#i don't know what it is about these girls that feels different and makes me love them 😂

[bytemee]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS — YU JIMIN.

“you're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay. but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me."

synopsis. karina wasn’t used to sharing. seeing you laugh with someone else? that didn’t sit right with her.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), g!p reader, pet names (she calls u puppy like it’s ur name), unprotected sex, p in v, jealous!karina, dom!karina, sub!reader and bad writing ahaa...

words. 1.6k

authors note. i could go for a chipotle burrito but damn do they be taxing

karina was used to having all eyes on her. she was the kind of girl who walked into a room and made everyone else feel like background noise. and you—shy, awkward, always fumbling over your words—were her favorite plaything.

it wasn’t like you were dating. she just liked keeping you close, liked the way you turned red when she got too close, and liked knowing that you’d drop everything the second she called.

but tonight, you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

she had invited you to the party—expected you to hover near her like always, expected you to wait for her to give you attention. but instead, you were downstairs, sitting on the couch, laughing at something some random girl said.

karina didn’t like that.

she watched from across the room, arms crossed, lips pursed, as she saw the way you were smiling—actually smiling—in front of someone else.

when the girl leaned in a little too close, touching your arm, something snapped.

before you even realized what was happening, karina was in front of you, slipping between you and the girl with a sickly sweet smile.

"oh, i see you’ve met my little puppy," she said smoothly, tilting her head. "careful with this one. she gets nervous around new people.”

you were about to open your mouth to say something then she sat down on your lap, draping her arms over your shoulders. you swallowed hard, your face going pink, completely caught off guard.

karina had always been shameless with her teasing, but this—this was different. she was staking a claim, making sure everyone in the room knew exactly who you belonged to.

the girl you had been talking to gave an awkward laugh, clearly unsure of what to do now that karina had inserted herself into the situation.

"uh, i was just—"

"leaving?" karina finished for her, still smiling, though it was obvious she wanted her gone.

the girl hesitated, looking between the two of you before mumbling some excuse and disappearing into the crowd.

you barely had a second to process what just happened before karina’s fingers were suddenly in your hair, twirling a loose strand between her fingers as she leaned in even closer.

your eyes widened, your face burning up under the intense stare she was giving you. you swallowed thickly, your hands gripping the couch, unsure of where else to put them.

and then, just when you thought she couldn't get any closer, she did, her lips brushing against your ear. "don't look so surprised, puppy."

she pulled away just enough to look into your eyes again. then she got up from your lap, smoothing out her skirt before grabbing your hand and pulling you upstairs, away from all the prying eyes.

and you let her.

karina didn’t waste a second. she shoved you into the first empty room she found, kicking the door shut behind her before pinning you against the wall.

it didn’t matter whether you were hers in name—because in every way that counted, you were. and tonight, she was making sure everyone knew it.

her lips crashed against yours, rough and claiming, like she had something to prove. and maybe she did. maybe she needed to remind you exactly where you belonged.

karina was a damn good kisser, and the longer she kissed you, the harder it got to stand on your own. your fingers curled into her shirt, clinging to her for support, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips.

she loved this. loved how easily she could pull you apart, how simple it was to make you forget everything but her.

when she finally pulled away, a thin strand of saliva still connected you for a brief second before it snapped, leaving you breathless. your head spun, your lips swollen, and you just stood there, waiting—because she was the one in control, and you both knew it.

her nails raked across your skin, making their way under your shirt, and you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan.

"you don't want anyone else, do you, hm?" she asked, her voice low and soft. she leaned in again, her lips brushing against your jaw, the gentle touch a sharp contrast to the way her nails dug into your hips.

you shook your head quickly, your heart racing in your chest, because no, no, you only wanted her. you only ever wanted her.

karina hummed, satisfied, her grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. "good," she murmured, "because i don't like sharing."

her teeth grazed your skin, and your breath hitched, fingers twitching where they hovered uncertainly at your sides. you wanted to touch her, wanted to pull her closer, but you knew better than to move without permission.

she noticed, of course she did, and it made her smirk against your throat. "what is it, puppy?" she taunted. "you want to touch me?"

you nodded, swallowing hard. "please," you whispered, barely able to get the word out.

karina pulled back just enough to look at you, tilting her head like she was considering it. her fingers trailed up your sides before she finally grabbed your wrists and guided your hands under her skirt until your fingers brushed against her underwear.

"there," she breathed out. "is that what you wanted?"

she was so wet, and the thought that she was this turned on because of you—because she was claiming you as her own—made you whine, the sound almost desperate.

"karina," you pleaded, the bulge in your pants growing more uncomfortable by the second.

karina's smirk widened. "you want me to touch you?" she asked, her breath hot against your ear.

you nodded frantically, still unable to form words, too overwhelmed by desire to do anything except obey.

"use your words." karina's grip tightened on your wrists.

"please," you whimpered, voice shaking. "please, touch me, i need you."

she hummed, satisfied. "that's what i like to hear."

and then her fingers were working at the buttons of your jeans, her other hand reaching under your shirt, sliding up your stomach before pressing against it to push you onto the bed, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

"karina," you moaned. "i—fuck..."

she didn't waste any time. as soon as you were flat on the bed, she crawled on top of you, straddling your waist, grinding against your thigh as her fingers wrapped around your cock.

karina chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. "you're so sensitive," she purred, her hand moving slowly, teasingly.

you whimpered, your hips moving involuntarily. you were starting to unravel, quickly losing control. karina knew it, and she loved it.

"is this what you wanted, puppy?" she asked, her lips brushing against your neck. "you like it when i touch you like this?"

all you could manage was a ragged moan in response.

her hand moved faster, sending a shock through your system, and you threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut. it felt so fucking good, and you couldn't think, couldn't speak, could only let her do whatever she wanted.

then suddenly she stopped.

your eyes snapped open, and you let out a whine, desperate for more.

karina ignored you, instead pulling her underwear down, kicking it to the side before she straddled your waist again, lining herself up with your cock.

her hands pressed against your chest for balance as she started to move, rolling her hips at an excruciatingly slow pace.

you groaned, your fingers digging into the sheets, trying to keep yourself from just taking over and flipping your positions. you knew that would just earn you a sharp slap and a scolding, something that you would much rather avoid.

karina leaned down, hovering her underwear above your mouth, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"open up," she commanded.

you obeyed, and she stuffed the fabric into your mouth. it tasted like her, and the thought of that alone made you twitch inside her.

your hands moved to grip her thighs, fingers pressing into the soft skin, holding her steady as she rocked her hips.

she let out a breathy moan as you tightened your grip on her. "fuck," she panted, her breaths coming in short gasps. "just like that."

you tried to say something, but all that came out was muffled by the underwear she had shoved into your mouth. karina smirked, her pace increasing, the heat in her core growing stronger, spreading through her body. she threw her head back, a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead.

"fuck," she groaned. "i'm gonna cum."

she could feel it building, her walls clenching around you, and she knew she was close. she knew the sight of her falling apart would send you over the edge, too, and that's what she wanted, needed, craved.

her grip tightened, nails digging into your chest, her breathing erratic, her hips rocking faster, harder. she was right there, teetering on the edge, and then finally, she toppled over.

"fuck!" she cried out, her orgasm ripping through her, her legs trembling.

the moment she started to come undone, so did you, unable to hold back any longer; you groaned into the underwear, your head thrown back, your spine arching off the mattress, thrusting your hips upwards as you came.

your hands held her in place, gripping her thighs so hard they would leave marks, but neither of you cared.

karina slumped against you, her chest heaving, her face buried in the crook of your neck. she was panting, trying to catch her breath, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart against your skin.

after a few moments, she pulled away, sitting back on your lap, a satisfied smile on her face. she reached forward and slowly pulled the underwear out of your mouth, her gaze fixed on you, taking in the aftermath of what she had done to you.

"mmm, looks like my puppy is satisfied."

you blinked, trying to clear the haze from your mind, but all you could focus on was the sight of her sitting on top of you, the mess dripping down her thighs, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen.

she looked so perfect.

"do you understand now?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. "no one else gets to touch you like this. no one but me."

you nodded, still unable to find your words.

"good," she purred, leaning in and kissing you, soft and gentle, a stark contrast to how she had been before.

[harrysfolklore]

yes do the lewis fic pleaseee

short and sweet bc i promised anon i would do ittt i hope you like it

You're fidgeting with your rings - his rings, actually, that you stole months ago - when Lewis notices your knee bouncing for the hundredth time. The arena feels too warm despite your backless Valentino.

"You're going to drill a hole through the floor, love," he murmurs, leaning close enough that his lips brush your ear. His hand finds yours, warm and steady.

"Easy for you to be calm," you whisper back. "You've won eight world championships."

"Seven," he corrects automatically, making you roll your eyes.

"The eighth was robbed and we all know it." It's an old argument, one that makes him smile every time. "Besides, this is different. This is-"

"This is you about to win Song of the Year," he finishes, so confident it makes your heart ache.

You turn to face him properly, taking in how unfairly good he looks in his suit. "How are you so sure?"

"Because," he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "I was there when you wrote it at 3 AM on my kitchen floor. When you called me crying because the bridge wasn't right."

"You're biased," you argue, but you're smiling now. "You have to say that. It's in the boyfriend contract."

"Ah yes, the famous 'support your controversially young girlfriend' clause," he teases, and you can't help but laugh. It's become a running joke between you, how the media can't seem to get over your age gap.

"Speaking of which, did you see that headline yesterday? 'Grammy Nominee Spotted Looking Cozy with Elder Statesman of F1'?"

Lewis groans. "Elder statesman? I'm forty, not dead."

"Ancient," you declare solemnly. "Practically fossilized."

He's about to retort when Taylor Swift takes the stage, and suddenly you can't breathe again. Lewis must feel you tense because his hand tightens around yours.

"Hey," he says softly. "Whatever happens, you've already won. Seven nominations in your first year? That's unheard of."

"I just want-" you start, but then Taylor's speaking.

"Music tells our stories," she's saying. "And sometimes, a song comes along that captures something so real, so raw, that it changes how we see love itself..."

You feel Lewis shift beside you, and when you glance over, he's already watching you with that look - the one he gave you the first time you played him this song, the one that makes you feel invincible.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Taylor's smiling now, like she knows something. "'Birds of a feather!"

The world stops. Starts. Explodes.

Lewis is up first, pulling you into his arms before you can even process what's happening. "That's my girl," he whispers fiercely against your hair. "I told you, didn't I? I told you."

You're crying already, you can feel it, but you don't care. His hands cup your face and he's beaming at you with more pride than you've ever seen - more than after any pole position or race win.

"Go get your Grammy, superstar," he says, and then he's gently pushing you toward the aisle.

The walk to the stage feels infinite. You're aware of everything - the weight of your dress, the cameras following you, the deafening applause. But mostly, you're aware of Lewis in the front row, standing and clapping like he's watching the love of his life win Song of the Year at the Grammys (which, you suppose, he is).

"Oh god," you start, gripping the golden gramophone like a lifeline. "I wrote this song about falling in love. About meeting someone who changes everything when you least expect it."

You find his eyes in the crowd, and suddenly it's just the two of you.

"I should probably thank Formula 1 for canceling that race in Singapore, or I never would've been in that hotel bar, jetlagged and grumpy, when this absolutely ridiculous man in the most expensive hoodie I'd ever seen asked if he could buy me a drink."

The audience laughs, and Lewis is shaking his head, grinning that grin that still makes your knees weak.

"To Lewis - thank you for being the most unexpected plot twist of my life. For showing me that timing is everything, even when Twitter thinks our timing is inappropriate." More laughter. "For listening to every demo at 3 AM, for believing in me when I was just another girl with a piano and a dream..."

You're fully crying now, but so is he, so it's okay.

"For never once making me feel too young or too inexperienced, for teaching me that love doesn't follow anyone's timeline but its own. And yes, I know this speech is probably going viral for all the wrong reasons, but you taught me that sometimes the best stories are the ones nobody sees coming. I love you."

The camera cuts to Lewis, who's not even trying to hide his tears. But neither of you seem to care at the moment.

Later, after winning four out of your seven nominations, you're in the back of the car heading home. Your head's on his shoulder, Grammy in your lap, when he speaks.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"Now I have to win the championship this year. Can't have you showing me up with all these trophies."

You laugh, snuggling closer. "Better get practicing then, old man."

"Menace," he mutters fondly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

[honeyyyblue]

✧ it's hard to spend time together when satoru is barely ever home, always away with some mission, due to his reputation as 'the strongest'.

that's why he spends the time he does get buried deep inside you because he knows how rare moments like these are.

moments like right now.

he's fucking you from behind, your tear-streaked face pressed against the mattress as he pounds into you. your molten walls clench around his girthy length and he groans at the feeling.

'that's it, good girl. fuck, you're taking it so well, precious.'

''toru, ngh-,' you're so fucked out you can't even form actual words.

'what's that, sweetheart?'

you manage to mumble something along the lines of 'so full, need more, 'toru'.

satoru's cock hurts at how desperate you sound.

'look at you,' he coos 'always begging for my cock.' you whine into the mattress when he punctuates his sentence with an exceptionally harder and deeper thrust.

'you used to be my sweet angel, so innocent and pure,' he hisses when you clench around him, harder this time 'since when did you become such a cockhungry little slut?'

your cheeks flame crimson. you're embarrassed because, well, he's right. every moment he's away has you thinking about him. his cock, his hands until your own hands creep down your body to in between your legs until you have yourself whimpering his name out to nothing.

you were down bad. and it's not any different for satoru.

'don't worry, baby. if you want cock so bad, i'll give it to you. i'll give you anything- everything.'

he hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you up, your back flush against his broad chest. the new position makes him shift inside you and the feeling has you sobbing.

''toru, please.'

'please what? use your words, baby,' the grin on his face is huge as he watches you try form coherent sentences. his other hand wraps around your throat, pressing just hard enough to weaken the airflow to your head.

''toru, i'm gonna cum,' your head is spinning and you're pawing at the hand at your throat.

'aw, does my baby want to come?' he purrs in your ear.

'yes,' you manage to breathe out.

'then, beg.'

cocky little shit.

'pleasee, 'toru,' you whine, helplessly 'please, please, please. i've been a good girl. just please let me.'

he leans in to press a kiss against your shoulder his snowy hair tickling your skin. 'go ahead,' he whispers against your neck 'come for me, love.'

and god, oh, yes, you do.

your orgasm has you seeing stars, your vision going a little blurry at the white hot pleasure.

the sensation of your walls spasming around his length sends him over the edge, a few more thrusts and you feel him empty inside, his thick release painting your walls white. his hold on your throat loosens and you catch your breaths together as you come down from your high.

he pulls out of you and gently lays you down on the bed, joining you momentarily. you've lost all feeling in your legs and there's a dull ache between them. you slowly turn towards satoru to find him smiling drowsily at you, bright blue eyes hooded from exhaustion. you smile back at him, too tired to formulate a thought. he pulls you toward him and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

'i love you, sweetheart' was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

[00valentina-writes00]

My God, your writings are wonderful, the way you express yourself in letters should be rewarded with an award

I'm so excited about pregnancy writing. Is there a way to know how Sevika would behave with an injured reader when she is pregnant or when she gives birth to her baby? I thank heaven that put you on my profile, I read this every night before going to sleep (don't judge me for being so weird ￣(=∵=)￣ )

✞⛧ Sevika with a pregnant girl ✞⛧

An: girl I understand (me too fr- I love writing stuff like this)

✞⛧ Sevika is protective as hell, always on guard when you’re around. The idea of you carrying her child brings out a deeper, fiercer side to her.

✞⛧ She’s not great at expressing her feelings verbally but shows her care through actions. For example, when you’re pregnant, she’ll make sure you’re never doing too much, offering to handle any physical tasks.

✞⛧ If you get hurt while pregnant, she’s livid. She’ll immediately jump into action, her protective instincts taking over. Sevika is usually stoic, but if you’re hurt in any way, you’ll see a more vulnerable side of her—concern, anger, fear.

✞⛧ In those moments, Sevika’s eyes will burn with anger, and she’ll make sure to stay by your side until you’re safe and sound. If it’s a more serious injury, she’ll insist on taking care of you herself, even if it means staying up all night.

✞⛧ She’ll be hovering around you during labor, but in her own way—staying close but not overly dramatic. Sevika has a quiet intensity, trying to stay strong for you while she watches you go through something as intense as childbirth

✞⛧ During labor, Sevika has a firm hand on your back, rubbing circles to calm you down, though she’s visibly on edge. She might not say much, but her presence is comforting in a way you can’t quite put into words.

✞⛧ She’s not one for saying sweet things, but you can tell she’s paying attention to every little thing, from your breathing to how you’re holding up.

✞⛧ Her reaction when the baby is born is nothing short of awe. She’s trying to be tough about it, but there’s no hiding how she’s completely taken by this tiny human you both made.

✞⛧ Sevika’s hand is right there when the baby is handed to you, and the way she looks at the two of you—her child, her family—tells you everything you need to know about how much she cares.

✞⛧ After the baby is born, Sevika is surprisingly tender with the little one. She may not be the most openly affectionate person, but with her child, it’s different. You’ll see her carefully hold the baby, as though she’s learning how to be gentle.

✞⛧ She takes on a lot of the heavier work at home, but always with the unspoken promise to keep you both safe and well. She might do things like bring you food or clean the house without you asking, all because she knows you’re doing the most important work: nurturing.

✞⛧ She’s not exactly cuddly, but when the baby’s in your arms, Sevika will give you both soft looks from across the room. Her love for the two of you is clear in her eyes, even if her expression is more reserved than anything.

✞⛧ If the baby cries, Sevika’s instinct is to quickly check and see what’s wrong, almost like she’s scanning the room for danger. She can be a bit paranoid about protecting the baby but has the best of intentions.

✞⛧ Sevika will fight anyone who tries to harm you or your baby, no question. If anyone dares to cross her or her family, they’ll regret it immediately.

✞⛧ When you’re up late with the baby, Sevika will always offer to take the night shift. She knows how hard it is, and though she’s not the best with soothing techniques, her strong, steady presence gives you some peace.

✞⛧ As the baby grows, Sevika will be the kind of mom who’s constantly teaching them, showing them how to be tough, resilient, and smart.

✞⛧ She’ll teach them about the world in a way that’s practical—how to defend themselves, how to survive in a harsh world—but also instill in them a deep sense of loyalty and respect for others.

✞⛧ When the baby takes their first steps, Sevika will act like it’s no big deal, but her eyes will soften just a little. It’s one of those small moments where her pride in her child shows through.

✞⛧ She might not say it often, but you’ll hear her whisper “I love you” to the baby when she thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s a rare moment of softness that she keeps for her family.

✞⛧ She’ll always be the one to ensure that both you and the baby are physically protected. When people in Piltover or Zaun look at you with a hint of judgment, Sevika doesn’t flinch. She gives a glare that makes them think twice.

✞⛧ She’s a very practical mother, not one for over-the-top displays of affection, but the way she looks after the baby shows how deeply she cares.

✞⛧ When the baby gets older, Sevika is there for every milestone, though she might play it off like it’s no big deal. But you’ll catch that proud look she gives when the baby shows their first sign of strength.

✞⛧ Sevika will be the first one to defend the baby’s honor—if someone tries to mess with them, Sevika will be the one to step in and put them in their place.

✞⛧ When you’re resting, Sevika is right there beside you, making sure the baby is fed, happy, and safe while you get the rest you need.

✞⛧ She’s surprisingly sentimental about keepsakes—if you manage to get her to keep something like a baby blanket or a little toy, it’s something she holds onto tightly, even when the baby’s grown.

✞⛧ Despite being a hardened individual, when Sevika sees her child laugh, she can’t help but soften. That sound fills her with something she’s not used to—complete, overwhelming love.

✞⛧ In her quiet moments, you’ll sometimes catch her staring at the baby with that same sense of awe she had when they were born.

✞⛧ Sevika is a fierce protector, but she’s also a caring and capable mother who does her best to provide stability and strength for her family.

✞⛧ She’ll stay up late with the baby, rocking them to sleep in her arms, her stern demeanor softening in the quiet of the night.

✞⛧ Sevika will protect you both fiercely and provide for you, though you’ll often need to coax her into being a little more affectionate. She’s still getting used to showing that side of herself, but for you and the baby, she’ll always go to any length.

[deanssun]

✧ dean winchester x party girl!reader | minors do not interact

when dean spots his ex, it was likely to

end in a fight, but instead they let out their

pent up emotions in a different way..

! mentions of drugs. alcohol. sex. fucking in the bathroom. dean cums inside !wrap it up y'all!. exes to lovers (once again).

dean winchester and his ex, you, were toxic–highschool sweethearts which in all honesty hated each other. still you both kept crawling back to one another. it wasn't until you found out about deans hunting, and he found out about the parties you threw. you were just a girl–who was he to judge? you broke it off for good and you never saw each other again.

until years later while at the club, here he was at the bar, drowning himself in his sorrows.

his eyes trailing over various womens figures, eventually landing on yours. a tight dress that hugged your curves just right, perfect hair that he'd love to pull, and glossy lips.

all the feelings he had pushed down came back up–anger, annoyance, but worst of all jealously. he was jealous that you were still living your life.

and that other men had got to touch what was his, once his.

deans mind trailed off, unbeknownst to his legs carrying him off towards you. his hand coming to rest on your waist, the thin fabric doing nothing but igniting a fire beneath his touch. you whipped your head around so fast it almost hit against his.

“dean!? what're you doing here, and especially around me?” you questioned him quickly, voice slurred and a lingering smell of weed clung to your form.

you couldn't help the warmth that begun in your core as you got a better look at his face. the bright lights of the dance floor highlighting his features.

he had aged well, and it wasn't helping with the arousal that pooled in your panties at his presence. he still had such power over you, that's why when you both were young, you couldn't help but crawl back to him.

the smell of leather and whiskey overpowered anything else around you, all you could think about was just him. but you didn’t let that stop you from arguing.

"you think that you can just walst back into my life, pull me close and expect me to start sucking you off!” exclaiming loudly, facing him with a headstrong stare, a pout etched onto your lips and your hands snug on your hips.

“oh no, kitty, i don't–” dean smirked, one that made your knees weak.

your cheeks warmed as he called you your nickname from highschool. watching and letting him pull you even closer, dress riding up which allowed you to feel his denim-clad bulge. you bit your bottom lip at the sensation.

your friend, who'd been the one to get you to break up with dean in the first place walked by you with a wink. swiftly handing you a joint and patting your ass. you looked towards her in confusion, not that it lasted long because dean was dragging you by your waist into the bathroom.

it was small and cramped yet you both found a way to make it work. his thick cock was pumping in and out of you. your legs were locked around his waist, back pressed against the door which rattled with each thrust.

“i bet you wanted me to see you, fuckin’ slut. i know you missed this–missed my dick filling you, ruining you for any other man.” dean rasped, groans leaving his saliva covered lips.

your pussy clenched at his degrading words, mewls and whimpers spewing out from you. it was dirty, so dirty and you both didn't care to mind.

not when his cock was hitting that sweet spot each time, the tip lightly grazing your cervix. your hips bucked up towards his calloused fingers that ghosted over your clit, touching once-in-awhile.

“dean, dean, dean!” you moaned his name like a prayer, but he was no god. he was as man, your ex, fucking you like a whore in the bathroom of some dingy club. and you liked it, you'd really missed him.

your hands tousled with his hair, grasping onto it. sweat causing the strands near his face to stick to his forehead.

your actions caused dean to let out noises of his own, his head falling in between your breasts. harsh breaths fall from his plump lips. he growled, nipping and sucking at the sweat covered skin, leaving marks in his wake.

the feeling of his dick slipping in and out of your tight, wet walls was all that you could think about, bringing you closer to the edge.

when he knew you were close, he finally began to rub your clit. giving rough attention to the pearl. his fingers applied just the right amount of pressure.

you were dripping, soaking his cock. the air was thick and the smell of sex clung to the both of you. anyone walking by could immediately tell what was happening in the room. the sound of his balls slapping harshly against your ass and the slick sound of his dick inside you was loud and rung in your ears. your bodies stuck together, bound by the feeling of pleasure.

your body shuddered and your hands grasped onto his forearms. the muscle flexed beneath your touch. you screamed his name as you came, your body limping against the door.

deans hands gripped onto your ass to hold you up. his dick still unrelenting, fucking you hard and fast. even as you came down from your high, he never slowed. moans continued to fall from your lips, though more breathy and quiet.

dean came inside you with a low groan, his warm sticky seed filling you up. the white substance stuck to your inner walls, proof of his claim over you.

“you're so good f'me, baby. taking my dick so well–” he whispered into your ear, his fingers tracing patterns on your bottom.

he caged you in his hold, his mouth working magic on your neck. leaving little hickeys so everyone would you were his, once again.

dean pulled out, little whines fell from you at the loss of contact and warmth. he quickly pulled your panties back over your cunt. trapping his seed inside you.

you attemted to fix your hair and makeup, mascara dripped down your cheeks and your lipstick was smudged. you felt a smack on your ass, and a kiss on the cheek as dean opened the bathroom door.

“have fun cleaning up, sweetheart, and when you wanna leave–come find your daddy, yea?” he teased with a wink, which in response to you rolled your eyes.

watching his form leave and head back to the bar. his hair was a mess and he was glistening with sweat.

but he was still so handsome to you. your heart fluttered with the love you once felt for him as it trickled into your being.

and now you knew that you can't stay away from dean winchester forever.

sunny yaps! HII MY ANGELSS!! I decides to just write something for party girl!reader. I KNOW IT DOESNT REALLY DIVE INTO HER CHARACTER BUT I WANT DEAN WINCHESTER SOOOO BAD RN!! I do NOT write smut good so comments would be appreciated if you find this enjoyable!! I didn't mean to write a lot just a little drabble but ykkk....HEHE ANYWAYSS!! I LOVE YOU ALLLLL, KISSES TO UUUU !!

[francisofthespook]

Bed Chem

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, nothing too explicit

Word Count: 3195

Setting: Alexandria, Pre-Negan

A/N: Hi guys I'm super excited about this oneeeee ! When I first started writing for Daryl I had this idea in mind and it was what inspired me to start writing again. I waited a bit to write this, I had been working it out in my head and trying to figure out where to take it but Daryl is so Bed Chem coded in my head and you can't tell me otherwise. I hope y'all like it :)))

(Moderately proofread, but I will probably still go back in and edit it later lol)

(( I made the borders :) ))

“I don't know… I think it's too much,” you said as you turned around, holding out the ends of the dress with your hands. “Girl, are you kidding? You look amazing, you have to wear it!” With an exasperated breath, you turned and looked at yourself in the full-length mirror again. You looked at Rosita in the reflection and gave her a small smile before admiring the dress again.

It was super cute, but you felt it was too much for the small party. You ran your fingers along the ruching at the neck, pinching and pulling at the buttery smooth fabric and trying to pull it up so it wasn't too low. The sheer blue baby doll dress fell to your mid-thigh and had off-the-shoulder puff sleeves high enough to show off your tattoos. Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the bow at the center of the neckline before facing the girls again. “Okay fine.”

Maggie and Rosita quietly squealed in excitement at your defeat. “You guys look so pretty,” You marveled at your two friends. “Thanks to you! I had no idea you were hiding these gems in your closet.” Maggie said with a wink. 

It may have been dumb, but you had a thing for collecting cute dresses while out on runs. You knew that they would likely never get worn, but you kept them tucked away in the back of your closet in hopes that one day the world would be normal enough that a situation would arise where you could finally wear them. This was kinda one of those situations.

Alexandria had been your ‘home’ for the past two years. You had stumbled upon Aaron while searching for a new campsite, and ever since then you had been happy to call yourself an ‘Alexandrian’. Life had been pretty normal, nothing like it used to be, but normal enough. Until Rick’s group arrived.

Something about these people felt different, you could just tell they had been through it. They all seemed pretty unsure at first, not wanting to trust that this place could be real. But slowly, they began to let their walls down and accept that this was a safe place. Well, as safe as it could be. 

It was Deanna’s idea to have this little party. Although the newcomers had been settling in, it was still very obvious that there was a divide. In hopes of blurring that line, Deanna suggested that we throw a party. Her thinking was that if we all got together and had a good time, we would feel more ‘unified’ as a people. You had been trying on your own to make friends with the newcomers, and Maggie and Rosita were the most receptive to your attempts at friendship. 

You had been hanging out with them for about a week now, and anyone who didn’t know you guys would have thought you had been friends since birth. Something about the two girls just resonated with you, you understood each other in ways that the others couldn't. So you were more than happy to share your small collection of dresses with them when the party was announced. 

“What are we waiting for, let's go!” Maggie announced, and the three of you did final looks in the mirror before walking over to Deanna’s house. 

The house was more packed than you had ever seen it before. The three of you squeezed your way in and found a spot in the far corner of the living room. Soft music was playing over the speakers as everyone mingled. It warmed your heart to see everyone finally opening up, and you hoped that this would lead to strong bonds between the two groups. 

“I’m gonna go find Abraham,” Rosita said, leaning in before continuing “Show off my cute dress.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I gotta go find Glenn too, see what he thinks of mine,” Maggie said with a smile. “I have a feeling you guys won't be at this party much longer…” You said, laughing. “We’ll be sure to come find you before we leave,” Rosita replied, giving you a playful shove. “You sure you’re okay on your own for a bit?” You looked over to Maggie, rolling your eyes. “Guys, I'll be fine, you go have fun! I’m gonna get a drink” The three of you gave each other small waves as you went your separate ways.

You made your way over to the makeshift bar, waving and saying small hellos to the people you passed. The options were limited, but you grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne and some orange juice to make yourself a mimosa. Taking a sip, you turned around to go look for Aaron, but as you turned you bumped into someone. The stranger reached out and grabbed your shoulder to help steady you before you fell. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”

The stranger let his hand linger on your shoulder for a second before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He swiftly removed his hand and took a step back, grunting “S’fine.” You didn’t recognize this man. He definitely wasn’t from Alexandria, you would have recognized him. But you didn’t recognize him from Rick’s group either. The man rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while looking down at his shoes, he seemed a bit shy. “Are you from Rick’s group? I haven't seen you around…” He hesitantly made eye contact with you and nodded. “Yea.”

He had a certain aura to him that left you needing to know more. He was handsome, in a rugged way. Not usually the type of guy that you would have gone for in the old world, but you couldn't help admiring this man. He had a sharp jawline, long dark brown locks, and the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen. His sleeveless jacket showed off his tanned arms that were muscular, but not in an overwhelming way. You never liked guys that were too muscular. And not to mention his accent, god the few words you heard from his thick southern drawl began to make your head buzz. 

You were about to ask him his name when you heard Aaron from the end of the bar, “Hey man! You get lost?” Both you and the stranger looked over to Aaron, and he gestured for the man to come over. Aaron noticed you and said, “Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?” You smiled at him, “No not at all!” 

The stranger turned and gave you a small smile and a nod before walking over to Aaron. As he walked away, you were brushed by his scent. Pine, smoke, and sweat lingered in a cloud around you for a few seconds before it finally dissipated. You watched him walking away for a moment before your senses returned to you and you realized you never got his name. 

“Wait, what's your-” He was too far away to hear you at this point. You were left in a daze, craving in the absence of his scent. You were broken from your trance when  you saw Rosita walk up to the bar from the corner of your eye. Without letting him leave your sight, you tapped Rosita on the shoulder and whispered, “Hey, who’s the cute boy with the black jacket and the thick accent?” The man was out of your line of sight now, and you turned to see a confused Rosita. “Huh?” You pointed in the direction of where you last saw him, “The cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad,” you held up your arms and flexed to imply his muscular ones. 

Rosita looked at you now with a dumbfounded look, she laughed a bit before saying, “ You mean, Daryl?” Suddenly, you felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe he had a girlfriend or something... “I don’t know, I guess…” You said cautiously. She laughed again, “It’s nothing… he’s just… Daryl?” She looked at you and shrugged. You leaned in close and whisper-yelled “What is that supposed to mean?” She turned her attention to her drink and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know, he’s just… a little reserved. ‘Rough around the edges’ maybe?” It felt like there was something she wasn’t telling you.

“If he’s unavailable or whatever you can just tell me” Rosita looked back at you. “Honestly girl, I don't think that man is interested in like…anything.” She said, shrugging again and taking a sip of her drink. “Huh. Okay then.” Feeling a bit defeated, you took a few sips of your own drink while you and Rosita made light conversation. The rest of the night you caught yourself discreetly scanning the room, in search of Daryl.

A few days later, you were sitting on your porch, waiting for Maggie to come over after she got off her watch shift. The sun was setting, painting the houses in warm orange hues. You swayed back and forth in the rocking chair while nursing the cigarette you held between your fingers. In the distance, you could see a figure walking in your direction. As it got closer, you recognized it. It was him. You tried to work up the courage to say something, to just shout out ‘hello’ at the least, but your heart was racing and you couldn't find the courage.

When he reached the front of your house, he glanced over at you. “Hey.” He said with a small wave as he continued walking. “Hey.” You responded in a shaky voice. Before he got any further away, you took one last drag and stood up. Walking to the edge of the railing, you leaned over it and shouted, “Wait!” He slowed his pace and turned around, taking a few small steps toward you. He remained silent as he stared at you expectantly. “You uh- you never told me your name.” 

He looked around briefly, almost like he couldn't believe you were talking to him. “Daryl.” Of course, you already knew that. But it was nice just to hear his voice, even if it was just for the duration of one single word. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a cheesy grin. “Well, it was nice meeting you the other night, Daryl.” 

He chuckled to himself, “You too.” You might be wrong, but you could have sworn you saw his lip twitch up in the slightest. “I’m (Y/N).” You were sure you sounded a bit goofy, but the scene you found yourself in felt like something out of a movie. The burning sky set his skin aglow, softening his rough edges. Certainly, this wasn’t the Daryl Rosita was talking about? 

He quietly repeated your name to himself, “(Y/N).” like he was testing the feel of it in his mouth. The way your name sounded in his drawl had you feeling out of breath. Am I really that easy? Is all it takes just for him to say my name to get me going? You felt like you were in middle school again, staring at your crush from across the lunch room, swooning over the way he opened a water bottle. Except this time, you were being acknowledged, the way he looked at you made you feel like he really saw you. 

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it felt comfortable, like a warm blanket. Until you heard your name being called out in the other direction. “Hey! We still on for tonight?” You looked to your left to see Maggie approaching you, wine bottle in hand. “Yeah yeah, I was just having a smoke while I waited for you, I-” You turned back to look at Daryl, but he had already turned around and started walking away. “I just uh- You ready?” You stuttered to her, hoping she hadn’t picked up how caught off guard you were.

“Alright, spill.” You looked up from your seat on the couch to find Maggie handing you a glass as she sat down on the other end. “What?” You blurted out. She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her wine. “Don’t be silly, (Y/N). I saw you talking to Daryl as I was walking up.” You played it off as casually as you could. “Oh, that was nothing we just-he just- we uh met the other night. At the party.” She gave you a look that told you she wasn’t fully convinced yet. “And…?” This time, you took a big sip of your glass before continuing.

“When I was getting a drink, I almost tripped and he caught me.” You looked down into your glass, swirling the blood-red liquid as if you hoped words would appear and tell you what to say. “I never got his name so…” You took another sip. “When I saw him walking by this afternoon, I stopped him and asked him.” Maggie nodded, looking off to the side in thought. “It was just…kinda weird I guess.” You felt your heart rate pick up again. “Weird, how?” You took another sip and you could feel yourself getting the slightest bit dizzy.

“Well, the way he looked at you…I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before.” You reached over to the coffee table in front of you and refilled your glass, offering the bottle to Maggie after you did so. She took it from you and topped off her own glass. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She finally looked back at you and you saw the wide smirk on her face. “Oh, it’s definitely a good thing.” The two of you burst out laughing and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks.

3 glasses in you found yourself oversharing with Maggie. Your skin felt hot, your head light, and your cheeks warm with a tinge of pink. The two of you spilled details from past relationships and regrettable one-night stands. It wasn’t long until the conversation circled back to Daryl. “You should really talk to him.” You hid your face behind your hands, your glass long forgotten on the coffee table. “What if he thinks I’m being too forward!” You laughed at Maggie, “I wouldn’t even know what to say!” 

Maggie stood up from the couch, sticking her hands out beside her to help keep balance. “You go like this,” She stumbled to you and leaned over, putting one hand on your shoulder. “Cum right on me. I mean-Camaraderie!” Maggie fell to her knees in front of you laughing harder than you had ever seen her do before. You too, could not stop the laughing fit that ensued. Leaning over with a hand on your stomach, as tears left your eyes from the force of the giggles. 

You looked down at her, feigning doe eyes and now placing your hand on her shoulder. In your sweetest voice, you said, “Where are thou? Why not uponeth me?” It felt like you two laughed for hours.

After the initial high from the wine started to cool off, the two of you lounged on the couch, knees bent and facing each other. You were trying to come up with serious ways to try and get Daryl’s attention. “Don’t tell Glenn I said this, but I always thought Daryl was kinda handsome.” She tried to hide her small grin with her hand. “See! You get it!” She nodded in response. You looked at her and in a more serious tone you told her, “I bet we’d have really good bed chem.” She hummed in agreement. You started to slightly daze off as you imagined it.

“I just want him to pick me up, pull ‘em down, and turn me around” Maggie tried to bite back her chuckle. “What?” You turned back to her grinning. She narrowed her eyes and said, “I bet he talks real sweet while he’s doing bad things.” Just the thought of it had you out of breath. You groaned in frustration. Putting your head in your hands and shaking it while laughing you muttered, “I'm just manifesting that he’s oversized.” She laughed, “Honey, I don’t think you need to manifest that.” You looked over at her and groaned again, “Maggie, I think I’m obsessed.”

The next few days you were in your head about what to do. You couldn’t find the right time or place to talk to Daryl, but you knew you needed to. Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of him and it was starting to physically affect you. The most frustrating part was that you knew it would be even better than in your head. But just the fragment that you could imagine, based on how little you knew him, was better than any of your wildest fantasies. 

You had decided you were going to try and talk to him today. He had been going back and forth to Hilltop for various reasons, and his absence had given you the courage to approach him before he left again today. At least if things don’t go well, I won't have to see him for a few days. You checked yourself in the mirror one more time before leaving your house. 

Just as you were about to open the door, you heard a knock. You waited a few seconds so that whoever was on the other side didn’t think you had rushed to the door. Putting your hand on the cool knob you slowly turned it. The old door creaked as it swung open, and you were met with a sight you couldn’t believe was real. 

Daryl stood at your doorstep, eyes locked on his shoes and hand on the back of his neck. “Oh, Hi Daryl.” You tried to contain the giddiness that was coursing through your body. “Hey uh- you free for a sec?” He slowly looked up at you and dropped his hand. “Yeah, what's up?” He looked around nervously. “I haven’t been in Alexandria a lot lately, but I wanna be.” You were stunned at this statement, what did he mean by that? “When I’m back next time, uh- was gonna see if ya wanted to um- go huntin’ together or somethin’.” 

You had to shift your weight to the side of your body that was still holding onto the door handle, otherwise your knees would have fully given out. You couldn’t hide the wide grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, I would like that.” He looked up at you and gave you the smallest smile. “Are you free next week?” His smile grew wider as he said, “I am.” 

Although not many words left his mouth, his eyes spoke clearly. You picked up a hint of lust, mixed with excitement and anxiety. You knew what that look meant. “I’ll see you next week then.” You spoke softly, slightly leaning your head against the door. “Yeah.” He gave you a small nod before shoving his hands in his front pockets and walking off your porch. Before he left earshot you called out, “Have a safe trip!” He looked back at you and smiled just a bit wider, before giving you a wave and walking toward the gate. 

OKAY LET ME KNOW WHAT Y'ALL THOUGHT !!!!

also I feel like it's kinda maybe necessary to do a part 2 to Juno ???? lmk....

[aeolianblues]

Even as I write this all though, I am not a millennial. I did consider this 'my time' because it's the first one I remember. I was not around in the 90s, everything I know about grunge and 90s TV and Britpop and whatnot is secondhand. Often thirdhand. Books, magazine scans, interview snippets. But I remember the 00s. Many colourful glittery clips, that's how mum did my hair. The multiple layers of gaudy colours; skirts (even shorts!) over tights of a different colour and striped tops was how my mum dressed me. Like the Disney kids on TV. Everyone in your grade was into Hannah Montana (they made kids books out of the episodes, does anyone remember?) Blackboards in school. Chalky hands wiped on your school uniform. Sure, I was too young for 'Oberlin College in the early 00s in NYC', but I had still considered these very 00s 'my time'. I lived it, so it's mine.

But as I get older I slowly begin to feel now to be my time. And I hope that one day I'll look back at the '20s as mine too. I'd love to be old and write, what were the 2020s?

They were Grian Chatten's poetry, Charlie Steen's shiny golden underpants at Glastonbury 2023. It's My Lady Of Mercy and swooning over girls with Abigail Morris. It's embracing the rejected freak with Alt Blk Era, we don't give a damn if they like it, we're normally like this.

It's showing two fingers to the monarchy, shouting 'Brits Out!' with Kneecap, it's Mo Chara reaffirming 'we don't hate yous, it's the government and monarchy. We have much more in common with a working class unionist than some rich fellow from Dublin'. It's Cuntology 101 with Lambrini Girls, it's reminding people of all the Calvin Harris songs that The Dare ripped off word-for-word and the weird 00s nostalgia.

It's Ezra Collective being nominated for BRIT album of the year for Dance, No One's Watching. It's a blurry phone pic posted on English Teacher's Instagram of the free drinks they got at their table for being invited to the Mercury Prize 2024 (SO real of them).

It is lounging in chaise longues all day long in floppy hats in the Isle of Wight, it is being someone's Iced Tea Boy, it's night raves with Master Peace, it's brats on the dancefloor, it's Chapell Roan inspiring people to stand up for themselves and take no shit from anyone, bitch! It's just heartbroke bitches, high heels, six inch In the back of the nightclub, sippin' champagne; it's women artists winning back the rights to their own music and going on to win over the world! It's Phoebe Lunny scaling a 20 ft. pole in a Leeds festival tent in heels and a skirt to fly a Palestinian flag high up on the Reading and Leeds 'Festival Republic' tent.

It'll be okay, we just need to be weird and hife for a bit and eat an old sandwich from our bag.

It's going to see your friends' tiny bands covering the Strokes every two weeks and knowing none of them have a chance in hell of making it because the music doesn't pay and the rent's too damn high. It's Lily Fontaine giving evidence in court about how even succesful working class bands like English Teacher can't afford to go on tour. It's Carlos O'Connell calling out other artists at the Rolling Stone UK awards for their silence on Palestine, it's Kneecap's 'You can all stay just don't be cunts'. Saoirse don Phalestine, quoth Kneecap. It's oppressed languages breaking through into popular music, it's Alffa's Gwenwyn becoming the first Welsh language song to cross 1 million streams on Spotify.

It's Jocelyn Si rejecting the homophobes and declaring, let us be young! It's Cal 'your boyfriend was looking at my legs' Francis singing about the price to pay for being this way. It's CMAT not giving a fuck and tearing into racist country music, no matter of whether or not she'd ever be able to work in the genre again. It's Skinty Fia talking about the lived immigrant experience. It was Olivia Rodrigo 'reviving' 90s alt rock for the masses, it was 16-year-old rockheads calling Josh Kiszka 'pookie' on Instagram—something unimaginable in 2017. It was James Smith embracing that indie artists can indeed aspire — to make funky pop hits!

Who knows what else the 2020s have to offer us. The Grammys are on Sunday. In a fever dream, someone like IDLES or Fontaines D.C. could walk away with one. A truly indie artist. I'm so scared about that. I just hope that in 20 years, I will still be able to say things like this

‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014!

It’s not tumblr-core and it’s not Lana Del Ray or 2013 AM, it’s not #girl interrupted, it’s not Ethel Cain (she literally is an artist of our time, what are you on about.)

It was 2001 with the Strokes on the cover of the NME every 2 weeks, it was cabaret night and English poetry with the Libertines in 2002, it’s those red and blue military jackets, it was the fucking grease in Julian Casablancas’ hair, it’s ’cocaine was the banker’s drug’ quoth Alex Kapranos, it was Don't Go Back To Dalston and the heroin, it was red and black horizontal striped tops and tight black shirts as evening wear, it was Russell Lissak’s mop top and a full page interview with London hairdressers in the NME in 2005, it was Jack and Meg’s saturated red and white dresses, it was glued glitter on the cover of Santigold’s first album, it was the sleaze and the sex of CSS’s music, it was ‘cold light, hot night’, it was the anti-Bush and anti-war stances of the bands at the time, it was America by Razorlight, it was Popworld on telly and Simon Amstel being a little shit to musicians, it was Karen O defying death on stage nightly, it was throwing up in shitty nightclubs on god knows what drugs, it was the fucking danger knowing this could all collapse any second—and rightly, it should. It was the godawful egos at DFA, it was knowing that while you were lucky to be seeing these bands live, you’d fucking hate them if you had to spend even a minute in their individual company. It was Amy Winehouse telling the world to get the fuck out of her business, it was Leslie Feist and Peaches sharing a dilapidated flat above a sex shop in Toronto.

It was horrible camera flash and red-eye editing softwares and putting your feet by the warm, spinning fans of your computer while it whirred away and downloaded your albums in *checks* 46 more minutes. It was horrible, it was dirty, it was gritty, we all hated it and thought the 90s were the last time music was good and that nothing good had happened since 1997. It was garishly bright clothes we were all embarrassed of by 2011, it was multiple layers and leggings and asking your mum to cut the itchy tag on the back of your low rise jeans only for her to snip your back. It was bell bottoms at the start of the decade. It being thankful that by 2017, no one would dream of wearing low rises anymore, please please, please let them never come back.

It was faux nostalgic of the past itself. It was ‘please make sure baby you’ve got some colours in there’ in your clothes. It was moral panic over emos. It was wanting to escape into a better past that you could see was visibly impoverished in the present. It was watching your favourite programmes become less and less relevant on air. It was watching MTV decisively die a horrible death. It was watching important venues and nightclubs get bulldozed. It was watching the last regular broadcast of Top Of The Pops in 2006. It was seeing how the 2009 financial crisis most definitely put a stop to independent music in the western world for a decade, it was watching the rise of bedroom DIY and electronic music. It was seeing the phrase ‘SoundCloud rapper’ being coined. It was the rise of Disney pop. It was counter-culture Justin Bieber hatred. It was the MS paint meme of those tumblr girls thoroughly unimpressed by the guy.

It was not using the words ‘indie sleaze’ at all, in fact. That’s a retconned word. It was garage rock revival. It was ‘post-grunge’. We didn’t care what it was called, we hated it all the same. It was a lead into a decade of despair and nihilism, it was the last hurrah for the music industry before it splintered into a thousand little online ecosystems, it was the last time we had physical community and any shared pop cultural moments. It was Live8 2005. It was the same as it is now, and it was a time that’ll never happen again, for better and for worse.

But one thing is for sure: it was decisively dead by 2014. Santi and Karen O’s 2012 collab was its last hurrah and it was dead by Comedown Machine by the Strokes (2013). It has nothing to do with 2014.

[theladyheroine]

🥞 Pancakes 🥞

Movie! Shadow x Platonic! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Cozy, Silly

Word Count: 1,503 words

⚠️ Warning: None, except little embarrassment

Summary: Hi guys! I got excited about my last Shadow fic so I wrote another one! The songs I used are this one & this one btw, but this fic is more casual than the previous one so it’s much shorter too. Inspired by when my Mom recently caught me dancing (lol).

I want to spend my life 

With a girl like you!

Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba,

Faint words filtered through Shadow’s ears as his eyelids fluttered open. It took him a while to fully realize he was awake, but thankfully he didn’t feel too heavy. He rested for a minute before sitting up and scooting over to the bedside. 

It wasn’t very bright, surprisingly. He saw the blinds had been left open and the dark gray sky filtered over the room. Raindrops scattered across glass, making a rhythmic noise, but it felt nice. 

Till that time has come, 

That we might live as one!

Can I dance with you?

Perking up at the cool words, he shuffled his way towards the door and into the hallway. The sound grew louder before Shadow realized it was music playing, and a buttery smell accompanied it. 

Most of the lights were off since it wasn’t exactly dark out, but only one or two yellow lights shone above the kitchen stove. With you moving and swaying there in a very strange manner. Shadow would hardly call it dancing: you were just bobbing up and down, tossing your head and holding a spatula to your face. If he didn’t know you prior he would’ve thought you looked foolish. But you were his friend now, he wasn’t about to judge. 

Girl, why should it be 

That you don't notice me?

“Can I dance with you?— OhmygoshShadow!!"

You yelped loudly as you quickly jolted back, surprised— and embarrassed— to find Shadow standing behind you. Your spatula knocked into a bowl of pancake batter, sending a blob of beige-white goo down to the floor. 

“Ohshoot-sorry! I didn’t see you there bud!” 

“No, I should’ve said something.” 

You rushed to grab a paper towel and swipe the batter off your tiles, but Shadow beat you to it. 

“Nah, it’s all good! I should’ve been paying attention.” You chuckled and grabbed another one, soaking it under the sink then cleaned any excess mush. 

“Is that The Troggs playing?” Shadow asked, tossing the mess into the trash can. 

You quickly lowered the stove temperature and nodded, “Yup! They’re awesome huh! I love their songs.” 

You were about to scoop up some more batter, then paused for a minute. 

“Wait—You know The Troggs?!” You exclaimed, swinging your face back around. 

“Mmhmm,” Shadow nodded. “I’ve heard only one song, until now.”

You gave a mental “huh” before going back to your pancakes. Even hedgehogs had good taste in music. Who knew?

It had been a full month now since Shadow started living with you, and even without teleportation, he still had ways of surprising you.  

You were home all day since it was the weekend, but Shadow had spent most of his time in his room. He usually did; if you weren’t up and about neither was he. In a way, he was like your own little shadow. You never pressed what he did alone, but judging by his expression, he had just woken up from a nap. 

“What are you doing?” Shadow peered over the counter, quills twitching with curiosity.

“Just makin’ some pancakes. They’re a little crispy though.” 

You slid a slightly burnt piece onto a plate. The pretty golden circles stood in a short stack and gave off an amazing smell. You could see Shadow lean closer as his red eyes grew bigger. 

“They’re…pancakes?” He stated his words as if asking a question, but to himself. Which made you curious. 

“Yep! I know it’s weird having breakfast for lunch, but I wanted to make something different this time.” 

“Uh huh.” He drawled. “They smell nice.”

His brows scrunched up and down, spreading more confusion across his face as Shadow watched the pan sizzle. Pancakes seemed like such an alien concept to him, ironically. 

“Shadow?” You asked. “Have you ever had a pancake before?” 

He paused again, but shook his head. “No. Are they any good?”

“Uh–yes!! They’re delicious!” 

To say you were surprised was an understatement: how could he not know about pancakes? 

Until the realization hit you that he probably hasn’t even seen pancakes before. You didn’t know where Shadow came from, and have avoided mentioning it in the past. Even after you became friends. In all that time spent together, you hardly knew a thing about him. And he still seemed reluctant to share. 

Movement shook you from your daze as Shadow picked up your spatula, poking the goo in the bowl like a little kid. His story would have to wait for another day. Your top priority: showing him the best brunch ever. 

Life could be a dream! Life could be a dream!

Do do do do, SH-Boom!

Your phone quickly changed its tune as The Chords started playing. It couldn’t have picked a more perfect song. 

“Why don’t you give this a try Shadow!” You scooted the pan closer to him, turning off the heat and switching it to the other side. 

“Me?” He fumbled with the spatula. 

“Yea, why not! Don’t worry I’ll help you.” You gave a cheeky grin, “Besides, it’ll be fun to learn. Right?”

Shadow opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly. You had always made meals for him, or either helped him make them. Even when you were gone there’d always be something from the previous night, or wrapped up in plastic. 

But you had a point, he couldn’t rely on you for everything. Especially now. If he was going to stay, he’d have to start pulling his weight around. 

“Alright,” He tugged back his gloves and set himself behind the stove. “I’m ready.”

You poured a cup of batter into the pan. For such a serious character, he looked so adorable.

You two waited for a few minutes before you set your hand on his arm, helping him flip the pancake to the other side. It shifted a little, making tiny splatters, but the color was perfect. For the second one you let him do it himself, and it looked far better than the first.

Life could be a dream! SH-Boom!

If I could take you to a paradise up above,

SH-Boom! And tell me darling, 

“I’m the only one that you love!” You shimmied back and forth to the music as Shadow continued to pour and flip the batter. 

For a first timer he was doing incredibly well! Fast even; his pancakes came out looking far better than yours! To which Shadow claimed could only come natural to him. You shot a surprised look, but you were happy seeing him loosen up. After a little while, Shadow even joined in your silly dance moves. His shoes tapped along to the beat, and you could see his body bouncing as he mouthed the lyrics. You tried giving him a little bump of encouragement, til he stopped and looked at you strangely. 

“Wow!” You coughed, “You’re really getting the hang of this bud.” 

Shadow rolled his eyes but he kept smiling. “Thanks. This is..easier than I expected.” 

After a short while, you two had a full stack of pancakes. You quickly shut off the stove and tossed the bowl into the sink. Maneuvering the food to the countertop, you pulled out two little plates. You were about to grab the butter, but Shadow beat you once again. 

“Can I do it?” The container looked so small in his big hands. 

You nodded and found a plastic knife in the drawers. Leaving Shadow to butter the pancakes while you looked for the syrup. 

You came back from the pantry with a tall bottle in your hands, and to say Shadow was amazed was a clear understatement. The light in his eyes when the dark syrup trickled down the edible tower was enough to brighten any room. 

You two settled at the table, plates in hand. Meals were typically had together nowadays, but each time it felt different somehow. Shadow had come a long way, going from a worrisome little thing to a happy hedgehog! And you couldn’t be prouder.

“‘Kay bud, dig in!” You pushed your fork into the food and Shadow did the same, cutting it into bite sized pieces. 

Everything seemed normal, until after a few bites Shadow stopped. He just sat there, chewing, but his expression quickly changed. It wasn't confusion, more like—a blank expression? 

“Shadow?” You said through your food. “You doin’ okay there?”

Oh how you hoped he didn’t grab the burnt one.

In an instant, Shadow took a larger piece and shoved it in his mouth. He only half chewed before doing the same thing. He did this three more times and it took him about a minute to finish half the plate. 

Syrup coated his mouth, and he swallowed hard before speaking. “You were right. Pancakes are the superior choice.” 

That was all he said before stuffing his face again. 

“Yea-I-erm—yea! Well, I’m glad you like them!” 

You rushed over to sink and grabbed a cup of water. Thinking next time, you should just make eggs instead.

❣️—THE END—❣️

[thisisjustfanfic]

{A sneak peek?}

In the fic I'm writing where the reader (you) lives in a big house with all the boys. I keep thinking about Rafayel having a rough night with you. Just a long drawn out edging session where he gets you to the brink and then draws you back. Playing a sick game of catch and release.

He doesn't like to see you cry, but you look so pretty when you do. Especially when those tears are accompanied by the nonsense babbling of his name and broken pleas. "P-please...please..."

You don't even know what your begging for anymore, only that it makes him smile and speak so sweetly to you when you do. "Such a good girl. So cute for me. C'mon cutie, one more. You can give me one more right? Fuck, let me taste you again."

Rafayel is, of course, nice later. Sitting with you in a bubble bath and running lotion on your sore backside. But during the heat of it? Oh, he can be downright mean.

After that night, Sylus gets his hands on you. And even if its days later, you're anticipating more torment from him. If playful Rafayel can be so devious, then what can Sylus "my bedroom is a sex-dungeon" do?

What does he do?

"Oh kitten, he was so mean to you wasn't he?" He'd purr, pushing into the mattress and running his large hands over your things, your hips, your stomach. "Shh...no need to ask. I'll give you what you want."

He's slow. Methodical. Holding the back of your head while he fucks you slowly in missionary. Keeping your face close to his just so he can feel your breath on him. He draws it out only long enough to get you panting. Eyes glazed over and clinging to him.

They're desperate in different ways. Turn your brain off and melty in different ways. Both good. Both good.

[sissylittlefeather]

So... I had this dream about Elvis.

It's a little blurry and my English isn't perfect, nos, but I can remember the important bits.

I (the reader, of you wanna write about it ;]) was working as Elvis's assistant and practically loved with him. There where some feelings between us and, eventually, we ended up in bed together. The things were getting heated up, he was rubbing himself through his pants and i was grinding against his thigh.. and just when things where going to get good...

I woke up.

Oh, sweet, sweet nonnie. Your fantastic dream sparked a whole thing for me. Please enjoy this fanfic that resulted from this ask:

Return to Sender

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, dry humping, thigh riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~3.3k

Also decided to base it loosely on this gif:

You were so nervous in your interview that you actually knocked a cup of something off of his desk. As a result, you were pretty sure you did not get the job. But what you didn't know is that he found your stuttering and fidgeting endearing and when you bent over to clean up the cup you spilled, the view he got of your ass made his decision for him.

That's how you ended up as Elvis Presley's private secretary. It's 1959 and he gets so much fan mail these days that he can't manage it all himself. So, he hires you to help him out. He's pleased when you prove to be useful and supremely impressed when you show him that you can mimic his signature perfectly. Still, his interest in you is far from purely functional.

He's not sure how to go about making his first move, especially since you work for him and he'd hate to lose you. You're really quite effective, so he'll have to play this just right. He doesn't want to offend you and run you off for good.

Instead, he spends a lot of time watching you and smiling at you when you catch him looking. You can't figure out why he keeps looking at you. You're not dumb, not even naive really, but it still seems outside the realm of reality that he might be into you for more than your typing skills.

He tests the waters a little with some flirtation here and there, and you don't seem to turn him down, but you also don't seem to reciprocate. He confuses your nervousness with disinterest and tries to stay focused on the task at hand any time you're together. But as time passes, you get more and more comfortable with each other and eventually a kind of friendship forms between you. It's easy to bond as you laugh about some of the crazy things the girls write to him, but you really start to get close when he begins to talk to you. And not just about the letters. Without meaning to, he tells you about his loneliness, his fears, and how much he misses his mama. You're a good listener and he needs you more than he realizes.

Eventually, you get to the end of his time in the service and know he'll be headed back to the states soon. You're not exactly excited about seeing him go, but there's not much you can do to change it, so you take it in stride.

He's not so resigned, though.

If there's even the slightest chance that you might want him, he's not going to let the opportunity pass him by. The night before all of his big army-ending interviews, he asks you to come over. You assume he needs you to get through some letters or something before he leaves, but he has something else entirely different in mind.

“Hey, honey, thank you for coming over so late.” His voice is quiet, shy almost. The room is dimly lit and there's the faint smell of cigar smoke in the air. He sits in a large armchair, watching you as you stand in the middle of the room. You nod and tell him that you don't mind.

“You have some new letters that you need help with?” He shakes his head sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“Not really. I just wanted to see ya before I leave.” You blink a few times, confused.

“I'll be there for the interviews tomorrow.” He nods. This is not a surprise, but he wants to talk to you without people around.

“Yeah, but…” He fumbles over the words, trying to say exactly what he feels. The hesitation is heavy in the air between you and it's almost as though the words get caught in his throat when he tries to speak.

“But what, Elvis?” You look down at him and he sighs deeply, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. Without warning, he stands up and walks to you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek gently. There's a moment of nothing but being between you and you see the conviction enter his eyes.

“Oh, fuck it.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and needy. At first, you're so shocked that you stand there with your eyes open and his mouth on yours. You can see his eyelashes where they settle on his cheeks and feel him breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. He pulls back and notices the look on your face. “No? Was that…?”

“Do it again.” A smile creeps across his face and he leans down and kisses you again. This time your eyes close and you melt into him. The taste of him on your lips is exquisite, something between mint and man, and it feels like you'll never get enough. He deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, his hands drifting to your hips as he pulls you in close to him, your bodies flush against each other. You moan softly as his lips move down your jaw to your neck and his hands slips down to grab your ass through your dress.

“I've wanted this forever.” His voice rumbles against your throat. You feel his hardness where he presses it against you, the urgency in his hips becoming more obvious.

“Took you long enough.” A little giggle escapes your lips as his hands continue to roam your body, squeezing you where it pleases him. He takes your breasts in both hands and lets out a small whimper. The need for more of him burns inside of you, manifesting in the ache in your center. His cock is so hard it hurts as he rolls against you, tangling one hand in your hair to hold you still as he dips his tongue into your mouth again. You start to pull at his shirt as he walks you backwards through the house toward his bedroom, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible.

You fumble with buttons, fingers trembling in anticipation. All of a sudden, it seems like his shirt has a hundred buttons and you groan in frustration. He pulls back, chuckling and pulls it over his head, dropping it to the floor. In the hallway, he turns your back to him and puts your hands on the wall, dragging his down your back to your hips. The ache between your thighs is quickly becoming unbearable, your body burning up with the intensity of your need. His hands grip your hips as he ruts against you, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. Then, you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he unzips your dress, pushing it forward off of you to let it pool at your feet. He turns you to face him, eagerly raking his eyes over you hungrily as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He takes a moment to really appreciate your body in just your underwear and bra.

“What?” You ask playfully, noticing the spellbound look on his face. He shakes his head a little, basking in the scent of your perfume as it mixes with the heat of your body.

“You're even more beautiful than I could've imagined.” He runs his fingertips down the side of your stomach and grips your hip tightly. The last ounce of inhibition leaves you and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips back down to yours. Every ounce of him hums with insatiable desire as his soft mouth moves on yours passionately. He pushes your back to the wall and presses his body tightly against yours, his thigh on your center. Without thinking, you start to rub yourself on his thigh, your body begging for friction against your swollen clit. He groans and starts to roll his hips against you. “Goddamn, baby. Don't stop that.”

Your hands slide around to his back as you pick up speed, grinding your clothed pussy on his leg.

“Oh god, Elvis.” A deep moan floats up and out of you as your aching bud reacts to the delicious sensation of his pants.

“Fuck, baby. That's a good girl. Make yourself cum on me.” He grips your hips and helps you rut against him, chasing your orgasm. The wetness seeps through your panties, soaking the fabric under you, but he doesn't care. He wants you to cum, needs you to cum, his hips stuttering against you as you rub on him.

“I'm s-so close.” It's more of a whimper than a sentence, but he gets your meaning. His grasp on your hips is almost bruising as you grind on him faster and harder. The familiar bubbling heat gathers in your lower belly as the sweat drips between your breasts. He captures your lips in a desperate kiss and then mumbles against you.

“Come on, baby. You're right there. Let go.” And then, like your body knew to listen to him, you cum on command, shuddering and trembling as the orgasm rushes through you, sending bolts of pleasure to your extremities. He starts to slow the rolling of your hips as you go floppy against him. “Good girl. So pretty when you cum.”

“Think I might've ruined your pants.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“They'll wash. Can you walk?” You look at him, your eyes hazy with your post-orgasm daze.

“Huh?”

“I'm nowhere near finished with you.” He smirks.

“I'm not sure-” You don't even get the sentence out before he bends down, throwing you over his shoulder. A squeal escapes your lips as he carries you to the bedroom and drops you unceremoniously on the bed. He turns on a small light on the nightstand, casting a kind of orange glow around the room. You look at him standing there, the small patch of hair on his chest, his angelic face, and the small wet spot where his dick has leaked precum onto his pants and continues to stand at full attention. He looks at you spread out on the bed and decides at that moment that he'd give you anything you wanted, even his last name if you asked for it.

“I need you, baby.” He palms himself over his pants and you nod, reaching back to unhook your bra. You slip it down your arms and drop it on the floor, moving to push your panties down your legs. He grunts when your pussy becomes visible, moving his hand on his cock a little faster. When you spread your legs, he bites his bottom lip and moans.

“What are you waiting for?” You coo. His eyes are glued to your glistening pussy as he quickly unbuttons his pants and lets them drop. Your mouth waters a little as his cock bounces free, big and uncut and weeping precum. He climbs on top of you, arranging himself against your entrance and taking one of your legs onto his shoulder.

“You ready for me, honey?” He asks desperately, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. You nod and he groans, slowly pushing into you. The feeling of his dick stretching you out is overwhelmingly good. Finally, he groans, his whole cock buried deep inside you, balls pressed against your ass, as he resists the urge to pound you silly. Your hands clench around the silky sheets and you breathe, trying to adjust to the feeling of him. He looks at you with his eyebrows knit together in concern. “You okay?”

“God, yes.” He smiles down at you and pulls his hips back, sliding his now-wet cock out of you and then rolling them forward again, plunging himself into you. Your eyes roll back and you moan loudly as he starts to pick up a steady rhythm of slamming against you. He kisses your ankle gently and fucks into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the scent of your sex hangs in the air. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and he grunts, his release gathering in his balls. The headboard starts to bang against the wall and the little light on the nightstand rocks with the force of your lovemaking.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Such a tight little pussy.” His hair is sweaty on his forehead and you revel in the smell of him as he wraps your leg around his hip and leans down to kiss you, his cock sliding in and out of you. In doing so, he shifts the angle a little and begins to rub against your g-spot. Now, you whimper and moan with every movement of his hips, clawing at his back as he pounds you. You devolve into just a body, soaking in each sensation: skin pressed together, sticky and wet, his tongue in your mouth, insistent and deep, and his cock filling your pussy up again and again. He does the same, sinking into the waves of pleasure, your tight heat wrapped around his dick, squeezing him just right. Everything is sensual as you mix together and quickly lose track of whose sweat is whose.

“Elvisssss…” You whine, another climax crashing into you and burning you up from the inside out. He moans with the feeling of your pussy tightening around him.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Fuck. Gonna… oh fuck!” He pulls out of you at the very last possible second, shooting cum all over the inside of your thighs. His cock throbs and pulses and he collapses on top of you, sticky ropes pumping out of him onto your legs. When he finally finishes, he groans loudly and picks up his head, kissing your lips softly. You giggle and push his hair back off his forehead. He chuckles. “I made a mess.”

“Yes, you did. But I helped.” He laughs and kisses you again.

“Yeah, I'm gonna blame this one on you.” You giggle as he rolls off of you and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. When he's done, he crawls back into bed and pulls you onto his chest. “Stay with me?”

You look up into his eyes and it's obvious he doesn't want to be alone tonight. Honestly, you wouldn't leave him even if you could.

“Of course.” He smiles and nuzzles into your hair. You settle in to sleep with him wrapped around you.

***

When you wake up the next morning, he's already dressed in his full uniform. He moves around the room quietly, but he notices when you stir and smiles softly.

“Hey, baby.” You lift your head up and yawn, stretching.

“You're leaving?” He nods and then sits down on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Yeah, I have those interviews. You comin’?” Again, it's clear that he wants you there, so you nod back.

“Oh yeah. I just have to run home and get dressed, but I'll be there.”

“Good.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up. You're still naked from your activities last night and he looks down at you hungrily. He pulls the covers down a little so that he can see your body. “Goddamnit. I hate to leave ya.”

You're not sure if he's talking about this morning or forever. You reach out and take his hand, kissing it gently and then placing it on your breast.

“Fuck.” He climbs into bed in his uniform and pulls you onto him, kissing you deeply and running his hands all over your body.

“Thought you had to go?” You ask between kisses. He groans and buries his face in your neck. The sweet scent of your sweat and sex lingers on your skin and he breathes it in, trying to commit everything about you to memory. He mumbles into your hair.

“Yeah, I do. Just wish I could keep you naked in my bed forever.” For a few more seconds, you just hold each other, trying not to think about the future. Then, he pulls away from you and gets out of bed. “I'll see you at the interviews.”

He turns and leaves before he can get back into the bed and stays there until he dies. You sigh and get up, gathering your things and getting dressed. Something is missing, though. You cannot find your panties anywhere. Sighing again, you check your watch. You don't have time to keep looking. At least he'll have something to remember you by.

******

At the interviews, you stand behind him sipping your coffee and watching. The press are snapping photos like crazy and the flash bulbs are almost giving you a headache. You wonder how he stands it. The room is filled with noise and people, but you can't take your eyes off of him. He looks better than he ever has before, but maybe that's because you've seen him naked and know how beautiful he is without clothes. Your eyes drift down a little and you think about what's hiding under his pants, rubbing your thighs together. And that's when you see them: your panties, just barely peeking out of his pocket.

Your mouth pops open, but you shut it quickly. That little shit. He stole your panties! And he has them with him!

You grab a pen and a scrap of paper and scribble out a note. Motivated by his boldness, you walk up behind him and then lean forward, slipping the note into his jacket. He looks up and realizes it's you, his heart stopping in his chest. Still, he plays it off for the press and keeps going.

However, the second he's able, he pulls out the note and reads it eagerly.

You thief. I see what you stole and I want them back! Call me before you leave.

He grins widely, kisses the note, and folds it up, adding it to the pocket where your panties are. His intention was only to keep them, but now his blood is pumping with the possibility of seeing you again. A thought hits him and he sits with it for a bit. By the time he gets home, he's determined to make it a reality. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

“I'm not givin’ em back.” Your face breaks into a smile.

“You better!” He chuckles.

“Alright, you can have ‘em. BUT-” He pauses for effect and you just about die with anticipation. You hear him take a deep, steadying breath before he continues. “You have to come get them in Memphis.”

Your mouth drops in shock. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that.

“In Memphis?”

“Yes. Come home with me.” His heart is in his throat as he waits for your response. He twists the phone cord around his finger and bites his lip. If only he could see your face. The suspense is killing him.

“Okay.” What else could you say?

“Okay?” He asks excitedly, standing up with the phone.

“Yes.” Your heart is racing, but there's nothing that important keeping you here. Not if he's asking you.

He does a silent fist pump and thanks God that you said yes.

“I'll come get you on my way to the airport. Pack to stay for a while. Like, forever.”

“Elvis…”

“Listen, baby. It took me a long time to find you. I'm not lettin’ you get away anytime soon. You gonna argue?” You think for a second about what you're agreeing to and then decide to take a leap of faith.

“Not at all.”

“Good. And baby?”

“Yeah?” He hesitates for a second, his nerves getting the better of him. Then, he just says it, unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“I love you.” Your heart stops.

“I love you too, Elvis.”

******

The End

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222

[animentality]

I know x reader fans have always existed, and I don't generally mind them.

however I feel like the way they've overtaken fandom analysis/ shipping culture is an indication of the general decline of fandom communities.

they are normies, guys. I'm sorry.

it's not a slur, it's just a fact.

normies infiltrated fandom spaces because of covid.

they come in and just want to thirst after a particular character... and that's like. fine. of course it's fine it's always happened.

but they don't seem to actually care about the character being in character. nor does it really require any analysis of that character's motivations or story, or their relationship with others.

I know not everything HAS to relate to canon. like duh, we are here to make our own canon.

but come the fuck on. I go into a tag and it has a character tagged being some dommy daddy when that character is nothing like that in canon... and there's this line between making a character act a certain way bc that's your fetish, and completely ignoring who that character is entirely to the point where you could just replace their name with anyone else in any other show, and it wouldn't make a difference?

like that's... normie shit. it's people who do not think deeply or passionately about that media, it's just them having this surface level grasp of the physical attractiveness of the character.

and again. I'm not saying these people are stupid or whatever, just that the overabundance of this watered down ass content is an indicator of how much fandom has changed.

fans are not the socially awkward introverted queer voyeurs anymore, who enjoy fantasies and daydreaming about being someone else because of this disconnect with the self, or this fear of others that leads you to seek human connection in fiction.

they're the people who do just fine with other people ... and I'm not gatekeeping fandom from people who aren't socially awkward or anything.

but they come here, and they do shit like say you can't like this ship bc it's morally wrong .. you're not allowed to thirst after an 18 year old that makes you a pedophile... I'm 15 and I'm allowed to lust for Gojo but you a 25 year old woman, aren't allowed to write itafushi fanfiction.

go back to taxes and your job!!!

like that drives me fucking insane. these people want to insist they're not normies but they then go around insisting that being over 20 means you need to Work and Be a Normal Adult... bitch.

adults make fandoms. not you fucking children. you don't know how to build communities, you barely know how to make friends.

attacking people who like the same thing you do? is that what you think community building is?

oh this poor generation. anyway.

they come here and are disgusted by weird fetishes and obsessions. and by people sharing sexual headcanons or ideas about sexuality that make them uncomfortable because they've never ever been counter culture, they've never felt the need to go against the status quo.

they're cis straight girls/women mostly, whose mothers basically fuel the ya spicy romance booktok industry.

they're just younger and think it's trendier to be "in a fandom" than a fucking book club.

they're modern day bodice ripper fans... which again

would be so fucking fine, if they weren't doing the youth version of karening the fuck out.

and flooding the fandom with both hyper criticism of how you conduct your business AND an aggressive market for just imagining yourself with a character.

like fandom was originally just hyper passionate freaks.

they discussed movies and TV shows like life and death. they were fucking nuts but in the way where they needed to seek one another out, to share in this joyous sensation of being a freak obsessed with something beyond the point of reason.

now?

now it's like ... oh.

Sally from Bio thinks your love of Gaara is super creepy when you're 19. like what, are you a pedophile? why are you imagining him getting married to Naruto? are you a fucking pedophile who gets off to teens making out? they need to check your hard drive!!

like ok Sally.

ok.

I just think x reader is such a strong indicator of what kind of fan you are.

and if a fandom is mostly x reader... then it can't be that popular. it can't be a proper community.

how can it be?

it's as watered down and generic and bland as a marvel movie. it's stripped down of anything unique. it is pruned of controversy and humanity.

you are literally stripping yourself down into a non character.

you're not truly projecting yourself into a character, because the you that you read about is nothing. a placeholder. you are a passive observing robot who exists only in the form of a faceless and personality less entity.

and I don't get it.

what's the point then?

isn't fiction about realizing something about yourself or others

if your only manner of engaging is stripping yourself of personality... is it engagement at all?

or is it just more mindless consumption?

just watch law and order, man.

watch the good doctor or some shit on lifetime.

there's shows with passionate fanbases who theory craft and endlessly obsess with relationships and world building, and then there's shows with x reader only content and you know exactly why now.

[respectthepetty]

I really love that Wa and Yotha are good exes to each other now that they are in other relationships fifteen episodes into Perfect 10 Liners. And I love that they keep talking under the "Don't text your ex" sign.

Because even though Wa's relationship with Klao has more than its share of problems, they balance each other out. Klao needs someone to save him from himself, and Wa wants to be a savior.

And Wa couldn't be that person for Yotha. Wa couldn't rescue Yotha all the time. Yotha needed a guy who saw all his darkness and embraced it.

Sometimes a Black Brooder doesn't need to be saved by a Heavenly Human. Sometimes he simply needs a chill Green Guy to remind him that the world isn't such a dark place.

And Yotha found that light in Gun.

Much like Red Rascal Arc realized he could experience happiness every day instead of believing every day was a fight through his love for Yellow Yal Arm.

And Blue Boy Sand and his elite Mean Girls shirt found the perfect guy to understand him in Orange Oddity Pond.

Pond makes him breakfast and leaves little orange notes with daily encouragement.

And Sand loves every second of it!

So it's time for these color-coded boys in love to follow their seniors into domestic bliss, so now that Yotha has apologized for hurting his Green Guy, all is well.

Regardless if Faifa likes it or not.

They could have at least waited until Faifa was pretending to be asleep. The disrespect!

But our pretty Blue Boy still comes out on top after becoming the newest campus star, and he gets a beautiful crown of flowers for it because he deserves nice things.

So while his brothers and brother-in-law are about to go through trails and tribulations, Faifa is just going to be enjoying his win.

And while MY HEART IS BEING RIPPED OUT OF MY BODY, Faifa is going to be celebrating in the bar with his friends.

AND WHEN YOTHA'S HEART IS BEING RIPPED OUT OF HIS BODY AND BEING SMASHED IN FRONT OF HIS FACE, Faifa will be drinking the night away knowing he is the bestest boy on campus.

Narrator: Faifa will, in fact, be very pissed off.

But thank goodness Newton is about that business and decided to bring a gun to a knife fight, so the Jets and Sharks will have to sort out their differences another day.

(These two are so dramatic and constantly remind me that this is a JittiRain series)

But, thankfully, Faifa and his "Where there is love, this is life" shirt exit quickly once he sees everyone is okay and notices that Gun is wearing Yotha's black shirt since he knows that shirt isn't going to stay on long now that Yotha is aware of his feelings.

Gun is pulling a Sally Field right now and is shocked that Yotha actually loves him when all of the signs pointed to Yotha being in love with him, but I love this journey of realization for Gun.

And now Yotha has to negotiate how many cows he is willing to give Gun's family so he can keep him and Gun's dad said he just needed to pay a utility bill every now and then (probably electricity, am I right?), and he can keep his son for life. I love this for them!

BUT I DON'T LOVE THIS! Love does not heal trauma, babes! NO! You are not certified to perform exposure therapy! Don't make Gun cry like this. IT HURTS ME!

*rocking back and forth* I'm going to look at the parents' books about colors and design to calm down. Just leave me here for a second. I'll be fine.

Now this is more like it. Just be there for him when he wakes him. Comfort him. Love him.

Be his sunshine in the darkness.

But do NOT do what you are thinking about doing in his childhood room in his parents' house.

You know what? Actually, go for it! They deserve this.

I have a sister to put to bed anyway.

AYEEE

[macsimagines]

YANDERE!SHINICHIRO SANO ONE NIGHT STAND

ok so here it is. I hope it's ok I'm kinda iffy about it let me know what you all think!! this is worst timeline btw!!!

MINORS DNIWARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ONE NIGHT STAND, SPANKING AND DRINKING

You had no idea what you were even doing with your life. Late at night, in a run down jazz bar, you found yourself sitting on a stool sipping a cocktail all by yourself.

The piano on stage skillfully played a tune that was just pleasant enough for you to feel yourself to start to ease slightly. Maybe the drinks and bar itself weren't anything special, but at least there was music.

"Tastes like shit," a somber voice says to your side. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet a dark pair. Two onyx eyes that seemed to only reflect abyss.

Maybe on a different day you would have just ignored him, but tonight? You were feeling brave.

"What's wrong with it?" you inquire, suddenly finding the stranger fascinating. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark soul. You think you may have a type.

His eyes barely lift from his glass, a dark liquid swirling with his ice, "It's bitter." He answer plainly. Maybe his monotone response should make you reconsider trying to spark a connection...but something about his voice...

"It's... bourbon, right? You should've gotten a cocktail if you wanted something sweeter," you purr, pushing your own glass toward him, "Wanna taste mine?"

Finally, his eyes fully meet yours and something in the way that they analyze you has a shiver running across your skin. He's handsome, pretty even, and you find yourself feeling just a little hot under his intense stare.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. There's the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he's sliding his hand, purposefully brushing your fingertips, and taking the glass from you. Your eyes never break contact as he brings the glass to his lips, his tongue licking at the sugar coated rim first.

You can feel your thighs clench at the erotic image this stranger makes. Something inside of you aching with a sudden need. "Well?" you say, scooting in closer, "Better?"

"Dunno," the man says leaning in closer, "I'm in the mood for somethin' much sweeter." You feel a rough hand come up and firmly squeeze your thigh.

Maybe its the alcohol, the atmosphere, or those gorgeous void like eyes of his, but you find yourself checking into a hotel with that stranger. Yes. Stranger.

His name doesn't matter, what he does for a living or why he's in this part of town. The only thing that matters is how good his hands feel around your throat and inside your aching pussy.

You don't care about all his tattoos or the fact that their was a danger slowly growing in those perfect eyes of his. A strange sort of obsession?

Tonight, you don't fight. When his hand cracks down hard against your ass, you moan and beg for more. When he makes you kiss him and devours every sound you try to make. And not even when he's plunging deep into you and pounding like a man going for broke.

As you start to see stars and get light headed, you allow this man, a man whose name you didn't even care to know, to have his sick and depraved way with you.

"Be my good-girl," he purrs a rough hand coming to wrap around your neck, "Stick out your tongue for me." You end up mindlessly doing as he says, so eager to please. And your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick girth when he meets it with his own.

Shamefully, you're just moaning when you fill him cum inside you, loving the feeling. And finally the man stops his constant praise of 'Good girl, perfect woman, mine so fucking mine,' to look you in the eyes again.

There's something different about them. Almost child like and wide. There is the smallest light in them and through the haze of your orgasm you swear there was something else...

But you're so spent and exhausted that you end up passing out in his arms. You're sure it won't matter in the morning, either one of you will be gone. Right?

You're surprised to find him still sleeping soundly next to you. You can't believe your good luck when you find he was as beautiful as you had remembered him being. The pleasant soreness of your body also told you that the sex hadn't just been the greatest wet dream of your life.

Its a shame you have to go. You two might actually be compatible, but something like that just didn't work out for you. Maybe if things were different... No. You won't let yourself fall for some stranger.

You're trying to get yourself dressed and out the door as quietly as possible but something is grabbing your wrist and pulling you back-! Right into someone's solid chest.

"Quit makin' all th'racket," he slurs, nose rubbing into your neck, "Lay back down with me, baby."

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and his soft touches remind you of everything from the night before. Fuck you want to stay for another round- or 3 -but you really needed to leave. So you try to push back.

"S-Sorry for waking you. I'll be out in just a second. I'll leave my half of the bill-!"

"You're not fucking going anywhere, Y/N."

Ice quickly runs down your spine. You're very sure you didn't tell him your name. You were supposed to be nameless strangers after all.

You turn to glare at him seeing that he has his phone open. "I had a friend of mine do some diggin' on you after you passed out last night." He tells you calmly. Like he didn't just admit to doing a creepy back ground check on you.

"Let go of me." You demand fighting back harder, "I want to go home!"

This man only smirks from where he sits on the bed his eyes having gone back to being cold and dead. "You brought me back into the light, baby. I'm your home now."

[kisssukuna33]

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔 𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙀𝘽𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙀!!

Satoru Gojo

-Gives the most expensive gifts-

Satoru is the type to go all out for special occasions. So obviously he's no less in his game when it comes to valentine either. He's the type to give everyone he knows well valentine gifts including his partner, colleagues and even the students but he knows better to prioritize his partner above everyone else. He would be the type to keep track on your wishlist so he won't end up giving you useless gifts you won't be using. If your wishlist looks too poor for his taste he's generous enough to sneak in more extra gifts until it feels satisfying enough.

Nanami Kento

- loves to take care of you during the day-

Nanami is more of an action guy than a gift giver when it comes to Valentine. He would be the type to wake up at 3 am without you knowing so he can surprise you with a freshly baked cake and a delicious breakfast. Nanami always loves spending quality time with you on special occasions so the valentine day would be no different. You two will partake in activities Nanami has planned for both of you and he would end the day with a delicious homemade dinner worth a 5 star rating.

Choso kamo

-The chocolate disaster-

What's a valentine day without chocolate? That's Choso's motto during valentine. He's the type to buy a lot of ingredients he won't even be using and get started on the chocolate making atleast a week prior. No amount of preparing can prevent the complete disaster incoming though. You see Choso wanted to give you the BEST so he tried his best but maybe overdoing it too much can leads to you fucking up the whole thing, that's how Choso ended up with chocolate that barely tasted like chocolate and a kitchen covered in chocolate syrup and bits. But that doesn't demotivate your boyfriend at all because he wants his girl smiling on valentine, so he starts again and finally made them somewhat edible. No matter the taste the dedication your boyfriend put to the chocolates warms your heart anyway.

Atleast It is until you come over to his apartment and sees the complete disaster waiting for u in the kitchen.

Toji Fushiguro

- last minute gift buyer-

Toji is a man with a lot of responsibilities. Working through missions daily and still coming over to his house like a normal family man while keeping his job as an Assassin a secret from his wife indeed requires a lot of work. So you really can't blame Toji if he misses one thing or two. Maybe that's why he's confused as to why his wife is suddenly giving him the silent treatment. He follows around you like a lost puppy that evening trying to figure out what's wrong with you. And when you two finally settle into bed that's when it clicks to him as he remembers way too much pink shit being everywhere in the town today. He mentally curses as he excused himself from the bed to "go on a walk". Toji uses that opportunity to finally go into the town and find a gift that you would actually enjoy. Your anger washes over the moment you see your husband approach you with a small gift box in hands. He doesn't forget to apologize again and again for fucking up the day for you.

Ryomen Sukuna

- the mean tease-

Sukuna would be the type to buy you a gift even before you mention to him about Valentine. He would play it safe by saying "Useless stuff" "Good day for money grabbing corporate overlords". He enjoys teasing you throughout the day while you are waiting impatiently for his gift. But his teasing drops the moment he sees the pout and the gloomy expression taking over your face as you accept defeat. Sukuna's ass is so down bad for you that he absolutely HATES seeing you in that expression. Not even a minute after he tosses a gift box to your lap.

"Aw Kuna you bought a valentine gift for me?"

"No I just bought you a "gift" like I always do"

"No but you gave it to me during Valentine so of course it's a valentine gift!"

"Don't be stupid brat"

He says in his usual annoyed tone but you weren't able to miss the slight blush appearing in his face after you thank him with a kiss to his cheek.

Ugh I just love Sukuna so much, Hope y'all enjoy this Valentine drabble!<33

[okaysonny]

Pls can you write James Lee dating headcanons and Diego Kanga dating headcanons. Like they are same person but their personality and mannerism are completely different.

Also your write is very good it sticks to character perfectly and feels great to see a fellow Indian❤️

dating headcanons ╏ james lee + diego kang

a/n: yasss india mentioned 🇮🇳 james/dg...very difficult to grasp...he is kind of annoying ❤️ so these are very much HEADcanons. enjoy!

JAMES LEE

✦ highschool romance troupe obviouslyyy

✦ imagine this scenario: james always sees you studying in school...when everyone has left already. at first he doesn't care, but you're just always in there and he eventually asks what you're doing.

✦ as if you'd admit to james lee the prodigy that you're struggling with school 🤣 you have one sided beef with this man.

✦ surprise, surprise...you end up talking and an acquaintanceship forms.

✦ your relationship with james...it's not really a relationship. more of a situationship, tbh. just an unspoken pining that eventually develops.

✦ james is really angsty in terms of romance, imo. the only time you see each other is when you're there after school and he's come back from another rampage.

✦ i think he'd eventually tutor you, much to your annoyance. but the next day, you show james that you did well on the exam!! he'd play the nonchalant gimmick, but there's something warm settling in his chest.

✦ drops lollipops in your bag when you're not looking 😆 awww

✦ like i said...he's angsty as hell. imagine asking james what he wants to do after school, and he has an ANGSTY look because he'll be committing WAR CRIMES

✦ you bring up boring office jobs, but you figure james lee the prodigy would have a more exciting career anyways. but...he finds himself imagining a normal life, having a boring office job...maybe with you.

✦ for obvious reasons, he can't. james doesn't even entertain the thought.

✦ corny "he only feels this way around you" troupe 🤣😭 one day you decide to ruffle his hair and james suddenly feels like a normal high school kid.

✦ ANGSTY RELATIONSHIP -> ANGSTY ENDING. weather it be you not showing up anymore (after finding out he mutilates people!!) , orrr him not showing up, because he has a path laid out for him.

✦ it's tragic, because there was no intimacy at all!! no hand holding, no kissing, nothing! yet the late hours in the classroom all built up to something. for all his perfection, i'm not sure if james would realise what he's feeling.

✦ when he sees corporate employees laughing together after becoming diego kang, he still wonders what a boring office job would be like. with you.

DIEGO KANG

way more fun and light hearted, i promise!

✦ dg would absolutely nottt date a fan. if you know him, but don't really care about him, he'll be a bit more open to the idea. buttt, i think you'd have to somehow not know who he is to really pique dg's interest.

✦ don't get me wrong, it's not a "...i've never met someone who doesn't know diego kang 😳" type of thinking. he just doesn't want power imbalances in a relationship.

✦ with dg, very much opposites attract. i think he's drawn to bubbly and funny people.

✦ two words: 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 🫦

✦ makes you aware the relationship has to be secret and all that shebang.

✦ i feel like dg's music only appeals to a...certain demographic (teenage girls) and he KNOWS that too. so if you give his tunes a listen and tell him: wow...this is shit, he'll find it oddly endearing. dg is surrounded by yes men, so he likes the honesty that his shitty songs are shitty.

✦ you already know the gifts + pampering would be out of this world 😮‍💨 it would be rude to not spoil you, considering the secrecy of your relationship + his constant absence.

✦ like i said before, for all his perfection, he doesn't really understand that sometimes you don't need an aplogy necklace for dg being away, you're just happy to see him again.

✦ late night motorcycle rides when he's feeling a little 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔. alexa, play cool for the summer

✦ you make fun of him when he does cringe things for the fans lmfao...that was the first time diego kang felt humiliated.

✦ another CRACK in his perfect persona: i think dg can't make funny jokes. even when he was james lee he couldn't, but the cocky persona masked it. now that he's more calm + stoic, it's very apparent.

remember when dg acted like he was gonna use the USB as a bargaining chip against eugene, but then said: "i'm kidding 😜"

🤣😭 THIS WEIRDO! idk if it was a silent warning, but it's my headcanon that it wasn't - he just genuinely thought it was funny.

✦ imagine that troupe of you know...it wouldn't kill you to crack a joke every once in a while. and dg is surprised because he thinks he's a hoot. so he says a shit joke and you actually laugh because of how bad it is. but...dg thinks you're laughing because it was funny, and feels a sense of pride.

✦ he's defo the type to laugh at a crude comment from you and then quickly cough to act like it wasn't HILARIOUS.

✦ now that he's retired, i think dg would go public with your relationship. he's trying to break out of that kpop idol image + show that he's serious about you.

✦ anddd i think he'd tell you about james lee and gapryong once he's absolutely sure you won't leave him. (i don't mean that in a creepy way lmao)

✦ despite my disdain for this FREAK i'd feel very safe with him as my bf ☺️ always arranges a body guard to accompany you if he's not there. but the most comforting thing is his hugs. i think dg gives the best hugs...and he doesn't even realise :')

✦ with you, diego feels free, yet bound in the best way possible.

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part nine

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

Your eyes focused on Rafe's scrub cap; the cartoon sharks grounded you and the thought almost made you giggle, the mere notion that something totally unrelated to who he was as a person, or something as childish as a cartoon animal being able to put you at ease was genuinely laughable. The operating room was the same as before, except, this time you were less afraid, knowing Rafe had seen you through this two times prior helped ease the anxieties that come along with surgery. He was dressed in seafoam colored surgical garb as he stood above you, tenderly rubbing your head, which was covered in a medical grade hair net, remnants of him were left against your skin in the form of tender kisses. 

“You doing okay, sweet girl?” 

He asked, more worried about your mental state than the physicality of it all. 

“I’m okay, sweet boy. So glad you’re here with me.” 

You smiled tenderly and he brushed his hand across your cheek, caressing the skin there for a moment. 

“Okay, sweetheart, count backwards from a hundred for me. Next time you open your eyes you’ll be cuddled up next to me, sweet girl.” 

He said, placing the oxygen mask over your face. 

-

“I hate this part.” 

Your groggy slurred words scared Jenni half to death as she stood by your bed, checking your vitals and notating them in your chart. 

“Hey, sweet girl.” 

Your eyes were still closed as Jenni brought her palm to your forehead. She looked down at you and smiled at the pout that your bottom lip sat in. 

“y/n, can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?” 

She probed you again and you obliged, blinking your eyes slowly open for a moment before gaining enough of your bearings that your vision was no longer blurry. You take note of the pink tulips at your bedside with the words pretty girl scribbled on a card in your favorite person’s handwriting and smile to yourself; for a brief moment, you search the room for your most prized possession – him. 

“Where’s Rafe?” 

You questioned, voice shaky as sadness infiltrated your heart; his promise of being near when you awoke heavily sitting in the forefront of your mind. 

“He’s grabbing you some things, sweet girl.” 

“W-what? He’s not here? H-he said he’d be here. He’s coming back, right?” 

The sight of you almost broke her heart into a million pieces and she wondered what you meant – didn’t you know how much he loved you? He couldn’t possibly leave you here, he couldn’t possibly leave you at all. She watched as the tears collected in your eyes and spilled over your eyelashes, leaving streaky tire marks across the dirt field of your cheeks. Her hand met your forehead, rubbing the skin and your hair as she soothingly rubbed back and forth. You closed your eyes tightly as a wave of pain passed over you and a whimper escaped your lips. 

“Sweet girl, he’s coming right back, okay? I’m going to check the ice machine. Do you want some medicine?” 

She questioned, feeling next to helpless. As a nurse, she knew how to take care of someone in pain, but you were different. How can you take care of someone when their pain relief comes in human form? 

“Please.” 

One singular word left your lips; a whimper and whisper met like the tide and the sand. Jenni sat on the rolling stool, checking the ice machine to make sure the cold water was flowing into the pad that was secured to your knee by velcro straps. Once she felt confident that it was doing its job, she moved to your iv, inserting morphine into the line that connected to the vein in the top of your hand. 

“You’re going to feel better soon, sweetheart. I promise.” 

She cooed, sliding the stool against the white speckled gray flooring to be close to your upper half again before slipping the latex gloves that covered her hands off and into the trash. She rubbed the top of your head again and slid her opposite hand into yours. 

“Just sleep, sweet girl. You’ll see Rafe so soon. I promise.” 

-

Rafe came into your room not long after you fell asleep again, jeans, a gray t-shirt and a green cargo jacket covered him. His hands were filled with food — the world's best tomato bisque soup from your favorite Italian restaurant. Amongst the food in his grasp, he carted more of his shirts, shorts, and sweatpants for you to wear. He wanted you to feel comfortable but also for changing clothes to be easy for you and he couldn’t think of anything easier than clothes big enough to fit over the black brace that lined your leg. He dropped everything in the corner of the room, the food on the table and the clothes in the ugly plastic chair before he made his way over to you. Your delicate, soft features as you slept always made his stomach do backflips but there was something about knowing how sad you were in his absence that tugged at his heart strings. When he got the call from jenni that you had been crying and asking if he was coming back, it sent his caring nature into overdrive. 

“pretty girl” 

he whispered, his hands running delicately across your rosy cheeks. He didn’t get so much as a grunt in response and while he hated to wake you, you needed to eat. 

“Sweetheart, can you wake up for me?” 

he probed you again, his hands moving from your cheeks to your hair. As your eyes popped open and you took in the cerulean eyes that had become the wonder of your world, you let out a broken sob. 

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter, angel? Are you hurting badly?” 

He questioned, his brows furrowing as the tears leaked out of your eyes. 

“I didn’t think you were going to come back.” 

You muttered and his eyes went wide, moving quickly to get into the bed your frame laid in, curling body against yours until your head laid on his chest. 

“Baby, I'm always going to come back. Don’t you know that by now?” 

He asked in a hushed tone as he laid kisses against your head. 

“I know, but I wish you never had to leave to begin with.” 

Your statement shocked him, he knew he felt that way but he never imagined the feeling was mutual and at that moment he decided if he was really going to give love a second shot he had to stop thinking and just do. So he asked you the unthinkable. 

“Baby, would you want to move in with me? I know this might seem sudden because we’ve only been at this for a few months, but I want to take care of you and I don’t want to be without you ever again.” 

Rafe rambled and you stopped him with a kiss to his lips; soft and sweet yet aggressive enough to tell him to shut up. 

“Rafferty, of course I would.” 

You smiled, leaning back against his chest and you couldn’t help feeling like you had waited your whole life for — this. 

The day after your surgery, you woke up in Rafe’s arms, his forehead sat against your temple as his soft snores broke through your sleepy haze. One of his hands was draped across your waist while the other cradled your head. You breathed in his warmth, his smell was your favorite and having him in such close proximity after the weight of his question made your heart swell. He wanted you to move in with him. Despite all your earliest fears about none of this being real, about the stupid schoolgirl crush you had on your doctor, he had proved to you that this was real, that he was real and that he wasn’t going anywhere. You couldn’t help but be thankful for the road that led you here – the man you had always prayed for wrapped around you. You were brought out of your thoughts as Jenni made her way into the room. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” 

You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of Jenni’s voice. She smiled from ear to ear, setting down the vials of medicine on the top of the table at your bedside. 

“Hey, J.” 

You whispered, throat still hoarse from the assault on your windpipe that being intubated for surgery created. She moved quickly, pouring water from the pitcher into a cup that sat next to the medicine she placed on the table. She plopped a straw into the liquid, before pinching the top of it with her gloved hand and bringing it to your lips. You drank furiously, gulping the cool drink down, marveling at how wonderfully it soothed your aching throat. 

“Is that better, baby girl?” 

She asked and you nodded, doing your best not to move too hastily in an attempt to keep the beautiful man next to you in his peaceful slumber. 

“It hurts.” 

You whimper, your lips moving into a pout as your eyes darted to Rafe’s sleeping form again. You wanted so badly to wake him long enough for him to whisper the reassurances that you needed, but you couldn’t. Rafe was tired after months of watching over you and putting you first and now, it was your turn. 

“I know, sweetheart. Do you want me to wake him up?” 

She questioned.

“No, let him sleep. He never sleeps.”

She nodded in response, knowing the truth behind your words. 

“I’m giving you some medicine, now and when Rafe wakes up we’ll get your knee moving, okay?” 

You acknowledge her with a nod and turn your head toward Rafe, placing a kiss on his forehead before closing your eyes and sleep overtaking you as his warmth radiated against your skin. 

-

Rafe awoke with a start; the same nightmare that he had grown accustomed to shaking him to his core – you and Molly infiltrated even his deepest subconscious dream state – a kaleidoscope of images of the deaths of the two women he loved had burrowed into his brain like a cat making a home out of a cardboard box. He quickly understood what his brain had conjured up wasn’t reality as he took in the delicate, soft features of your sweet face as you slept. Soft snores made their way out of your mouth and he smiled softly to himself, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face. Jenni made her way into the room just as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. 

“Good to see you’re up, how’s she doing?” 

Jenni asked, as Rafe pulled his head back from yours and moved slowly away from your grasp and out of the bed, throwing on the t-shirt he discarded onto the floor the previous night. 

“Still sleeping. It was a long night, she was in pain for most of it.” 

He responded, sadly. Though as a physician and a surgeon and a previous patient, he knew what kind of pain surgery brought on, he didn’t realize how much it would hurt him to see you in this state again. 

“Yeah, she was hurting pretty badly this morning when I came in.” 

He looked at your sleeping form again, a frown displayed on his features as he reached his head down and planted a kiss against your nose while simultaneously rubbing the top of your head. 

“This sweet girl has had a rough couple of months, Jenni. But, we’re in the home stretch, now. A couple more days and I’m taking her home. Have you talked to anyone in orthopedics who will bring up the cpm today?” 

“Sure have, boss, they’ll have a device rep come up as soon as she’s awake.”

He moved closer to Jenni pulling her in for a bear hug. 

“You’re a godsend, Jen.” 

He pulled away smiling as he rubbed up and down the sleeves of her scrubs. 

“You know I’d do anything for our girl, Rafferty.” 

“I know, Jen, me too.” 

He whispered in response as he continued to stare at your sleeping form. 

-

Almost two hours later, you had finally fully woken up and Rafe laid with you, your head on his chest as you took in deep breaths. The warmth of his chest was the only thing that could bring you comfort in your current moment. Your leg was sat on two pillows, lined with a black brace that extended from your thigh to your ankle with four buckles that kept it completely straight. Underneath the brace, your knee was covered in bandages and dressings, an ace wrap and the attachment to the ice machine sat on top of them keeping the swelling down as much as possible. You continued to take in Rafe as he ran his fingers through your hair, looking up at his sculpted jaw you couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars you had him to walk through the last few months with you. Even when you couldn’t physically walk, he was your constant, supporting the both of you on his own two legs; physically and figuratively. 

“Rafe, what’s the machine that they’re supposed to be bringing for?” 

You met his eyes; the cerulean blue of them complimenting the bruises that lined your body, as they always had. His hand came up to your head, fingers intertwining into your hair like the thorns mixed in the vine of a rose. 

“It’s just going to get your knee moving, baby. That way, it’ll make therapy easier in the long run and we can get your muscles woken up quicker.” 

He responded, kindly. But, the fear in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed. 

“I-is it going to hurt?” 

His eyes softened, knowing the amounts of pain you had been through in the last few months was overwhelming and your body is tired. 

“Yeah, baby. It’s going to hurt a little bit. I had to use one in college. But, this should be easy for you. It won’t be physically blinding pain like you felt during your pelvis recovery, it'll be more like stiffness and your muscles not wanting to move.” 

You nodded in response, whispering a frail “okay” against his fingertips as you moved your face toward them, kissing his knuckles. You looked back up to him, his baby blue eyes keeping you in a trance for what felt like forever and all you wanted to do was stay there with him forever. You were brought out of your trance as Jenni and the medical representative walked in and Rafe moved from the bed in pursuit to help them get the cpm set up and your knee moving as quickly as possible. Rafe lifted your leg up by the ankle, holding it in the air while they moved the pillows and put the machine in their place. 

 The continuous passive movement machine was your least favorite thing ever in existence. It was simple really, you laid your leg in it and it moved your knee slowly to aid in waking your muscles up and getting the blood flowing to your new ligaments. While it was simple in theory, the physicality of it was painful and as Rafe stood, the remote in his hands setting it to the lowest setting, he felt powerless as you cried at the movement. He made his way to the top of your bed, standing beside you, hands on your shoulders and hair, rubbing soothingly as he whispered sweet words about how proud he was of you. This is how you were going to spend the next six weeks; flat on your back with your leg in this horrible contraption for six to eight hours a day. You groaned in frustration as Rafe’s hands moved against your skin. 

“I know, baby. I know it hurts.” 

He whispered against your hairline, pulling back as the pads of his thumbs wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“Rafe, I’m just — I want to go home.” 

You replied, tears in your eyes as you pleaded with the man you loved to get you out of the sterile environment you had become accustomed to for so many months. 

“We’re going home tomorrow, baby. I promise.” 

He said, his lips meeting the sweet spot behind your ear. 

-

You sat on the bed, as Rafe slid his basketball shorts up your legs. He was gentle and easy, pulling you up and onto your good leg as he pulled the shorts over your hips. Once he did, he sat you back down on the bed for a brief moment. Rafe came through with his promise, preparing you for the transport to his apartment; the apartment that now, the two of you would share. 

“You ready, baby?” 

He asked, kneeling on the balls of his feet in front of you. You only nodded in response, your stomach churning the butter that was your insides as he lifted you bridal style, placing you into the wheelchair and wheeling you out of the room, for what you hoped would be the last time. He made it to the edge of the curb, where his truck was parked, opening the back passenger side door and sliding you in and making you comfortable. 

“Let’s go home, pretty girl.” 

He said, giving the foot that sat on two pillows a gentle squeeze before making his way to the driver’s seat. 

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