#everyone around me thinks I just coast

[sensitivegoblin]

Tw: sucicidal venting self harm

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

the thing i love about bill cipher is that even after i've learned all of this stuff about him, seen him at the most vulnerable he'll ever get, seen him at his most innocent, i still can't give a flying fuck about trying to justify his actions. yes he's traumatized, yes he was twisted into what we know today, and while it gives a semblance of context to why he did what he did, it doesn't matter. he still ruined ford's life. he still drove and baited multiple humans to suicide. he still tormented every human he saw as his ticket out of the consequences of his own actions. he still took delight in his actions. he was willing to commit genocide for fuck's sake!!! (freezing all of the humans into statues). trying to explain away what he did does not get rid of what he did, but it certainly puts it in perspective. you won't be catching me being a bill apologist any time soon <3

[dykedvonte]

I dislike takes that Danse would be just as conservative in modernized aus when it's clearly shown his staunch views of things come from his time in the Brotherhood and his deep-rooted desire to belong to something with a greater purpose.

Not to mention lines that show much more open-mindedness that get overlooked for his harsher sentiments when you first meet him. Like the oppurtunity to be a part of something is why Danse fell so far into Brotherhood dogma and it doesn't negate the offense things he does but I feel like it's just lazy to be like "hmmm he'd def be racist" just so it aligns to his BoS beliefs.

[termagax]

i will admit i did watch that video of that guy butchering that alligator and every time he made a comment about how fatty the tail was i was like. taking notes.

[blunderpuff]

apparently i have a half sister???

what the fuck???

[azurajay]

having a normal one about lucretia tazbalance on this good evening

[milo-is-rambling]

Trying to plan a road-trip for yourself when you when a deadline for when you have to be at the end destination but you get to make the entire plan to actually get there is the worst ever actually

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

Adorable little gull loaf in the town centre today

[revasserium]

Pining Zoro and blind-to-it Reader?

un-certainly

opla!zoro; 3,422 words; fluff fluff fluff so much fluff, straw hat!reader, fem!reader, (seeminlgy) clueless!reader, lots of pining, banter, teasing, smitten!zoro, the whole nine yards

summary: in which everyone knows zoro's got it bad for you, except for you, of course.

one.

“so… i should just… talk to her.” zoro says uncomprehendingly, blinking at an exasperated nami, who has to take a long, steadying breath to keep from shoving him overboard. the waves beneath them are calm, the day above them, a gorgeous, endless stretch of blue so brilliant it almost pains the eyes to stare.

nami resists the urge to pinch her nose bridge as a dull ringing starts to echo in her ears.

“yes. sweet god — just go up to her and say ‘hey, i think i might like you’ and i guarantee you, things will go from there.”

zoro shifts his tightly knitted arms, squinting at her as if she might be lying or purposefully luring him into a trap, “go? so there’s a chance it could go badly.”

this time, nami really does drop her face into her hands, groaning loudly.

“well there’s always a chance it could go badly —”

“sounds like a bad idea to me.” zoro looks away, eyes still narrowed as the light sea breeze ruffles his hair, a colony of news coo squawking loudly overhead, one of them dropping down to careen towards the going merry, landing on the thick white railings next to them, ruffling it’s feathers as nami pushes off to dig in her pocket for some berry.

“oh! newspapers here!” your voice makes both zoro and nami jump, and a second later you’re bounding up the stairs to the forecastle deck and stuffing some berry into the news coo’s bag. your arm brushes by zoro’s as you lean over to offer the news coo a piece of dried shrimp, which it considers for a second before leaning forward and gobbling up.

nami gives zoro a soft shove from his other side, leveling him with a meaningful look before turning and making a show of going to check on her tangerine grove.

zoro doesn’t have time to glare before the news coo takes off with a pat-pat-pat of wings, leaving you and him very much alone on the sunny fore-deck. he purses his lips, casting about for something to say even as you hum happily to yourself, your arm still painfully close to his as you unroll the newspaper and flip though, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil of the man standing next to you.

“uh — anything interesting?” zoro asks, desperate for something, anything to fill the silence.

you shrug, “nope… just the usual — uptick in piracy along the coast, tightening of marine patrols…” you turn and cast him a grin that makes his stomach twist inside him like a contortionist from buggy’s freakshow.

zoro clears his throat, thumbing absently at the hilt of his swords before taking a deep breath.

“hey — uh…”

“hm?” you turn towards him, with your wide attentive eyes and your stomach-curling smile.

zoro blinks, his gaze flickering from your soft button nose to the way the wind twines its fingers in the loose strands of your hair. two twin pearls glitter from the lobes of your ears and he feels the tension melt from him as he sucks in another breath.

just say it, nami had said, just tell her.

really, how hard could it be?

“i uh — there’s something i wanna talk —”

“wait, hold still,” you say, your eyes going wide as you lean forward suddenly and zoro’s visions tunnels in around him — you’re close, closer, too close/too close/too close!

your fingers card through his hair and he has to bite back the shiver that rockets down his spine as you pull your hand back with a black-tipped feather.

“the news coo left you a present,” you say, laughing as you offer him the feather.

zoro considers it for a second before taking it from you.

“it could’ve left worse,” he says, recalling the few times that he’d gotten bird shit in his hair.

you giggle; the sound makes him want to scream but instead, he settles for clearing his throat again.

“now, you make a wish,” you say, nodding towards the feather in his hand.

“never heard of that before,” he frowns slightly, “thought you could only wish on dandelion seeds and…” he waves at the endless stretch of sky above you, “shooting stars and stuff.”

your smile is so wide that zoro thinks his cheeks might start to hurt for you.

“haven’t you heard that rules are meant to be broken?” you ask, offering him the feather again. he looks at you, then at the feather, and the back at you.

“okay — i wish —”

you squawk flapping your hand, “no! you can’t tell me what the wish is! otherwise, it won’t come true!”

zoro smirks, cocking an eyebrow, “i thought rules were meant to be broken?”

you blush the most darling shade of red and he decides to take it easy on you (and, honestly, himself). so, he plucks the feather from your hand and closes his eyes, making a soft, silent wish. a wish that, in truth, he’d been making since the moment he met you.

when he opens his eyes, it’s to find you staring.

“kay. now what?” he asks, rolling the feather between his thumb and forefinger.

“now…” you gently tug the feather from him before opening your palm and letting the wind whisk it away, “you let the sea take your wish. and if you’re worthy, it’ll grant the wish for you!”

zoro lets out a breathy laugh, “if i’m worthy? and how’s it supposed to know that?”

you lean in, and if it were anyone else, he might’ve been annoyed, but with you, somehow, he finds himself charmed.

your voice is conspiratorial as you whisper, “because… the ocean knows all the secrets the sky can’t keep.”

two.

at dinner, with you by his side, usopp detailing some imaginary adventure, nami laughing, sanji blowing smoke rings towards the middle of the fire-lit deck. your cheeks are pink from the wine everyone is passing around and for a second, you bump into him and turn — he turns towards you too —

your eyes catch like unsuspecting fish to a bobbing hook and zoro feels his stomach tug as you grin up at him, the night sky caught in the flutter of your lashes.

he can’t help the way his gaze flicks down to your lips, and then back up again.

“feel like sharing?” you ask, nodding towards his half-finished bottle.

wordlessly, he hands the bottle to you and watches as you bring the mouth to your lips and take a long drink. he tracks the soft bobbing of your moon-lit throat and feels his own mouth go dry at the sight.

across the fire, sanji watches with a growing smile and nami rolls her eyes.

“oi, moss-head — mind if i take a swig too?” sanji asks as you hand back the bottle, dragging the back of your hand across your lips, and zoro turns to pin sanji with a glare.

“get your own,” he says, before polishing off the rest with a few hard sips and tossing the bottle into a rapidly growing pile.

zoro licks his lips and tries not to think about the way your lips had fit around the bottle just right; he tries not to wonder if you’d taste like wine. or, if he’d even have the mind to think that far if you were to let him kiss you.

three.

“… and then, you pull it through… like this?” you slowly bring your arm through a swiping movement, your hands clutched around the hilt of a wooden training sword. zoro sighs, shaking his head.

“uh — not quite — here,” he pushes off from the barrel he’s sitting on to circle around behind you, wrapping one hand around both of yours, the other palm curling around your middle to press against your stomach, “you’re breaking in your waist again — keep your core tight and —” he helps you swing the sword through in a swift arc.

“oh.”

it takes him a second to realize how close you are, how he can feel your entire back pressed against his entire front, how perfectly you fit into his arms, how easy it’d be to hold you to him and never let go.

“so just… practice that a few hundred times,” he says, stumbling back as his cheeks go hot and he feels the inexplicable urge to toss himself into the calm, saltine waves below, if only to cool down just a bit.

“will you practice with me?” you ask, your smile wider than the sky is wide — zoro is sure.

he blinks at you for a second before making a show of sighing and rolling his eyes.

“ah… i guess i could use a bit of practice too.”

he pulls out the wadou ichimonji and takes his stance next to you.

“ready?” he asks.

you nod, glancing over and adjusting your posture.

“okay, how many are we doing?”

zoro casts around for a number, “a thousand.”

“zoro!”

“five… hundred?”

you cast him a look that makes his stomach flip inside him.

“how about we start with a hundred, and then i’ll see how i feel from there?”

zoro clicks his tongue, smirking, “i could do a hundred in my sleep.”

you make a show of rolling your eyes, “fine then — go take a nap!”

zoro huffs as he clears his throat, “right then — let’s start — one, two —”

you squeak as you hurry to catch up, jumping as he reaches out a hand to correct your posture.

up on the foredeck, luffy watches with usopp by his side.

“hey! i wonder if zoro would teach me sword tricks if i asked!”

usopp sighs, clapping luffy on the back even as he shakes his head.

“uh — not that i think he wouldn’t but … maybe you should just… let them do their thing, yeah?”

four.

“i think you really should tell her,” luffy says, slapping zoro on the shoulder, a bit harder than he’d intended. zoro winces, pressing a palm to his chest — still sore from their recent raid.

“i don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

luffy laughs, leaning forward against the railing, “nami said you’d say that.”

zoro fights the urge to scowl as he sighs, his eyes narrowed at the damnably calm horizon. at least if the weather weren’t so nice, he could make up an excuse to leave but —

“really, what’s the worse that could happen?” luffy asks.

zoro grunts, shooting luffy a sidelong look, “oh i don’t know, she doesn’t feel the same and shit gets awkward and —” he waves a hand at the going merry, “the crew falls apart.”

thankfully, luffy doesn’t pause to call him out on for once not denying it.

instead, he lets out a contemplative hum, “hm… yeah, that could happen. but… i don’t think it will.”

inside his chest, zoro’s heart clunks, strange and uncoordinated.

“why? she say something to you?” he can’t keep the curiosity from his voice, the stomach-squeezing anticipation he’d only ever associated with the heat of battle and a really good fight. but now, he feels it whenever you get too close, and he wonders if he can go insane like this — if one day his heart might just give out.

“nope!” luffy’s voice is too bright, too cheerful, and zoro feels himself rolling his eyes before he can stop himself, “i’ve just got a feeling!”

“a feeling.”

“yeah! and — have a little faith! the straw hat crew isn’t that fragile.”

with that, and another hearty clap to the shoulder that leaves zoro hissing in pain, luffy clomps off towards the kitchens, where sanji is already doing dinner prep. zoro lets out another sigh as he straightens, carefully stretching his arms to test the range of motion.

above him, a flock of migratory geese fly southward in a soft, arrowhead formation. zoro holds up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he watches them pass overhead.

a single feather flutters down towards him and he finds himself reaching out to catch in the palm of his hand.

a wish, huh, he thinks, twirling the feather between two fingers before casting around to make sure no one else can see him. satisfied that everyone else is either too far away or below decks, zoro closes his eyes and makes a wish —

alright roronoa, please. don’t fuck this up.

five.

“ahem.” zoro clears his throat after dinner, making a point to down a couple more drinks than usual. he’s never been one to believe in liquid courage, but… it couldn’t hurt, right?

“can we, uh, talk?”

you smile a smile that threatens to crack his chest wide open, nodding.

“sure! what’s up?”

across the room, sanji visibly stills but nami catches his eye and shakes her head ever so slightly.

“c’mon… not in here,” zoro says, jerking his head towards the hallway that leads to the decks above.

“what’s got you so secretive all of a sudden?” you ask as he leads you all the way up to the crows nest, reaching down to help tug you up, letting his hand linger in yours as you grin up at him.

“i’m allowed to have secrets,” he says, turning to stare out at the darkened sea, the summer moon hanging low and full-bellied over the glittering waters, the stars winking like so many all-seeing eyes.

“we all are, but… i thought we’d gotten all your big ones after that one night the whiskey bar —”

zoro coughs, “alright, alright — don’t need to bring that up again.”

you laugh, leaning forward to pillow your cheek against your crossed arms, propped up along the edge of the crows nest.

“so? what’s this new secret, then?”

zoro swallows, “uh — wouldn’t exactly call it new.”

“alright then, an old secret.”

“not super old, either —”

you turn to look at him, half-exasperated, half-amused, but when you catch sight of his expression, you still, pressing your lips.

“zoro? is… everything okay?”

he ticks his tongue against his teeth and lets out a long breath, as if bracing himself for something before he says —

“yeah. i think —” he clears his throat again, trying to recall what nami had said about just saying it and he tries again.

“i think i might like you.”

the coil in his chest feels tight enough to snap, but you’re quiet as he turns to steal a glance at you.

“oh,” you say, you expression curiously contemplative as you look out over the darkened seascape.

zoro has to physically stop himself from shaking you by the shoulders — say something, goddamnit! say anything!

“so…” he says, knitting his arms across his chest instead.

you turn towards him, your eyes bright as twin stars.

“you think you might like me, right?” you ask, and for a second, zoro can only blink down at you, completely thrown by your lack of reaction. of all the things he’d imagined you doing — everything from getting angry to apologizing to throwing yourself at him with an impassioned speech about how you’d felt the same since the beginning — this was not one of them.

“uh… yeah, pretty sure that’s what i said.”

you cock your head, a quick, bird-like gesture that makes zoro’s heart skitter inside his chest, threatening to leap from his mouth as you continue to stare up at him, completely unabashed.

“ah… so what do you think we should do then?”

zoro stares, “… do?”

“yeah, because if you’re not sure if you like me… we should do something to make sure, right?”

and it’s then that he sees the soft, playful uptick of your lips, the glittering darkness behind your eyes. the tension in his chest seems to loosen even as he lets out a breath, chuckling before quirking an eyebrow and taking a step towards you, caging you in against the crows nest’s edge.

“mm. you’re right — i can think of a few things we could try, though.”

“yeah?” you voice is little more than an exhale on the wind, but it’s the last thing zoro tastes before he finds his lips on yours.

as far as kisses go, zoro would later think back, it was a pretty damn good one.

it started as a slow kind of kiss, a soft, unfurling of breath on breath, and then lips on lips. the ghost-friction of promises made and kept and unbroken, the first spark to a fire that had been threatening to consume him since the moment he’d heard you laugh.

and then — just like that, he’s kissing you. and you’re kissing him back, the gravity and inevitability of it making his head spin even as he presses in closer. it is sweet and warm and trembling — soft and hard and deepening. he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth and savors the way you gasp open for him.

just him.

he swallows it like he wants to swallow you, reaching up to sink his fingers into the silk and gossamer of your hair, pulling you so close he can feel your heartbeat thrumming against his chest, your nails as they curl into the linen of his shirt.

it takes everything inside him to pull back, and everything else left not to dive right back in again. you’re both panting, a little breathless, and zoro — a lot relieved.

“so…” you say, your tongue flickering out to lave across your bottom lip.

zoro doesn’t try to stop his eyes as he tracks the spine-tingling motion.

“so?”

you grin, biting back the shiver that chases through you at the deep, base rumble of his voice, echoing from his body to yours.

“what’s the verdict? have you decided if you like me yet?” you ask, batting your lashes even as he watches your own eyes drop down to his lips. a dark, warm, purring satisfaction curls inside his chest at the way your pupils dilate, black as the night, bright as all her favorite stars.

“hm,” zoro hums, leaning down to skim a knuckle along your jaw, slowly guiding your face towards his again, “dunno… jury’s still out… might have to try it a few more times. y’know… just to be sure.”

“mm…” you sigh as he leans down to graze his teeth along your pulse point, fingers tightening around your waist as he feels you tremble in his arms, “y-yeah… wouldn’t want you to be —” you hiccup as he sinks a soft bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “uncertain.”

“no…” and his voice is all groan and gravel as he lets himself breathe you in, “we certainly wouldn’t want that.”

bonus.

far below, beneath the decks of the going merry, sanji takes a long pull from a post-dinner cigarette, his lips twisting into a concerned sort of frown.

“it’s been a while since they’ve been up there. think we should go check on them?”

luffy shugs, still happily picking at the remains of the turkey carcass sitting in the middle of an oblong plate.

“they should be okay — i mean, they say that no news is good news, right?”

“uh, not sure that applies to this kinda thing,” usopp says as he makes to peak out of the nearest window.

nami swirls her drink, “i think they’re fine. and we’d hear if zoro threw himself off the crows nest, right?”

across the table, sanji blinks and luffy pauses in his munching.

“whoa, you think he’d really do that if she rejects him?” usopp asks, his face going a little pale.

nami rolls here eyes, “no.” and then a moment later, “but really, we’d hear him if he jumped, right?”

luffy licks his lips, shrugging, “dunno, probably though. he’s pretty heavy so he’ll make a pretty big splash.”

sanji taps a bit of ash into his empty bowl and lets out a long suffering breath.

“yeah, y’know really, no news is good news.”

[endlessthxxghts]

Just One

DBF!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 819 (she just a baby!)

Summary: You’re still worked up even though Joel’s tapped out for the night. Maybe you need a kiss to satisfy you—a simple, sweet kiss. Right?

Content/Tags: Reader is able-bodied and has female sex anatomy, but is otherwise undescribed. Pussy pronouns (she)!! 18+ MDNI. Making out. Bulge grinding 😋 let me know if there’s anything I missed!

A/N: @pinkypromisepascal and I had a conversation…and then I said I wanted to write a drabble based on what we talked about, to which she said “DO IT.” So I did. Y’all better thank her brain for this too!🙂‍↕️ and to @strang3lov3, thank you for the extra pair of eyes AND THE MOODBOARD!!!😭 I love you both so much. To everyone, I hope you enjoy, all my love xx

masterlist | notifs blog

It’s been thirty minutes. 

Thirty minutes since Joel had you folded nearly in half, your legs pressed against your torso, the slam of his hips pushing you higher up his mattress. 

Thirty minutes since he made your eyes roll back, throat burning in pleasure. 

Thirty minutes since he wiped you clean and massaged your hips. 

It’s been thirty minutes. 

And he’s knocked the fuck out. 

You sit up in his bed. You’re not here very often. Ever, really. It was by chance you stayed over tonight. So you study the area. Take his space in. The painting and posters above his bed. The nightstand. The white fan sitting on his dresser, pointing directly at him. He runs hot when he sleeps. Too hot. 

Your eyes trace his figure, then. His broad back on display, hips covered by his sheets. 

His face. God, his face. Salt and pepper scruff around the edges, smile lines and furrowed eyebrow lines adorning his face. They’re not as harsh now as he succumbs deeper into his slumber, but they’re present nonetheless. 

His hooked nose sits prettily, the same nose that had you squirming and gasping for air earlier in the night. Your core flutters at the thought. 

You’re looking at his lips now, and you can’t help the way your own forms a smirk. 

“Joel,” you whisper. 

A rock. Unmoving. Unfazed. 

On your knees now, you shuffle to face him. Leaning forward, hand on his shoulder to nudge him, you try again. 

“Joel.” 

“Hm?” his sleepy voice rasps. 

“I need your help,” you respond. 

One eye peels open. His eyebrows move into their natural habitat, furrowed. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” 

You put on your sweetest face. “Can I have a kiss?” 

You stifle a giggle at the daggers being thrown at you. “Jesus,” he mutters. “Have you been up this whole time?” 

“It’s been thirty minutes,” you retort. 

“No, it ain’t—” you gesture to his clock before he can finish his thought. He faces it immediately, throwing his face back into his pillow with an incoherent grumble. “Sleep,” he finally says. 

“I will, sleeping beauty,” you giggle. “Can I please have a kiss first? Just one,” you ask again, lowering your voice an octave, a tone he can never deny. 

He flips himself over, so he’s more on his back now. “It’s never just one.”

“That’s not true,” you fake pout, leaning closer in, letting the tips of your nose dance.

“You said one kiss months ago. Look where that got us.” His breath fans against your lips.

“I don’t see you complaining,” you whisper, your body on fire with this conversation. 

You let your lips finally meet, soft and sweet, but the heat building in your cheeks keeps you from breaking the seal. Without thinking, you climb on top of him, straddling him as your hands find the base of his neck, the length beneath you already beginning to stir. 

You break away for less than a second before you bring your lips to his again, but he’s quick to stop you, a shit-eating grin between his cheeks. “Thought ya said one?” He breathes. 

“Shut up,” you murmur, smashing your lips against his once more as your tongue coasts the expanse of his bottom lip, the taste of you from earlier still lingering. 

“Shit, sugar,” he groans into your mouth, his hips bucking into you on their own accord. “She’s still so needy, ain’t she? That why ya can’t sleep?”

His bulge catches perfectly where you need him most, pulling a whimper from the back of your throat. “Please, baby,” you pant. 

“Told ya ‘s never jus’ one kiss,” he rasps as his heavy hands grab at your waist, guiding your hips into a more frenzied rhythm.

“You’re right,” you cry, eyes clamping shut, nothing but the sweet sounds of your ecstasy blessing his ears. 

Too blissed out to continue kissing him, you bring your lips to his jaw, nipping and licking the places you can reach. With a few harsh grinds of your hips, you’re moaning out into his ear—his partially deaf one, luckily—with millions of white sparkles flashing beneath your eyelids. Joel’s breathing stops at the same moment your body convulses, strangled grunts leaving his throat as he adds to your mess of his boxers. 

“She satisfied, yet?” He hums as you lay across his sweaty chest.

“Mmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I think it’s her turn for a kiss now.” 

Joel scoffs. You can hear his smile with it. 

You lift your head to look him in the eyes, a faux innocence in the way you jut out your bottom lip. “Just one, baby,” you reason with him.

Joel tosses you to your unspoken side of the bed. “Sleep.” 

“But—”

“She’ll get her kiss in the morning.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out at the realization of his words. “G-Goodnight, baby,” you reply quickly. 

“‘S what I thought. G’night, darlin’.”

I would love to hear what you guys think! I love you all so much, thank you for always sticking by my side and supporting me always. You all are my happy place. Wouldn't be where I am without you.🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (one)

requested here;

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader. word count: 8.9k

The North Carolina heat simmered under the August sun, but the sprawling campus of the university felt like a different world, far removed from the humid beaches of figure eight. This was a place where social lines blurred, where kooks and pogues no longer carried the same weight, they did back home.

Or at least, that’s what you had hoped.

Of course, Rafe Cameron, had to ruin that for you. When you found out, he’d gotten into the same school as you, you had begged your lucky stars and then some, that he’d stay the hell out of your way. It was one thing to put up with his bullshit back home, it was easy to avoid him since you attended very different high schools. Very different places and crowds.

He was an arrogant, entitled brat, always ready to throw his family’s money around to get what he wanted. But here, on campus, you hoped things would be different. You hoped that the prestige and maturity of university life would somehow keep him away. After all, wasn’t this a fresh start for everyone?

 But now his name was plastered in the same class as you. 

You had never thought you'd find yourself in the same academic sphere as him. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t give a shit about history, let alone the History of Empire, Colonialism and Post-colonialism. His major was…something to do with business, you were sure of it.  It had to be a mistake. Some sort of system error, of course.

The first day of classes, however, quickly ruined any hopes of a peaceful coexistence. As you entered the lecture hall for your course—you saw him. Rafe sat in the middle of the room, slouched back in his chair with that same self-assured stupid smirk that made you want to throw a table at this face. His presence was an unwanted reminder of everything you were trying to escape. 

Labels. Constant violence between clicks.

You took a seat as far from him as possible, near the front where you could focus on the lecture and block out any distractions. 

“Oh, if it isn’t my favorite pogue.”

Your heart sank at the sound of his voice, that familiar sneer cutting through the quiet anticipation that filled the lecture hall. You didn’t even need to turn around to know he was talking to you. But you did.

He leaned back in his chair; arms crossed with an air of superiority that had always grated on you. His voice was just loud enough to catch the attention of a few other students nearby, some of whom glanced your way with mild curiosity. It was the kind of attention you had hoped to avoid, but of course, Rafe had other plans.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be interested in a class like this,” he continued, his tone dripping with condescension. “I figured you’d stick to something more…fitting.”

He was so infuriating. Didn’t even know the first thing about you or your major.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let him get a rise out of you. He was baiting you, trying to get under your skin like he always did back home. The smirk on his face told you he was enjoying this far too much.

“It’s a required course, Cameron,” you replied coolly, turning back to face the front of the room. “Not that you’d know anything about what’s fitting for me.”

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “Touchy, touchy. Come on, we’re not in high school anymore. We’re all adults here, right? Let’s play nice.”

“Why are you here?”

His smirk widened at your question as if he’d been waiting for you to ask. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had just waltzed into a class that was clearly way out of his depth.

“Had a spare elective to fill,” he said with a shrug as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought this class would be easy enough—history and all that. Figured I’d coast through it.”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. The sound burst out of you, catching Rafe off guard. His smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused.

“Coast through it?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “You really have no idea what you’ve signed up for, do you?”

Rafe’s expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You turned in your seat to face him fully, a small, satisfied grin playing on your lips. For once, you had the upper hand, and you were going to enjoy it. 

“This isn’t some high school history class. We’re talking about the intricacies of empire-building, the impact of colonialism on societies, and the complexities of post-colonial power dynamics. It’s not exactly lightreading.”

He looked at you skeptically, “So what, it’s a bunch of essays and books? How hard can it be? You’re here.”

So charming it nearly killed you.

You raised an eyebrow at his last comment, letting the subtle insult roll off your back. “Good luck then.”

Rafe’s bravado faltered even more, but he quickly recovered, leaning back in his chair again, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong then, won’t I little pogue?”

You shrugged, turning back to the front of the room as the professor started speaking, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was almost laughable—Rafe Cameron, who probably hadn’t read a book cover to cover since middle school, thinking he could breeze through a class that was known for being one of the toughest in the department. You almost felt sorry for him.

 Almost.

As the professor launched into a discussion about the British Empire and its influence on global trade, you kept half an ear on the lecture and half on Rafe, curious to see how he would react. At first, he seemed content to doodle in the margins of his notebook, barely paying attention. But as the lecture went on, you noticed him glancing up more often, his brow furrowing slightly as the professor delved into the complexities of colonial economics.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. Maybe watching Rafe finally struggle at one little thing in life was exactly what you needed.

You couldn’t resist the urge to glance back at him when the professor mentioned the labor-intensive plantation economies in the Caribbean. Rafe was staring at the board now, his expression more… confused? Blue eyes moved along the words as if they didn’t make any sense to him. Maybe this class would be the humbling experience he desperately needed.

When the lecture ended, he was one of the first to stand, shoving his notebook into his bag with a little more force than necessary. You had to bite back a laugh, again.

You took your time gathering your things, waiting for him to make a move or say something, but he just walked out without another word. Ooops. Maybe Big Bad Rafe learned a new lesson. 

The semester rolled on, you and Rafe went back to avoiding each other in class. 

You watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as he struggled through lectures, occasionally catching him furiously scribbling notes or staring blankly at the professor as if the concepts were being explained in a foreign language. It was almost comical to see someone like him so out of his element. Every time he fumbled an answer during a class discussion or looked around for someone to give him a clue, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of vindication. 

Meanwhile, you kept your distance, focusing on your work and trying to understand the complexitiesof university life on your own terms. But as the days passed, it became harder to ignore a different reality setting in—one you hadn’t expected. 

Uni wasn’t so different from home, not to you at least. Despite your hopes, it seemed the lines between kooks and pogues hadn’t entirely disappeared. Sure, the university was supposed to be a place of new beginnings, but you found yourself struggling to fit in.

You weren't exactly the social butterfly, and you could count your friends on one hand. The cliques here were different—subtler than the ones back home, but just as impenetrable. Weekends were the hardest, with endless Instagram stories of parties you weren’t invited to, people forming bonds over experiences you didn’t share. It hurt more than you’d care to admit. 

Maybe you weren’t putting yourself out there enough, but could you really afford to? You were on a full scholarship, and parties were the last thing on your mind—you couldn’t afford to mess this up. Every penny went to essentials like food and books. Fashion and makeup weren’t even on the radar, but in another world, maybe they would’ve been. A girl could dream.

And then there was Nate. 

Dreamy, golden Nate—a junior with a smile that could light up a room. He was so…perfect. You’d been crushing on him since the first day you saw him in the hallway, before your social studies class, but he didn’t even know you existed. He asked you for a pen in class once, and you nearly freaked out. He’d been so polite. Your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it. But after that brief moment, it was like you faded back into the background. He returned the pen with a cute thanks and moved on, like you were just another face in the crowd. It was silly to hold on to that tiny interaction, but you couldn’t help it. 

Boys like Nate never looked at you. You didn’t have the spark they searched for. 

Unfortunately, Rafe still did.

After another particularly grueling lecture, you were packing up your things when you heard that all-too-familiar nasal voice behind you. 

“Enjoying the view from the front of the class?”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to turn around. You’d been having a shit week, fed up with being alone. Your friends from back home had their own life’s now, so talking to them was almost impossible too. 

You were on the brink of an existential crisis.

“I’m surprised you’re still showing up. Thought you’d have dropped by now.”

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice had a sharper edge than usual. “Y'know, I might not be the smartest in this stupid class, but at least ‘m not alone all the time.”

That made you pause, your hands stilling over your notebook. You slowly turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He crossed his arms with that same infuriating lazy smirk, but there was something different about it this time—something colder.

“It means I’m having the time of my life watching you struggle, watching you be miserable while everyone else is out having fun. Not invited to any parties, huh? Must suck.”

The fake pity almost made you lose your temper. You hadn’t realized he’d been paying that much attention, hadn’t considered that he’d notice, but of course, he’d put in the work to make a pogue’s life even worse.

The truth in his words stung even more because it was exactly what you’d been feeling, what you’d been trying to ignore. But now, hearing it out loud, from him of all people, made it so much worse.

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure, “Not everyone has daddy’s money, some of us have to put in the work. You think I give a shit about stupid parties?”

His left eye twitched in irritation and for a second you thought you had hit it where it hurts, but instead, he chuckled through his nose, “Must be exhausting, trying to prove something to everyone.”

“I don’t know. Is it?” You snapped, unable to hold back any longer, “This isn’t Figure Eight. Leave me the hell alone.”

“Where’s the fun in that, hmm?”

Rafe's smirk widened; his eyes gleaming with that familiar arrogance. He thrived on getting under people's skin, especially someone like you. It was a sick game he played, always pushing, always testing, just to see how much it would take for someone to crack. He was sick.

“You know,” he continued, his tone mockingly thoughtful, “Maybe I should keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t drown in all this responsibility.”

His words were smooth, almost kind, but the condescension behind them was palpable.

You could feel your blood boiling, but you knew better than to give him the satisfaction of seeing you snap. Rafe was the kind of guy who fed on drama, who would twist any reaction into ammunition against you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, your voice cold as ice.

He chuckled, pushing off the desk and taking a step closer. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our little chats. I’m the only excitement you get around here.”

The nerve of him. The arrogance. What was he getting out of this?

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm, “but I’d rather shoot myself in the face than spend another minute talking to you. Goodbye.”

You left the classroom that day with your heart pounding. You pushed his words aside, focusing on what mattered: your studies, your goals, and making it through each day. 

Weeks passed, and slowly, life at university began to shift. You met two girls in your sociology class—Ava and Harper. They were the kind of girls who seemed to have everything together: effortlessly stylish, confident, and always surrounded by friends. You’d admired them from a distance, never thinking they’d notice someone like you. But one day, after an impromptu group discussion, they invited you to join them for coffee. That was a big day.

Ava was a whirlwind of energy, always laughing, always with a story to tell. Harper was more reserved, but her quiet confidence and sharp wit drew you in. She was hilarious.

To your surprise, they were kind, and over time, the three of you became inseparable. You weren’t alone anymore. For the first time in weeks, you started to feel like you belonged. They didn’t care that you were a pogue, not even knowing what that meant. They liked you for you, and that meant more than anything. 

One Tuesday night, Ava and Harper invited you to a party. It was the kind of party you’d only seen in movies—the fraternity house was practically a mansion, very different from the bonfire parties you were used to back home. You hesitated at first, thinking about your responsibilities. But they insisted, promising it would be fun, and you knew you could use a break. After all, it was just one night.

When you arrived, the music was pounding, lights flashing in time with the beat. People were dancing, and laughing, and the air was filled with the scent of perfume and alcohol. Ava and Harper pulled you into the crowd, introducing you to people you’d never have approached on your own. You were nervous, but they made it easier, always by your side, making sure you felt included.

After a while, you decided to grab a drink, needing a moment to yourself to take it all in. You found the kitchen, which was packed with people mixing drinks, talking loudly over the music. You were pouring yourself a soda when you felt a presence beside you—someone too close for comfort.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar voice drawled.

Rafe. Because of course, he’d be here, at the very party you’d finally decided to attend. You kept your eyes on your drink, not wanting to engage, but he wasn’t going to let you off that easy.

“What, no comeback?” he teased, leaning against the counter beside you. “That’s not like you.”

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself not to let him get to you. “I’m not in the mood, Cameron.”

He smirked, picking up a beer bottle and taking a swig. “Looks like you’ve upgraded your company. Ava and Harper, huh? Good for you. But I have to ask… how does it feel to be the DUFF?”

You blinked, finally looking up at him with confusion written all over your face. “What the fuck is a DUFF?”

 “Designated Ugly Fat Friend,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Y'know, the one who makes their hotter friends look even better by comparison.”

For a moment, you were stunned into silence, processing the insult. It wasn’t just a casual dig; it was calculated, meant to hit where it hurt most. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“That’s…wow.”

Rafe chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “Don’t take it so personally. It’s just a fact of life. Every group has a DUFF. Just figured you’d want to know your role.”

You stared at him, disbelief mixing with anger. “You’re seriously messed up, you know that?”

He shrugged, still smiling like this was all a game to him. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Your hand tightened around the cup in your hand. Before you could second-guess yourself, you flung the contents right into his face. The soda splashed across his perfectly styled long hair and down his designer shirt, leaving him momentarily stunned. The smirk vanished, replaced by a look of pure shock as the cold liquid dripped off his chin. The entire kitchen seemed to go silent for a moment as people nearby turned to see what had just happened.

Rafe blinked, his expression shifting from shock to something darker—anger, maybe, or disbelief that you’d actually had the nerve to do that. His jaw clenched, and for a split second, you thought he might actually retaliate.

But before he could say or do anything, you stepped closer, “Go fuck yourself.”

That was your last interaction for weeks.

He kept his distance, barely acknowledging you in class or around campus. It was almost as if the drink you threw in his face had washed away his relentless need to torment you. You couldn’t say you missed his attention, but the silence was unnerving in its own way. Knowing him, he could be brewing something much worse to fuck with your head. 

One afternoon, after a particularly tough class, you were gathering your things when you noticed Rafe hovering near the door. His usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something almost...nervous. He caught your eye and hesitated before approaching as if debating whether to say something or just walk away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically low.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the lack of smugness in his tone.

“What do you want?”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I, uh…I need your help.”

That was the last thing you expected to hear. You stopped packing your bag, staring at him in disbelief. “My help? With what?”

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly out of his element. “The exam. The one we had last week. I just got my grade back, and…uh, I failed. Hard. I don’t know what happened, but I need to do well in this class, and I’m completely fucked if I don’t turn things around. You seem to know your stuff, so…c-can you help me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the irony of the situation not lost on you. 

“You must be out of your fucking mind,” you said, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. “I don’t want anything from you. Good luck failing.”

He looked almost panicked like he hadn’t expected you to turn him down so quickly. Surely, he knew you hated him with all your strength, right?

“Wait—Wait up! What about Nate Archibald?”

You froze, your mind racing. How the hell did he know about Nate? 

Your crush on the older guy was something you’d kept to yourself, shared only in passing with your girlfriends. But Rafe’s mention of it made your stomach drop.

“What about Archibald?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled you.

He seemed to sense he was onto something, his desperation shifting into a more calculated expression. “Look, I know you like him. It’s not exactly a fucking secret okay? Even if you think it is. He’s a good guy I guess, but he doesn’t know you exist. You help me out, and I’ll help you get his attention. I can introduce you, get you in with his crowd.”

“I don’t like Nate.”

He rolled his eyes, “You were doodling his name on your notebook two weeks ago.”

Your stomach dropped at his words.

Two weeks ago, you had been sitting in the back of the lecture hall, barely paying attention to the professor as your mind drifted to Nate. You’d doodled his name absentmindedly, never imagining someone would notice, let alone remember. You were bored and you’d seen him earlier, arriving to school in his truck. He’d looked so dreamy it was all you thought about. 

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“No?”

“Jesus. It’s a crush, relax.”

“You were spying on me?” you hissed, embarrassment creeping into your voice.

Rafe shook his head, his tone more exasperated than anything. “I wasn’t spying, all right? I just noticed.”

“You’re such a fucking creep.”

Your heart raced, both with anger and with the tiniest snippet of hope. The idea of Nate finally noticing you was tempting, but you hated that it was Rafe offering it to you, as if he could manipulate your feelings just like that. You knew better than to trust him. And yet, he seemed genuinely humbled—at least, as humbled as someone like him could be. He would’ve never asked you for help if the fear of failure wasn’t eating him alive. 

You narrowed your eyes, studying him closely. “Why should I believe you?”

He sighed, hands rubbing his face in frustration, “I just want to pass this stupid class, m’kay? I don’t give a fuck about Archibald, but if that’s what will get you to help me, I’ll do it.”

You hesitated, torn between wanting to tell him to go to hell and the small, persistent voice in your head that wondered if this could actually work in your favor. You’d worked so hard to keep your head down, to stay focused, but the idea of finally having a shot with someone like Nate was hard to ignore.

“You’re gonna make Nate notice a DUFF?”

Rafe's smirk returned, though it was less confident than usual, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “You’ve got potential.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. Part of you wanted to tell him to screw off, to take his offer and shove it up his ass. But the other part—the part that had spent sleepless nights wondering if you’d ever really fit in here, if you’d ever be more than just another face in the crowd—was tempted. Rafe was offering you a way in, a chance to break through the invisible barriers that had kept you on the outside looking in.

“Okay,” you said finally, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “I’ll help you, but don’t think for a second that I’m doing this shit for you. And if you screw me over, I swear, Rafe, I’ll kill you.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Deal.”

You and Rafe met up in the library for your first "study session."

The awkwardness was palpable. He was slouched in his chair, trying to act indifferent, but you could see the tension in his jaw as he stared at the textbook in front of him. He was flipping through a history textbook with a blank expression, as if the words on the page were written in latin.

"Alright," you began, flipping open your notebook. "Let's start with the basics, because clearly, you’re lost."

Rafe rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. One day they were going to get stuck inside his brain from how much he did it. He grunted in acknowledgment, though his attention didn’t lift from the page. 

You sighed and leaned forward, tapping on the open textbook in front of him, “We’re focusing on the economic factors that contributed to the development of plantation societies. You get that, right?”

He blinked, clearly not getting it. A perfect himbo.

“Okay, fine. The plantations needed a lot of labor. So, what’s the most cost-effective way to get that labor?”

Rafe shrugged. “Slaves?”

“Right, but it’s more complex than that,” you continued, trying to be patient. “The demand for crops like sugar and tobacco skyrocketed in Europe, so they needed cheap labor to maximize profits. That’s where the transatlantic slave trade comes in. It wasn’t just about the labor, it was about the entire economic system that developed around it.”

He nodded slowly, jotting down notes. “So, it’s like… the whole economy was built on this?”

“Exactly,” you said, a bit surprised he was actually paying attention. “And you need to understand how that impacted the societies, both in the Caribbean and in Europe. It’s not just about memorizing facts; it’s about understanding the connections.”

“Okay, I get it,” he muttered, though you could tell he was still struggling. “This shit’s more complicated than I thought.”

“If you don’t understand something, just ask. I’m not going to bite your head off.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smirked, but there was no malice in his tone this time.

“Anyway. This also reshaped societies on both sides of the Atlantic. The Caribbean, for instance, became a hub of sugar production, with plantations dominating the landscape. These plantations were brutal, with slaves working in horrific conditions. But they were also incredibly profitable, which is why they persisted for so long.”

He seemed to be processing this, his pen tapping rhythmically against the edge of his notebook. “And the people back in Europe…they were cool with this? Just letting it happen?”

His questions sounded like things children would ask but you answered, nonetheless. 

“It’s complicated,” you replied, flipping to a page in your textbook that showed a diagram of the triangular trade routes. “A lot of people in Europe didn’t really see the human cost. They were more concerned with the goods that were flooding their markets—sugar, tobacco, rum. These were luxury items that became everyday staples, and the average person didn’t really think about where they came from or who made them. But there were also abolitionists—people who fought against the slave trade and the conditions on the plantations. The system wasn’t unchallenged, but it was so entrenched in the economy that change was slow.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, it’s all connected. The economy, the trade, the people—it’s all one big mess.”

A big mess is one way to put it simply. But at least he understood something. 

You smiled slightly, glad to see the gears turning in his head. 

“Exactly. And that’s what you need to understand for the weekly quizzes. It’s not just about memorizing dates and names—it’s about understanding the connections between these different factors and how they shaped the world we live in today.”

He nodded slowly, jotting down a few more notes. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get it. But I’m gonna need more help with the specifics—the names, the dates, all that stuff.”

“We can go over that next,” you offered, flipping to another section of the textbook. “But remember, it’s the big picture that matters. If you can understand how all these pieces fit together, the rest will come easier.”

He started improving. He was still far from a stellar student, but he wasn’t failing anymore. In return, he hadn’t forgotten his end of the deal.

One Friday afternoon, after another study session, Rafe leaned back in his chair, watching you pack your bag. “So, there’s this party tomorrow night.”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes. “And?”

“And you’re coming with me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you want Nate to notice you, right?” he said, crossing his arms. “Well, nothing makes a guy pay attention like seeing a girl with another guy. Especially one like me.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re seriously suggesting we…what, pretend to be together?”

The thought almost made you gag. 

Rafe shrugged, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Not exactly. Just, you know, make it look like we’re close. Guys love a little competition. Trust me, it’ll work.”

You hesitated, unsure. The idea of pretending to be close to Rafe, even for show, made your skin crawl. But the idea of finally getting Nate to notice you…that was tempting.

“And what exactly do you get out of this?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Rafe’s grin widened. “The satisfaction of a job well done. And maybe a little fun. You know you need to loosen up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But this better work.”

“It will,” Rafe said confidently. “Now, what are you planning on wearing?”

You frowned. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Rafe stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, then. We’re going shopping.”

You blinked, surprised. “What? No way. I can’t afford—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, already walking toward the door. “I’ve got it covered.”

You found yourself standing in a high-end boutique, completely out of your element. Rafe was rifling through racks of clothes, pulling out items and tossing them to you with a casual confidence that made you wonder just how often he did this.

“This,” he said, handing you a sleek black dress that was far more daring than anything you’d ever worn.

You looked at it skeptically. “I’m not sure that’s…me.”

“It’s not supposed to be you,” Rafe said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re shorts and tank tops. This is supposed to be the girl Nate notices. Now go try it on.”

Reluctantly, you took the dress and headed to the dressing room. When you stepped out, Rafe’s eyes swept over you, and for the first time, you saw something almost like approval in his gaze.

“That’ll do,” he said, nodding. “But you need heels. And maybe some jewelry.”

This was so fucking weird it gave you chills. 

You stared at him, bewildered. “Since when are you an expert in women’s fashion?”

Rafe smirked. “I have two sisters. You pick things up.”

The next thing you knew, you were trying on shoes, adding accessories, and letting Rafe play stylist until he was satisfied. When you finally looked in the mirror, you hardly recognized yourself. The girl staring back at you was confident, poised, and yes, attractive. It was a version of yourself you’d never seen before.

“See?” Rafe said, appearing behind you in the mirror. “Told you I’d make this work.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“You know what I meant.”

The party was in full swing when you arrived with Rafe. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the air filled with the buzz of chatter and laughter. You felt so nervous you felt like throwing up, clutching the small purse you’d brought with you like it was a lifeline. You could feel eyes on you, who were undoubtedly curious about the new girl in Rafe’s orbit.

Rafe, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, immediately falling into his element, greeting people with confidence and casual charm. He guided you through the crowd with a hand on the small of your back, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “You look good, okay? All you have to do is enjoy yourself.”

You must’ve hit your head. Rafe Cameron was complimenting you. 

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his advice. You spotted Ava and Harper across the room, waving you over, but he stopped you before you could head their way. 

“Not yet,” he said, nodding toward the bar where Nate was standing with a group of friends. “Go talk to him.”

“Rafe—“

“Don’t whine.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “What do I even say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rafe replied smoothly. “Just be yourself. Well actually, maybe not.”

“Ouch.”

“Don’t forget—he needs to see that you’re with me. Let him come to you.”

You nodded, nerves jangling as you made your way toward the bar. Nate glanced up as you approached, and for a split second, his eyes widened in recognition. Does he remember you? Oh wow. You’d spoken to him twice by now, this being your third. 

“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Mind if I grab a drink?”

“Sure,” Nate said, smiling as he moved aside. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Last minute thing,” you replied, reaching for a cup. “Rafe dragged me along.”

Nate’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Rafe, his eyes flicking over to where Rafe was leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a casual, almost possessive air.

“Rafe, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “He’s not so bad, once you get to know him.”

Nate looked at you, really looked at you, for what felt like the first time. “You look…different tonight. In a good way.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your cheeks. “Thanks.”

Before the conversation could continue, to your dismay, Rafe appeared at your side, draping an arm around your shoulders, “Everything okay here?”

Nate’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Cool,” Rafe said, giving Nate a pointed look. “Come on, let’s dance.”

Without waiting for a response, he led you away, leaving Nate watching after you, a contemplative expression on his face.

“What the hell?” you hissed, trying to pull away from his grip, but he held you firm, guiding you toward the makeshift dance floor.

“Relax,” he said, his voice low and smooth, as he spun you around to face him, “Trust me, it’s working. Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

You glared at him, your irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

“You didn’t have to drag me away like that.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Had to keep him on his toes. Assholes like Archibald need to feel a little competition to make them realize what they could lose.”

“He’s not an asshole.”

“Sure.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips as the music shifted to a slower beat, and his hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer. You stiffened, but he kept his grip light, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Relax,” he repeated, his voice softer this time, almost…gentle. “Just go with it. You’re doing great.”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to be…well, not a complete asshole. 

“Watch the hands.”

He only dropped them lower.

“Or what?”

Your pulse quickened as Rafe's hands settled lower on your back, grazing the curve of your hips. His smirk was infuriating, but there was something beneath it—a challenge, a spark that dared you to react.

“Or I’ll step on your foot,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, as if he found your threat amusing. “You’d really ruin those expensive heels I bought you?”

You glanced down at the sleek stilettos, a reluctant grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You deserve it.”

“I probably do,” Rafe admitted, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His gaze locked onto yours again, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room faded away. 

The music, the people, even Nate—everything melted into the background until it was just the two of you. It felt weird. The way he looked at you was unsettling, like he was peeling back the layers you’d so carefully put up, seeing parts of you that you hadn’t intended to show him—or anyone.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to his proximity, to the warmth of his hands against your skin. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were here for Nate.

But Rafe wasn’t making it easy. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ass face is looking.”

His lips were so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his lips. The scent of his cologne, a heady mix of cedar and something uniquely him, enveloped you, making it hard to focus.

"Stop calling him that," you whispered back, attempting to inject some irritation into your tone, but it came out softer than intended.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Just calling it like I see it," he retorted, his fingers pressing lightly against the small of your back, guiding you even closer.

Well, fuck. 

"Is this really part of the plan?" you managed to ask, your voice barely audible over the music.

He smirked, his eyes never wavering. "Absolutely. Just giving the audience a good show."

"Audience?" You arched an eyebrow, momentarily confused.

He tilted his head subtly in Nate's direction. You followed his gaze to find Archibald staring. It was a look you'd never seen directed at you before.

"See? It's working," Rafe whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear again. He had to be doing that shit on purpose, to get a rise out of you—it all felt too real, too intimate.

"You're enjoying this," you accused.

He grinned, unabashed. "Maybe a little. Aren't you?"

You were about to fire back a sharp retort, something to cut through the tension that had been building between you and Rafe, when you heard someone call your name. You turned your head, your heart still racing from how close Rafe was, only to see Ava and Harper pushing through the crowd toward you.

"Hey! We've been looking everywhere for you!" Ava exclaimed, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe, curiosity sparking in her. You never told them about him.

Harper raised an eyebrow, a sly expression spreading across her face. "And what do we have here? You two look cozy."

You stepped back quickly, putting some space between you and Rafe, feeling suddenly exposed. "Just... dancing," you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rafe, of course, didn’t miss a beat. He slipped his hands into his pockets, the picture of casual confidence. "Yeah, just giving her a little dance lesson. She’s a fast learner."

Ava glanced at you, suspicion plastered across her pretty face, “Uh-huh. Well, you ready to go? We were thinking of hitting up another party across town."

You hesitated, glancing at Rafe, who gave you a small nod, as if to say it was up to you. The moment between the two of you had been so intense, so confusing, that you almost forgot the entire reason you were there. Nate. You were supposed to be getting his attention, not getting caught up in whatever strange thing was happening with Rafe.

But now that your friends were here, the spell was broken. You felt more like yourself again, more grounded. "Yeah, let’s go," you said, finally pulling your eyes away from Rafe, “You’re not coming?”

“Nah. Have fun, I’ll see you on Monday, little pogue.”

As you walked away with Ava and Harper, you could feel his eyes on your back, and it took everything in you not to turn around. You weren’t sure what to make of it, or if you even wanted to. It was like you’d glimpsed a different side of him, one that wasn’t entirely awful. One that was strangely attractive. Maybe his ridiculous plan was working. But whether that was a good thing or not, you weren’t sure.

Sure enough, another study session came around. The old tension between you two had settled into a strange kind of truce. It was more of a mutual agreement to tolerate each other for the sake of passing the course. Plus, despite everything, he was strangely good company when he wasn't being a complete ass.

Tonight was one of those rare moments when he wasn’t trying to get under your skin. The conversation had started out innocent enough—debating historical facts, making fun of the professor’s monotone voice—but then, somehow, it drifted towards relationships. Or more accurately, Nate.

“So, you gonna ask him out or what?” Rafe’s tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp as they flicked over to you.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was genuinely interested or just trying to pry into your personal life for another round of teasing.

“Ask who out?”

“Nate. Mr. Perfect.” His smirk was playful, but there was an edge to it.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not asking anyone out.”

“Why not?” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, clearly settling in for this conversation. “He’s obviously into you. You’re into him. What’s the problem?”

You looked away, focusing on the textbook in front of you, but the words blurred as your mind wandered. The truth was, you didn’t know how to answer that. You’d never been good with boys, especially not ones like Nate. Ones that seemed so far out of your league. 

“Just…not my thing,” you mumbled, hoping that would be enough to drop the subject.

But Rafe wasn’t one to let things go. “Not your thing? Or…you’ve never actually done it before?”

The casual tone of his question made your stomach flip. You looked at him sharply, searching his face for any sign that he was joking.

“Done what?”

“Kissed someone.” The words were out of his mouth before you could even process them, and your heart skipped a beat. 

You knew you should deny it, brush it off with a joke, but the way he was looking at you, so intently, made it impossible to lie. Silence stretched between you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as realization dawned. 

“No way. You’ve never…?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding through you. “It’s not a big deal, okay? Can we drop it?”

But he was looking at you like you’d just told him the earth was flat.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” He sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe it was even possible.

“Seriously, shut up,” you snapped, but it only made him smile harder.

He shook his head, still looking at you like you were some kind of anomaly. “How the hell did you get through high school without—”

“Rafe!”

“Okay, okay, m'sorry!” He held up his hands in mock surrender, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made you nervous. “But seriously, you’ve never kissed anyone? Not even a peck?”

“No,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively. “And I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze on you, intense and considering. Finally, he leaned forward, his expression more serious than you’d ever seen it. “Alright then. I’ll teach you.”

Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What?”

“I’ll teach you,” he repeated, like it was the most logical thing in the world. “Better to learn from someone who knows what they’re doing, right?”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around what he was suggesting. “Are you out of your fucking mind? There’s no way I’m letting you—”

“Why not?” He was leaning in closer now, that stupid cocky smirk back on his face. “I promise I won’t bite.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, nerves fluttering in your stomach. This was Rafe Cameron, the guy who had made your life hell for years, and now he was offering to…what? Teach you how to kiss? It was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something that almost made you say yes.

“No,” you finally said, shaking your head. “This is insane.”

He shrugged, leaning back again, but you could tell he wasn’t giving up. “Just think about it. No pressure.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was crazy, but the truth was, part of you was curious. Curious about what it would be like. Curious about why he was offering in the first place. But that was a thought for another time. For now, you needed to focus on getting through this study session without letting him distract you any further.

Easier said than done.

You tried to shake off the bizarre turn the conversation had taken, focusing back on the textbook in front of you, but the words on the page refused to stick. You could feel his stupid blue eyes on you, his presence more distracting than ever.

“Come on, don’t make it weird,” he said after a moment, his tone light but his gaze still fixed on you. “I was just fucking with you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relieved that he was backing off. “Good. Because that was the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Weird, maybe. But not the worst idea.”

“Rafe,” you warned, but there was no real bite in your voice. He had a way of disarming you, breaking through your defenses in a way that no one else could. It was annoying.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he said, holding up his hands again. But there was still a playful glint in his eyes, like he was enjoying this far too much.

You tried to focus on the study guide, pointing out a key term that you both needed to memorize, but your mind kept drifting back to what he’d said. The idea of him teaching you how to kiss was ridiculous—completely absurd—but there was a tiny, traitorous part of you that wondered what it would be like.

“You’re thinking about it,” Rafe said suddenly, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“No, I’m not!” You replied a little too quickly, your cheeks burning. He grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Yes, you are. I can see it on your face.”

You glared at him, hoping to shut him up with a look, but he just laughed, the sound low and teasing. “You know, if you’re curious, there’s no harm in trying it.”

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m not curious, and I’m definitely not going to let you—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, closing the distance between you in a way that made your breath catch. He didn’t kiss you, but he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, the intensity of his eyes making your heart race.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a challenge.

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to push him away, but your body refused to move. There was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to look away, to even think about anything else.

“I…” you started, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in just a fraction closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Just one lesson,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours. “Then we can pretend it never happened.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind, but none of them made sense. All you could think about was how close he was, how badly you wanted to know what it would feel like to close that final distance.

But then, as if a switch flipped in your brain, reality crashed down on you. This was Rafe Cameron. The guy who had tormented you, who was probably doing this just to mess with you. You couldn’t let yourself fall into his trap.

“No,” you said, finally finding your voice and pushing him back gently. “This is crazy.”

He didn’t move at first, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he finally leaned back, giving you space to breathe again. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone still light, but there was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite read. “But if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” you said quickly, needing to put some distance between you and the tension that was still thick in the air. “Let’s just get back to studying.”

He gave you a long look, like he was deciding whether to push the issue, but then he just shrugged and turned back to his notes. 

“Whatever you say.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the study guide in front of you, but your mind was still reeling. You couldn’t believe what had just happened, couldn’t believe that you had actually considered letting Rafe teach you how to kiss. It was insane. 

Completely and utterly insane.

The rest of the study session passed in a blur, the usual banter between you and Rafe feeling a bit more strained, a bit more loaded than before. You were hyper-aware of every move he made, every glance he threw your way, but thankfully, he seemed to have dropped the subject for now.

But as you packed up your things to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. You couldn’t tell if it was for better or worse, but one thing was certain—you were never going to look at Rafe Cameron the same way again.

The following days were a strange dance of avoidance and unspoken tension. Lots of it. You and Rafe still studied together, but there was an unspoken agreement not to mention what had happened. It was as if you were both trying to pretend that nothing had changed, even though you both knew it had.

It didn’t help that every time you were around him, you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment—the way he’d leaned in, the way his breath had felt against your lips. How soft they looked. It was infuriating, the way your mind kept circling back to it, refusing to let it go. You were better than this. 

“Hey,” he greeted, sitting down next to you without his usual swagger. “You okay?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, looking out at the entrance of the classroom for a moment before turning back to you. “I don’t know. You’ve just been kind of…quiet lately.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any hint of teasing, but he seemed genuine. “Just had a lot on my mind.”

Rafe nodded, as if he understood, and for a moment, the two of you sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It was strange, this version of him—so different from the one who had taunted you about kissing just days ago.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Y’know, I wasn’t trying to mess with you the other day. I mean, I was, but not…not in a bad way.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure where he was going with this. “Rafe, I know you like to mess with people. It’s kind of your thing.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I guess I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to make fun of you or anything. I just thought…you deserved better.”

That caught you completely off guard. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, looking uncharacteristically serious. “I mean, you deserve to experience that stuff with someone who actually gives a shit about you. Not with some random guy at a party or something. I guess I didn’t like the idea of you feeling…left out.”

Was he…implying that you two were friends now? That he cared?

You stared at him, not sure what to say. This was a side of Rafe you’d never seen before—vulnerable, even a little protective. It was jarring, but not in a bad way.

“Thanks,” you said softly, not quite sure how to respond. “That's weirdly nice of you to say.”

He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t have that usual hint of arrogance. “Don’t get used to it,” he teased lightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Just then, the rest of your classmates showed up, breaking the moment. 

Rafe stood up, his usual confident demeanor slipping back into place as he greeted his friends. But as you watched him joke around with the others, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d just seen a glimpse of the real Rafe—someone who cared, even if he didn’t always show it.

And you found yourself liking this version of him. 

A lot.

More than you should.

[jessica-problems]

Seeing @thydungeongal constantly wrestling with people interpreting her posts about D&D in ways that seem completely alien to me has convinced me that there are actually multiple completely distinct activities both being referred to as "playing D&D" Before we begin, I want to stress that I'm not saying one of these groups is Playing The Game Wrong or anything, but there seems to be a lot of confusion and conflict caused by people not being aware of the distinction. In fact, either one works just fine if everyone's on the same page. So far, I think I've identified at least two main groups. And nobody seems to realize the distinction between these groups even exists. The first group of people think of "Playing D&D" as, well, more or less like any other board game. Players read the whole rulebook all the way through, all the players follow the instructions, and the gameplay experience is determined by what the rules tell each player to do. This group thinks of the mechanics as, not exactly the *whole* game, but certainly the fundamental skeleton that everything else is built on top of. People in the second group think of "Playing D&D" as referring to, hanging out with their friends, collaboratively telling a story inspired by some of the elements in the rulebooks, maybe rolling some dice to see what happens when they can't decide. This group thinks of the mechanics of the game as, like... a spice to sprinkle on top of the story to mix things up. (if you belong to this second group, and think I'm explaining it poorly, please let me know, because I'm kind of piecing things together from other people saying things I don't understand and trying to reverse engineer how they seem to be approaching things.) I think this confusion is exacerbated by the fact that Wizards of the Coast markets D&D as if these are the same thing. They emphatically are not. the specific rules laid out of the D&D rulebooks actually direct players to tell a very specific kind of story. You can tell other stories if you ignore those rules (which still counts as "playing D&D" under the second definition, but doesn't under the first)And I think people in both groups are getting mad because they assume that everyone is also using their definition. For example, there's a common argument that I've seen play out many times that goes something like this:

A: "How do I mod D&D to do [insert theme here]?" B: "D&D is really not built for that, you should play [other TTRPG] that's designed for it instead" A: "But I don't want to learn a whole new game system!" B: "It will be easier to just learn a whole new system than mod D&D to do that." A: "whatever, I'll just mod D&D on my own" And I think where this argument comes from is the two groups described above completely talking past each other. No one understands what the other person is trying to say. From A's perspective, as a person in the second group, it sounds like A: "Anyone have some fun inspirations for telling stories about [insert theme here]?" B: "You can't sit around a table with your friends and tell a story about that theme! That's illegal." A: "But we want to tell a story about this theme!" B: "It's literally impossible to do that and you're a dumb idiot baby for even thinking about it." A: "whatever, jerk, I'll figure it out on my own."

--- Whereas, from B's perspective, the conversation sounds like A: "How do I change the rules of poker to be chess, and not be poker?" B: "uhhh, just play chess?" A: "But I already know how to player poker! I want to play poker, but also have it be chess!" B: "what the hell are you talking about? What does that even mean. They're completely different games." A: "I'm going to frankenstein these rules together into some kind of unplayably complex monster and you can't stop me!" ---

So both people end up coming away from the conversation thinking the other person is an idiot. And really, depending on how you concieve of what it means to "play D&D" what is being asked changes considerably. If you're only planning to look through the books for cool story inspiration, maybe borrow a cool little self contained sub-system here or there, then yeah, it's very possible to steal inspiration for your collaborative story from basically anywhere. Maybe some genres are kind of an awkward fit together, but you can make anything work with a little creativity.

If, however, you are thinking of the question in terms of frankensteining two entire board games together, then it becomes a massively difficult or even outright nonsensical idea. For example, for skill checks, the game Shadowrun has players roll a pool of several d6 at once, then count up how many rolled above a target value to see how well a character succeeded at a task. The whole game is full of specific rules about adding or removing dice from the pool, effects happening if you roll doubles, rerolling only some of the dice, and all sorts of other things that simply do not translate to rolling a single d20 for skill checks. On a basic level, the rules of the games work very differently. Trying to make them compatible would be much harder than just learning a new game from scratch. Now, neither of these approaches is exactly *wrong*, I guess, but personally, I find the rules of TTRPGs to be fascinating and worth taking the time to engage with all the weird little nuances and seeing what shakes out. Also, the first group, "TTRPG as fancy board game" is definitely the older and more widespread one. I kind of get the impression that the second group largely got into D&D through actual play podcasts, but I don't have any actual data to back that up. So, if you're in the second group, who thinks of D&D as basically a context for collaborative storytelling first and a game second, please let me know if I'm wildly misunderstanding how you approach D&D. Because I'm pretty sure it would save us a whole lot of stupid misunderstandings.

[propertyofwicked]

CAUGHT - LN

summary - sneaking around finally catches up to lando and his best friends little sister

warnings: smut at the very beginning, angst + swearing but fluff!! (fewtrell!reader)

part 3 to first and quiet

masterlist the playlist

“we really need to stop meeting like this,” lando grunted breathlessly, his thrusts never faltering as he bent y/n over the bathroom sink once more.

“maybe try not being so famous and recognisable and we could go on a date? to a restaurant?” y/n panted in response, hips rolling into lando’s tight grip on her waist, “like normal people?”

“but that would spoil the fun,” lando whined jokingly, “besides, if everyone knew about us, we’d have to start fucking in normal places. i don’t know about you but something about this bathroom really does it for me,” he added with a smirk, catching her eyes in the mirror.

“the toothpaste splatter real- fuck,” she started, cut off by the moan wrangling from her throat as lando pushed his length deeper, the pressure of the cold, bathroom counter pushing on her stomach, “keep going, fuck.”

“so good f’me, baby,” lando replied, feeling the way her walls tightened around him as he praised her, “all mi-”

“y/n? are you home?” max called out from the bottom of the stairs, sliding off his shoes.

“fuck sake,” lando groaned, stilling his hips but leaving his cock pressed deep inside of her, “i hate your brother.”

“y-yeah! i’m just….having a shower?” she called out in response before pushing herself up, pressing her back to lando’s chest before whispering, “no you don't. you do, however, need to get out of here without him seeing you.”

“have you seen lando?” max shouted again.

yes, he’s right here and he was very close to bringing me to orgasm, y/n internally grumbled as lando removed himself from her, finding his clothes quickly and tugging them on in a hurry.

“erm, not recently, no!” she replied, wincing slightly at the way her voice stuttered with the lie, her eyes making direct contact with the man in question. his arm reached around her, leaning into the shower and switching the dial quickly, spatters of water landing on his arm as he quickly retracted it.

“right you,” lando started, hands coming to hold her jaw, “shower. i’ll see you later,” he added, pushing her towards the shower, but not before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, his heart softening at the sight of her eyes slowly closing in his embrace. he walked to the door, slowly prising it open as he peered through the gap, checking the coast was clear. nodding to himself at the empty hallway, he made a run for it, trying to walk in a way that exuded casual, but with some speed in his step.

had he only looked harder, he may have noticed his best friend stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching as he crept his way out of the bathroom.

y/n stepped into the shower, turning on the water just enough to create some steam. she wasn't really there to get clean; she needed a moment to compose herself and keep up the pretence that she was, in fact, taking a shower. she ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the cool droplets against her skin, and sighed.

and as she entered the kitchen, now with convincingly damp hair, y/n saw max sitting at the kitchen island, staring at the wall. his jaw was clenched tight, but every so often, his face would droop in confusion. he looked like he was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

"hey, max," y/n said casually, trying to keep her voice light, "what do you want for dinner tonight?"

max didn't respond immediately. he continued to stare at the wall, his fingers drumming lightly on the counter. finally, he turned his head slowly to look at her.

"why did you say you hadn't seen lando recently," he started, his voice strained, "when he literally walked out of the bathroom you were in? i know your eyesight's not great, but i think even stevie wonder would notice a literal human being stood in the bathroom with him."

y/n's heart skipped a beat. she hadn't expected him to put it together so quickly. "max, i can explain..."

max interrupted, standing up and pacing. "i just don't get it. why would you lie about something like that? why was lando in there with you?"

y/n took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "i didn't mean to lie, max. it's just... complicated."

"complicated?" max echoed, stopping to face her. "you call sneaking around with my best friend complicated?"

"yes, it's complicated," y/n said, her voice rising slightly. "because i didn't know how to tell you without you freaking out like this."

"freaking out?" max said, throwing his hands in the air. "you think this is freaking out? i'm just trying to understand why my sister and my best friend have been hiding this from me. whatever this is."

“max, i-” lando started, emerging from the doorway from where he’d been listening in.

“and you? of all people, you?” max argued, directing his anger at lando, “how did i piss you off that badly that you decide to fuck my little sister for revenge?”

“it’s not like that, we-”

“have you had sex with my sister?” max interrupted bluntly.

“well yes, bu-”

“how long?” max asked, turning to his sister for an answer.

“i’d say 6 and half inc-”

“how long have you been seeing each other, y/n?”

“3 months? 4?” she conceded, allowing her attempt of lightening the situation to wash over, ”and may i just say - insinuating that all i’m good for is a revenge shag? thank you so much for that,” she added sarcastically, smiling at him with no happiness behind it.

“are you serious? 4 months? lando? couldn't you have picked someone else?" max continued to argue, refusing to allow the guilt of his insulting comment to weigh on him in this moment, “literally, anyone else?”

“ouch,” lando commented, looking to the ceiling to avoid the awkwardness in the room, narrowly avoiding the daggers being shot at him from max’s stare.

“well maybe i would’ve if you hadn’t threatened anyone who tried,” y/n sighed, sick of his attitude, “is it that hard for you to just be happy for me? truly, would it kill you?”

“it might,” lando added.

“why didn’t you tell me?” max asked, looking to his sister as his voice lowered for the first time since she’d stepped into the kitchen.

"oh, sure, let me just check with you next time i develop feelings for someone. you don't get to control my life,” y/n rolled her eyes - max may be calming down, but she was just getting started.

“i care about her, max,” lando interrupted, trying to control the situation as he noticed the way y/n’s hands balled into fists against the worktop, “and i didn't want to hurt you or make things awkward between us. it was my idea not to tell you, ‘cos i didn’t know how.”

“we didn't want to cause any drama."

"too late for that," max muttered.

“clearly,” y/n responded bluntly, turning on her heel and heading towards the door as she stormed off in anger. but before she could leave, lando caught her, his grip firm but gentle.

"y/n, wait," he said softly, turning her back to face max. y/n felt lando's hands stay on her hips, rubbing gentle circles into her skin to calm her down. she relaxed slightly but kept her gaze fixed on max.

“i'm sorry for how you found out, but you have to understand that i'm capable of making my own decisions,” y/n said, her voice steady but still tinged with frustration, "finding out your own brother is the reason you have felt so alone for years is not a pleasant feeling, max.”

“it was for your own good.”

“my own good?” she scoffed, feeling the anger rise in her chest again, “for the sake of your own good i suggest you leave right now.”

“this is my house? i live here?”

“yeah? and if you don’t leave now you’re also going to die here,” she gritted, feeling lando’s fingertips press into her skin as a warning that maybe she maybe shouldn’t be so aggressive.

“fine,” max muttered, walking past the two of them and swiftly grabbing his shoes and coat before leaving the house, letting the door slam behind him.

y/n stood frozen for a moment, staring at the closed door. the weight of the situation finally caught up with her, and she felt her composure slipping, her shoulders shaking as the first tears began to fall.

lando was by her side in an instant, turning her round and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. "it's okay, baby," he murmured, rubbing her back in soothing circles, "let it out."

the dam broke, and y/n let herself cry, all the anger, exhaustion, and frustration pouring out in a torrent of tears. she clung to lando, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as she sobbed into his chest. lando held her close, whispering comforting words and continuing to rub her back.

after what felt like an eternity, y/n's sobs began to subside. she pulled back slightly, her face tear-streaked and red. she looked up at lando, her eyes filled with regret.

"we should've been more careful," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"no, y/n,” lando shook his head, his expression firm, “your brother should be less of a dick. this is your life, you live it how you want to, and if he can't handle that, then that's his own burden to bear."

y/n sniffled, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "but he's my brother. i don't want to lose him over this."

"you won't," lando assured her, his hands cupping her face gently. "he's just shocked right now. he'll come around. but that doesn't mean we should regret being together."

y/n nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "you're right. i'm just... so tired of all this."

"i know," lando said softly, pulling her back into his embrace. "but we'll get through it."

they stood like that for a while, the quiet of the house enveloping them. y/n felt the last of her tears dry up, replaced by a renewed sense of determination.

“i’m proud of you, y’know,” lando started, causing y/n to pull back slightly to look up at him again.

“why?”

“you stood up for yourself,” he smiled, “in all the years i’ve known you, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you stand up for yourself - not even to max. that’s why.”

“thank you,” she mumbled, before grinning at him, “turns out getting fucked daily fills me with confidence - not just cock.”

[dollfacefantasy]

Hold My Calls

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you teasing leon about his flip phone leads to some fun

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fucking during a phone call, age gap, daddy kink, praise/degradation, over-stimulation

word count: 2.9k

a/n: hey everyone school is kicking my ass rn, but i am back with another one. thank you so much for the support on my last post that meant the world to me. i don't care if this is not technologically accurate or whatever just let me be delusional in peace. as always comments and reblogs are appreciated and i will give you special smooches in return <3 also thank you too my loves @tosuckmyweenis @kaitkatme @chasingkennedy @explorevenus @sleepyluxe @death-paint @petitecolibri for helping me come up with ideas for this one and/or beta reading - ily all sm :)

When you started dating Leon Kennedy, obviously you knew there was an age gap. You figured it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only thirty-six. That isn’t that much older. And for the most part, that was true. The difference in years never seemed to play a huge part in how you loved each other. But there was one thing that reminded you of this man’s age.

He had a fucking flip phone.

Honestly, it didn’t even say much about his age. It highlighted his stubbornness. He was not incompetent. His job had him working with all kinds of shit that you didn’t even try to understand, so it’s not like he can’t work a smartphone. He just doesn’t want to.

It didn’t really matter. If anything, it was kind of cute. The way he fumbled with the buttons that were too small for his fingers. The loud chiming ringtone that he would grumble about yet never turn down. The sight of him trying to find the right distance to hold the phone away from his face so he could read the font. You had heart eyes on your first date when this man popped in a CD because he couldn’t use the aux with his flip phone. They were simple quirks, but they were just so endearing to you. You’d tease him about being outdated, and he’d put up with it cause it was you.

“Why do I need anything more? This thing can call you, and that’s all I really need,” he’d say with a teasing expression when you’d crack a joke.

You’d roll your eyes at the excessive charm, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, but-”

And he’d cut you off with a kiss. “Trust me. I like it. It’s simple. Plus it’s like indestructible. But if I ever want an upgrade, you’ll be the first to know.”

The only time Leon ever considered ditching his trusty flip phone and upgrading to something more advanced was when you would send him nudes. Seeing the masterpiece that is your body reduced to a handful of pixels on the tiny screen drove him fucking wild. Upon hearing the chime of his phone and seeing the small image of you gracing his screen, he’d find a moment alone to try and see the details. He’d hold the phone two inches away from his face trying to make out every last curve. Days when he got those pictures ended with nights where you got fucked on every surface in the house.

He’d come home from work, his eyes full of lust before he even saw you. You’d glide into the room with a knowing smile on your face. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

“Hi, baby. How was work?” you ask, feigning innocence. You close the distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around him.

“Oh, you care about my work now, huh?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face as his arms return your embrace, “Doesn’t seem like it when you send me those cute pictures during the day, distracting me, making me think about you when I should be focused.”

Your lips part and your eyebrows raise in mock offense. “I only send those to help you, motivate you,” you tease as your fingers coast along his biceps, “Maybe if you had a real phone they wouldn’t bother you so much. You’d be able to see everything clearly and not be left imagining.”

“I don’t need to stress about pictures though when I got the real thing waiting at home for me every night,” he purrs as he leans in and starts kissing you.

You return the kiss with the same level of passion, lips moving with his as the two of you stumble over to the couch. You fall back onto the cushions with Leon on top of you. His hands already roam your body and begin removing articles of clothing. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time after having that grainy image of you gnawing at his mind all day.

“Fuck, baby. Every time… I can never get enough,” he grunts as he yanks your top over your head and tosses it to the side. His hands rub up and down your sides, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin and making you squirm. In no time though, they’re on your breasts. He kneads the plump flesh as his lips trail down to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva-coated skin in their wake.

He’s all over you all at once it seems. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You’re moaning and writhing on the couch, nearly trying to hump his leg while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You bite your lip and whimper as his lips move down over the swell of your chest.

He grabs your hips firmly and presses them down to the couch. His half-lidded eyes look up at you momentarily. “Quit squirming,” he breathes. He gives your chest a few more kisses while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Need time with my pretty girl after I’ve been aching for her all day.”

You give a weak nod and focus on controlling your movements as he tugs your shorts off and drops them.

“Good girl,” he mutters before attaching his lips to one of your nipples and swirling his tongue around the peak. He hums in satisfaction as he feels the bud in his mouth. His fingers lazily stroke up and down your folds over your panties. He disconnects his mouth momentarily and looks up at you again with a smirk on his face.

“So wet already?” he teases, now being his turn to look smug, “You want me just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you send those pictures right? You’re missing Daddy while he’s at work?”

“Mhm, miss you so bad. It drives me crazy,” you say. A whimper escapes you as his fingers apply more pressure and his movements more strategically target your clit.

“I can tell. Makes you act like a little slut, huh?” he asks before he kisses down your stomach to the hem of your panties.

You feel your face getting hot at his comment, but you nod anyway. You bite your lip and keep your eyes locked with his.

He chuckles at your timid confirmation. “That’s ok, honey. Daddy’s here now. I’m gonna make sure you get all the attention you need. Can’t have my girl left wanting,” he says, pulling down your panties and putting them with your other discarded clothes.

He loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer so that you’re angled in a way he can reach you from his position on his knees. Your back is flat on the couch, and your legs are held over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste time, licking a stripe up your cunt and then delving his tongue inside of you.

Your head falls back onto the cushion in response. A moan escapes your throat at the sensation. Your sounds only increase in frequency and volume as he grips you tighter and fucks his tongue in and out of you. He watches you, relishing how he can pleasure you with so few touches. His tongue laps up your wetness and his mouth finds your clit again, sucking and flicking against the bundle of nerves just how you like.

His name and a variety of expletives leave your mouth while your hand slides into his hair and holds the blonde locks. Your hips twitch from the rising feelings of ecstasy in your tummy, but Leon’s hands keep you firmly in place. He devours you like a starved man, the hours of torture that little picture inflicted on him all paying off right now.

He’s skillfully swirling patterns onto your clit and occasionally exploring your insides. He knows you’re close because he can feel the way you’re pulsing and hear the way your moans and whines reach that slightly higher pitch. It only makes him work with more dedication.

“That’s right, sweetheart. C’mon, give it to Daddy. Let me taste it,” he grunts as he continues working you to the edge.

You cry out, your thighs quivering and your hips bucking as you succumb to release. You’re moaning with abandon, fingers clutching his hair as tight as possible. He groans into you from the sight in front of him.

You ride the high and he continues with his mouth throughout. When you reach the seeming conclusion, your chest is heaving and your limbs feel heavy, but Leon doesn’t stop. He continues on as if you were still on the way to your climax instead of coming down.

“Too much,” you whimper as your hips jerk and your hands make a weak attempt to push his head away, “Daddy, please.”

“Daddy, please?” he mocks with a laugh, “But this is what you wanted, babydoll. You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

You whine, hips still squirming as your retort dies in your throat. It felt euphoric, it was just so much. This was what you wanted though.

“That’s what I thought,” he says before burying his face between your thighs again.

He continues eating you out until you’re an absolute mess. Your eyes are rolling back, nonstop whimpers fall from your lips, and your twitching thighs are clamped around Leon’s head. It was what he’d been wanting to see since he’d heard that chime in his back pocket.

“I’m gonna cum,” you slur. Your head felt cloudy from the numerous orgasms he’d brought you. A strangled cry tears through you as your body moves like it’s possessed. You convulse on the couch while his mouth makes you see stars for the umpteenth time.

Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of your release, and finally, he starts easing off of you. He pulls your thighs off of his head and leans back. He wipes his chin that’s coated in your slick and licks his fingers. Seeing that alone has you clench around nothing which in turn spreads a smirk on his face.

“Good girl, baby,” he coos, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

He stands up from his knees, grunting as he gets to his feet and taking a moment to stretch. You can tell the extended amount of time in the position put some strain on him. Your lips curl into a small smile while adoration fills your hazy eyes.

“Your joints locking up on you, old man?” you tease with a quiet laugh.

“Don’t start,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see him suppressing his own smile, “Especially since I know you want more.”

That shuts you up because he’s right. He shakes his head and makes a mock sound of disappointment.

“I know you, baby. My dirty girl. Made you cum how many times, and you still want more,” he says. He begins stripping off his clothes into a pile next to yours. “My little whore would never turn down a chance to take my cock.”

Once his clothes are off, he languidly strokes himself a few times and climbs on top of you. He peppers some kisses on your face and starts to slide inside you. You were more than ready but still sensitive from the recent series of highs.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll get you full of my cum in no time. Fuck all that neediness right out,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath on you sending chills down your spine.

You mewl and tighten around him in more ways than one. Your arms cling to his torso that hovers above you while your walls squeeze around him to take him deeper. He grunts and his head falls forward a little as he feels sparks of pleasure in his abdomen.

“There you go, angel. Taking me so perfect. My pretty girl. Made for me,” he says into your ear as he sinks into you completely.

You nod mindlessly, your head fogging up again as he fills you. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he starts pumping in and out. You’re both breathing heavily and allowing the pleasure to take over. One of your hands slides to his hair to rub his head while his hips snap against you.

He’s falling into the perfect rhythm with you, one that’s driving you both toward the goal line, when suddenly you hear a muffled guitar strum coming from the floor. Leon groans and you burst into laughter as you hear the ringtone you had set for him as a joke.

His movements get weaker as his focus is drawn elsewhere, but he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. He reaches down to the floor where his phone is ringing in the pocket of his crumpled pants. He fishes it out and shifts so he’s kneeling while drilling into you.

He holds the phone up and squints to read the tiny caller ID on the flip phone which makes you laugh harder through moans. He smirks at your laughter and clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shut up, I gotta take this,” he says teasingly.

He whips open the phone, the maneuver causing you to moan and squeeze around him again. He winces at the sensation, nearly unable to restrain himself from giving into his carnal urges to groan and slam into you harder.

Your eyes widen as he brings the phone to his ear without stopping his hips and in the most monotonous voice says “Kennedy here.”

It’s good that his hand is over your mouth to keep you quiet. The contrast of his movements and that voice have the sparks of pleasure igniting into flames in your belly. Seeing how he handles his dumbass flip phone so smoothly has your arousal nearly pooling on the couch.

He listens to the call while grinning at you struggling to keep yourself somewhat under control. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds about right,” he drones as the person on the other end goes on and on.

His strokes are just as deep as before, nudging you in the perfect spots repeatedly. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting near the peak. A soft whimper escapes you, loud enough to pierce the barrier of Leon’s hand. His hips sputter at the noise and his face contorts. He lets out a quiet grunt but quickly catches himself before losing it further.

“What? Yeah, I’m listening,” he says, his tone growing a little impatient, “Look, I’m just wrapped up in something right now. Could you not have just told me this before I left?”

You know he’s getting closer himself and struggling to hold back. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are projecting his rising frustration he has for the person who made this call.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, effectively ending the conversation. 

Then, to hang up, he doesn’t press a button. Instead, he flicks his wrist and shuts the flip phone with a clack.

You throw your head back against the couch cushion and a loud moan rips through your throat. You shudder as a wave of pleasure courses through you after witnessing something so unexplainably hot.

His eyebrows raise in amusement, noticing how much you enjoyed that. “Hmm, I’m not hearing any complaints about the phone now,” he says. He’s trying to tease, but his voice is husky with arousal. He maintains his grin as he drops the phone to the floor again and returns to his previous position which was closer to you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break it,” you whimper.

“Nah baby, I told you that thing is indestructible,” he breathes and starts pounding you into the couch mercilessly.

You bite your lip and resume clinging to him, your fingers digging into his back. You both are panting, expressions going lax as you focus on chasing the high.

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you mewl, unable to contain yourself for much longer.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says into your ear, his voice taking on more of a growl, “Daddy’s right there with you. You deserve it for being so good for me. Being nice and quiet while I was on the phone.”

As soon as you have permission, you give into another release. Your legs shake and your arms cling to him tighter as the euphoria shoots through you. You’re gasping for air and whining while squirming beneath him. Soon it’s just too much for Leon. He tightens his grip on you and slams deep before groaning and draining himself inside of you.

He rocks in and out a few more times before slowly pulling out. He then sits up on the couch and sinks back into the cushions. You follow by sitting up as well and curling up against his side. He pulls you into his lap, stroking your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while until he gazes down at you with a smug look in his eyes.

“I knew the flip phone was a turn-on,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

You scoff. “It is not. It was just… it was the situation,” you defend.

“Sure, but you were tightest when I was messing with the phone,” he says knowingly.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs at your stubbornness and gives you another kiss. “You can admit it, baby. I won’t judge. Really, if you like it that much, maybe I’ll show you how strong it can vibrate later.”

[mangostarjam]

guard dog — blue lock, nagi seishiro x gn!reader, "baby" as a pet name, some smut i guess, creampie, established relationship, pro footballer!nagi, 1.5k words

Everyone thinks Nagi Seishiro is lazy.

It's a valid assumption. The professional football player is easy fodder for sports talk show hosts who love to criticize Seishiro for yawning hugely during press conferences and visibly playing games on his phone as his publicist tries to talk some sense into him. Seishiro hardly ever shows up for the charity galas, he has to be bribed to attend celebration parties, and his biggest brand deal is for a memory foam pillow company (which he only accepted because it meant he could nap on set).

To the world, he's a football genius blessed with the talent and skill to coast by and be lazy. Sure, Seishiro works out and goes to practice and plays hard when it counts, but if he's not in football mode, it's a pretty safe bet that he's either asleep or playing video games.

But you know better.

You know the world thinks Nagi Seishiro is lazy, but what they don't see — what they conveniently gloss over and ignore because it doesn't fit their narrative — is that Nagi Seishiro is an egoist.

And he gets what he wants.

So you aren't that surprised to find yourself squirming beneath his long, toned body — your heels digging into the strong muscles of his back, hands tugging harshly at his sweat dampened hair, back bowed as he coaxes another orgasm out of you as you sob his name.

"Mmph, fuck—" Seishiro groans low by your ear, hips stuttering as his cock throbs hard inside you. He manages two more rough thrusts before he's pressing his face into your hair, chest heaving as everything releases in a rush. "Feels so good, baby…"

You blink tears out of your eyes. The couch creaks as your boyfriend squishes you into the cushions, all dense toned muscle and long limbs and warm, heated skin. "Don't fall asleep," you pinch his side in warning but he doesn't even flinch. Your voice is raspy with overuse. "Seriously, Seishiro-kun!"

"But you're comfy…"

"I was in the middle of making dinner, y'know," you scold, but your tone is undeniably fond. "Our food's gonna be cold if you don't get up."

Seishiro grumbles, but ultimately acquiesces and raises his head. Dark white strands are plastered to his forehead. "Eating's such a drag," he sighs and presses a kiss to your cheek. The tip of your nose. Your other cheek. "Your cooking's yummy, though."

He finally lifts himself up and you wince as his softening cock pulls free. Wetness drips along your inner thighs. "Uh oh."

"Ah, wait," he says, reaching for a tissue on the nearby kotatsu. Seishiro's touch is firm as he helps clean you up. It's a simple matter for him to yank his sweatpants and boxers back up his thick thighs, but you end up wobbling to the bedroom to change into something less… sweaty.

Seishiro is still shirtless when you come back out wearing one of his hoodies, soft and worn, cuffs frayed with age. He opens his arms up wordlessly but you stay just out of reach, pressing a kiss to his knuckles instead. "Baby?"

"Dinner," you remind him. Seishiro blinks his big gray eyes up at you but you spin around before he can start pouting. "C'mon, it won't take that long!"

Your boyfriend sighs but follows you into the kitchen a few moments later. He peeks over your shoulder at the stove, radiating warmth as you lean back into him to offer a taste of the curry. "Yum," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head afterward. "You're the best, y'know that?"

"You already got in my pants today, you insatiable monster," you tease, giggling when he huffs into your hair. "So what happened at practice today that got you all amped up?"

Seishiro releases you to scratch absently at his ear. "Ah, that? Nothin'."

"Don't make me text Isagi-kun."

Your boyfriend pouts and goes to set the table, scooping rice somewhat haphazardly but still managing to get everything ready by the time you bring the curry over to serve. "The guys were just talkin' about their partners," Seishiro says. "And it made me miss you."

You pause with your spoon halfway to your mouth. "So you had to fuck me on the couch two minutes after getting home?"

Seishiro's cheeks flush pink and pretty as he sticks his spoon in his mouth. Your gaze skips down to the shift of his bicep and shoulder as he leans his elbow on the table. Heat flickers up your spine at the sight — no matter how much Seishiro acts like a human sloth, there's no denying he's a professional athlete.

"You're very cute."

"Oh." You manage not to drop your spoonful of rice and curry. He's always so… blunt. Not exactly straightforward, but you know better than to underestimate those sleepy gray eyes. "Thanks, baby."

You feel your cheeks warm as he tucks into his meal, asking about your day between bites. This is your favorite version of Nagi Seishiro — the steady, selectively selfish boyfriend who hangs onto your every word and believes you'll rise up to where you want to go with so much faith he doesn't even say it aloud. This is the Nagi Seishiro the cameras never see, the football star whose words are always twisted in interviews to be uncaring and cocky, the words of a genius at his prime.

You're in the middle of recounting the way one of your male coworkers kept speaking over you in a meeting that morning when Seishiro's grip tightens around your ankle.

"Hah?"

You startle and nearly drop your spoon. Dinner is long done and Seishiro's coaxed you to prop your feet on his lap beneath the table, massaging your aching muscles gently as you share your day. "Seishiro-kun?"

"Sorry," he mumbles, but his gaze is hard. "Keep goin'."

"So… he… just kept… repeating the things I was saying, but louder, and — are you alright?"

Seishiro's typical natural pout has been replaced by a thin line as he frowns deeply. He shakes his head, snow white strands floating like cloud wisps above steel.

"That bastard," he says quietly, but the low tone sends shivers up your spine. "Talking over you like that. Does he wanna die?"

You blink. You've seen him get like this a few times before, but it's a rare sight. "It's okay," you climb out of your chair and round the table, sliding into his lap the moment he scoots back to make room for you.

Heavy hands land on your hips. You squeak. "I'll walk you to work tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that," you bring your hands to his bare shoulders and immediately smooth down to loosely grip his biceps. "I know you love sleeping in."

Seishiro tips his head up and you drop a kiss on his pout. He makes a soft sound. "That shithead should know better."

A giggle escapes you and his eyes immediately soften into stormy skies. "Down, boy," you joke. Seishiro hums and presses his face into your neck. You shiver as he kisses carefully along your throat.

"Yes, boss," he murmurs, and — god — you squeeze your eyes shut. "How was the rest of your day? What'd you do to that asshole?"

Your face warms and suddenly you wish you hadn't put on his hoodie. It's huge on you, with the sleeves bunching up around your wrists, but the typical loose air circulation his clothes grant you is lost against the rising heat of your body against his.

"I told him that if he couldn't hold it together for the meeting, he probably wouldn't be able to handle the business trip coming up," you say quietly, "and he stopped talking the rest of the meeting."

Seishiro snorts and presses another lingering kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear. "That's hot."

You laugh at that, soft and fond. Seishiro leans back in his seat as you pull away slightly, settling further into his lap and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "You're silly."

It's quiet for a moment as the two of you bask in comfort. His thumbs rub circles along your bare hips beneath his hoodie and you watch as he blinks at you slowly, like a cat, his sleepy eyes tracing over your face.

"I wanna marry you someday," he says absently, turning his head to kiss your palm. Almost as if he doesn't expect you to hear him. Your heartbeat makes a sudden loud appearance knocking around in your ribcage. It takes a minute to catch your breath.

"Seishiro-kun?"

"Mm?" He doesn't seem to care that you did hear him, but the arches of his cheeks have bloomed a soft, dawn pink. "I wanna be yours."

You kind of… maybe… want to pinch yourself. It's been unspoken, as the years together started stacking up, but he's never mentioned it before. You feel light. Buoyant.

"You're already mine."

Nagi Seishiro is an egoist, and he gets what he wants. He nuzzles his cheek into your palm. "I wanna be yours forever."

Well, then. "I'd be good with that."

[sharky-teeth]

top dean/bottom sam fics that perfectly exemplify why bottom sam is the best (the list got kind of super long because i'm just too passionate about this topic):

take the things you love by hathfrozen: i think everybody and their grandma knows this one but i had to include it, this is our gospel. literally changed my life.

mommy dearest by tradwifesam: if you don't like feminization, read this and see the vision.

Softly, as a morning sunrise by LaughableLament: one of my go-to authors for fun and short PWPs.

Noise Complaint by formalizing: a lesson on how to make a thousand words count!

Coast On Through by philalethia: this actually contains switching, but when i tell you it has some of the best samdean scenes ever...

Feel About the Same Most Every Day: pining that you can feel in your bones.

Like a Machine by ani_coolgirl: camboy!sam perfection.

Untouchable for Life by Sintari: another one for my camboy!sam enthusiasts.

Undertow by Molly: starts out angsty and ends with psychic sex vibes, what's not to love?

Birthday Boy by DickBaggins: sam's ass is dean's birthday present, need i say more?

Keeping it Clean by themegalosaurus: swesson filth <3

this thing, for which we break by orbiting_saturn: intense and intimate, as PWP as it comes.

Sweltering by WhoopsOK: brothers with benefits done right. slutty sam as a treat!

weecest:

With A Bit Of Spit And Luck by elsi: in my top 5 weecest of all time, which is saying something because the competition is crazy.

Bulletproof by road_rhythm: gunplay! incredible characterization, if you have a kink for guilty dean who's unable to stop himself, and pushy sammy, this is the one.

Heart of Worms by Ninni: very moody, and beautifully written.

Petulant by formalizing: another short read that hits all the right spots and leaves you wanting more.

and all is right in Dean's world by ladygizarme: loved dean's characterization here, he left me feeling unsettled.

for those like me who need some jokes with your p*rn:

The Koala Conundrum by De_Nugis: (mentions of switching) to this day, one of the most unique & refreshing stories i've read, an absolute masterpiece.

the one with aphrodisiac: this one managed to be hilarious and hot in equal measure, an amazing feat.

Incidentally, It Was Christmas by ani_coolgirl: one of my favorite fics of the year! ani's humor is impeccable! if you also believe in the sam-sexual dean truth, this is a must read.

Tongue-Tied by ADeedWithoutaName: cursed!dean unable to speak, and sam speaking for both of them, you know where this goes...

Dicks in a Box by fictionallemons: buried alive and how do sam and dean decide to spend their time? it ain't cuddling!

Versatile, Tender and Delicious by themegalosaurus: improper use of a zucchini. read and find out.

for my omega sam lovers:

Five Weeks & its sequel Three Weeks Too Late by rei_c: probably my favorite wincest a/b/o of all time! i could've read 100k of this universe, loved the details put into it.

A Blind Fool's Luck by hellhoundsprey: this is also a favorite! i remember the tension in this fic had me dizzy. this author has an incredible way with descriptions, vivid and unique writing style.

Phantom Pain by hellhoundsprey: weecest! love their dynamic here so much, great blending of a/b/o traits while keeping them in character.

Clover by hellhoundsprey: perfectly done late seasons getting together! with the right amount of schmoop. clearly this author is very dear to me lol

know the feeling by sammyatstanford: this is the longest work in this list, around 40k words, and so worth it! really enjoyed the worldbuilding.

now to my favorite flavor (bottom sam with a side of delicious angst):

Lesser Evils by Dyed_Red: [non-con] not for everyone, but definitely for me. if you love samdean at odds and suffering, this will push all the right buttons. life-changing fic.

Is It Tomorrow (Or Just the End of Time) by elsi: the angst here is so glorious. from beginning to end it's angst, angst, then more angst. there is no resolution to their issues, and i love that.

Collision Course by lovetincture: one of the most believable first time stories i've read, spot on characterization and raw descriptions. didn't shy away from the ugly side of incest.

You can run away with me any time you want by Trojie: sam leaving for stanford fic! oh this one hurts like a motherfucker. there's a line in here that's so beautiful, it lives in my brain.

his skin barely keeping him inside by hathfrozen: another banger by hathfrozen, i have a weak spot for first time in a long time stories.

No such thing as Forgiveness by hellhoundsprey: lawyer!sam getting his life sent off track when big brother comes back to the picture... the unhealthy dynamic here is to die for.

Blood sacrifice sex magic type of thing by Goshen: sam performing ritual sex to cure his demon brother... as he should.

Worship Not These False Idols by killabeez: ruby fucking sam while pretending to be dean. as amazing as it sounds.

Circles of Light by WhoopsOK: there is a "Magical Healing Ass" tag. enough said

end of list! i tried to only include works with less than 10k hits here, so someone might find something they haven't read before. i didn't include warnings, so definitely check out the tags first. all these fics are seriously amazing, i hope more people will read these gems <3