for you to hold more grace for Black girls- real and fake. Do you hold her to a higher standard than your white characters of similar age? Does she inherently seem less innocent to you for reasons outside the plot? Is she as human to you as your other characters? Is she allowed to be a child? To act like one? To make mistakes? Are you as empathetic or understanding about that childishness as you are towards nonblack characters? Do you make these decisions on purpose?
It's not like Black girls can never be YA protags or anything- ofc we can. But keep in mind that she's not somehow automatically "stronger" by proxy of her Blackness, that she'd "be tougher". She's a kid. Let her be one.
Conclusion
There’s a LOT you have to consider when writing Black girls and women. I’m not going to sit here and say it’s easy, because being Black, and being a Black woman, is not easy. If you’re stressed reading it, imagine being stressed living it lmao. It’s a constant chain of quick-time events every day of your life to prevent nonblack nuclear meltdown in response to your every single action. I’m not going to apologize for it, either.
That being said, I don’t expect you to understand everything, especially not all at once. I just want you all to keep these things in mind, to question yourself when you’re writing your character- are you treating her differently on purpose? Or are you treating her differently because of a bias you might not even notice you have? It might help to go back, to read how you treat all of your characters. Or, if you’ve never written before, to maybe outline the traits of your characters and figure out where things balance out. As always, all you can do is practice at it. Because it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers.
Whew, I'm actually emotionally strained after this one. My chest is beating fast. Let me go get some groceries now.
#creatingblackcharacters#character design#black characters#black character design#writing#creative writing#stereotypes#antiblackness#racism
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charles who grabs your hands and GUIDES them to his hair when he’s eating you out just because he’s that slutty and wants you to pull on his hair. he literally WANTS it.
oh anon this has me feeling flustered... enjoy my lover
there was only word that could describe charles whenever he was between your legs. feral.
like a man starved he would happily spend hours between your thighs, framing his face as he'd steal glimpses of the way you arched your back. you often lost track of how many time's he'd make you cum from his tongue alone, completely enthralled by the way he'd manage to have you on the brink of heaven within minutes. it was a torturous game, especially for you — your body heaving, glistening with sweat as he'd physically smirk against your cunt at the throaty moans that would be falling from your lips and echoing around the room.
you'd fight to keep composure; balling the sheets between your fists, or pinching the flesh of your thighs as a means to keep you grounded. but each flick of his tongue, pucker of his lips around your clit, hum against you: every single one of his crazed actions had your mind numb and your stomach knotted.
"chérie—" charles' muffled whines strummed a nerve inside of you, eyes screwed shut in utter desire as you started to complain at the lack of suction. for a minute you were slapped back into reality, your wrists captured by his hands as he pulled them down until your palms were hovering over his hair, "put them to good use bébé."
it was only then did you tangle your digits through his locks, nails scraping against his scalp as he whimpered starkly. lips damp with your wetness he stared at you, not bothering to dip back down until you forced him to. your desperation was evident as you clamped your legs tighter to his head, guiding him back to where you needed him most as you let his name tumble off your tongue like some filthy mantra.
with one hand snaked between your bodies he parted your cunt, lapping his tongue deliciously as he grunted; the other guiding yours, bending your fingers and grazing your knuckles as he showed you what he wanted you to do. and of course you blindly obliged, too busy caught up in the feeling of wanting to cum more than anything.
#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc oneshot#charles leclerc fanfic#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smut#f1 fic#f1 x oc#f1 oneshot#f1 blurb
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