You're the definition of polished to perfection. Blazer crisp, expensive lip gloss, a reputation cleaner than Dr. Crabblesnitch's office. You float through the halls of bullworth like royalty, arm-in-arm with your fellow preps.
Jimmy didn't notice you because you're loud - but because you're untouchable. You're one of the few who just ignore and walk past all of the chaos at school.
You notice him the way you'd notice a retired fighting dog getting egged on by a bunch of aggressive pooches. A real 'tough guy.'
You flirt first - on a dare. Or maybe just to feel something. He smirks. "Didn’t think a girl like you played with matches." You tilt your head and grin, "Only the ones that burn real pretty."
You start hanging out with him ironically. Slumming it. That’s what you tell yourself. But the first time he lights your cigarette with one he’s already smoking? You’re done.
Jimmy is obsessed with the way you stand out in his world: your pink pens, your designer notebooks, the way your perfume lingers by your designated desk. He’d never say it out loud, but he likes being your secret.
He calls you "princess" first as a joke. Then it sticks. You call him "baby" like it’s his name.
He buys you candy from the corner store. You buy him cologne "so you stop smelling like motor oil and blood." He wears it.
You’re his pretty party favor - always on his arm, always drawing eyes. But no one dares touch. Not unless they want a broken nose and detention.
You once got caught breaking curfew. Jimmy showed up, said it was his fault. Took detention for you. You kissed him behind the school the next day like it was a ritual.
You cut class together just to lie in the sun and talk about running away to the city. He wants to box. You want to design.
You keep a picture of him in your locket. He has your name carved on his switchblade handle.
You kiss him like he’s your favorite flavor - slow, dramatic, lip gloss all over his mouth. You pull away and go, "Mmm. Cherry." He blushes. Jimmy Hopkins blushes.
Jimmy calls you flawless. Not "cute," not "hot." Flawless. You eat it up. You call him your lifesaver when he throws hands for you. You adore how he doesn’t flinch when you act out.
Jimmy’s the kind of guy who doesn’t talk about feelings - but he acts them out. He fixes your locker when it breaks. Puts his jacket over your shoulders in detention. Fights a guy who looks at you wrong.
You’re a little wild - spending money like water, making scenes when you’re bored, starting drama just to watch it burn. He finds it adorable. "Bad behavior looks good on you, princess."
He doesn’t have much, but what he does - his respect, loyalty, his attention - he gives you completely.
The air was thick with exotic perfume, cheap cologne, and heat.
The screen of the abandoned drive-in flickered a forgotten ‘80s horror film, casting neon light over the rusted speakers and dry grass. But neither of you were watching.
You were in Jimmy’s lap, knees on either side of him in the passenger seat of some junk car you two had broken into. He’d hotwired it earlier- not to drive, just to recline the seats.
"Romantic, right?" you teased, finger tracing his collarbone where his jacket had fallen open.
Jimmy gave that slow, smug smirk. "Classiest date I’ve ever been on."
You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "That’s because I am class, baby." Then you bit it - lightly. Just enough to hear him hiss through his teeth and to feel his chest pulsate.
He grabbed your waist tighter.
"You're outta control tonight," he muttered, breath hot against your throat.
"And you love it," you whispered, licking cherry gloss off your bottom lip. "You love when I’m bad."
He kissed you like he was starving - hands everywhere, greedy, claiming. You kissed back harder, smearing gloss all over him. It's you signature, after all.
You pulled back, just barely, resting your forehead against his.
"I’m your problem, huh?"
Jimmy’s hands ran down your thighs, grip bruising. "Nah. You’re my fucking solution."
You smiled, slow and syrupy. "My lovely life saver."
He didn’t answer with words. Just pulled you back into him and kissed you again - messier this time, lips slick with cherry, teeth clashing. You were his favorite bad habit.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
heyyy, I was wondering if you could writes some hcs for fuckshit x 90s preppy reader like Cher Horowitz from clueless plsssss
oooo okay i can try!!! i havent seen clueless but ill try and reference like 90s-2000s preppy stuff for you :)) ; tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy!
FUCKSHIT ; preppy
summary ; fuckshit x preppy reader
warnings ; language
word count ; 351
masterlist
literally the definition of polar opposites
he likes your style on you but on anyone else his mind just goes straight to posh rich bitch
but youre totally different
he really likes how the argyle pattern looks on you, especially if you match it with some sort of cardigan
he also secretly loves seeing you in yellow even if you feel like you dont look good in it
hes one of those guys who cant see any physical flaws in their partner
i hc his fav colors are red and yellow so like i feel hed love seeing you in those colors even on rare occasions
your relationship started w a flirty friendship
there is no other beginning
lowkey he just wanted to fuck w you cause youre polar opposites and you got along for the most part
but like an actual friendship begins and hes lowkey like that one guy who has a flirty friendship w cher (again ive never seen the show so if hes a psychopath im so sorry i found a parrallel and was like oh it matches lemme point it out)
he just spends his free time trying to rizz you up like he has nothing better to do
hed rather be skating or smoking and youd rather be doing wtv you like to do for fun but here you are lol
do not expect him to get you clothes for any kind of gift
he struggles imagining you in things and he does not wanna shop at some preppy posh store surrounded by people staring at him weird cause he reeks of weed and looks like he hasnt slept in a week
he'll attempt to thrift but he can never find anything that fits your style
and he doesnt wanna get you the same plaid top with the matching bottoms but in a different shade of your favorite color
like 😔😔😔
he'll try to just straight up ask you for things you want instead
not just clothes either just anything basically
he knows youre two different ppl and he doesnt wanna accidentally shop for himself
