#definitely not going to get into studying

[iamnotoriginalphil]

A Study in Forever (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Rio returns, expecting you to be gone. Instead, Agatha chooses to teach her a lesson she won't soon forget.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Voyeurism, fingering (R receiving), edging, exhibitionism, possessiveness, objectification, orgasm delay, dom!Agatha, swearing

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly @fuckedupforkhahn @latedawnsearlysunsets92

The summer was dripping past in long days and soft nights. Moving into Agatha’s house had been as simple as shoving some clothes in her wardrobe and books on her bookcase. The summer heat had made you lazy without the need to constantly produce work for Agatha. And with that came lounging around the house.

Agatha had spent plenty of time telling you that draping over her couch was not going to work as seduction. And then she’d descend on you and burn you up with her mouth. It certainly seemed to work as a seduction tactic.

It probably helped that the heat left you wearing very little clothing. Shorts, crop tops, bikinis on the few attempts you’d made to go swimming. Each time her hands would be on your skin and you’d forget whatever it was you’d been trying to do. You couldn’t complain, knowing exactly what you were doing when you put on those clothes.

You were lying on her couch, under the fan, a worn paperback dangling from your fingers. Your eyes were closed, feeling the air waft over your bare skin, half asleep in the warm cocoon of the summer heat. Agatha had locked herself in her office under the grumbled excuse of having to actually get some work done. You’d grinned and sent her off with a lingering kiss, knowing she’d come find you sooner or later. She always did. It was like she couldn’t keep away from you.

It was one of the things you loved about her.

A knock sounded on the front door. You startled, the loud noise not something you’d been expecting. It was the middle of the afternoon and you knew Agatha wasn’t expecting anyone. She usually told you to make sure you weren’t wandering around the house half naked. Not that you thought she’d really have a problem with that. Not if she could stake her claim in front of everyone.

You knew she’d been thinking about that whole voyeurism dream you’d shared with her.

You swung your legs off the sofa, knowing Agatha probably wouldn’t have heard from behind the heavy office door she’d shut in your pouting face. Pulling the door open, you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe one of the neighbours. Sharon had grown especially friendly over the last few weeks.

Rio was definitely the last person you expected to be there.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Her perfect face was marred with a look of disgust. Pushing past your initial shock, you let a smile take over your face, doing your best to do that sparkling thing Agatha accused you of doing to get your way.

“I live here,” you replied.

“So you’re still around,” Her head tilted to the side, “I can’t say I was expecting that.”

“I know,” you said.

“Is Agatha here?” she asked, dark eyes narrowing.

“She’s kind of busy at the moment but I’ll let her know you stopped by,” you said, already beginning to close the door.

Her hand slammed into it, holding it open. You pursed your lips, but let her lean towards you.

“Go tell her I’m here, little girl,” she said, her voice a hiss.

“If she wanted to see you, she’d be in contact,” you said, “I think her silence tells you enough.”

You’d won the war, you’d gotten the girl, you weren’t letting this intimidating woman come in and fluster you enough to steal your place in Agatha’s life. Her hand reached out, curling around a strand of your hair. She tugged on it, hard enough to feel a sharp pain in your scalp. It was nothing like when Agatha pulled on your hair, none of the liquid heat melting through your veins.

“Trust me, she’ll want to see me,” she whispered, pulling you closer to her.

“If I’ve taught you anything, pet, it’s not to trust such a self serving bitch like this.”

A hand slid around your waist, chin digging into your shoulder. You lent back against the familiar body, relaxing at her steady presence. Rio let go of your hair, straightening again as her eyes swept over the picture you made with Agatha. You knew how you looked wrapped up in her arms, comfortable and simply hers. You liked it, having her claim staked in front of someone who so obviously wanted it instead.

“What do you want?” Agatha asked, voice chilling in a way that turned it to ice.

“Since you’ve found someone to stick around, I thought I’d offer my services to teach her exactly how to please you,” she said, her eyes sliding from you to her, lips curling up in a familiar smirk.

“I think I’ve got it covered,” you said, “I’ve heard no complaints from her.”

“Because I have none. You’ve been doing wonderfully, kitten.” Her lips pressed to the vulnerable skin behind your jaw, making you shiver and press back into her. She chuckled, her fingers splayed over the bare skin of your stomach, nails gently dragging over it.

Dark eyes zeroed in on the hand on your stomach, an interested tilt to her head. You felt your breath catch, knowing she was watching you, wondering what she was thinking, seeing exactly how much Agatha wanted you. Your lips parted, the heat you felt under your skin unexpected but not unpleasant.

“You’re not even going to invite me in for a refreshing glass of lemonade?” she asked, gaze dragging back up to your face, “I’ve come such a long way to visit.”

“What do you think, pet? Should we let her in?” Agatha asked, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“One drink wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” you said, grinning when her nails dug in.

The trouble with you was you were beginning to enjoy flaunting your relationship with Agatha. You wanted Rio to see it, to have to face the fact that you’d won, to rub it in her face. Agatha had made her decision and it was you.

She wasn’t needed anymore.

Your fingers tangled with Agatha’s as you led her to the back of the house, knowing it would annoy Rio. You pulled open the fridge door, the lemonade you’d made the day before waiting. Agatha’s hands were on your hips as you poured three tall glasses, ice cubes clinking against the sides. Her lips made a home on your neck. Rio was still watching. Your skin heated but you didn’t tell Agatha to stop.

“We can drink in the living room,” Agatha said after a moment.

She plucked one of the glasses from you, shoving the other across the counter at Rio. She caught it, hissing when some sloshed over the side onto the skin of her hand. Holding eye contact with Agatha, she licked it off, tongue slow as it dragged over her own skin. Her hand tightened around you, dragging you into the living room.

Rio settled on the couch, right where you’d been lounging. She lent back, legs spread, taking a long drink from her glass. Agatha sat in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other. You perched on the arm next to her, grinning when her hand landed on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ve built quite the little love nest for yourself here,” Rio said, her eyes focused on the hand on your leg.

“I don’t think it’s a love nest when we live together,” you replied, fingers winding through Agatha’s hair.

“You’ve moved in?” Her eyebrows raised for just a moment.

“That surprises you?” Agatha asked.

“Only because the last woman you lived with was me,” she said.

The way she was looking at Agatha was like she owned her. She had been the first and she probably had thought she would be the last but then you had come along and ruined all her plans. You weren’t going to let her ruin yours.

“And what a disaster that turned out to be,” Agatha drawled.

“I thought we had fun,” she said, long finger slow to draw along the rim of her glass, “you certainly seemed to enjoy being hidden away with me in very close quarters.”

“Until it became claustrophobic,” she replied.

“And now you have so much space. I’m sure you can go days without seeing one another,” she said, eyes flicking to you.

Agatha’s hand tugged on your leg. You slid off the arm of the chair into her lap. Molten in her hands, you let her spread your legs, forcing them to fall either side of both of hers as you lent back against her soft curves. Her chin rested on your shoulder as her hand pressed into your lower stomach.

“Lucky for me neither of us want that much space,” she said, lips brushing the underside of your jaw.

It was automatic, the way you tilted your head to give her more access. Dark eyes watched as she ran her tongue up the length of your neck before her teeth closed over your earlobe. You whimpered, the flutter of your pulse turning you breathless.

“Isn’t my pet so pretty?” Agatha asked, turning her gaze back to Rio, “how could I want to stay away from her?”

Rio hummed, not quite a proper response. Chilled fingers brushed over your skin, still wet from the condensation on the glass of lemonade she must have put down. Your lips parts and your muscles tightened under her touch. Her chuckle was low, a vibration you felt against you, the kind that said you were in trouble.

Or about to have a lot of fun.

“But I don’t like other people touching my toys,” she continued, hand beginning to trace patterns into your skin, brushing higher and higher up your body.

“I remember,” Rio replied, a rough hum, “but you never seemed to have a problem sharing with me.”

“This one’s different. She’s special,” she said, hand slipping under the hem of your crop top.

In the warm summer air the heat of her hand felt unbearable, and the thought of losing it was inconceivable. Lips pressed to the underside of your jaw. You wiggled in her lap, the low thrum of arousal familiar and comforting, and yet somehow indecent under the watchful gaze of Rio.

“No one’s that special,” Rio said.

“She is,” Agatha hummed, “the first taste I had of her I knew there was no one like her. I’d never get enough. If I could, I’d have her chained to my bed, at my beck and call, this pussy on demand.”

Her fingers played with the button of your shorts. She ignored the small noise you made. The way your breath stuttered out of your parted was ignored too.

“You’ve never tasted her. You’ve never heard what she sounds like when she comes. You’ve never seen the way she looks when she’d begging for her release,” she continued.

Her fingers popped open the button on your shorts. The other hand cupped your breast, over the top of your bra, squeezing it roughly. You made a small mewling noise, arching into her hand. Dark eyes raked over your body, lingering on where the hand was groping you.

“If you’d seen her come undone, you wouldn’t be giving her up either,” Agatha said.

“Are you offering?” Rio asked.

“You’ll never touch her,” she said as her hand pushed into your shorts, slipping into your underwear.

“You sure about that?” she asked.

“Go on, pet. Tell her. Will she ever touch you?” Agatha asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Her fingers ghosted over your clit.

“No,” you managed to say, trying to sound as normal as possible. You were certain you’d failed from the way Rio’s gaze snapped down to your spread legs.

“And why’s that?” Agatha asked, keeping her voice to a gentle hum.

“Because I’m yours,” you replied.

Her fingers ran through your folds, feeling how wet you already were. Slow to circle your clit, she pressed her lips to yours in a gentle kiss, almost the complete opposite of what this situation had turned into. Your head fell back against her shoulder with a soft sigh.

“You see? I’ve trained her so well. I give her everything she needs. Why would she ever want someone like you?” Agatha taunted.

“You think she’ll stay with you? This young, pretty thing? She can find something better. You know I’m the only one who will stay with you forever,” Rio said.

“I’d rather take my chances with her,” Agatha replied.

She was being so slow with you. A teasing touch, soft and not nearly enough. You whined, turning your head towards her ear, wanting her to hear you. Her fingers dipped back down to your entrance, lingering there until you thought you would go mad.

“You’re free to leave at any time,” Agatha told Rio.

“If this is a game I don’t intend to lose,” Rio replied.

Her finger slid into you, so easily it was almost embarrassing. You whimpered, just loud enough to be heard, hips shifting. The hand she’d trailed up your shirt pulled the cup of your bra down, fingers pinching at your nipple. She was slow to roll it between thumb and forefinger, the hand between your legs stroking your inner walls in a way that was making it hard to catch your breath.

“No game,” Agatha hummed.

“Everything with you is a game,” Rio replied.

She lent forward, eyes growing more intent as they focused on your body. Fire was licking at your skin. Your hands clutched at the arms of the armchair, your nails digging into the soft leather.

“My pet isn’t a plaything,” Agatha said, right as her thumb ground against your clit.

Your moan was loud to your own ears. A sharp inhalation came from across the room. Dark eyes seemed to darken as they focused on your face. Under the spotlight of Rio’s attention, you felt yourself set alight. Your lips parted, eyes squeezing closed.

“Look at her. Isn’t she everything a person could want?” Agatha hummed.

Her thumb was moving in tight circles over your clit and you couldn’t breathe properly. Your hips tried to buck into her touch but without feet on the floor you couldn’t get any traction. Her tongue flicked at your earlobe before she found her home at your pulse point.

“I will admit you found a pretty little thing to occupy your time,” Rio agreed, her voice low. Your eyes fluttered open, finding her focused on where Agatha was kissing you, “but how long can she really satisfy you?”

“Just watch. Once you see, then you’ll understand how I could never grow tired of this,” she sighed before her teeth sunk into your skin.

You cried out, begging for more. She smiled into you your skin, tongue soothing over the bruise she had most likely left on your skin. She slid a second finger into you as her thumb slipped away from your clit. Whimpering, you hid your face against her neck.

“Go on, show her, pet,” she coaxed, “let her see you.”

You turned your face back to let Rio watch you. Agatha curled her fingers in reward, causing you to moan her name. You locked eyes with Rio. Her lips were pressed together, hands clasped, hanging between her knees.

Agatha’s thrusts were slow, the pace maddening. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was making your head spin. You loved when she got rough with you, but this was almost like she wanted to see how far she could stretch your sanity.

“She’s so wet,” Agatha said, “so warm.”

“Agatha,” you whimpered.

“Shh, pet. The adults are talking,” she said.

You shut your mouth, doing as you were told. If you did, then she would reward you. You knew that. If you stopped distracting her, she’d let you come. She’d taught you so well. You would do anything she asked of you.

“See? Such a good girl,” she said, turning her attention back to Rio, “she does exactly what I tell her to.”

“I remember a time when you enjoyed being told what to do,” Rio said.

“I still do sometimes,” she replied, “when my pet has been particularly well behaved.”

“Is she as good as I am?” Rio asked.

“Better.”

Dark eyes, swimming in anger, returned back to you. You couldn’t even focus on her, the thumb back on your clit drawing tight circles, grinding against you until you were panting for breath. Her fingers curled, twisting inside you as her fingers harshly pinched your nipple. You yelped but you were arching into her touch, asking for more.

Rio was leaning closer, gaze focused on the hand in your shorts. You were so close, right on the edge, enjoying the way envy played over the other woman’s face so clearly. There was no way of knowing if she wanted to be you or be Agatha, or both.

“Don’t even think about touching her,” Agatha said, voice sharp.

Your cunt pulsed, loving when her voice became so commanding. Her chuckle was warm against your ear. Rio’s fingers clenched around her glass of lemonade, the ice almost completely melted. She lent back, her chest heaving, a flush still growing high on her cheeks as she watched.

“You’ll never touch her,” Agatha told Rio, “and you’ll never touch me again.”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when this one has moved on too,” she replied but she didn’t sound so sure.

“Oh she’s not leaving me. She branded herself. She’s mine until she dies,” Agatha replied, and you could hear the smugness in her voice. She was proud of your actions. Even weeks later, her fingers still traced over the words inked on your skin, her name, over and over again until you thought she might wear your skin away.

You loved it.

“And I have complete control over her,” she continued, “don’t I, pet?”

“Yes,” you hissed as her thumb ground down even harder.

You were trembling, holding on for as long as you could. You knew the game she was playing, the example she was making of you. You weren’t going to let her lose face in front of Rio. She needed you to be good, to do this for her.

You would do anything for her.

“You must have spent a lot of time training her,” Rio said.

“Hardly,” she scoffed, not letting up on you for a moment, “she wants to please me.”

“But you enjoy punishment so much,” she said, her voice a caress, trying to taunt her into admitting you weren’t living up to her wishes.

“I enjoy a good girl so much more,” she hummed, “I like a toy that does as she’s told and doesn’t answer back.”

You definitely didn’t always do what you were told and you’d been known to answer back.

“That’s a lie, and we both know it,” Rio said.

“Perhaps, but she does it in such a delicious way I forget she’s pushing the limits,” she said before her lips brushed over your skin.

You were strung tight, trembling, doing everything you could not to fall over the edge. Her fingers were rough, moving in just the way she knew unravelled you. She was making it so difficult for you, and you assumed it was on purpose. She had to make it clear she wasn’t going easy on you. That even under pressure you still did as you were told.

That no one could give her what she wanted like you did.

“But since she’s being so well behaved today, she’s not going to come until I tell her she can,” she murmured, “will you, pet?”

“No,” you whimpered.

Tears pricked at your eyes, holding on so tight it was a physical ache. You were desperate. Her thrusts were fast now palm grinding against your clit. She was unforgiving, harsh in how she was treating you. The other hand was groping your breast, squeezing it, pinching at your nipple. When the tears fell, her teeth sunk into the skin of your neck.

Through the haze of the tears still leaking from your eyes, you saw Rio lean forward again. You squeezed your eyes shut, the heat of her gaze enough to make you breathless and wanton and needy. Agatha’s dark chuckle in your ear only made the whole thing worse.

“Do you see how hard she’s trying? She wants to please me so badly,” she said and you knew it was for Rio’s benefit.

“She is rather pretty when she cries like that,” she replied.

“And all for me,” Agatha said.

The conversation turned fuzzy after that, your entire brain focused on holding back your orgasm. You felt on fire. Every moment it only got worse, closer to turning to ash in Agatha’s lap.

“All mine,” Agatha purred.

You couldn’t stop the whimper that managed to slip past your parted lips. She didn’t reprimand you, her lips pressing to your temple.

“It’s okay, pet. You can come now.”

Your body shuddered in her arms, the relief washing through you. Letting go, you let the pleasure crash into you, the way it had been trying to for so long. You sobbed, pressing your face into her neck. The hand on your breast slipped out from under your shirt, stroking through your hair as she kept your face buried against her skin.

“You did so well for me, kitten,” she murmured against your temple, “you were wonderful.”

She eased you through it. Fingers slowing within you, her lips pressed soft kisses to your hairline. Once you’d stopped twitching in her arms, she slowly withdrew her hand from your shorts. Your arousal glistened on her fingers in the summer sunlight.

You grasped her wrist, pulling her fingers to your lips. You licked along them before sliding them into your mouth, your tongue licking her clean. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked on them the way you knew she liked.

You dragged your eyes over to Rio, feeling a sense of smugness. You were the one she’d been touching, and you were the one who had put on the show for her. Her own eyes were blown wide as they took you in.

“You can’t find anyone better than my pet because there is no one better. And she’s all mine,” Agatha said, sliding her fingers from your mouth, the arm around your waist tightening, “you can leave now.”

Rio’s eyes snapped to her, the look of anger flashing over her face. You cuddled back against Agatha, pulling your legs up to settle more comfortably against her body. She handed you her glass of lemonade, making sure you drank the entire thing down before putting down the empty glass. Her fingers slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

Her lips pressed to yours, kissing you deeply. You were boneless, melted against her, satiated and happy. She tucked your head back against your shoulder.

“Get out of my house,” she commanded, voice hardened as she realised Rio was still there on her couch.

“You bring me here and put on a show then tell me to leave without giving me mine?” she demanded.

“You showed up uninvited. Now get out,” she said.

You sighed as you burrowed closer to her, eyes sliding closed. A lazy afternoon nap sounded like a wonderful idea.

You weren’t sure how long you sat like that with her but when the front door slammed you jerked up. The couch had been vacated and Agatha was glaring out the front window.

“Next time we don’t invite her in for a drink,” you mumbled, finding your place against her shoulder again.

“You didn’t have fun?” she asked.

“I had fun with you,” you replied, “she was surplus to that.”

“Was she? Because I think you liked performing for her. You liked her watching,” she said, the fingers still tangled in your hair pulling.

“I did,” you agreed, “I really did.”

“And yet you still don’t want her to come back?”

You looked up at her, still feeling soft and sleepy, wanting nothing more than to stay in her arms. She wasn’t looking at you, the weight of her gaze having shifted back to the window. You wished you knew what she was thinking.

“Agatha, she makes you unhappy. As long as she does, I don’t want her anywhere near you,” you said.

Blue eyes darted down to you, finding you gazing up at her. The fingers in your hair slid out, gently tracing the curve of your jaw.

“You’d give up ever doing that again just for me?” she asked.

“I have more than enough just from you. Who cares if that never happens again as long as I have you. You’re all I want,” you replied.

She tilted your head up, kissing you until you were breathless.

“Well, I think we made our point, kitten,” she said.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, settling against her again.

“I doubt she’ll be back. She knows there’s no place for her in my life anymore,” she said, fingers carding through your hair.

“I’m all you need,” you mumbled, lips brushing the skin of her neck.

You felt her shiver, fingers tugging on your hair sharply. You kissed the underside of her jaw, feeling her arm tighten around you.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” she replied, “you were made for me.”

When she lifted you, her arms strong around your body, carrying you upstairs to your bedroom, you couldn’t agree more. You had been made just for Professor Harkness. And you were never letting her go.

[scoupsakakitty]

Please Don’t Leave Me pt.2 | idol!Mingyu x Reader | fluff

The phone buzzed against the car's dashboard, but the call went straight to voicemail—just like all the others before it. Mingyu let out a sharp exhale, gripping the steering wheel tightly before pressing the phone to his ear as the familiar automated message ended.

"Y/N, you're leaving me no choice," his voice was hoarse, exhausted. "I'm on my way to your dorm. I can’t keep waiting for you to answer. We need to talk. You can be mad at me, you can yell at me, but you can’t ignore me. Not anymore."

With that, he hung up and started the engine, his heart pounding against his ribs as he sped off towards the university. The rain drizzled lightly, the city lights blurring against his windshield, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by her. By them. By everything he was about to lose if he didn’t do something.

When he arrived, he parked haphazardly, not caring if he was in a student-only parking zone. He stepped out, pulling his hood up to shield himself, but it was useless. The moment he walked through campus, he could feel the weight of eyes on him. Whispered voices, subtle gasps—some had recognized him. But he didn't care. He had one goal.

Stopping in front of her dorm room, he knocked. No answer. He knocked again, harder this time. "Y/N, open the damn door." His voice was firm, unwavering. "I'm not leaving until you do."

A few seconds passed, and then—

The door swung open so fast he barely had time to react before Y/N’s hand gripped his wrist and yanked him inside. She slammed the door shut behind him, her eyes wide with disbelief and frustration. "Are you insane? Showing up here like this? Now people will definitely know you’re here! And then you knock like that? Desperate much?" Her voice was laced with panic.

Mingyu took a deep breath, stepping closer. "You left me no other choice. If you had just picked up the phone, if you had answered even one of my thousand messages, I wouldn't have had to come here."

She crossed her arms, her expression hard. "I don’t have to answer just because you call."

His jaw clenched. "Then I have to show up."

Silence settled between them, heavy and unyielding. Finally, she sighed, rubbing her temple. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

His brows furrowed, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean, what do I want? Isn't it obvious? I want you. I want us. I can’t do this without you."

She scoffed, turning away. "Mingyu, wanting something doesn’t always mean you get to have it."

He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration evident. "I talked to my management. I told them I want to go public with our relationship. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about the fans who won’t support it. If they love me, they need to accept that I love you. That I can’t live without you."

Her breath hitched, but she remained silent.

"You’re not happy without me, Y/N. Just like I’m not happy without you. I know it. You know it. So why are we doing this?" His voice cracked, raw and pleading.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the hem of her sweatshirt. "Mingyu... the stress, the sasaengs, the threats—it’s too much. Even if we go public, that won’t change overnight. And you’re always traveling. I barely got to see you before, how will it be any different?"

"I’ll take you with me." His answer was immediate. "We’ll talk to your university. My management has connections—we can figure out a way for you to do your studies online. That way, you can be with me. I can protect you."

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "I can’t afford online tuition, Mingyu. I can barely afford my fees as it is."

His heart ached at the helplessness in her voice. Slowly, gently, he reached for her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "That’s what you’re worried about? Y/N, come on. How many times have I offered to pay for your tuition? Let me take care of you. Let me give you the life you deserve."

"I don’t want to be a burden to you," she whispered.

"You're not a burden. You're my life." His voice was thick with emotion. "Stop finding reasons for this not to work. I can and will fix everything, but I need you to fight with me. For us."

For a long moment, she just stared at him. At the exhaustion in his face, the desperation in his voice. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Like he was drowning.

Finally, she exhaled shakily, placing her hand over his chest, feeling the steady, desperate thump of his heart. "Okay... you’re right." Her voice broke. "I’m sorry, Mingyu. I’m so sorry for making us suffer like this. Please forgive me."

A choked sob of relief escaped him as he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. "You won’t regret this, I promise."

She let out a watery laugh as he peppered kisses all over her face—her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. "Mingyu, stop! You're acting like a puppy."

He grinned, setting her down but not letting go. "Now that I finally have you back, I’m never letting go again."

His eyes flickered around her room, taking it in for the first time in person. "So this is your room, huh? I’ve only seen it on FaceTime. Cozy. I like it."

She rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. "It’s small, but it’s mine."

"Not for long," he mused. "Once you start online classes, you’ll be moving out. Either to my dorm or, better yet, our own place. And when I’m on tour, you’ll stay with me. We’ll share hotel rooms, wake up together, fall asleep together. Doesn’t that sound perfect?"

Her heart swelled at the thought. "I always wanted to go on tour with you, to be honest."

Mingyu’s lips curled into a soft smile. "Then it’s settled. From now on, we’re always together. No more secrets. No more hiding. No more distance."

He cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. "I love you, Y/N. More than anything. And I’ll spend every single day proving that to you."

Her heart melted as she whispered, "I love you too."

And as he kissed her, sealing their promise, she knew—this time, they were going to make it.

[kamospeach]

told you i like gentle giants so you softened up .ᐟ

plot: ceo!sukuna and the woman he was forced to marry finally learning to get along.

content warning: none at all. it's not 18+ but if i make a fic it will be.

peachy's yap: i wanna make this into a fic but im not 100% sure yet, lmk ! no smut just a small fluff to test out the waters. one last one shot coming until i go on a lil break.

this wasn't what you wanted at all. ever since you were a little girl you planned to get married to a caring man. years later give birth to a love child hold he or she in your arms as you and your loving husband smiled at one another.

that dream was gone now and here you were a year after your wedding. terrified to even knock on the door of his study knowing his temper was off the wall at the moment. when you were cooped up in your hobby room you could hear him barking orders. while you sat in silence writing novel after novel he forbade you to publish.

this was your everyday, wake up alone, eat alone, write alone, shower alone, watch movies alone, and even go to sleep alone. he was in his study night and day until his hefty body slipped into your shared bed waking you at 2am. he didn't bother to apologize he just turned away going to sleep himself. and yet you found yourself wanting to be close to sukuna.

you sighed already knowing the conversation you both were bound to have today... just like every month for the last year. you were given to him for your writing and negotiating skills. his father the previous boss offered to pay your father millions to suspend the contract at your job for you to work for them. all for money. you raised your hand knocing on the wretched door.

you and sukuna moved into this house 6 months ago and it felt like you'd been locked away in a tower. although sukuna never listened to your ideas or let you have your way about anything he left the house details to you. he stood back as you worked with the sketchy architect who purposely looked down your blouse (his words).

he let you pick out the number of rooms, and bathrooms. the ceiling height, the shape of the pool, even how many patio chairs you wanted. he let you decorate the house pick the colors, even would let you throw splashes of pink and purple where ever you pleased. but you never did it, you didn't want to do it if not with sukuna.

but to sukuna none of this mattered because his work was more important. in his words he said 'i'll let you deal with less important matters. at least im positive you won't fuck that up.' did that statement hurt? hell yeah but even then you still wanted to be close to him.

"s...sukuna?" you stuttered waiting to hear his gruff voice.

"get in here." he said sternly and you pushed the heavy doors open, struggling at the weight. once you pushed in you stood by the door hands behind your back fingers laced. "sit." he said pointing to the chair in front of his desk and you scurry not wanting to anger him.

"i'm sorry i didn't come sooner i was writing and i had a idea i couldn't lose." you plead his eyes never left yours. he face expression neither annoyed nor pleased.

"why must you continue writing, when you have a duty to fulfill here." he grumbled and you looked down at your thumbs.

"sukuna you wont let me go with you to negotiate that's all m'good for." you say and he scoffs at your excuse.

"you are here to write contracts and negotiate deals you have not done any of that over the last year!" he said his voice raising, by no means were you a push over. scared of this big, brolic, hunk definitely but one thing you'll never be is a punk.

"you have yet to assign me any work. i know what you'll say 'you should come ask me if there's anything to do' but you are my boss. you instruct i follow, i refuse to do anything for you if you can not request it on your own." your reply was calm, you didn't want to anger him further.

"i don't want to overwhelm you," he sighs. his strict facade dropping as he handed you papers and you hum. looking down at the papers it was full of stats and numbers that made your head spin. "this is everyday work for me, i need your help but i must figure it out alone."

"the numbers are a bit crazy but it's not much to find a way to make a deal that'll pretty up the numbers." you tell him and he nods.

"how?" he asked and you looked up at him. this was the first time sukuna had asked for your help. you were shocked that he even let you know that he needed help.

"i mean your the statistics man. once you work out the numbers we can talk negotiating." you tell him with a smile hoping the sly compliment of him being good with numbers didn't slip past him. his red eyes looked up at you through his thick lashes. the corner of his lips tugging upwards as if he wanted to smile and couldn't.

this day was the first day you sat next to sukuna behind his desk. your knees touched and even that amount of contact was enough for you. you helped him clean up his desk and he didn't object he just said 'make sure you put them where i tell you'. and you did picking up the papers on his desk and organizing them for him. placing them in different stacks based off who and what they were from.

little did you know sukuna admired your every move. he watched how you walked around his office complaining about how dull it was. how your curls bounced with every step you took. he watched you search up paint colors and decor for his office. not once did this distract him, he either hummed in agreement or disagreement as he worked on the numbers.

even days later the connection between sukuna and you began to grow. he listened to your opinions and even stepped out of his office during the day. he came to your writing room to sit and drink coffee with you at 3am when you felt like you had a good idea. he even showed you the room you called the 'junk room' that was quite literally filled with sukuna's junk. he pulled out an electric guitar bragging about how it was signed by one of the best.

he tells you the name as you face scrunches up in confusion never hearing of this man ever. but even your disinterest in that didn't deter his sheer audacity and gall. he called you a degenerate and said you were a bug under a rock. you replied with 'more like a boulder' as you looked him up and down judgingly.

this comment made sukuna laugh, yes actually laugh. from that day you never held in a joke, letting anything on your mind loose. sometimes sukuna would look at you as if you said the stupidest shit on earth. most times he'd shake his head with an endearing smile but 2 times out of 10 he'd laugh.

day after day the more time you spent with sukuna the more you were pulled out of the depression. you watched movies of families with a smile even thinking about having a child with that demon.

in return sukuna became more comfortable approaching you. initially he was scared to anger you or say something that would hurt your feelings. heading his father's warning 'don't talk to her too much. you know how you are, you'll hurt her feelings.' so he listened avoided starting conversation, leaving the bed before you woke up and coming in after you fell asleep. ate in his office and never ever entered your writing room.

that day you came in and told him he was your boss changed his brain chemistry. his father was wrong, he wouldn't hurt your feelings because you wanted him to act like your boss. you could dish it out and take it. that day was when sukuna thought to himself 'i could really get used to this'.

that's why after a month of the two of finally getting along sukuna instructed you to meet him at the dining table. dining table was a stretch as it only had 2 chairs. as you waited for him assuming it was about work you were shocked for sukuna to slam down your houses floorplan.

"it's about time we made this house into a home don't ya think?" he asked looking at you and you smiled. and the two of you sat there all night you sipping on a shirley temple and he drank whiskey. he promised he'd make you cocktails from now on since you found out he was a bartender for all of 3 months.

you planned and brainstormed until the next morning. you were leaned on the table drool coming out of your mouth. sukuna smiled at how comfortable you had became around him. he lifted you and carried you up the stairs. that was the first day sukuna felt like he was really a husband. that day was when sukuna swore to himself that he would be a husband.

[attilarrific]

Okay, as a librarian in a major metropolitan area, I've seen this go around a bunch. I've had this sent to me several times as a fun joke. And while upstairs is DEFINITELY right that this is part of a massive ongoing anti-library smear campaign by the right (and if you just went, "wait, what," well. Have I got news for you), I have something else to say that I kind of keep waiting for someone else to say for me, but this post keeps going around and no one says it.

Yes. Fuck's sake. Yes. People are having sex and doing drugs at the library.

Ask any public librarian in, again, a major metropolitan area (possibly other areas, but I'm just not knowledgeable there), and they will go, "Yes, obviously. Yes, obviously, we do our best, but shit fucking sucks, please fund us better so we can better connect these people with helpful resources."

Fucking---this isn't really the point, but I have people at the library say things to me like, "You must have the easiest job in the world," because they assume all I do is, like, read at work or something. And no. No, I fucking do not. You are wrong about what libraries are.

And you're sort of wrong in a fun way, because libraries do a lot of incredible stuff you aren't aware of, like events and concerts and interlibrary loan and expungement clinics and tech loaning and makerspaces and so just so much more. Check out your local library. I guarantee you they do things you never would've thought.

But you're also wrong in a not-so-fun way, because being the third place that you don't have to pay to be in isn't always fucking pretty, okay. Public service and community spaces aren't the utopian bastions you imagine.

So, yes. People come in drunk off their asses. People do drugs in the bathrooms (so much that in some libraries, the librarians are getting Narcan training). People shit outside of the bathrooms, sometimes because they're drunk or high, but not always. People are having sex. They masturbate in the study rooms or the stacks or just out in the open until someone stops them, they watch porn on the public computers.

And yes, the library workers get to deal with that. And it fucking sucks.

But also FUCK Fox News, because the answer is not "libraries have become a problem," the question is when and why we became the only place everyone could go. Why we got stuck with all of it, becoming all things to all people. And the question isn't how we can force people out of libraries or close libraries (because clearly we're disgusting houses of iniquity, and if you remove the house, the iniquity evaporates with it), it's how we can actually fucking connect people with services that libraries can't (and shouldn't have to!) provide. Like housing. Medical assistance. Mental health services. Career services. So much more.

But yes. For the love of god. Libraries are drug-infested sex dens. Yes, we'd like to do something about that.

If someone could help us instead of laughing at the thought, that would be fantastic, thanks.

So Fox News ran a story about how they think libraries are turning into drug-infested sex dens and I am shocked, shocked that I was never offered any drugs during my 15+ years working in libraries.

[bloominglegumes]

In your ‘how to draw tf’ what do you search (if you do) to find references for the blaster poses? I love how much character they seem to show

(i assume this is what you were referring to :) )

this response is so atrociously late i dont have any excuse ._.

but to answer the question,, the two poses on the right side were the same as the one on the left, just with a slight bump to show different attitudes :O

in my drawing up there, i felt copying my real figure of blaster exactly made him look a bit stiff, esp considering his personality, so i shifted the original pose slightly to convey some stronger emotions that felt more in line with my idea of blaster :) more sass + cocky attitude, if i had to describe it, giving him more weight on one leg, leaning one way or another to show confidence or hostility or whatever

as for deciding how to bump a pose, all i can rlly suggest for that is to study body language, and pay attention to how different people will act when conveying different emotions! personally i like looking at theatre performance for this, since the exaggeration is something that translates well into art, and u could definitely study from animation as well !! disney classics are classics for a reason fjdhf

since im a transformers blog here tho, i'd place tf one, tfp and earthspark s1 as some great refs for character acting >:))

tf one being feature animation has the fullest range of motion + performance, plus its main cast w pretty different personalities all experience a huge range of emotions + situations over the course of the film and its just beautiful and who wouldnt want to study it frame by frame :DD tfp and earthspark s1 are also fantastic for seeing how to handle posing/acting in a wide range of situations, and theres plenty of screentime to work from ;)

going to stop here before i get too rambly but i hope this was at least a bit helpful? i'm rlly sorry again about leaving this in my inbox for ages :,,))

[alphajocklover]

Trick or Treat dude! I'm a dorky, gamer-y, gay college student. Fitting for the season, I'm mainly studying horror movies. As for my candy, I'd have to go with my favorite, Twix.

You always knew what role you’d play if you were in a horror movie. You had watched so many, studied and deconstructed them, both as a hobby and later as a way to practice for your future career as a director. You knew exactly what cliche you filled, with your nerdy habits, your quiet demeanor and your love of horror movies. You were the obvious red herring, the guy everyone in the movie would think is the killer, even though it turns out he’s not. 

It wasn’t that you were dangerous or anything, but between your almost obsessive love of horror movies, your tendency to be quiet and antisocial, and how cagey and nervous you got around other people, it was pretty easy to see how an outside observer would mistake you for being a creep. In fact, most people in real life seemed to mistake you for being a creep too. Between all of the traits mentioned before, and being one of the only openly gay students at your fairly homophobic college, everyone treated you like you had the plague. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to ignore the jeers and insults, and most of the time you were able to, but some days it was harder to do so. Today was definitely one of those days, as today was the night of Bill Freeman’s horror movie watch party, and you specifically weren’t invited. 

Looking at Bill Freeman was like looking at yourself through a funhouse mirror. He was a huge horror movie fan too, one who wanted to be a director in the future, just like you. The two of you had most of the same classes together, and had even gone to the same high school. The two of you had quite a lot in common, but it was your differences that were even more staggering. While you were the quiet loner, he was the most popular guy in school, and it was easy to see why. He was handsome, muscular, sociable, and had this effortless charm and confidence that drew people to him. With his classic good looks and cocky confidence, he had always seemed like the kind of guy who would star in a movie, not direct one. The worst part of it all was that he actually knew what he was doing. As much as you loathe to admit it, Bill was a talented director, the few short movies he had directed showing an incredible promise even you couldn’t deny. At first you thought maybe that your shared love of movies could grow into a friendship, but he treated you the same way that all the popular kids did. Which was why you, specifically, weren’t invited to his watch party.

As you grabbed a twix bar you didn’t remember buying from your fridge and plopped down on the couch, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if things were different. If you were different. A part of you couldn’t help but fantasize what life would be like if you were just a little more like Bill Freeman. You absentmindedly took a bite of one of the twix bars, before a bright light filled your vision.

You felt a deep groan escape your lips as you sat up, your head slightly dizzy. What the hell had happened? Had you have too much to drink last night or something? Your eyes drifted over to your alarm clock, only for you to shoot up as you realized what time it was. Crap, you were going to miss your brother's party! You tossed off your sheets and rushed to your closet, revealing your muscular body to the chill air. It wasn’t like you to fall asleep in the middle of the day, but last night was pretty crazy. Between shooting the last scenes for you and your brother's latest short film, the absolutely wild after party, and the two hot wanna-be actresses you had taken to bed, you were a little surprised you had any energy left. Still, your brother had been planning this watch party for weeks, and Ben Freeman never missed out on a party!

You threw on your costume, and smirked under your mask. Only you and your twin could make a ghostface mask look fucking hot. You swaggered out the door, ready to party, hookup, watch some scary movies, and plan out your next student film with your bro. The Freeman brothers were going to take the horror world by storm!

**Yeah I still have some Halloween tfs to get through, but I'm going to slowly work them over while I continue with my usually stuff. Hope you guys don't mind**

[youngsadlesbian]

hi! i’ve been reading your works and they are so brilliant! one of ny fav authors in here! 🥹

i would like to request popular!wanda x popular!reader wherein they are known to be rivals when it comes to both academics and just, popularity and general. their parents are well-known and everyone assumes they despise eachother, because they feign to be so.

but they’re actually dating eachother. it’s just nice to see everyone worked up about them. and then one day, when wanda hears someone talking bad about reader, she reveals their relationship in the most affectionate way! 😆

thank you!

— 🍂

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: for years, you and wanda maximoff have been rivals—battling for the top spot in academics, popularity, and everything in between. the entire school believes you despise each other, fueling the most talked-about feud in westview high history. but here’s the twist: you’re actually dating. and it's definitely fun keeping up with this lie.

a/n: thanks for the request and i'm sorry for any mistakes <3

word count: 956

warnings: fluff and kinda enemies to lovers.

Westview High had two reigning queens.

There was you—a household name, thanks to your influential parents and undeniable charm. Top of the class, president of multiple clubs, effortlessly cool. People either wanted to be you, date you, or just stay out of your way.

And then there was Wanda Maximoff.

Equally brilliant, equally popular, equally untouchable. Her mother was a renowned politician, her father a high-profile businessman. She dominated academics, ruled the social scene, and had a fan club that rivaled yours.

And the two of you?

You hated each other.

Or at least, that’s what everyone thought.

It was a feud so legendary that teachers sighed at the mention of your names. You were always neck and neck—fighting for valedictorian, student government president, even the coveted title of Homecoming Queen.

Students thrived off the drama.

Every eye-roll. Every sarcastic remark. Every competitive smirk in the hallways.

People ate it up.

Little did they know…

You were very much in love with Wanda Maximoff.

And had been for a while.

It started a year ago.

An accidental run-in at a party led to an argument that led to… well… a heated moment alone in an empty hallway.

One stolen kiss turned into another.

And another.

And suddenly, hating Wanda became loving her.

But the drama of your rivalry was too good to let go.

So, naturally, you both pretended to still hate each other.

It was perfect.

No one suspected a thing.

You’d exchange insults in class but secretly text each other under the table.

You’d have intense debates during school meetings and then make out in Wanda’s car afterward.

You were the ultimate power couple in disguise.

And you loved watching the school lose its mind over your “feud.”

\*/

Everything was going great—until one day, Wanda overheard something she did not like.

You had just walked into the school library, carrying your usual confidence. The rivalry was still going strong, and as per tradition, the minute you stepped inside, people started whispering.

Wanda sat at a table near the back, pretending to study, but her ears perked up when she heard two girls from the cheerleading squad whispering nearby.

"I don’t get why people like her so much," one of them muttered. "She’s so fake."

"Right?" the other scoffed. "Like, she just acts all perfect, but she’s probably super insecure. I bet she just uses her parents’ money to stay relevant."

Wanda’s blood boiled.

Excuse me?

Sure, she and you acted like enemies, but there was a big difference between playful rivalry and people actually talking down on you.

Wanda Maximoff had zero tolerance for anyone disrespecting her girlfriend.

And so, for the first time in a long time, she dropped the act.

"Excuse me," Wanda said, standing up.

The entire library froze.

Because Wanda never started public drama. That was your thing.

The cheerleaders looked startled. "Uh… hi, Wanda?"

Wanda’s voice was deadly calm. "I just wanted to make sure I heard you correctly."

The girls exchanged a look. "What—?"

"You think Y/N is fake?" Wanda raised an eyebrow. "That she only stays relevant because of her parents?"

You, still by the entrance, had no idea what was happening—until you noticed the way everyone suddenly turned to look at Wanda.

Oh no.

Wanda was doing something.

And that something was not planned.

You started walking toward her. "Wanda—"

She cut you off. "You know what’s funny?" Her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. "You sit here, talking about Y/N, when you don’t even know her. Do you know how hard she works? How late she stays up studying? How much pressure she’s under?"

The girls gawked at her.

You?

You froze.

Because—

Was she—?

Wanda turned toward you, eyes burning with fury and something else entirely.

Affection.

Possession.

Love.

"You know what?" she continued, stepping toward you. "I’m tired of pretending."

And then—

In front of everyone—

She kissed you.

If you thought the school lost its mind over your rivalry—

This?

This was nuclear.

The library exploded.

People gasped.

Someone screamed.

A freshman fainted.

Your brain short-circuited.

And Wanda?

Wanda looked smug as hell.

She smirked against your lips before pulling back slightly, her voice teasing. "You gonna say something, baby?"

The whole school malfunctioned.

"Baby???"

Your enemies-to-lovers fantasy had just become the biggest scandal in Westview High history.

And honestly?

It was amazing.

\*/

The news spread like wildfire.

By lunchtime, your phones were blowing up.

"Is this a PR stunt???"

"HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN HAPPENING?"

"ARE WE IN A FANFICTION?"

Even your teachers looked shook.

But the best part?

The absolute best part?

You and Wanda just sat at your usual separate lunch tables—grinning at each other from across the cafeteria.

You took a sip of your drink.

She blew you a kiss.

Someone dropped their tray.

This was so much better than the rivalry.

Because now?

You were the school’s power couple.

And you loved every second of it.

By the end of the week, people adjusted.

The rivalry turned into an iconic romance.

Teachers sighed but secretly rooted for you.

The school paper ran a dramatic headline: "THE GREATEST LOVE STORY EVER TOLD?"

And you?

You walked down the halls hand-in-hand with Wanda Maximoff—owning it.

"You know," Wanda teased one day, leaning against your locker, "we could’ve just told people normally."

You smirked. "Where’s the fun in that?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "We are so dramatic."

"That’s why we work, babe."

And with that, you kissed her again—in front of everyone.

Because at the end of the day?

You and Wanda Maximoff weren’t just rivals.

You were legendary.

And now?

You were legendary together.

[bogleech]

I'm actually not going to let this go until Gerry is at least as widely ridiculed as Human Pet Guy. That guy still didn't do anything half as disturbed as this fucking loser, let me pull up my favorites again:

Gerry messaging me from an alt pretending not to be an alt

Gerry claiming again that it's antisemitic of me to say the IDF are bad guys who do not represent the entire Jewish population. This is not, in fact, the same as saying they're "not jews anymore." Also bragging about supposedly baiting and sealioning me into saying whatever they believe I said wrong. I guess the stupid ass hell thing????

Calling me a "blorbo" like I'm a fictional character rather than a human. Also, I went and got the original hell comment to double check it:

.....This doesn't even say the IDF should go to hell. It says I hope people "excusing" the IDF's actions should go to hell, I just typoe'd it as "excising." I guess Gerry successfully gaslit me, since I fully believed I had said specifically "the IDF go to hell." Thanks!

Gerry accusing me of "lumping them in as pro genocide" in response to a comment in which I specifically state I do not see them that way. How else am I supposed to read them NOW, though? Because I defined that as "someone who thinks kids deserve bombs dropped on them," and Gerry's response is "how dare you say that about me......???????" What?? Not once do they ever simply say "no one deserves their town to be bombed" or anything like that. They absolutely refuse, because they do in fact believe that it's okay to bomb a whole community if some of that community might hypothetically be "hamas." They do in fact think it's acceptable that people who never hurt anyone else should die that way for some sort of greater good, or that only hamas can be blamed for those deaths by "forcing the hand" of the ones with those bombs.

Gerry admitting the IDF bombs, loots and tortures, even though most comments they call antisemitic are calling out just that very behavior. Gerry to my knowledge has never willingly blamed anything negative on the IDF since this comment and continues to attack people who do.

Gerry admitting the honest core of their beliefs and behavior. This isn't really about me, though. I mean, part of it is, I can definitely be vindictive. But I mostly ignored this asshole for the past year until the doxx comment, and now I'm getting more messages than ever from people who feel actually hurt and terrorized by this motherfucker. I've suffered ZERO fallout from their attacks, I am evidently too big I guess, but there are people who change their username to hide from this piece of shit, even fucking minors who dared to say "free palestine" once. Then there's @stoptheantisemitism, who is NOT gerry, but is impersonated by gerry's alt account @spottheantisemitism and other alt accounts, @stop-the-antisemitism and of course @stop--the--antisemitism in this very thread. Creating so many variants is a deliberate attempt to make it as hard as possible for casual rebloggers to remember which one is the real person. I mean, two alts only add dashes to the same username, and the other only moves one letter "p." I have no idea how tumblr staff can rationalize that as okay. But, again, if there's a guy who can't show his face without human pet jokes because he was just generally creepy, or everyone remembers sixpenceee's family having slaves, why can a user devote this much of their miserable life to "baiting and sealioning" people from multiple accounts and still have a usable blog left? ONE LAST THING!!!!!!!

In the notes on this very post, gerry is so bent on finding people to call out and slander they tried to find "misogyny" in a comment saying that women like studying bugs????????

Gerrysherry, the user who tells people I'm antisemitic because I think IDF soldiers are killing innocent civilians (rather than framed by some kind of Hamas conspiracy), believes my real name was a secret that I only just now accidentally revealed rather than the default way I've signed all my web content since the 1990's. Also believes that I have an employer, that "telling my parents" would affect a grown man, that my hippie mom would disagree with me anyway, and that the hatemail they got last year was all me rather than the natural and inevitable fallout of the supremely fucked up shit they say about the victims of a mass murder. Apparently would gleefully leap at any hypothetical chance at "doxxing" me though. Good to know. Literally wishes they could ruin my real actual life because I don't think Netanyahu is a hero.

[suzukiblu]

hi, question for you, have you ever experienced prolonged writer’s block before? do you happen to have any advice for getting a writing flow going again, that you’d be willing to share?

bc i don’t want to get too heavy in your asks, but between chronic illness/fatigue and longterm autistic burnout i haven’t been able to write a single word in several years now, and GOD am i tired of it. it’s like all the stories and words are stuck inside me and i can see it all in my head but the faucet is jammed and i just can’t get it OUT! i have been slowly feeling like the creative embers are maybe starting to spark again but it’s so hard not to get impatient with myself because it never seems to actually transfer to paper (or word document or notes app). any ideas or tips?

no pressure to answer this if you don’t want to of course, regardless i really enjoy your writing and i’m so glad that i can at least engage with fandom through other authors even when i can’t write my own stories! 💛

Oh god, yeah, I DEFINITELY have experienced that, hahasob. I have gone through at LEAST a year or two without, like, putting down a single word or even drawing anything, just total creative block/not there-ness. Like I feel u on that one, bud.

Good news: now if I write less than 2k in a day I think "oh that's kinda low, huh", so like . . . definitely "didn't write jack shit for [ INSERT TIME PERIOD HERE ]" has yet to sink me, and therefore fuck if it's gonna sink ANY of us. We persevere!!

So like, in my experience actually helpful writing advice is just SO wildly "you just gotta try shit 'til something works"-based that I'mma just give you a list made up of a bunch of, like, assorted tips and tricks that I use on myself to make my brain put words down when it's being stubborn about it, though different ones work at different times and obvi YMMV here anyway because for obvious reasons these are all approaches that I have tailored to my own needs, hah, and some of them are a bit facetious and some are also a bit heavy, but absolutely and unironically I reguarly use them all and they have all repeatedly worked for me.

Also, they're all gonna be goin' behind a cut because WOW there's actually a lot more of them than I realized I had, hahaha. The psychiatrist who recently used me as a case study told me I was very self-aware, so take from that what you will, friend.

Get up and do a chore/take a shower/eat a snack/literally just walk through a friggin' doorway, more often than not it'll at least make your brain reorient enough for you to realize you were just beating your head against a wall and need to do [ INSERT DAMAGE CONTROL/HARM REDUCTION BEHAVIOR HERE ].

Track your progress. Write to-do lists and cross shit off 'em. Keep track of your word count when you write; put it in a spreadsheet or a notebook or on a graph on your bulletin board.

Get a NEW way to track your progress. I currently use, like, three different "to-do list" apps to varying degrees in varying ways, not counting just my basic calendar app ( for the record: Finch, Structured, and just a generic notes app, but mostly Finch and Structured and seriously I CANNOT recommend Finch enough, go get yourself a bird buddy immediately. do you want a friend code, I will GIVE you a friend code, I think it gives you a bonus mini-pet or something if you use it. ), and also set myself MANY a phone alarm to remind myself of things that I need to do in case I space out or get distracted by somebody/something/the specific phase of the moon.

Did you take your meds? Take your fucking MEDS, self, good LORD.

Leave the house even if for literally, like, thirty seconds to just stand in some actual natural light. Or leave the house to go eat at a cafe or library or fast food place and just put yourself in a new environment for literally any length of time whatsoever.

Switch pens. Switch notebooks. Get a NEW notebook. Use your laptop instead. Use your PHONE instead. Get a nicer notebook. Get a shittier notebook. Use the scratch paper at work. Use the Procreate app on your friggin' iPad if you gotta, whatever, you do what you want!!

Don't write!!

Seriously just don't, go watch an actual scripted TV show or movie or read a book or a comic or some fic. Feed your brain something you didn't have to make up yourself.

Come up with a convoluted way to trick yourself into being accountable to someone else. Join a writing group. Make a Tumblr post about how you're gonna go write now. Ask Tumblr for their opinion on what you should write now. Ask Tumblr to spin this random wheel spinner game you generated and tell you what answer they got, and then write THAT.

HAVE you had a snack? Did you eat breakfast? Did you eat lunch? Did you remember to move around the house at any point whatsoever during the day? Maybe like, do that. Like, at least the snack part. Maybe a stretch or something wouldn't hurt either though.

Meal prep is so fucking useful and saves you SO much annoying time and also, like, makes you eat actual veggies and fruit and shit, genuinely actually works, the gym bros were not wrong, go figure. Also then you don't have to think about what you're gonna eat all the time and then cook it and then clean up and then--yeah anyway meal prep, god bless it. Once a week I make a batch of pasta salad and roast a pan of good-when-roasted veggies with like, garlic and salt and pepper and some olive oil and add bacon after, and then I portion it all into tupperware and in the morning I add spinach or crack an egg into that day's share of veggies for breakfast and maybe make some toast, and just grab one of the pasta salads whenever I want something lunch-like. It saves SO much time and distraction when you are hurting for free time/focus. So, SO much.

Unfortunately the gym bros were also correct about exercise, if that's doable for you. Exercise does in fact make you feel better and more energized and less depressed, fuck those guys for being right about that shit. Assuming you have enough iron in your blood to actually, like, do it, which admittedly I frequently do not, but the point stands.

Dude why are you even trying to write, you're so tired, go to bed and get up early, you write SO much better in the mornings anyway.

Hey, I know that's how you USED to write, but like, is that actually how you write right now? Is that actually even what works for you anymore? Actually maybe outlines COULD be helpful or maybe you don't need all those worldbuilding notes all at once; maybe your inner architect needs to let the building decay and go back to nature or maybe your inner gardener has developed a taste for trellises, metaphorically speaking and all.

Please eat something. Also please DRINK something. Like ideally water but we'll go for anything that involves a liquid, seriously.

Hey did you know actually if you ONLY eat instant ramen and microwave pizza you'll probably get scurvy and die instead of, like, writing your magnum opus? Like probably?? Put a fucking egg in that ramen, man! Slice up a scallion in that bitch!! EAT AN ACTUAL WHOLE FRUIT or at least, like, buy a smoothie with actual fruit involved somewhere in it on occasional. The whole fruit, unfortunately, is better. I like apples. Apples take a REAL long time to rot if I forget they exist for a couple weeks or whatever. But like, mango smoothies are also the shit, can't turn down a mango smoothie or a good strawberry-banana. Hey did you know the grocery store just, like, will let you just buy one single apple and they don't give a fuck? You're free! The cashier won't remember you in five minutes!! Buy your one single apple and work your way up to maybe two apples next time!! Also now I want an apple!!!!

Don't write. Don't write THAT. Write the other thing. No, the OTHER other thing. No, not THAT other other thing.

The rules are made up and the points don't matter.

Fuck it, we ball.

[ INSERT FULL-THROTTLE STIMMING BEHAVIOR HERE ]

Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic.

God, that's the weirdest fucking idea you've ever had, literally NO ONE but you would read it. So you should write 180k of it and also make it even weirder and yes it will absolutely be the one fic that just about everyone in MCU fandom who knows you exist knows you for, don't even worry about it, this isn't based on a true story at all.

Actually you could probably storyboard this scene to figure out wtf is happening here. Or like just draw literally anything related to this story, a bit of that might work some kinks out of the whole process.

Did you get that snack yet?

Hey go pet your dog, she's very soft and wants attention and also her OWN snack. Pet your dog and eat an apple and idk watch some anime or a weird niche documentary or an even more niche reality show, have you seen Deep-Fried Dynasty yet, it's on Hulu and was surprisingly engrossing.

Why are you even following the rules, we've been over this, they are made up and the points do NOT matter, and also you're not even getting graded for this anyway.

Yeah okay that thing you wrote sucked, but it turns out that Dean Koontz somehow has a writing career and also Twilight happened to all of us, so actually even the suckiest thing you ever write is gonna be better than the perfect ideal of the scene in your head, because the suckiest thing you ever write is something OTHER people can READ. And again: Dean Koontz has a career. Colleen HOOVER has a career. And fucking good for them, they're killing it, they are fucking WRITING!! Who gives a damn anyway, fix it in editing if you're that worried about it, they call it a rough draft for a reason.

Hey if that thing doesn't work you can just, like, delete it. Or rewrite it. Or stick it in your back pocket and do something else for a while. The sunk-cost fallacy is bullshit and you don't have to listen to it.

Maybe drink some more caffeine, that'll calm you down. [ DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE OF ADVICE TAILORED TO A PERSON WITH MORE ADHD THAN LITERALLY NINETY-FIVE PERCENT OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH ADHD; THAT PERCENTAGE IS ON THE ACTUAL LEGITIMATE DIAGNOSTIC PAPERWORK ]

Seriously you can just write anything you want, nobody can stop you. Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic enough that that's like, thirty-seventy odds at BEST.

God that idea is so niche and weird and niche, better tone it the fuck down to--oh wait no mass appeal means you're writing popcorn and literally no one will remember it in five minutes anyway, stop reflexively censoring yourself for some imaginary audience that will just chew straight through your one-size-fits-all story for The Content(tm) and then immediately move onto the next one without even bothering to hit "kudos" or remember anything about it later. I have written shit so weird that people still remember how weird I was TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, man, and that is why literally anyone will EVER remember that you exist or wanna read your stuff or follow you to a new fandom where they don't even know the source material, fuck it, they'll wiki some shit. And also who cares anyway, it's YOUR stuff and YOU wanna read it. Your agnostically-possible god did not make you this weird and niche for no reason, don't pussy out now!!

Actually you can just write in the bath/on the bus/while waiting for your roommate to finish up with the guy running this estate sale. You've got your phone, right? Fuck it, pack a notebook. Pack an extra notebook. Pack a smaller notebook. Pack a BIGGER notebook.

It's not stupid if it works. You don't have to do what literally ANYONE else is doing, you just have to do what works.

You can literally just skip to the good part and write that, actually. Nobody's gonna throw you in writer-jail. What are we, cops?? Actually do you even need this lead-up here or do you just need to write this one specific blorbo gettin' laid REAL enthusiastically kinkily and/or maybe having a nervous breakdown sobfest over their perception of their personal self-worth and everything else is kinda just window dressing??

I mentioned the snack thing, right? Also sugar rushes are fake but sugar CRASHES are real so maybe be a little careful on that one, maybe buy some trail mix/jerky/smoked salmon, smoked salmon is SO good, smoked salmon is just objectively delicious.

Go talk somebody's ear off about what you're trying to write about. Bonus points if you can find somebody who matches your freak enough that you write, uhhhhh /checks smudged writing on wrist/ a 60k Overwatch fic in two weeks and also like 280k of Witcher fic in less than a year specifically because they're just a real good cheerleader. Wow. Wow that was a lot more Witcher fic than I was aware I had written. THE POINT IS LOOK FOR A WRITING BUDDY, WRITING BUDDIES ARE THE SHIT.

If the writing buddy doesn't work out though the first time I won NaNoWriMo I did it directly out of spite because someone said they didn't think I actually would. So like, spite is always an option, you can always keep that one on tap if you gotta.

Stephen King did not write "On Writing" because he didn't want you to write. Francesca Lia Block did not introduce you to the weirdest and gayest shit teenage!you had ever read so you'd grow up and be a fucking NORMIE about this shit. SIR TERRY PRATCHETT DID NOT WRITE LIKE SIXTEEN OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT YOU TO WRITE WHAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY FRICKIN' INTO.

Clean your room. No, better than that. Okay fuck it just set a ten-minute timer and do what you can in that time, we work with the spoons we've got.

Random number generator. Random color generator. Random "hey followers here's a very oblique poll, don't even worry about what it's about, just click a button please and thank you".

Did you know the internet will just GIVE you free graphs/trackers/bullet journal page designs and you can just print 'em out and do whatever the heck you want with 'em?? Yes my new little "color in the squares every day you do the thing" tracker IS just six daily writing tasks and two daily "just go pick some stuff up in this specific room" tasks and that is MY BUSINESS, MS. SIR AND MR. MADAM AND MX. [ INSERT BUZZER SOUND ]. And also, like, has done much better at getting me to do chores than anything else has in a minute, go fig.

You can actually just do whatever you want forever.

Literally, like just forever.

Fuck, how many times HAVE you done this? You'll never get better for good, it'll always go bad again, you'll always get sick again, you'll always get SAD again, you'll always fucking forget how to even DO this again and have to start all over.

Well yes, obviously, because you'll always have done it again. So do it again. One more time.

( seriously though did you take your meds-- )

[callahanisms]

college au caitlyn

i finally watched arcane after a lot of convincing from my friends and a determination to see how badly s2 butchers s1's themes. and uh caitlyn's my problematic fave unfortunately.

college au caitlyn? yes. and she wants you. 🫵 yes you specifically.

these are my headcanons. you don't have to agree with them.

accompanying bot: 🫐

banner by @cafekitsune

🫐 | piltover national university (pnu) is not cheap. even for piltovians, getting a higher education makes a massive dent in their back accounts. if you're from piltover, you're well off enough to sustain yourself. if you're from zaun, you worked your butt off to be here.

🫐 | college is really where many piltovians, caitlyn kiramman included, finally get outside of their comfort zone. they start to learn things. and caitlyn begins to finally interact with people outside of her circle.

🫐 | double majoring in poli-sci and anthropology. she enjoys the subject of anthropology. but her mother wants her to do poli-sci. who is she to deny her mother?

🫐 | basketball player. she's tall, she did it in high school and continues to do it. it's an excuse to get out of the house and to stop burying her nose in books. her height also makes her perfect for reaching for things on high shelves if you need her help.

🫐 | as a roommate, caitlyn has a strict schedule. she likes to keep things tidy and neat. and she has no hesitation cleaning your side of the room as well if it gets dirty or out of hand. (also definitely has you use coasters on the wooden desks of the dorm)

🫐 | massive workload. honestly kind of unbearable but she's one of those people that just powers through it. she has expectations to meet. and her fear of failing them is what drives her to be hunched over the desk, late at night, with the light on while you're trying to sleep.

🫐 | you guys met in one of your gen ed/core classes. maybe you both are the opposite. or maybe you guys share a major. either way, you become friends because you asked her if she wanted to get lunch with you afterwards. she was also smart, so studying with her and peering over at her notes was always a perk.

🫐 | definitely obsessive. caitlyn has always struggled with friends. the kiramman name doesn't exactly lend to the most fruitful friendships. and yet here you are. attractive, a bright smile. she finds herself missing you.

🫐 | so what if she stalks your hexgram account? she's just looking out for you. that girl on the basketball team? yeah. she's not the most reliable. maybe you shouldn't go on a date with her. or that guy who's a poli-sci major. don't trust poli-sci majors (except herself of course).

🫐 | at some point caitlyn recommends you guys move in together. like move in off campus. she can take care of the rent no problem. she has money. she wants to take care of you after all. and despite your objections, she convinces you to live with her.

🫐 | and even though you live together, it's simply not enough. her mind runs rampant with fantasies of domesticity. and crap, she just wishes you guys were together. and she misses you when you're out of the house. and maybe it's a problem that she's always checking your social media when she's bored in class or losing focus while studying. she likes to call those her "study breaks."

[gingerteafairy]

friends conversations lead to this kind of idea @blueikky

𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 masterlist

𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Tate wouldn’t feel embarrassed to ask you out and immediately establish that you’re the only one who matters to him. He’s certain that you’re his soulmate, and he’d do anything to protect the little world the two of you share. He would go to great lengths to keep it safe. Hobbies would include listening to music together, making fun of new clothes from the mall, playing card/board games and discovering some online game where you both could both play on his computer and your phone simultaneously. He’d also give you a pair of headphones as a gift.

𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Kit kept vision for the future, getting involved with someone with the goal of building a family, overcoming challenges, and dreaming of growing old together. He makes it a point to be a safe harbor, which can sometimes cause stress due to his constant drive to be the perfect husband, finding in you a reason to fight and lean on during tough times. He knew you were the one from the very first date but wanted to wait a little longer to propose so as not to scare you off. Kit would always surprise you with random gifts, like a pair of earrings he thought would match your eyes perfectly. He’d pay attention to the little details, wanting to make you feel special with thoughtful gestures that show how much he cares.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Typical boyfriend material. You two would explore life together, with trips to the movies and amusement parks becoming part of your routine. If you ever struggled with a test, he would help you study, even if the subject was completely different from what he knew. He’d definitely fix your computer for free if it broke since he spent a lot of time watching YouTube tutorials as a kid (he even recorded one).

𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

Even without knowing it, he would be your anchor. With a lot of patience, you’d help him understand the world, teach him to speak and write, guide him in learning how to be “grown-up.” It would be hard, but in no time, Kyle would become a strong man, protecting you and the mansion with his life.

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩. 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡: 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫

James' captivated by darkness and the concept of sin, inherited from his father. You, being a sweet-looking girl in a stable relationship, would be a formidable prey. With a carefully controlled tone, accent, and just the right amount of manipulation, he would lead you into adultery and eventually much worse, with you becoming his protégé. Even though James March is quite the tightwad, he’d make sacrifices to give you things depending on the hunt you two had together, from an expensive necklace to your favorite food. He’d only offer these gestures as a way to mark a special moment, something that proves he values the bond you share—even if it’s always under his own twisted terms.

𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

The relationship with Kai would be intense and complicated. It was too shallow to be just a relationship but too deep to be just a friends-with-benefits situation. It would be a draining relationship, where the question “What are we?” would linger, only to be answered with “We don’t need labels” by Kai. It'd be definitely intense, passionate, and unforgettable. However, the relationship would also be restrictive due to his insecurity and jealousy, at times manipulating you when you wanted to leave, using compromising photos and messages to keep you tied to him.

𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬

Austin Sommers is pretty laid-back. You were a great friend to him, and sometimes he’d stick to the promise of “If we’re both single at 40, we’ll get married and have three cats.” As the person closest to him, he would definitely use some of your shared moments and phrases in his books, even adding you as a character, with a few tweaks here and there.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

Like Austin, he’s chill, living in the moment, using you as the muse for many of his art pieces. As a true introvert, it would take him a while to open up, but soon the two of you would be cuddling after hours of oversharing about life. It would be obvious that you both shared deep feelings for each other, but a barrier of professionalism might prevent the relationship from progressing into something more. He'd give you little paintings and handmade fridge magnets.

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟: 𝐬���𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Despite being a hero, Peter wouldn’t have the courage to ask you out right away. He’d stew over that strange feeling for a while, until one day he’d stop suddenly during a walk and ask if you wanted to be his girlfriend. If you didn’t hear him, he’d pretend nothing happened and wait for another opportunity, hoping you’d be distracted when he tried again. If you heard, he'd ran to his house and make paper rings for you both.

𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Max'd be a sweet, goofy boyfriend, always taking pictures of you, keeping a special box just for storing all the memories. He’d let you play with his hair, wear his clothes, and, of course, he’d snap pictures of you wearing every single one of them. For your birthday, he’d give you a Polaroid camera, since you complained that he always takes photos of everyone else, but never has one taken of him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐤𝐚: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)

Your relationship would be intense from the start to the end. Impulsive as he is, he’d take you to get married in Vegas, not knowing that by doing so, you’d legally be married on paper. Well, he always wanted to be yours in the end, and Vegas was just a bonus from fate.

[colorlessjay]

A Little Elbow Grease

“You have a name to uphold”

That’s what Castiel’s father told him when he was old enough to understand and comprehend words. He was the third youngest of 9 kids, who were known to be on top of everything.

Doctors, Scientists, Business Owners, Lawyers. The Shurley's have a legacy of intelligence, dedication, and greatness, with the stray rebel here and there who eventually succumb to the family name and fall in line

All except little Castiel, the unplanned angel of Thursday who, despite his hard work, constant note-taking, and obsession with studying, has never gotten higher than a C- in his entire life. And that was because his teacher took pity (And maybe because they feared the Shurley name)

His family was generally understanding, if not a little condescending. His older sister Naomi had called him 'special'. Anna tries to be more encouraging about it, saying Castiel has a spirit like no other. Balthazar had tried to get Castiel to do more recreational hobbies, but none of it ever stuck. None of it he was ever good at or remotely interested in.

They never saw any evidence of Castiel straying from his studies, in fact, even his brother Gabriel voiced his (mocking) concern for Castiel's lack of social life. Michael tells him not to read so much in the dark, or else his eyes get worse. Raphael merely chastises him when he catches the young boy in the kitchen in the dead of night, nose-deep in notes and textbooks.

But no matter what Castiel does, he always ends up last in his class, just above the delinquents who barely go to class in the first place.

Ironic given how early Castiel gets to school every day

So Castiel takes drastic measures - asking for Lucifer's help. Despite being the black sheep of the family, Lucifer has achieved great things as a lawyer (Regardless of how... questionable his morals may be)

Lucifer's idea was... classist to put it lightly, but Castiel was desperate to ensure his last year of senior high saw him at the top of his class.

It took a bit of convincing (Lucifer was a very good lawyer) but by the start of spring, Castiel found himself enrolled in a no-name public school whose reputation was good enough to make sure Castiel wouldn't get kidnapped on the first day

What Castiel didn't account for, were the students that riddled the place. Demons of pure teen angst and rebellion

He definitely didn't expect to chase after the most stubborn, hard headed, but incredibly intelligent boy in the entire school, trying to convince him to be his study partner.

Castiel will not give up now. He's failed and fallen far enough.

Dean Winchester will be his wings

—--------------

“Get your GED and get out”

That’s what Dean's dad told him when he was old enough to pick up a wrench. After that? Nothing else really mattered anymore. His dad had a point, John couldn’t put both Sam and Dean through college, especially after they had lost everything to that damn fire. And Sam has so much more potential as a lawyer than Dean could as an engineer. The choice between who gets the college treatment was a no-brainer

John was too stubborn to ask for help beyond having Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen watch his kids while he ‘busted his ass for extra bucks’. Dean is beyond asking what his dad actually did when he goes off for weeks at a time to who knows where. He’s learned the hard way that you don’t ask a man where he gets his money.

The day after his 16th birthday, Dean practically begged Bobby to let him work part-time at his garage. He refused any gift, saying all he wanted for his birthday was steady pay and a warm bed for Sam. And like his dad, Dean was a stubborn bull. And besides, Bobby would rather Dean work somewhere he can keep an eye on the boy

During summers, Dean takes extra shifts at the garage and the Roadhouse Diner, often trying to charm his way for extra tips here and there. After school (the days Bobby forces him to go to ‘watch over Sam’), Dean would go straight back to work, even begging both Bobby and Ellen to give him a shift. And when that didn’t work, he would go around town offering to mow lawns, tend gardens, walk dogs, just about anything for an extra buck.

And all that money always went to Sammy’s college fund. Stanford ain’t cheap, and Dean was determined to give his baby brother the best opportunity he could

Rumors went around that he was an addict of some kind, willing to do anything for cash for some kind of fix. Someone even tried to offer him money to do their bidding, do their homework, be their boyfriend, and some more unsavory offers.

One suspension, two bloody fists, and three trips to the nurse’s office later, Dean made it very clear he wasn’t that type of gal.

Dean wasn’t desperate. He was hard-working. He had pride and dignity as much as anyone else who grew up with enough money to put food on their plate. Unlike any of them, Dean saw school as nothing more than an easy roadblock he had to get over to get a steadier job.

Like his dad said. Get his GED and get out

Too bad the new kid seemed to wanna put a wrench in his plans

With impossibly blue eyes, a gaze of steel, and a voice too deep and monotone for his age, Dean thinks the guy was a prototype for RoboCop.

Castiel Shurley just won’t leave him the fuck alone

-----------

I had this idea for a while

idk what to do about it but ya'll can have it

[just-cofffee]

—Satoruuu, your beloveeed!

Geto came with his usual smug grin, and Satoru felt exasperation crawl up his body like an infernal fire. No way. Not again. And definitely not with that idiot’s voice echoing through the halls.

To make things worse, Shoko’s laughter behind him wasn’t helping at all. That damn woman enjoyed his suffering way too much. Only those two knew about his tiny, insignificant, almost nonexistent crush on the nerd of the school.

—She’s looking for you, the little nerd is looking for you —Suguru sang, pretending to be out of breath—. She said that… that… wait, let me catch my breath… god, I run so fast…

Satoru didn’t wait for him to finish his ridiculous performance and kicked him in the ass.

—Talk.

He had never been this desperate to hear something in his life.

—Your future wife, or whatever you call her, wants to see you in the library, in the ancient books section, in twenty minutes. Don’t ask me why, I’m not her personal messenger… although I should start charging you for these favors.

Suguru wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

—Sooo… —he dragged out the word with a smirk— you should get your ass moving now.

And with another kick in the butt, Geto sent him on his way.

Satoru was in full crisis mode. Why did you want to see him? Did you know about his crush? Were you going to tell him to stop deluding himself because nothing would ever happen? Every step towards the library brought a new catastrophic scenario into his mind. He had to seem cultured, mature, intelligent. Like you. And not some damn hormonal teenager with sweaty hands. Speaking of which, his pants were probably ruined from how many times he had wiped his hands on them.

When he arrived and saw you, his brain shut down.

You were frowning.

Shit.

Did he have something on his face? A booger? Did he look like a terminally ill patient? He wanted to vanish.

—Are you feeling okay, Gojo-san? —Your sweet voice pulled him back to reality.

—You look a little pale…

He just nodded, completely unable to form words. God, this was humiliating.

Still confused, you led him to a more private spot. If he was nervous, you were too. That was unusual. But you had to say it.

—I…

—I wa-

You both spoke at the same time, making things even more awkward.

—Yeah, I need to tell you something —you finally said.

Satoru felt his heart stop. No heartbeat, no breathing. He wasn’t ready for this.

—Go ahead —his voice came out strained with nerves.

—It’s about a kinda dumb question…

You hesitated, playing with your fingers.

He didn’t need more information. No thinking required. He knew what was coming. His crush hadn’t been that subtle after all.

—Whatever it is, my answer is yes.

Silence.

You frowned, confused.

—Would you really let me study the color of your pubic hair?

Time froze.

Satoru felt his soul leave his body.

—…What?

—What?

Silence.

Satoru blinked.

You blinked.

Suguru, hiding behind a bookshelf, choked on his laughter so hard he nearly died.

[arxiwon]

More Than Just a Birthday | yjw

Since it's Jungwon birthday I make a cute and fluffy college AU where he's your loving boyfriend, and you plan a special surprise for him <3

Synopsis:

As Jungwon's birthday approaches, you go all out to prepare a surprise celebration—secretly gathering his closest friends, decorating his favorite café, and even baking a cake despite your questionable baking skills. The only problem? Jungwon, being the observant boyfriend he is, starts getting suspicious of your odd behavior. Convinced you're hiding something, he hilariously misinterprets the situation, thinking you're avoiding him for some unknown reason. But when the surprise is finally revealed, he's left speechless—because, for once, someone put him first.

The first rule of surprising Yang Jungwon: don’t act suspicious.

And yet, you were failing miserably at it.

For the past three days, you had been sneaking around campus, whispering to his friends, and sending cryptic texts that you refused to let him see. You were supposed to be his sweet, doting girlfriend—the one who always greeted him with a smile, who clung onto his arm when he walked you to class, who stole sips of his iced americano even though you claimed to hate coffee. But now? Now you were a whole different person.

You were avoiding his gaze. You were shoving your phone into your pocket whenever he got too close. You even bailed on your usual lunch dates, citing flimsy excuses about “study group meetings” that mysteriously didn’t exist.

At first, Jungwon didn’t think much of it. He knew how busy college could get. But by the third day, as he sat across from you in the library, watching you fidget with your pen and glance at your phone for the hundredth time, he couldn't ignore it anymore.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re acting weird.”

You forced a laugh, a little too high-pitched to be natural. “No, I’m not!”

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. “Yes, you are.”

He wasn’t the type to overthink things, but the way you had been treating him lately… it felt off. Was he annoying you? Did he do something wrong? He replayed every interaction in his head, searching for any mistakes, but nothing came to mind. Maybe you were just stressed, but you always talked to him about those things. This time, you were keeping something from him.

And he hated it.

Before he could press further, your phone buzzed, and you practically lunged for it. “I—uh, I have to go! My study group is waiting,” you blurted out, stuffing your books into your bag in record time. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You kissed his cheek—quick, fleeting, barely there—and rushed off before he could get another word in.

Jungwon sat frozen in his seat, hand absentmindedly touching the spot where your lips had been. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or more concerned. One thing was certain, though: something was definitely up, and he was going to find out what.

The day of Jungwon’s birthday arrived with him feeling both excited and anxious. He hadn’t mentioned it, waiting to see if you would bring it up first, but as the hours passed and there was no mention of “Happy birthday, Won!” from you, his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

By the time evening rolled around, he was convinced. You had forgotten.

Dragging his feet back to his dorm, he tried not to sulk. Maybe he was being childish. Maybe birthdays weren’t a big deal to you. But still… you were his girlfriend. If anyone should remember, it should be you, right?

Just as he was about to open his door, his phone pinged.

Y/N: “Hey, can you come to the café near campus? I need to talk to you.”

Jungwon stared at the message, his heart sinking further. This was it. You were going to break up with him, weren’t you? You’d been distant all week, avoiding him, making excuses… it all made sense now.

Bracing himself for the worst, he trudged to the café, mentally preparing for whatever speech you had prepared.

The moment he stepped inside, however, he was met with darkness.

Then—

“Surprise!!”

The lights flickered on, and Jungwon nearly stumbled backward. The café was filled with familiar faces—his friends, his classmates, even some of his professors. The entire place was decorated with fairy lights and banners that read Happy Birthday, Jungwon! in big, bold letters. There was a cake sitting on the counter (a slightly lopsided one, but still charming), and standing in the middle of it all was you, grinning from ear to ear.

Jungwon blinked. Then again. Then again.

“You—what—”

Before he could gather his thoughts, you ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, my love,” you whispered against his ear.

Jungwon exhaled, his hands finding your waist as he held you close. “You planned all of this?”

You pulled back, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Of course. Why do you think I’ve been acting so weird?”

Jungwon let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I thought you were avoiding me,” he admitted, feeling a bit ridiculous now.

Your eyes softened. “I could never.” You cupped his cheeks, thumb brushing over his skin. “I just wanted to make today special for you.”

And just like that, all the doubts, all the anxiety from before melted away. Jungwon leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re the best,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips.

You grinned. “I know.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, cake, and endless teasing about how dramatic Jungwon had been. But he didn’t care. Because at the end of the day, he was surrounded by people who loved him—and most importantly, by the one person who loved him the most.

And that was the best birthday gift he could ever ask for.

(+) If u have any req. Feel free to tell me okey 🥰

[ecstxsyy]

DO ME, BABY. | C. KENT ❦

Red K!Clark is easily riled up.

18+ mdni!

red k!clark kent x fem!reader

warnings: dom!clark, brat!reader, clark is kinda mean (but not really), p in v, unprotected sex (always wrap it up), cream pie.

requests for v-day event are still open!!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ��⋆ ─────

CLARK LOVED taking you on dates to show you off, he loved the claim he had over you. Men physically cowered away from you in his presence and it stroked his ego like no other. The shiny class ring on his right hand was the sole contributor to the way he was acting, though, you didn’t mind it much.

You loved Clark and the way you guys had sex without it, but it added a new element you never realized was missing. He was rougher, manhandled you in a way that you deep down had craved for a long time. Yet you had no idea anything was even different, you assumed he was just feeling more confident and left it at that.

Today was Valentine's Day and Clark wanted to take you to a party a friend of his was hosting to celebrate the holiday, you were quite social so you were looking forward to the outing. As the night approached, you finished off the last touches on your look for the night. Clark lingered near your vanity, a distasteful look on his face. The dress you wore had a deep-cut V-neck, he could already imagine all the guys that would be drooling over you.

“What’s up with you?” you questioned, your brows furrowing. Clark huffed and straightened himself out, walking towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

“Nothing,” you heard him mumble under his breath, his reply made you roll your eyes. You stood to face him once you were completely ready. You studied his face for a while trying to decipher what was different about him, something had changed but nothing was visibly different.

“Whatever,” you sighed, walking to grab your shoes from their place in their closet. Clark was behind you in a millisecond, snaking his hands around your waist.

“Don't, ‘whatever’ me,” Clark said in a snippy tone, gripping your hip tight enough to where you’ll definitely have a bruise in its place tomorrow.

“What’s gotten into you?” you huffed, trying to walk away from him when his arms snapped you back into place immediately.

“More like what hasn't gotten into you, yet.” Clark smirked, grabbing the fabric of your dress to ride the hem up your thighs.

“Clark,” you warned, “we're gonna be late,”

“Or, we could just not go at all,” Clark whispered into the shell of your ear. You shook him off and grabbed your purse, heading out towards Clark’s car.

Clark rolled his eyes and followed behind you, scooping his keys up off of your dresser. As you made it outside, he unlocked the car and pulled your door open for you, shutting it once you climbed inside. He got into his side and started the car, his silence was deafening.

The car rolled to a stop in front of a loud house party, the music was audible from outside, and drunk people stumbled across the lawn. Clark huffed before getting out of the car to open your door for you. You stepped out and made your way inside, pushing through the sweaty sea of bodies.

You found your way to the kitchen and poured yourself a drink, glancing around to take in the people around you. Clark lingered by your side, watching you intently.

As you sat at the kitchen island sipping your drink, a boy approached you with a sheepish smile.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” He asked, looking from you to Clark.

“Yeah, nice to meet you. And you are?” You smiled, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Jack,” the boy introduced, shaking your hand. His touch lingered after the handshake and you pulled your hand away like you had just touched hot steel, gazing back to look at Clark. The sight that greeted you nearly made you pale, he was fuming.

Clark fixed his grip around your upper arm, dragging you back out the way the two of you had come just a few minutes prior. You fought a bit and the look Clark gave you made you stop immediately, running chills down your spine.

When you got to the car, Clark all but threw you in, slamming the door behind you. He moved to his side with speed and cranked up the car, peeling out of the driveway quickly. Clark parked a block away from the party on a side street and shut the car off.

“Get in the back,” he demanded firmly, getting into the back once you got back there.

His hands found the zipper of your dress and pulled it down as soon as he was next to you, grabbing the bottom hem of your dress and lifting it above your head. You were completely bare under the dress, you sort of figured you’d end up in this situation at some point.

“God, you’re such a whore,” Clark scoffed, squeezing your perky nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. A small gasp left your lips as your back arched into him, begging for his touch.

“So needy for me already,” his voice dripped with lust and cockiness, moving his hands behind you to grip your ass. You crawled into his denim-clad lap, rubbing your clit against his erection through the fabric. Clark’s strong hands found a place on each of your hips, halting your movements.

“Patience,” Clark said with a devilish smirk, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Your greedy hands moved to help him slide them down, but he slapped them away and tsked at you.

“Not so fast, you help when I say you can help,” his words ran shivers down your spine, you didn't know where this new hard side of him was coming from, but you didn't mind it in the slightest.

Clark flipped you onto your back to lie across the street, his solid form hovering above you. The boy shimmied out of his jeans and boxers, letting his cock spring free against your leaking cunt. The way your legs spread further for him out of habit made his jaw go slack for a minute, immediately recovering before you noticed.

His fat tip parted your folds with ease as he slid it up and down your slit, slapping it against your sensitive clit a few times. Clark then slid his cock into you with ease, your wetness providing all the lube he needed to start thrusting in and out of you.

Clark’s fast thrusts rocked the small car back and forth, you were grateful he chose a discreet parking spot or everyone would know what was going on in the backseat of the car. Clark’s speed was unusually fast, he loved to take his time with you. But right now, he was fucking you for his pleasure, not yours.

That didn't mean you weren't still screaming his name as his cock bruised your cervix, your body was coursing full of pleasure. You felt like you were full of electricity, your nerves tingling with white-hot pleasure. You were in pure ecstasy, your hands fumbling to your clit to push you over the edge into your first orgasm.

It tore through you with vigor, your muscles spasming beneath the large man. Clark smiled while watching you come apart, he slowed his hips a little to let you recover. That orgasm had taken practically everything out of you, your shuddering breaths wracking through your body.

“Not done with you yet,” Clark mumbled, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling you up onto your hands and knees. His calloused palm met your soft ass cheek roughly, leaving bright red marks in its wake. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, the smacks hurt so good. Clark repeated this a few times, soothing the skin over with his palm after his last strike to the swollen flesh.

Before you could recover from the smacks, Clark’s cock was filling you to the brim again. His rough hands kneaded your ass while pounding into you, the slap of his hips irritated the red skin of your ass more but he could care less.

Your moans spilled out of you before you could even begin to attempt to contain them, his fat cock was pressing into your g-spot over and over again. The pleasure bubbled throughout you and your abused pussy clenched around him, the sudden constriction caused Clark to moan from behind you.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?” Clark half asked, half stated. You nodded and pushed your hips back into him, chasing your own orgasm that was so close on your horizon.

Clark shot his warm load deep into you with one last thrust, filling you to the brim with his cum. The sensation sent your second orgasm crashing over you, wracking your body with trembles as you sprayed your orgasm all over the seat beneath you.

“Holy shit, Clark,” you panted, your chest heaving with your breaths. Clark just laughed and began redressing.

“Bet Jake couldn't fuck you like that,” the dark-haired boy scoffed.

“Jack,” you corrected.

“What?” Clark asked through clenched teeth, his face starting to turn a shade of red.

“His name was Jack,” you giggled, teasing him. Clark got out silently still half-dressed and started the car with you still in the back. You slid your dress over your head and sighed.

God were you in for it when you got home.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[nottivagos]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT on these two possible ideas:

1) all part of nerd!reader's plot to absolutely tease / overstim jock!carlos. i...uh.. haven't full thought out this one but imagine her planning it. she knows his schedule and so she decides to put on a show, just to see how he reacts. but she didn't realize how much she would enjoy it and she ends up forgetting about carlos. so when he walks in, imagine his reaction seeing her be a mess, thinking about him. Definitely an ego boost.

2) nerd!reader is fantasizing about carlos after she gets jealous. how it all happen was that carlos invited her to a party to, you know, let loose. it's not always just studying. she declines. but as time goes on, she feels like going. not because of carlos, just to live a little. but when she arrives, everyone is absolutely wasted. guys hitting on her, people trying to dance with her. then, she sees carlos with a gorgeous girl, and the girl is super close to him, obviously flirting and carlos is just soaking up the fun and attention, enjoying the party. so, nerd!reader goes back to her dorm and is frustrated, jealous... and ends up thinking about how much she wants his attention, which ends up with her touching herself. carlos, however, noticed when she arrived and left the party so he went after her. but when he sees her moaning his name and so lost in pleasure, he just stands there, with a smirk and his hand stroking himself.

- yapping bun anon 🐇

Welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Saturday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

an: BUN ANON STRIKES AGAIN!!! i picked the second one because, ah, it is perfection. jock!carlos, oh the man you are. it was also an excuse to listen to artemas for a while so i'm happy both ways :)

You shouldn’t have gone to that party.

Carlos had practically made you go. Apparently you were being too stuck-up and needed to ‘let go’. His claims were utter bullshit, you thought. You didn’t need to ‘let go’ like he practically did every night.

So, at first you stubbornly refused like you usually did. You had to study, which was commonly your excuse for everything Carlos tried to initiate, to which he replied with an annoyed sigh and an angry mutter, followed by him rubbing a hand over his face and leaving the dorm out of irritation.

A long period of silence followed. Carlos started going out more often with his douchebag friends to train or socialise, which you didn’t care less for though. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted just so he didn’t distract you from your studies.

But there was always that nagging voice playing in the back of your mind. The urge to go, not for Carlos, but for yourself. This opportunity was like gold dust to a student like yourself, something very rare to be offered by a jock themselves, and the desire to ‘live a little’ hung heavy in your mind and physically.

A little dorm party wouldn’t hurt, surely?

Oh, how you were wrong. For a start, everyone was already nearly blackout drunk. The eyes of hungry jocks burnt into your skin as you rubbed your bare upper arm nervously. You’d never ‘dressed up’ like this before, so the eyes made you gulp anxiously as you tried to merge into the background. Sweat clung to the humid atmosphere as pounding bass blared through your ears as you tried to navigate the crowds.

It didn’t help that you wanted to find Carlos. Despite coming to the party on your own accord, there was a lowly lit flame of yearning burning in your stomach. You wanted Carlos, even if it was one little drunken moment with him.

Barging through the dancing crowds, whilst fuelled with adrenaline to find Carlos was what drove you through the party. You had to fight grabbing hands trying to get you to dance along, but however, the few sips of some strongly made cocktail you snuck on the way through was just adding to your surge of confidence.

That all shattered when you saw him with her. He was casually resting his arm against the wall as she giggled, brushing her palm playfully against his chest. She was gorgeous than you, in many more ways, as she moved to press herself against Carlos’s front, a mischievous glint glowing in her eyes.

 Her words fanned against his lips in ways you didn’t want to, the slurred murmurs made your body tense with jealousy, her nose now dangerously grazing Carlos’s as he just revelled in the drunken attention, smirking at her comments made you want to explode in fury.

The anger and bitter jealousy overwhelmed your senses as you stormed out of the party and made your way back to your shared dorm with Carlos. You couldn’t believe it. So much for literally having the audacity to ask you to come to the party just to have another woman flirt with him instead.

The desire for Carlos’s attention was overpowering as your body burnt in a fury of irritation. You’d gone out of your way to try and make an effort for Carlos to see, for that confidence to crumble and dissipate when his lips even dared to touch that bitch’s glossy, plump ones.

An agitated slam of your door was followed by you storming over to your bed, before you slumped into it, allowing the springs of your mattress to elevate you back slightly. Stirring in your anger at your situation, the desire to have Carlos’s all to yourself caused a pool of fire to begin to burn furiously in your belly.

Your hands absentmindedly followed, fingertips grazing the soft flesh underneath your shirt ever so subtly. The unmonitored movements and motions burnt your skin, the overwhelming thought of Carlos’s fingers actually being the ones trailing down your smooth stomach instead of your own to your clothed cunt made your body dangerously hungry for more.

The touches were becoming more torturous as your fantasies mixed with the growing pleasure coiling inside of you ever so tighter and intenser. They travelled down lower, coming to toy with the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your thighs, before ghosting over the wet spot on your clothed pussy. 

Gasping at the sensation, your fingertips trailed back upwards to the top of your panties, hooking at the elastic before you wiggled them down your bare legs to your ankles awkwardly. They then gradually made their way back up to your now bare pussy sensually, feeling the initial wetness coating your desperate folds.

Imagining Carlos’s fingers spreading your wetness across your yearning folds was intoxicating as you did it. Biting your lip, you teased your fingertips at the opening of your hole, feeling it hungrily try to grab at them as you pulled out.

“Carlos,” your breathy voice called out as you dipped two fingers into your weeping pussy. The feeling was electric as you started to slowly pump them in and out of you, feeling your walls desperately try to suck you in as you did so. 

A pathetic whine followed as your cheeks burnt a hot crimson, biting your bottom lip hard as you began to imagine Carlos’s fingers stretching out your hole so easily, and the way his thick accent would drawl and purr as you moaned embarrassingly at the size difference and the way he murmured swift nothings into your ear ever so smoothly.

If anything, the thoughts made you even crazier for him. You were drunk on your fantasies as your fingers found a relentless rhythm, which made you allow your now more passionate moans to ring around your dorm. You wanted Carlos— no, you needed him to touch you. 

Fuck that bitch he was talking to at the party, you craved for him to be your own. The way his lips would feel on your skin, the way the bites would be so intoxicating, the way you’d rake your fingertips through his beautiful brown hair as you both made out so passionately, the way his cock would feel inside of you for the first time, to the way your name would fall from his lips like a prayer were enough to get you entranced in your vivid dreams.

“Carlos, please,” you begged pathetically as your eyes fully closed shut, thrusting your fingers deeper into your slick cunt. “Please, Carlos, fuck me,” your begged moans became increasingly louder as your breath had began to hitch, the coil inside the bottom of your belly tightening with every inch added as you fucked yourself.

Whilst you were too caught up in your own erotica, you didn’t even suspect Carlos’s looming presence in the room. In fact, you didn’t even know that he’d gone after you when he’d seen you at the party leaving in rage, guilty for hurting your feelings with the drunk little flirt session he was having with that girl.

What he wasn’t expecting to see was you panting his name ever so desperately loud as frantic fingers pounded into your tight cunt. His brown doe eyes darkened with lust as you were too engrossed in the overwhelming pleasure of your ongoing fantasy and the crazy feeling that your fingers felt inside of you as they curled to find the spot that made you squeal.

“Carlos, fuck— You feel so good—” you staggered a strangled moan as your toes started to curl when your fingers had finally found the spot that made you see stars. 

Carlos knew it was wrong to ogle at you pleasuring yourself at the thought of him but your moans and whines of his name were like a siren’s song to his ears, drawing him in to your lust. 

His cock was already painfully hard when his hands moved ever so fast to the zipper of his jeans. Carlos then pushed his jeans down to his ankles with desperation, his boxers following immediately afterwards as he let his erection spring free against his clothed torso. 

At this point, you were dripping onto the bed sheets below you, hips jerking slightly upwards to create more stimulation and friction. Your thumb found your clit, rubbing against the sensitive ball of nerves also, whilst your eyes squeezed shut. You could sense your inevitable climax, as your cheeks burnt all whilst your chest rose erratically with each breath and pant you took.

Carlos groaned lowly in response to the sight he was witnessing, as he started to spread the pre-cum leaking from his angry, red tip with his thumb. He smirked as you let out another few breathy gasps, before he began to pump his shaft almost immediately after.

Your fingers began to pound even more erratically as you felt your high coming. A pierced moan escaped your lips as you screamed, “Carlos!” as the high you desperately craved finally hit you like a wave.

Your body spasmed slightly with pleasure as your cunt clenched around your fingers, soaking them with your dripping essence rushed out of your pussy like a waterfall. The smirk on Carlos’s face grew as you rode out your high. He continued to stroke himself, half-lidded eyes glued to your flushed state as your eyes slowly fluttered open after you removed your wet fingers from your slick hole.

Mind hazy, you blinked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. Your chest heaved as you tried to gain some kind of composure, upon looking down your eyes widened at Carlos lurking in the walkway, just naturally jerking himself off.

“Carlos?!” you squeaked out in embarrassment. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you asked whilst frantically looking for the sheets to cover yourself up with.

“I think I should be the one asking you that question,” he gritted out, continuing to wank off himself as you stared at him with wide eyes. “Do you know how fucking worked up I am right now?” he asked, his words had a bite to them, “me estás matando aquí, cariño,” he muttered, shaking his head as his hardened cock twitched angrily.

“Carlos,” you began to explain, “I didn’t mean to I—”

“Shut up,” he hissed, pumping ever so furiously before he also rode out his release with a groan, the cum spilling from his penis that coated his fingers with ropes of white.

He then grabbed a tissue from the tissue box on the desk before cleaning his release off of his hand. After, he looked at you, who was looking embarrassed and bashful from what you’d done, before he walked over to your bed, crawling on top of you as you stayed underneath the covers.

“Who knew the nerd had a secret lust for me, huh?” He whispered ever so thickly against your lips, the words causing his hot breath to fan across them. “Next time you do this,” he mumbled, nose coming to graze against your own, “I’m going to be the one inside of you making you scream out my name. Got that?”

like jock!carlos? fancy sending me an ask in my inbox so you can be included in my notebook! - notti <3