w3irdm4yo
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1-800-hot-n-fun by persimmonsandcats
Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)
22 Mar 2025
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Summary
“I’m just saying,” Satoru says, like what he’s just said didn’t completely open Suguru’s skull and smash his brain like berries, “now please, sir, might I smoke some of your marijuana.”
“No.” Suguru says automatically, moving his vape away from Satoru’s searching hands. “Also stop fucking talking like that.”
“My man, let me hit that.” Satoru tries, reaching for the pen and tumbling forward. He’s off balance because he’s been drinking– barely but still– which is why he’s not allowed to hit Suguru’s vape. He lands solidly on Suguru’s chest, laughs, and then tilts his face up toward Suguru with a pout. “Suguru,” he whines.
“You’re a menace.” Suguru tells Satoru, pinching his cheek. “Especially when your dumbass is cross faded. Last time you spent three hours crying on my bed because you thought the world was spinning wrong and you were worried about marine life and coastal ecological impacts via the Coriolis effect.”
“Whale fall.” Satoru says suddenly, sounding mournful, and then he puts his head back on Suguru’s chest and bursts into tears.
Suguru pats Satoru’s head soothingly. He does feel vaguely frantic that Satoru is crying, but–
“You would subscribe to my OnlyFans?” He asks.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 37,854
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Bookmarked by w3irdm4yo
09 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
one of my favorite takes on getou! he's yummy dummy :p
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Summary
If someone asked Oscar how he ended up in this crazy situation, he wouldn’t be able to say what exactly happened.
It was a flash, a bang, a pretty guy standing in the middle of the street, wearing nothing but jewels and the most see-through, extremely backless dress thing known to humankind.
Godkind?
Because Lando is definitely not human.
Because no human would walk into Oscar’s tiny flat in London and look awed.
No human looks that ethereal either.
Series
- Part 49 of CX's F1cs
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Summary
Max stared at Charles’ closed eyes and how they twitched in his sleep. Objectively, Max knew that Charles was probably the most beautiful man he had ever seen. But... this was Charles.
Charles Leclerc.
Big, cry-baby Charles.
Sauber #2 driver Charles.
When did he decide that Charles The Driver would become Charles The Boyfriend?
He wishes he could remember.
OR: The self-indulgent Amnesia AU that nobody asked for. This is my love story to Charles Leclerc, thank you for coming along. Warning: this fic may break you.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 50,683
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Comments:
- 234
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- 4,872
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Bookmarked by w3irdm4yo
22 Sep 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
the gift that keeps giving, would hug this fic if i could
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Summary
He lifts his head to look at his savior for the first time.
Is it weird that he finds this particular tomcat’s scent familiar? A handsome tabby, with broad shoulders, perfect for swimming, and long, orange fur, slightly damp around the edges from his brief dip into the river, and-
Lando’s eyes widen as he scrambles to his paws. His legs threaten to give out from underneath him.
“You smell like fish,” he blurts out.
Series
- Part 42 of CX's F1cs
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Summary
Fyodor is eight, when he meets Dazai. He’s at a chess tournament and Dazai is the only one who has made it worth it. Made it interesting. He’s the only one who is playing at the same level as Fyodor. Fyodor loves chess but he hasn’t felt challenged in what seems like a long time. Not until Dazai, that is.
They’re in the final game. Dazai and Fyodor are two children lost in a world that has nothing to do with anyone but them. Dazai has one of his eyes covered with a bandage. His hair is almost but exactly not the same color as Fyodor’s. He plays aggressively and recklessly and so carefully measured Fyodor feels it all the way to his toes, swinging in their too tight shoes, unable to touch the ground.
They draw.
“I’m Dazai.” Dazai says afterward. Like Fyodor, English is slightly stilted on Dazai’s tongue, rounded awkwardly around different syllables than it should be.
“I’m Fyodor.” Fyodor responds. Dazai mouths Fyodor’s name to himself. “It’s Russian.” Fyodor explains quietly, used to other children not being able to say his name, teasing him.
“Fyodor.” Dazai repeats. “You’re good at chess.” He adds bluntly.
Fyodor feels something stronger than happiness, quiet and content, low in his soul.