#once again another thing I could write an essay about

[cruesuffix]

I’m not surprised some of these old white dudes in rock and maybe some of their wives are racist and won’t be associated with a black woman or just hate black people in general

When yet their profiting off of a black genre and wouldn’t have a career if it wasn’t for us. They’re wives would’ve been the next woman working a corporate job

THIS THIS THIS‼️

I almost have nothing to add because you’ve literally said it all anon! this is exactly why i don’t take ppl who hate on black led rock bands seriously. like dude if it wasn’t for us yall would be working at a mcdonalds FR!! and yes it’s very funny that half of these ppl are racist…like do you guys know where rock even originates from you can’t sit here and shit on things like *rap or whatever when the genre you came from also originated from black ppl. these ppl would be NOWHERE if it wasn’t for little richard, chuck berry…etc.

(*that’s another thing im so peeved about: rockers AND rock fans shit on rap way too much…like you generalize an entire genre to just “mumble rap” and don’t even try to expand your horizons. that’s like if we said “oh rock is all just shouting and loud noise that’s not music” do you ppl not see how dumb you sound? anyways…)

(plus these rockers wives should be GLAD rock as a genre exists or else they’d have to actually get a job and not live off their rich rockstar husbands -and before some of yall call me jealous trust me im cool, im just being honest, a bouquet box business would never get off the ground unless you already had the connections to make it work…just saying)

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒.

💞 — in which professor divus crewel is down bad for his spouse.

💞 — divus crewel x reader

💞 — warnings: none really, just fluff and ace and deuce being ace and deuce.

💞 — around 700 words!! not very long, but yk it came to me when i should have been writing my essay (due tomorrow) since that card came out. ive been hella offline, my cousin had a malwi (yemeni bridal party) yesterday, and the wedding is tomorrow, and my other cousin is in the process of having engagement parties all throughout july--hope you enjoy!

“No way you get bitches,” 

“What was that, Trappola?” Crewel shot a glare at his student who was staring at the picture on his desk.

The picture was of him and his spouse, looking very happy. He looked relaxed in the picture, his arm draped around you while you held his face in your hands and kissed his cheek. The best part was that you were dressed in one of his designs, looking ever so elegant in the fur shawl over your shoulders.

Ace stiffened up and was sent a concerned glance from Deuce, “Uhm, nothing… sir,” he quickly corrected himself.

He could not help it—all the time he spent in Professor Crewel’s class was filled with a certain strictness that he did not think anyone would find appealing. The redhead glanced at the picture again, before back at his professor.

Deuce was sweating, praying to whatever was in the sky that he would not get caught up in whatever trouble Ace would be in. He almost wanted to shake some sense in his dormmate.

Crewel drew the silence out, just for the sake of intimidating his students a little longer before his brows softened. He would not do anything further wreck his mood, not when the love of his life would come over and share lunch with him. He sighed, raising a red gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’ll let it slide this once, pup.”

The cyan-eyed student visibly slumped in relief.

He handed each of them their corrected worksheets. They both had detailed notes written in the margins on what they could do to improve. He pointed out how Ace could use his skills in Magic Analysis and apply them to Alchemy, and gave Deuce examples that could make more sense to him. He was a strict professor, but that did not mean he was a bad professor. He knew his rowdier dogs could improve—he expected them to. He laid out the resources, they just had to use them.

“Thank you, professor!” exclaimed Deuce, bowing his head in respect as he held the page to his chest. Deep down, he appreciated his professor's willingness to correct his work so thoroughly.

Ace nodded, as if sharing the thanks with Deuce, before following his classmate out.

Things stayed quiet before you burst through the doors, carrying lunch bags with you, wearing that smile he loved so much. Your clothes were a bit of a mess, but when were they not? You were always running about and doing something.

Crewel stood from his seat, a softer grin on his face as he stepped forward, his arms reaching out to adjust your outfit. Gentle hands tugged at the collar and fixed your mixed-up buttons, “Now, I wonder what circus you just returned from,”

You laughed and leaned into his touch, “Just the kitchen, nothing too crazy, Divus. I made raisin butter and homemade bread,” you told him, excitedly.

His thumb brushed over some flour left on your cheek, “I can see that much,” he muttered before he moved to your side and slid his hand down to the small of your back, “Come sit,” he said, guiding you to the seat across from his desk.

“You saved me from another lunch spent playing chess with Mozus,”

“Oh, come on. You act like spending time with him is a chore,” you replied, reaching into the bags to set the food on the desk for you guys to share.

He carefully moved his things out of the way, before taking his seat as elegantly as ever, “It’s only a chore when he spends thirty minutes deciding on his next move.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “One day you’ll be just as old and spending thirty minutes buttoning up your vest. When that happens, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

He let out a little laugh at that. Your joke just affirmed what he always knew, you would be with him forever, even when white became the natural color of his hair, even once his students were visiting him as adults with their own lives, and thanking him for his harshness. He let out a breath of contentment, before carefully cutting the bread you made for him, “How was work, my love?”

[stave-writes]

Omg plz write the nsfw Laios blurb

Laios Touden x Overstimulated!GN!Reader (NSFW ver.)

A/N: Oh my god I was so nervous writing this I'm literally So Shy about writing smut. Sorry this took like 2 days I had to listen to video essays while writing this to survive lololol

Summary: First time with Laios goes a bit haywire, in a good way.

Laios wasn't exactly some pure, virginal man despite what a lot of people seemed to think. Sure, he hadn't directly had sex, but he knew a lot about it. Things like shibari, or even teratophilia were always interesting to him, the science behind why people enjoyed such kinks.

So when he finally mustered up the courage to ask if you'd be willing to sleep with him, you had to lay down the ground rules. Just for the first time, you'd be vanilla. No kinks, no roughness, just getting used to eachothers bodies. The date was set, and Laios couldn't lie...he was excited.

You'd had a nice dinner before the kisses began, peppered across your face, trailing down your throat where your heart raced. Laios's strong hands gripped your hips, thumbs circling the flesh as his mouth moved down along your collarbones, leaving red little hickeys along the sensitive skin. The feeling of mouth upon skin, the needy kisses against flesh, there was a desire more pronounced than you could resist him for.

A careful sway led you towards the bed, pushed carefully down into the sheets as Laios smiled down at you,

"Are you okay with this?" His voice was soft, despite the heated lust visible in his eyes. At your consent, those hands that embraced you began to work your clothes away from you, ending up discarded on the floor alongside his. More kisses dotted your skin as he worked his way down, bites and hickeys dotted like stars on your sensitive flesh, reaching the border of your underwear and looking to you for consent once again to slide them away.

It was a lewd feeling as he slipped them down your legs, discarding them aside with an almost shy smile. Kissing the insides of your thighs, feeling a twitch as your sensitive flesh was sent shuddering with his affection, Laios let a deep chuckle radiate against your skin. His face despite being aflame with blush, found its way against your crotch. A long stripe was licked along your sensitive area, sending a shiver up your spine, a noise unable to be restrained as he continued lapping at you. You had to give it to him, he was good with his tongue. Long, provocative licks against your needy flesh kept riling you up, one of his hands aiding his mouth in pleasuring you. He kept going, and chuckling at your reactions until you were rising to your limit, pawing at him to slow down. As he'd been lapping at you, Laios had a hand on himself working away, now lost in the pleasure as he sent you to the brink of orgasm.

You came, hard. Even as you came down, Laios didn't stop, pushing you further than you could handle. A cry racked you as you pushed at his head to get him to back off, Laios pulling off with a confused expression until he saw your face.

It was a second before you could speak, still catching your breath before carefully telling Laios he'd pushed you too far, causing a frown to settle on his face.

"Oh- I'm...sorry. I didn't realise. Are you okay?" Laios moved carefully to your side, hugging you to his side while you wound down, feeling the embrace of his warm flesh.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to-" He began again, being shushed by you, cuddling into his arms. Instead of another response, Laios held you tenderly, closing his eyes with a smile as he kissed your head carefully.

[astonmartinii]

into the arms of another part two | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

part two to this !! part three

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 661,230 others

yourusername: winner winner chicken dinner !! congrats maxy i’m so proud of you always

view all comments

user1: i know charles’ head is hot right now

user2: i hope netflix are taking notes cause this tea is steaming hot

maxverstappen1: thank you baby, helps when i have the prettiest cheerleader in the world

yourusername: i am the sexiest sargent in all of the orange army

maxverstappen1: too right you are

user3: i miss when y/n was the head of the tifosi the red monochromatic fits ate so hard

user4: i need charles to pull his head out of his ass and apologise so we can reclaim her before monza

user5: do not even bring up the fact we may not have custody of her for monza

danielricciardo: leave some for the rest of us maxy

yourusername: no actually i think it’s illegal for max not to win sorry

danielricciardo: will that change if charlie apologises?

yourusername: considering that hasn’t happened and doesn’t look to be happening any time soon - no.

user6: CHARLES PLEASE DO SOMETHING

user7: he doesn’t have to do anything, she’s just bitter cause she’s always been the bridesmaid and never the bride. we ALL know she’s always loved charles and she can’t handle that she’s not the centre of his attention it’s kinda pathetic

maxverstappen1: what made you think you know any of us enough to comment something like this? what told you that you even had a right to talk about y/n like that? she’s everything you could ever wish to be and more and she will never ever deserve the things you people are saying about her. charles would be lucky to have y/n in his life platonically or romantically but it’s his loss

user8: boyf of the year right here

user9: charles take note ^^^ this is how you’re meant to defend your best friend

landonorris: i am once again asking for photo credits i’m not gonna be your personal photographer for free

maxverstappen1: i literally paid for your dinner

yourusername: you’re literally a millionaire

landonorris: i don’t care a man still likes to be wined and dined

yourusername: just to make it clear we are not looking for a third

user10: i promise i can change your mind give me a chance

f1tea

liked by user11, user12 and 2,349 others

f1tea: charles leclerc caught liking this tweet about the situation between him and y/n. seems like he won’t back down on this. what do you think?

view all comments

user13: i need this mans head on a spike i’m so serious

user14: i want to play pinball with the single marble in his head

user15: i think ferrari have genuinely caused real head rot in him cause no way he thinks this is a serve

user16: let's be real charles' biggest rivals are ferrari and himself

user17: not this man at his BIG AGE is liking shady tweets about his best friend

user18: i think it's safe to say they're not best friends any more

user19: also "biggest rival" my ass max and charles are fucking friends now so this whole narrative is complete horse shit

user20: i'm so bored of charles playing the victim bro YOU ARE THE INSTIGATOR YOU ARE THE PROBLEM

user21: the way charles is liking shit like this but max is writing whole ass essays in the comments defending her

user22: and that''s why i'll always back that she ended up with the right man

user23: max is so far in the lead in the championship i need him to take charles out for the narrative

user24: are we in high school? like seriously this is so fucking petty i cannot wait for media day this weekend

user25: he's either gonna be the funniest man in the world or he's gonna bite someones fucking head off

user26: and i'll back it either way

user27: i know y/n is about to have her revenge dress moment in the paddock someone get kym illman ready STAT.

f1wagsupdates

liked by lilymunhe, carmenmundt and 4,530 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: REVENGE DRESS MOMENT !!! y/n y/ln enters the paddock in monza in this stunning black dress, showing the world what a catch she is, oh and that is max holding the umbrella for her, what a gentleman.

view all comments

user28: mother came to slay i cannot even

user29: this right after max came for charles in the press conference is PERFECTION + NO RED IN MONZA !!

user30: i see lily and carmen in the likes in knew they'd be on the right side

user31: girl i don't think anyone is on charles' side

user32: yall see the stink eye from the red bull garage when charles walked past they have y/n's back LOL

user33: the red bull garage been ride or dies for max so it defo makes sense that they would extend that to y/n

user34: christian was defo waiting for a question about it in the press conference

user35: someone on twitter got a clip of him putting his arm around fred going out of the paddock and telling him to get his driver under control

user36: yall are we on the kardashians what the fuck is going on

user37: people may hate christian but he defends his driver so much that he's inserting himself in the relationship drama

user38: i don't even follow f1 but whoever this is this serving oh my

user39: this is so exhausting like i need charles to just apologise so we can get cute y/n x max x charles content

user40: torturing myself thinking about how cute that dynamic could be

f1

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,203,457 others

f1: max verstappen clinches his tenth win of the season at monza, joined by sergio perez and oscar piastri. home heroes charles leclerc and carlos sainz came together at turn one, awful showing for ferrari in monza

view all comments

user41: this narrative is so so poetic

user42: i feel bad for the tifosi at this point y'all get your hopes up every season

user43: charles you aimed the wrong way if you wanted to take max out

user44: the way max kissed y/n after winning god they're so cute

user45: also the way christian got everyone to move so y/n could get to the front to see max

user46: even marko looked happy about it what is going on?

user47: y'all we knew it was gonna be bad for ferrari y/n wasn't wearing red, call me superstitious but every time she's worn red charles has either won or been on the podium

user48: well that's just what he gets for not appreciating her

user49: as fernando would say KARMA

user50: someone check charles' blood pressure please

maxverstappen1

liked by christianhorner, yourusername and 1,304,662 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: winning on and off the track, some of you can't relate.

view all comments

user51: parents omg

danielricciardo: fighting words maxy, not pulling your punches

maxverstappen1: i do my fighting on the track, not my fault people can't get past turn one to give me a real battle

danielricciardo: i need to be inside your brain

maxverstappen1: no there's images of y/n in my brain that no other man will ever see

danielricciardo: you crack me up maxy

yourusername: woah who's that fine ass piece of woman

maxverstappen1: she's taken sorry

yourusername: that's a shame, i hope that man is taking care of her

maxverstappen1: i don't believe she's got any complaints

yourusername: wow you sound like a gentleman, she's a lucky woman

maxverstappen1: believe me i am the lucky one.

yourusername: awwww maxy you're literally the sweetest person in the world

user52: if i was charles and i saw this after that race you'd have to restrain me i'm so serious

user53: i'm happy for y/n and max but i need them to stop being happy in my face

alexalbon: ur welcome for that first picture btw

yourusername: lily taught you well

alexalbon: so no thanks?

yourusername: i joke thank you very much sir albon

user54: so like all of the twitch quartet are on y/n's side? awkward.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, 706,835 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: charles and i have been best friends since i knew what the word meant and it really hurts that is has gotten to this point. when charles got his first girlfriend i chalked it up to the excitement of the experience, but when he routinely got in and out of relationships and falling back on our friendship once scorned, i started to question what he really felt about our friendship. i overlooked it every time even when it made me doubt my worth and hoped our friendship meant more. however, the cycle continued and after being left stranded at a beach in a country i do not know i decided it was the end. i have reached out to you so, so many times and want nothing more than our friendship to work and so we can be life-long friends that we can tell our kids about. but i guess it's not worth that much to you and that's something i'll have to reconcile with. the only positive coming from this the fact that it pushed me to the love of my life, so thank you for that.

comments are turned off.

charles_leclerc

liked by joristrouche, pierregasly and 1,305,783 others

charles_leclerc: i've already got my trophy, sorry not sorry.

view all comments

user56: WHAT THE FUCK

user57: my brain is actually scrambled

user58: charles' must be as well cause no way he thought this was a good idea

landonorris: so this is a low blow

charles_leclerc: since when were you the reference point for morals

landonorris: damn dude, you're in the wrong but go off i guess

user59: why do i actually want to cry for y/n right now? she did this whole ass heartfelt post with no comments so people wouldn't be able to speculate and he replies with a pic of his gf's ASS

danielricciardo: not cool dude

charles_leclerc: i see you all took her side and our friendships mean fuck all

danielricciardo: kinda ironic you bring up respecting friendships

charles_leclerc: spare me the lecture

maxverstappen1: you're a child. but this is the closure she needs. cheers to being an asshole.

charles_leclerc: so you managed to get some of my sloppy seconds, you're welcome

maxverstappen1: she's not sloppy seconds and i can't believe you'd refer to her as that. but if you wanna talk sloppy seconds you can hold the 100 point gap between us in the championship. and y/n will never say this so i'll say it for her GO FUCK YOURSELF

user60: SHOTS FIRED

user61: men are so confusing

yourusername added to their story

[caption: taking some time for myself. thank you for your kind words and know i have an amazing support system around me now]

f1wagsupdates

liked by user65, user66 and 5,430 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1wagsupdates: charles leclerc spotted outside y/n y/ln's office with flowers this afternoon. idk at this point, any time i report on this man i lose more brain cells.

view all comments

user67: lol even wag page admins are done

f1wagsupdates: he gives me a lot of content but damn he needs to sort his head out

user68: lol this is gonna be an all time apology tour i can't wait

user69: i honestly don't want y/n to forgive him he doesn't deserve it.

user70: yeah max has proven ride or die for y/n so i know who she should stick with

user71: i need him to donate his brain to science cause in what world is a measly bouquet of flowers gonna cover all of this shit ?

user72: legit he's systematically ditched his best friend, let randomers on the internet drage her name through the mud and then liked it and then flaunted the fact that he didn't care about their friendship for everyone to see

maxverstappen1: lol nice try

user73: my petty king i love him so much

user74: i know y/n is taking a break from social media but i hope she knows how much love she's getting

user75: for real we're all on her side i hope she slammed that door in charles' face

user76: i hope that bouquet ended up in the bin

maxverstappen1 added to their story

[caption: special delivery for a special girl]

note: i know this was heavily requested so here it is!! i really like it and it's defo open for a third part if yall want charles and y/n to reconcile? thank you for reading xx

[dstryvampres]

Smoke Signals

Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary: Dr Crane is tired of you talking back.

Warnings: smut, fingering, age gap(reader is early 20s, crane is mid 40s), power imbalance, brat taming(I think??), reader is a smoker, dub con, p in v, unprotected, praise, degradation, spanking, creampie

Word count: 2.2k

The trek to Dr Crane office on the fifth floor was quick and easy, seeing as there was no one else using the elevator because it was so late at night. When you push open the door to Dr Crane’s office it creaks, alerting him immediately to your presence.

“I thought I told you to quit smoking before you come to my office,” is what Dr Crane decides on greeting you with. His face is stern, pen in hand as he writes out a statement on a student’s quiz.

“Yeah, well I was fiending all day and they don’t let you have a smoke within 15 meters of the psychology testing centre. Hard to get a smoke break in,” You quip back, hanging your tote bag over the back of a chair before sliding between it and Dr Crane’s desk to sit.

“Well, if you won’t quit all together, you could at least have the common courtesy to not reek of it near me,” He scoffs, clicking his pen and setting it down on his desk.

You toy with the fabric of your sheer black tights as Dr Crane sets aside whatever he was working on before and brings out two sheets of paper. Two rubrics, one for him, which he settles in front of him, and one for you, which he flips towards you.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Dr Crane asks, standing up from his desk and heading towards the table near the window. He clicks on the kettle, staring at it for a couple seconds before he starts to hear it bubble up before he turns to you again.

“Just any tea is fine, except ginger, I want something herbal tonight,” you reply, rummaging through your tote bag looking for a pen to use for tonight.

“So herbal tea?” Jonathan asks, shaking his head at you in the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” you sit up straight once again when you find your pencil case, plopping it down on Dr Crane’s darkwood desk.

You hear a sigh from the professor as he turns around to look out the window at the rain, his fingers toying around with the packaging of a tea bag. No matter if Dr Crane happens to be your boss, you can’t deny that he’s insanely attractive. Young looking face with high cheekbones, blue eyes that stare holes into your being, dark brown hair that he somehow styles perfectly without trying that hard, all packaged in suits that do him far too many favours. Sure he has a slightly bitter attitude, but you’re no better. With all the times you snap back and push his buttons he’s far too patient with you, and seems to genuinely care about your well being. Whether that care is actually genuine or is just to avoid having to find another TA, you’re not one hundred percent sure.

A click comes from the kettle, and soon enough Dr Crane sets down a steaming mug in front of you before sliding into his own chair with a mug in his hand.

“Thank you,” you say, blowing on the steaming liquid in hopes to cool it down quicker.

“Don’t burn yourself.”

Dr Crane grabs his pen before directing both of your attention to the rubric and assignment guide. He drones on about the basics, word count, percentage to dock based off of just principle things, before delving into more important specifics to the assignment. For a supposed research essay, the need to include the students own fears into the mix was a weird choice to be a necessity. There’s no need to ask about it, the conditions for the assignment have already been set in stone, the due date is in about a week.

“Everything making sense?” Dr Crane asks, looking at you, eyebrows furrowed together.

You nod in response, reaching over to grab a highlighter from Dr Crane’s collection across the table. Maybe you should bring up the weird conditions of the assignment…

“Actually, just one thing confuses me about this assignment,” You start, looking for any signs of anger from Dr Crane, knowing just how often you seem to push his buttons before continuing, “why do the students need to disclose their own fears in this assignment, it’s supposed to be a research essay on different ways the brain copes with fear.”

Dr Crane clenches his jaw, looking away from you annoyed. Acting like you were questioning the fundamentals of grammar and not some strange one off point he decided to add to this assignment. He shakes his head, taking off his glasses and laying them down on the table.

“You’re not the one running the class, are you?” Dr Crane asks, voice showing just thin his patience has become in a matter of seconds.

“Well, obviously not, but I’m just-”

You’re cut off with the screeching of Dr Crane’s chair as he stands up, walking towards the door. Fuck, is he going to leave? Is he going to ask you to leave? Are you being fired out of one of the best looking jobs on your resume? When you hear the click of the lock on the door, you’re not sure if your fate is better or worse than any of the options thought of before. Nevertheless, your body tenses up and your head starts to fog up, whatever is going to happen you don’t think it will be too pleasant.

“You know what? I’m so sick of you always thinking you know better than me,” He slowly walks over to you as he speaks, shoes clicking on the linoleum floor of his office.

“I don’t think that,” you respond, voice strained. Now he’s standing over where you’re seated, forcing you to look upwards at him. You feel so small and powerless in this moment. Maybe, it’s only now and here, in this position, that you finally remember that this man holds your entire future as a psychologist in his hands.

“I want you to remember who has more leverage here, who can get you into the best jobs in the state,” it’s like he can read your mind.

You gulp and close your eyes. You’ve spent the last year and three months of your masters degree and time as a TA under Dr Crane pushing back against him, challenging the man. You’re sure that it’s here, in his locked office that he will give you a piece of his mind before dropping you completely. Leaving you and your master’s thesis to flounder in the last half of it, beg for anyone to aid you in the specific thesis everyone knew only Crane was suitable to supervise at this university. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Please, don’t drop me and my thesis. I won’t challenge you ever again, I’ll do anything you want, please,” you beg, opening your eyes to stare at Crane’s. Hoping the eye contact would connect with some deeper part of him, but his blue eyes stared back, cold and emotionless.

“Anything?” Crane asks, quirking an eyebrow at your begging.

“Yes, anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg you, I’ll mark every assignment myself-”

“Face the table and put your hands on top of it,” Crane demands.

“What?” Your mind short circuits at his request, not expecting something like that.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to challenge me ever again?” Dr Crane sighs, crossing his arms, waiting for you to obey.

You follow his request, placing both your hands on the table, looking down at the dark oak wood. It’s cold underneath your palms, but that doesn’t help with the sweat accumulating onto your palms. Dr Crane hums behind you, seemingly happy with your compliance to his request. He kicks your feet away from the desk, making your butt stick out more.

“Now, I want you to spread your legs for me,” Dr Crane puts a hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh. Your eyebrows furrow, taking a second too long for his liking and earning a slap to the ass, you quickly move to spread your legs.

“Good girl,” Dr Crane hums, massaging the spot where he hit you previously. You whine in response, feeling a heat start to grow in your cunt.

Dr Crane smacks your ass again, a little lighter than before, almost teasing. His other hand is placed on your ass, both hands move down to your thighs, then back up to your ass, this time sliding under your skirt and flipping it up. Your pink panties are visible through the sheer black tights causing Dr Crane to sigh out.

“You feel how hard I am, slut?” Dr Crane asks, you hear the smirk in his voice as he presses his hard-on into your ass. You moan, feeling the weight of it press into your wet cunt and soiled panties.

Quickly Dr Crane rips open the thin fabric of your tights, allowing for direct access to your panties and cunt. He feels your wet heat through your panties, quickly moving them to the side to expose your cunt. You moan as the cold air of his office hits your cunt.

“You’re so wet. Do you let all your professors fuck you? Or am I a sort of desprate case?” Dr Crane cooes, ghosting his fingers over your exposed cunt.

He runs his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your wetness over them before pushing them inside of you. The intrusion is so unexpected it makes you gasp, pull away from it briefly. He fucks you with his fingers shallowly, at a bored pace. You push back onto his fingers, begging for more. Dr Crane removes his finger from your cunt, and you whine in response.

“Fuck, you’re a desperate whore huh?” Dr Crane laughs, giving your ass another harsh slap.

Behind you Dr Crane unzips his pants, freeing his cock. He lines it up with your hole and just stays there. No matter how much you try to push back and whine for him to put it in he isn’t moving.

“You’ve been such a bitch, I don’t think you deserve my cock. Why don’t you beg for it?” you can hear the cocky look on Dr Crane’s face just from his voice. Though it doesn’t seem to matter much as you open your mouth to beg.

“Please Dr Crane, I’ll be such a good girl. You can use me anytime and I’ll never be a bitch again, as long as I have your cock, please doctor please,” you plead, wiggling your hips.

“Good girl.”

Dr Crane pushes inside of you. His cock is average length, but stretches you out in a way no other man ever has. It makes your head spin as he spears you on his cock.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect a whore like you to be so tight,” Dr Crane pants out, putting both of his hands on your waist.

He pulls out of you slowly, before slamming back into your cunt. Setting a brutal pace as soon as he slams back into you a second time. Only faltering when he smacks your ass. You yelp out each time, before pushing back onto his cock. Dr Crane continually stretched you out and hit the most sensitive spots inside of you. Your legs start to shake half way through, the only thing stopping you from crumbling being Dr Crane’s cock and hands. He pushes you back on him each time, almost demanding you take him in further.

“You fuck me so good doctor,” you moan out, “Can I cum doctor?”

“Yeah, cum all over my cock dumb slut,” Dr Crane says, speeding up the pace.

One of his hands reaches down from your hips to your clit, rubbing fast and hard on it. A touch so hard and borderline painful on the sensitive bundle of nerves tips you over the edge in mere seconds. Your knees buckle. Stars flood your vision. Your boss fucking you through the whole thing.

You start to weep from overstimulation, tears welling in your eyes when you come back from your high. Dr Crane is still fucking you in the same brutal pace.

“Sluts like you don’t get breaks until I come too,” Dr Crane snarls out at you and your weeping, earning another sharp smack to your ass.

The tears spill out over your eyes as you cum again all over his cock. Your walls clenching and seizing around Dr Crane so hard his cock becomes painful as it pumps in and out of you.

He speeds up and his pace starts to become more aggressive, until Dr Crane stills inside of you. His cum rushes into your cunt, holding himself inside you after both of you have finally come down from your high. Once Dr Crane pulls out of you, you feel as his cum comes spilling out of your cunt.

“I’ll give you your share of the papers to mark next monday,” Dr Crane says, tucking his cock away and zipping up his pants. “I expect to not hear any confusion about the grading from you, I feel like I explained myself pretty well.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @xanaxiii @luluartpop

[spacequokka]

GOT7 Kinks & Turn-Ons

I’m so GOT7 coded rn. Here I go again interpreting birth charts for my own silly pleasure. Take it with a pinch of salt, ahgases. The way this sat in my drafts for over a year yet only took about an hour to finish. I refused to change the pics for the next comeback so here ya go.

Mark || Venus: Leo, Mars: Libra || Turn On: Praise (Receiving)

He’s twinning with Yeosang in that he just wants to hear he’s making you feel good. Like seriously, let him know when he’s hitting the right spot or tell him no one else is as good as he is. Might also dish it right back because he has that kinda vibe. Can be broody if he feels like you’re not matching his level of intensity as far as the relationship goes, which can be cured with some praise and appreciation.

Jaebeom || Venus: Capricorn, Mars: Capricorn || Kink: Cockwarming

They say stability and trustworthiness are sexy, and Jay B took that personally. He wants to impress you with his endless cool and mature vibes, so when you’re tired of boys, he can be your man. He’s a romantic, so you can expect loads of sweet, traditional gestures. Okay, but what about the Jay B who sang Switch It Up? Read the lyrics. He told us what he likes. So bold. Somewhat traditional, with a bit of spice here and there. After seeing him read mild tame thirst tweets, I truly believe he’d hesitate to try kinky things like choking or spanking, like he just wants to be inside you and hold you close. The promise of the intimacy alone is enough to have him dragging you to bed.

Jackson || Venus: Aries, Mars: Pisces || Kink: Daddy 

If you know me even a little bit you knew this was coming. My GAWD the amount of love and care that seeps from this man’s pores is fucking amazing. He lives to care for and spoil you like no other, wanting to make sure you have everything you could ever need or want. And that translates to his bedroom. Help? This freaky ball of energy is gonna wear you tf out. He legit doesn’t give a fuck how many times you’ve cum, he needs more. Will strive to leave you hoarse from calling him daddy just because he loves to hear you say it. I could write a fucking essay on this istg.

Jinyoung || Venus: Scorpio, Mars: Cancer || Kink: Bondage

Another hill I’ll die on. A king in the streets and a control freak in the sheets. Just the thought of tying you down to his bed is enough to get him going. Loves to tease and torture you until you’re begging to be let go or fucked hard. Wanna be a brat? Face down and ass up with your arms secured behind your back. Being inside you is just a bonus at that point. Go ahead and struggle, it’s cute to him. You’ll be crying with relief when he finally gets inside you.

Youngjae || Venus: Leo, Mars: Leo || Turn On: Collaring (Receiving)

“Mars in Leo natives enjoy sex more than most”--say less. So Jae’s freaky af and I will hear none of this pure cinnamon roll slander. Honestly he’s probably as bad as Jay B. So what does this bub like? A collar. Hear me out. Collaring is one of the freakiest things you can do to someone while also showing them how much you care/love them. He just wants to be yours--mind, body, and soul. In return, you get his unconditional love and unwavering loyalty. He doesn’t mind you taking the lead in bed because he trusts you and your judgment. You touching/pulling on his collar makes all the blood in his body rush down south and it doesn’t take long for him to start begging you to ride him.

BamBam || Venus: Taurus, Mars: Virgo || Turn On: Nipple Play (Giving)

After deeming him a boobie lover, I can’t help but see him as a motor boatin’ son of a bitch. Lives to put his face near your chest and play with it. In bed you can bet he’ll be kissing and biting on your nips until you beg him to stop. Once you start that up, he’s eager to get inside of you just to continue doing it so he can feel you squeeze the life outta his dick.

Yugyeom || Venus: Capricorn, Mars: Capricorn || Kink: Thigh Riding

Lemme be Captain Obvious for a few seconds. You belong on his thigh. He knows it. You know it. So why aren’t you on it? While he loves any form of teasing you, watching you get all worked up to the point of ruining his pants is an experience he can’t live without. It’s lowkey fascinating that it feels that good for you and he barely has to do anything other than force you to keep moving once you reach that peak. His favorite part is watching your cute little face scrunch up as you shiver in his arms. Then he’ll tease you about it while pulling your legs around his waist and unzipping his pants...

[marypaol]

Flowers Upon Your Head

Draco x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader officially crowns the Slytherin Prince of Hogwarts, but what she doesn’t expect is to be crowned his princess. (Not real crowns, but made of flowers.)

Warnings: Talk about praising someone, like hailing them, self doubts in academic work, nothing else I know of.

Sorry if it’s too short; but it’s gotta be one of my favorites besides “Dear Draco”.

Dear Draco

Masterlist

Request Requirements (they’ve been updated!)

The sky was bright blue, sun rays shining bright across all the land of Hogwarts, showcasing the wondrous school that held many intelligent students; now either learning more knowledge or taking their assigned time off.

Two green robes were taking the second option to their best advantage: staying outside in the fresh air and catching up on work.

The both lay on the grass by the Black Lake, the boy leaning against the tree trunk and the girl sitting criss cross next to him.

The boy, platinum blonde hair and known as the bully of the school, had his Potions homework in front of him on his lap. His quill scribbled left and right as he wrote an essay.

The girl, known as the most innocent person in the world who wouldn’t hurt a fly, was previously done with her homework and is now fiddling (or, at least, that’s the word Draco would use to describe what she was doing) with flowers in her hand, tying the stems together to make something the boy didn’t know.

She was well concentrated until she heard a groan escape the boy, her eyes moving from the flower stems to him, raising an eyebrow questionably.

He didn’t look up as did she, instead he was having a glare contest with the paper as he tapped his quill quite frustratingly.

“What’s another word for fragile?”

She thought for a moment, going back to the plants in her hand once she discovered his groan was the reason of nothing serious.

“Delicate? Brittle?” She asked once figuring it out, fingers slightly burning from now finishing the tie of the stems, the nectar from the flowers getting on her fingertips as the stems were tightly wrapped around her hands.

He hummed. “Brittle is good.”

She smiled soft, glad she could help in some way. “Is the essay coming along nicely?”

He chuckled. “With the amount of skill I have in the writing spectrum and your vocabulary, I think it’s going quite well.”

She rolled her eyes this time, knowing he was being sarcastic with the statement he said about himself.

“Dray, don’t worry; I read it during lunch and it looked fine so far. That is if you didn’t ruin it with what you call last minute edits.”

Her teasing tone grabbed a smirk from him that she didn’t see.

She wasn’t mindful of the next occurrence because she was in fact focused on the finishing touches of her crown, but his ears turned from pale to a soft pink color at the nickname.

He scoffed instead to cover it up even though she didn’t see it. “Doubt it.”

She sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to convince him the work was good grade worthy.

He suddenly slapped the paper down in front of her on the grass. “How does this look?”

Despite the aggression he showed in his actions she could hear a little anxiousness in his voice. He was nervous for her reaction.

She still had the flowers in her hands so she didn’t touch the paper in fear of getting things on it, so instead of holding them in front of her she moved them so they were by her shoulder and she looked down at the paper.

Draco’s handwriting covered the paper, perfect cursive with soft swoops in the letters forming great work.

Her eyes scanned it as she read, taking in the information he provided.

She hummed in satisfaction. “Very nice, Dray. Very nice.”

She smiled at him as he took the paper back, this time noticing the pink tint on the tip of his ears.

“You okay?” She asked, oblivious to the reason for his flush.

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

She hummed again, turning her body fully to him. “Don’t worry! Snape will love it. I see it now,” she started, pretending to look of into the distance like she was dreaming. “An ‘Outstanding’!”

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Wouldn’t go that far with it but whatever.”

She scoffed at his negative mindset and, wiping her hands on the grassy ground to get rid of the nectar, grabbed the crown she just previously made. She then turned the scoff on her face to a soft reassuring smile.

“Well, whatever you may think, I think it was wonderful and the good grade I know you’ll get is well deserved.”

She ended her sentence with softly placing the crown on his platinum head, the soft white petals perfectly matching the mob of hair he held.

Draco’s eyes moved upward as if he would be able to see the flowers on his head. The girl laughed, then she smiled once again.

“All hail the Slytherin Prince.” She joked. She expected another eye roll but instead received a soft smirk coming from the corner of his lips, a small chuckle escaping him.

She then moved to sit next to him, their shoulders brushing and cheeks flushing.

His soft looking hands reached out and using his long fingers pulled flower after flower out of the tall grass, each stem producing a satisfying snap when they broke.

Although she kinda felt bad for the flowers, she knew that the roots were still planted into the ground, so that gave her reassurance knowing they’d grow back again.

Still she watched as his own hands messily tied the stems together almost just like she did. When he was finished, his arm reached up as he placed it on her head, the weight of it slightly flattening the top of her hair.

He then leaned in, brushing his nose on her cheek; her face turning a soft tone of red. His head turned so his lips touched her ear lightly. The touch was barely felt, but it was there.

“All hail the Slytherin Princess.”

He whispered it, making the meaning much more meaningful. A soft chill went through her, a warm sense of comfort and nervousness at the same time racing down her spine.

“How’d you know how to tie it?” She asked curiously to hide the nervous warmth flooding through her. She felt his cheeks spread into a smile.

“I watch you, loves; much more than you think.”

Her face flushed as his finger gently booped her nose.

He chuckled low right in her ear. “Aww, don’t get flustered loves; just giving my princess the praise and recognition she deserves.”

Wait.

‘My Princess’?

Thank you for reading! 📖

[sunnys-out]

Alexia, mi reinita, mi amor, mi todo | Alexia Putellas x Reader

A/N: Not me wanting to get this out still on Alexia's birthday like I'm turning an essay in at midnight. Ok honestly I would write a part two of this but that's only if people are interested. Again requests are closed for now.

So it's a little angsty, has a little hurt/comfort (I know this woman gives the best hugs let's be real), and some Alexia fluff.

Based on this prompt list: #4, #20

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack symptoms

WC: 1860

Alexia had resolved it in herself that she would use whatever leverage she had to have you stay at Barcelona. She was not the type to use that card…she was not that kind of player…the type to threaten to leave to get what she wanted, but the thing she wanted was you. She had tried to speak with some of the staff about it but they were “conveniently busy”. With no success, she texts you “Voy a casa, te veo pronto, amor” (I’m going home, I’ll see you soon, love)  before driving over to your shared home.

Barcelona was dragging their feet with regards to your contract of whether you would be renewed or be traded to some other club, some other league, some other country. You had spent 4 years dedicated to Barcelona and had earned your spot in the midfield. The statistics you pulled throughout your career there were phenomenal, the kind that made your girlfriend proud to see because she was there from the beginning. So why was Barcelona playing a cat and mouse game with your livelihood?

______________________________________________________________

“Alexia, mi Reinita, mi amor, mi todo (my little queen, my love, my everything),

You know that I am better with my words written on paper than spoken to you. You still make me nervous when I look at you; I still blush as quickly as I did when we first met. I write this to you because I’m going to America to Bay FC…the deal has been done and the announcements will be out in a couple of weeks, but I wanted you to be the first to know. 

______________________________________________________________

The amount of times that Alexia had found you at that kitchen table with your head covered by your arms crying out your frustrations at another deal that went nowhere. She would never say a word and just quietly wrapped her arms around you and kissed the back of your head before laying hers on it. Once the crying stopped her hand would gently rub your back until eventually you began to move and pulled her into a hug with your head at her abdomen with a quick whisper of “let’s go to sleep”. Her only words would be “of course, cariño (dear)”.

______________________________________________________________

I know how you are mi amor (my love) but fighting the club is not worth it. It is hard to swallow the reality that the club that I grew up watching, grew up to play in, does not carry the same love and dedication I had for them…for me. You were one of the first people I met 4 years ago when I transferred from my club team in Mexico. It was a big move and you were there to just welcome me in, you knew immediately that I did not take change very well and was uncomfortable with everything. 

______________________________________________________________

Alexia, at some point, blocked some sports news outlets on your social media because of how overwhelming the “(y/n) Transfer Rumor” posts were getting for you. You did not want to leave Barcelona, you had made a home there with Alexia and the thought of leaving all of what you had terrified you. 

You could already hear the comments from the “fans” questioning your loyalty, why you couldn’t just confirm that you would be staying at Barça or leaving the team all together, why you were silent on the rumors? Alexia would be there with her head on your shoulder quietly holding you in the kitchen quieting the noises in your head with a simple kiss to the temple.

“Mi princesa, go sit down.. I’ll make dinner” she’d whisper into your hair as she led you to the table and made dinner while you watched with warmth at the woman before you. 

______________________________________________________________

I remember you would tease me about my accent when I spoke Spanish and said you would give me lessons if I made you a bag after you saw me crocheting mine on the bus to my first away game. I know that the Spanish lessons were just a way to spend time with me. You could have asked me to be with you at any point and I would have said yes. I remember you teaching me how to dance in our kitchen one night after saying that I was worried about making a fool out of myself at my brother’s wedding. I’m going to miss our 3 am dances we would do when I was pacing the kitchen stressed out of my mind on this transfer.

As you said, “Here I don’t want you to walk back and forth alone, just dance with me instead…I'm here”. I still remember the feeling of you under my palms; every curve, every line as I would take the lead of the dance and you would look at me calmly guiding my hands like how you did when you first taught me…yeah I’ll miss those quiet moments the most. 

______________________________________________________________

You had not gone to practice that morning due to stomach issues and you had to basically push Alexia out of the door so that she went to practice. 

“I’ll get some rest do not worry, mi Reinita” You say as she answers with a quick kiss.

She grabs her bags and gives another kiss pulling you in,“I’ll be home as soon as I'm done ok?”.

Alexia entered through the doorway of the shared home and saw several moving boxes littered on the floor. Confused, she looks for you as there is not the usual soft music that you play when you are doing chores and finds you wrapped in a blanket sound asleep on the couch.

Her bag is gently put to the ground as she rounds the corner of the couch. She sees the coffee table littered with papers and your phone with an unread message from her.

She quietly looms over the papers, seeing a copy of your original Barcelona contract, the proposal, the rejection to the proposal, another club offer and, finally, the letter to confirm intention to transfer. Your phone lights up with another notification; getting the attention of Alexia who notices the handwritten letter that remained unfinished under your phone. 

You were a semi - heavy sleeper so she picked up the letter and began to read as her soft smile appeared, fell and then reappeared.  The boxes made sense now, you were organizing your things ahead of time to leave. Seems that you received the news that morning, explaining why the staff were busy when Alexia tried her best to speak with them.

She looked down at your handwriting again…she’s so familiar with it as you have always littered her spaces with sticky notes of encouragement, love and everything in between. You always thought she had thrown them away but on your 2nd year anniversary she showed you the box where she had kept every single note that you had written to her. 

It didn’t matter to her; she kept all the ones that said “Hi Ale, can you get some milk?”, “Reinita, there is dinner in the fridge”, “I’m too lazy, I ordered pizza oh and I guess Patri is coming over?’ 

This letter no matter how long she will keep especially close to her.

Alexia sat at the other end of the couch and began to read the last bit of the letter.

______________________________________________________________

I know that I will be so far from you and that you will miss the things that I do. You were always a romantic like that mi amor (my love). That’s why I am going to leave you my favorite book, the one that I always read way too many times and have cried over just as much. The only thing that I ask is that you don’t open it until I am gone and you are missing me. Just saying not to is going to make you want to open the book even more but please listen to me on this one. :)

I don’t know what the fixtures of the NWSL are yet but I know that you will want to -

______________________________________________________________

You stir and stretch out your legs pushing Alexia in the process. The resistance pulled you from your sleep.

Alexia laughs softly as she pats your leg, “Sleep well, cariño (dear)?” 

You only nod as you rub the sleep from your eyes. Without a word, you sit up and look at Alexia who fiddles with the note that you had written. 

“I wish I was at least awake when you found out, amor (love)” you start as you shift over to be closer to her.

“Are you mad at me?” your head now lying on her shoulder.

Alexia looks, almost, offended at the comment as she turns to you.

“This is your decision, cariño, you know that I will support in whatever you do and wherever you go…I’m sad, yes, but seeing you living out your dreams has been a honor for me…so no I’m not mad solamente bien orgullosa de ti (only very proud of you)”.

She pulls you closer, her hand softly rubbing your arm as she hears the small sniffles coming from you.

“Promise me you’ll watch at least one game” you say softly.

Alexia laughs and kisses the top of your head, “Amor, I’ll watch every one”.

______________________________________________________________

The announcement came and went and so did you. You found yourself preparing for the inaugural season for Bay FC. The fans had taken a liking to you immediately and the management welcomed you with open arms. 

Alexia, remained in your shared home that now was quieter without your presence. The spaces that normally were filled with little posts were bare, the days for chores weren’t filled with your questionable music, and Alexia no longer needed to dance in the kitchen at 3 am.

After a particularly hard practice, Alexia returned home missing you more than usual. As she plopped down on the couch her eyes fell on your book that you left behind for her.

She remembered that you had asked her to not open it until you were gone to your new club.

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg, it was the book that you read every year during the summer without fail. No matter how many times you read it, Alexia would see you tear up and close the book to compose yourself before continuing. 

She got the book and opened to the first page and seeing a small, sticky note,

“I miss you, mi reinita”.

Alexia flipped the page and found another one,

“You can text my mom for her soup recipe, she’d only give it to you”

A laugh escapes her as she continues through the book finding more and more of your notes that you had written out. She skips to the end and finds an older looking note.

“I love you, Alexia Putellas…” with the date of your 1st anniversary with Alexia.

And below with newer ink and dated the day that you had left.

“And I… I still love you, even after all of this time”.

[sweetbans29]

Be Here - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: 3 times you pull Caitlin out of her head

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content, not in any sort of timeline order

Word Count: 3.5k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Hello again! This is going to be a part of a small series, I hope you enjoy!

one.

You were over at Caitlin's apartment working on homework. It is silly to think about her doing schoolwork when she is just about to head out for March madness but even the biggest stars still have to do math.

You are locked into writing an essay when you hear her huffing and puffing. You glance over at her to see she looks beyond frustrated. She doesn't notice your gaze on her as she grabs her eraser and violently erases her answer for the 3rd time. When she sets down the eraser she gives the problem yet another try. Your gaze never leaves her as her tongue starts to peak out signaling her focus.

A smile creeps to your lips as Caitlin lets out another huff and puff and throws her pencil up in defeat. Her head hits the page she was just working on and you take the moment to lean over and give her back a little rub.

"I have been on the same problem for the last hour," she groans once she feels your touch. You let out a little laugh. "It's not funny!" She says as she sits up and looks like she is ready to throw in the towel.

You feel bad for your girl and put your hand out asking for her to pass over the problem she was working on. She debates whether she wants to figure it out on her own or if she will give in and allow your help. After a moment, she picks up the page and hands it to you. Following the page, she comes and sits next to you looking down at the problem she could quote word for word.

You skim over the problem and ask, "What have you been trying?" Handing her the problem, you watch as she goes about solving the problem in front of you two. She lets out another adorable puff and takes the paper back like a 10-year-old boy.

She begins working on the problem and you watch her trying to figure it out yourself. You can see where she starts to go wrong and you kiss her shoulder.

"You are overthinking it babe - look here," you say pointing out where she starts to go the wrong way with the problem. You grab the pencil from her hand and kiss her shoulder again trying to get her out of her head. You circle where she starts doing the wrong thing and proceeds to write out the path she should be taking to solve the problem. This just makes her more frustrated that you were able to solve it in a fraction of the time she was.

She lets out a puff and moves further away from you. You notice the small move and lean over to kiss her shoulder again, causing her body to betray her and she shudders.

"Get back over here," you say as you wrap your arm around her torso and bring her back to your side. "You got this," you hand her back the pencil and the paper and let her continue with the small change you made to help guide her in the right direction.

Grabbing the pencil, she continues the problem. After another minute she finishes it and just sits there. You know she is still frustrated. You also know that she is like a kid when she gets frustrated and can easily be pulled out of it with a few little tickles.

Your hand touches her arm and makes its way over her shoulder and down her side. She is too stubborn to make anything of it as she flips the page and continues on the math she didn't want to do in the first place. As your fingers make their way to the bottom of her shirt, you remove your laptop from the bed. Your palm lays flat across her stomach and you begin your attack. Kicking your leg over her, you straddle her as your fingers get to work.

Within seconds, you have her squirming beneath you, begging you to stop.

"Babe! Babe!" She pleads you you between laughs. Her hands trying to grab a hold of yours to stop the torture she would say she's enduring. After a few more minutes, Caitlin gets fed up with being on the bottom brings her leg up hooking under yours, and seamlessly flips you. She takes your surprise to her advantage, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. It is your turn to let out a gasp.

You look up at her with a surprised but knowing face. It surprised you it didn't come to this sooner, typically she only lasts about a minute being tickled before she turns the tables. The knowing comes from where this is going. You give her a smile and try to wiggle your wrists out of her grasp.

"We need to get back to studying," you say but she still doesn't budge. Instead, she shakes her head and leans down to kiss your cheek and then your neck. You lift your head providing her more access, still trying to get your wrists out of her hold.

"I have a better idea," Caitlin says as her lips finally make their way to yours.

two.

It was Iowa's first home game of the season and you were beyond excited to go and watch Caitlin play. You thought it would be fun to have some friends over to get ready and then head to the game all together. As they started to arrive, you blast some music and break out the snacks. Most of your time before the game isn't spent getting ready, but rather talking about everyone's week and driving into the snacks.

You finish getting ready, checking your fit in the mirror. Of course, you are sporting one of Caitlin's jerseys - not only was it one of your favorite things to wear, but it was also one of your girlfriend's favorite things to see you in.

You take a quick photo of yourself sporting the number 22 and shoot over to Caitlin, telling her that she has got this. She never needed luck when it came to being on the court, her skill spoke for themselves.

Once everyone is ready you all head to the gym. You find seats right across from the team bench and settle in right as they begin announcing the starting lineup. You cheer for each player as their names are announced, yelling a little extra when your favorite player is called out.

You all watch as the game unfolds. It was all in all a great game but in the last quarter you can see Caitlin getting stuck in her head. She gets a little more feisty when things don't go the way she wants them to. It comes with her competitive nature. A part of her that you love but isn't always the easiest to navigate.

When the final buzzer rings, the final score has Iowa at a loss of 76-81. You can't see Caitlin's face but you can tell by her body language that she is stuck in her head. Your group makes its way down to the floor and waits for the team. As the team starts heading out from the locker room, you look around for Caitlin.

After looking for about 20 minutes, you start to worry. You see Kate and ask her if she has seen your girlfriend. She mentions that she saw Caitlin exit the locker room before she did. That was odd as Caitlin is typically the last person to leave the lockers. You thank her and continue looking around.

Another 10 minutes pass and you see someone sitting on the ground. You let out a sigh, knowing exactly who it is, and make your way over to your favorite person.

She is staring out with a blank face. You were expecting some sort of version of this when you started to keep track of how many shots Caitlin missed. It wasn't a typical game but this just proved that she is human. Coming up to her, you know there is nothing you can say to make her feel better. So instead of pulling her up and telling her to shake it off, you take a seat next to her. You hear her sigh but nothing is said. You both just sit there and watch the floor slowly empty itself.

It gets to the point where there are only a few people left, all of whom you think are employees of the school. You slowly make your way to your feet and grab Caitlin's bag. You then offer a hand to her which she takes. As you are about to let go of her hand, she intertwines her fingers with yours. You bring her hand and place a kiss on the back of her hand and follow it with three little kisses as a way of saying you love her.

When you get back to your apartment you put Caitlin's stuff down and let her go into your room to shower. As she is in the shower you decide that a batch of brownies would be exactly what you want if you were where she is.

Grabbing the ingredients you begin prepping your kitchen. Caitlin walks out right as you are measuring the dry ingredients. She has a towel in hand as she is drying her hair. She comes around behind you and wraps her arms around your torso, leaning into you.

"Mmmmm, brownies?" She asks as she dips her finger in the melted chocolate you had on the counter.

"Hey! Those are for the brownies!" You gasp as you try to move the chocolate bowl away from her so you can finish mixing the dry ingredients. You whisper 'chocolate stealer' which earns a chuckle from your girlfriend.

Even with the little playful banter, you can tell she is still not completely out of her head yet. She makes her way around the island to take a seat and watch you make your world-famous brownies. As you finish with the mix, you pour the batter into a pan and hit it on the counter to get all the bubbles out. You then pass Caitlin the spoon to lick, knowing it is one of her favorite parts of watching you bake.

Once the pan is in the oven, you take to washing the dishes and then pulling Caitlin onto the couch. You know she wouldn't care what you put on but in the state that she's trying to shake, you put on her favorite - Ted Lasso.

About halfway into the episode, you hear the timer go off. You untangle yourself from Caitlin and make your way to remove the brownies from the oven. Once you do, you take a fork to the center (many people's unpopular opinion but you are out here living your best life and trying to help Caitlin live hers too). You bring a bite over to her, blowing it off to cool it down a little.

She takes the bite and her eyes close, knowing it is healing her soul. A smile builds on her face as she opens her eyes. She points to the pan and gestures for you to bring it over. You let out a laugh and shake your head no.

"It just came out of the oven, it is way too hot," you say knowing that is the exact opposite of what she wants to hear. Not saying a word, she looks up at you with a little pout. You playfully roll your eyes and lean down to kiss her forehead. As much as you think it is a bad idea, you give in and grab the pan of brownies. She sits up on the couch and crosses her legs. You place the pan on a towel to not burn her or the couch and give her the fork. She goes to town on them, occasionally groaning at the chocolatey goodness she is indulging in.

Once she is finished, she places the pan on the coffee table and lays down, placing her head in your lap. You begin to stroke her hair. Looking up at you she mumbles, "Thank you."

You look down at her with a light smile, "It is my genuine pleasure."

You know the thank you is for more than the brownies. The thank you is for sitting in the gym with her and bringing her home safely without trying to force her to feel better. It is for making sure she is taken care of and loved even when she finds it hard to do that for herself. It's for being you.

A smile continues to play on your lips as you lean down and kiss her on the forehead, playing with her hair and continuing to watch Ted Lasso.

three.

Caitlin's birthday is approaching and you know something is bugging her but she hasn't said anything to you abut it yet.

The two of you are hanging out, running some errands on a Friday morning when you sense that she is stuck in her head. This happens every once and a while, typically they are things that she can shake but you have noticed she has been a little more preoccupied than previous times.

As the two of you are grocery shopping, you nudge her arm and ask her, "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," she replies - lies, you think to yourself.

"Okay...well we should start talking about what you want to do for your birthday as it is right around the corner," you say as you pick up some apples. You continue, "Since you won't be here the day of, I was thinking we could do something before you head out of town for your away game." A smile is on your face as you try to get her mood up.

"Ya, sure, whatever," she says as she looks at some dried fruit. You are a little hurt by the response but don't let it show. You know her birthday isn't the biggest deal to her but you love celebrating her and every year she has let you do so to your heart's content. So what was different about this year?

You decide to drop the topic for now and finish your errands without further digging her into the hole inside of her head. When you get back to your joint apartment you decide you just want to plan something small for her this year with the two of you. Nothing too big but still satisfying your desire to celebrate her.

Over the next few days, you get to planning her pre-birthday celebration. Several different ideas come to mind, unsure of what to choose. You decide on a nice dinner at her favorite restaurant then heading back for a lazy evening with all of her favorite movies. As you are making reservations and thinking about what to get her as a gift you struggle. She doesn't need much and you got her a necklace last year. Not wanting to repeat that, you need to figure something out that she will love.

"Hey babe?" You ask as you want to see if you can get any little hint out of her of what she could possibly want.

She looks up at you with a hum.

"I am planning a little birthday thing for you, just the two of us, and want to get your thoughts," you say.

"Sure," she responds and you proceed to tell her the plan you came up with. When you are finished all she gives you is a little nod and then proceeds to go back to whatever it is that she is doing. This upsets but you take a deep breath and decide to try and get her out whatever sort of funk she is in.

"Caitlin, what's going on?" You begin, moving your laptop aside to sit and face her. "You have been more distant these past few days and I don't know what I have done wrong. Is this about your birthday? I know it isn't the most important thing to you but I love celebrating you and that has never bugged you before. If I am overstepping, please let me know and I will give you space but I need you to talk to me so I know what I need to do," you say.

She looks up at you with tired eyes, tears beginning to build in them. Your eyes go wide as you begin to panic. Your mind goes to the worst - she is going to break up with you. You rack your brain for what could have possibly triggered her wanting to end things but you can't think because you are too busy trying to remain calm. Her hand grabs your shaking one as you wait for her to respond.

"You are perfect," is all she says as she brings your hand to her lips.

A tear escapes down your face and you use your other hand to quickly wipe it, hopefully without her noticing. You failed in your attempt as her whole mood shifts once she sees you are crying. She drops your hand and brings you into a hug.

"If I am overstepping, I will step back - we can work out whatever you are feeling but please talk to me Cait, I don't want to lose you," you say holding back sobs that threaten to escape your lips. She squeezes you even closer to her chest as her heart begins to break. It was never her intention to get you thinking that she doesn't want you.

"Oh baby, I am not breaking up with you," she says as she gives you a little rock back and forth.

"You're not?" You say as you let a sob escape and allow yourself to be held.

"No babe. That isn't even close to the reason I have been stuck in my head. I am so sorry that is where your mind went but you can't get rid of me that easily," she says trying to lighten the mood a little. She continues. "I know you love celebrating me and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love that you are working around me being away for a game but if I am honest, the only thing I want is to be with you on my birthday and that isn't possible this year."

The second she says it, you jerk away from her and look at her. She looks a little defeated and sort of embarrassed that was the cause of her being stuck in her head while being with you but she can't help it, you are the only thing she wants.

"That's what this has been about? Not being with you on your actual birthday? You are adorable," you say and lean in to give her a kiss. That then sparks the perfect gift that you can think of to make this all go away - but you were going to let Caitlin sweat a little longer considering she had you thinking that she was going to break up with you. You also had to make the proper arrangements to make it all work out.

After that conversation, you both settle on your original plan of dinner and a night of movies. You promise her that you will do something with the team when everyone gets back and she seems a little more herself when you say that.

Time passes and it gets to the dinner reservation you made. You are both getting ready to make your way out. You check your purse to ensure you have her gift.

Once at the restaurant, you enjoy a beautiful 5-course meal with the perfect wine pairings. The meal was absolutely delicious. When planning the dinner you reached out to the restaurant and planned a special dessert for the evening. As you wait for it, you decide it is the perfect time for her to open her gift. Reaching into your purse you pull out a card and hand it over to her.

She takes the envelope and asks what it is. You laugh at her and tell her to open it to find out. She obliges and you wait for her reaction.

Opening the card it takes her a moment to process what she is seeing and reading. Her head whips up to you with wide eyes.

"You're coming to my game?" She asks looking happier than a kid on Christmas. You nod with a smile.

"It was the only logical thing to get you after that oh-so-serious talk, it was a no-brainer," you say. She begins to stand and you do as well. You meet in the middle in a hug and she whispers 'thank you' in your ear. You give her an extra little squeeze.

As you both sit down, Caitlin can't shake the smile that this gift has brought her. You sit across from her and admire how stunning she looks and are grateful that she is all yours.

AN: Please let me know what you think! I have a few of these in mind. And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[idkwhatever580]

Baby No!

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: Reader finds a mug identical to Natasha's favorite mug and starts plotting...

Warnings: Fake tears, broken glass, swearing, kind of mandala effect, karma? (I don't believe in karma, but it's the easiest way to explain it.

A/N: Hey guys! I feel like I haven't made a serious post in forever and I am having some serious writers block with the requests (I'm so super-duper sorry about that) But I always feel like after writing a few pranks, I get into the gist of things again. However, I might be fooling myself this time since I think I have a 2,000-word essay due next week that I haven't started on and a 1,000-word essay possibly 1,500 words due the following week, so yeah. T-T

Also, this was inspired by that one masc lesbian tiktoker named Alaire. They make a bunch of videos reenacting scenes with their girlfriend who has only ever dated men. They always go like "baby no!" when their gf is crying or about to cry lol.

It was just a normal day for you, driving home from buying groceries and you impulsively decided to stop at your local thrift store to see if they had anything new.

They knew you buy name and saved what they thought would interest you because you frequented their shop so much. You literally got first pick on most of the items they had solely because they love you so much.

So, as you stroll in, you smile and wave at the owner who waves back and nods her head to signal that there is new stuff in the back waiting for you to inspect.

You smile and walk right past all of the racks and shelves that you've sifted through a hundred times before, and you walk into the back and wave at Mary, the sorter.

You walk to your section that they labeled and you immediately frown, you spot a mug that you know.

It's Natasha's favorite mug. The mug has cute handle and was the only one that you could ever find. So, you walk over to it and pick it up wondering if it ended up in the box of things that you donated, possibly on accident. Although you could have sworn Nat was using it just the other day.

You roll your eyes picking it up and remembering that you have cold groceries in the car, you decide that you need to go. While taking it to the register, you decide not to mention anything to Kevin, the cashier, because they would probably give it back to you for free and you hate to leave them without buying a single thing.

You pay for the mug and take it home. Once you get back, you quietly wash the mug and go to put it in its usual spot, but you find that the mug is already there. You have a moment where your brain is stuck trying to put the pieces together, but when it clicks that you just bought a duplicate to the unique mug that Natasha loves so dearly, you start plotting.

You smirk and run upstairs knowing that Nat is in training for another hour or so and you quickly grab the fake blood from your period prank with Nat.

You know that Nat will probably come in on the first floor, and you chill in the basement, where Nat has coincidentally found her mug from you forgetting to put it back after stealing it. You check the time and calculate how long you have.

15 minutes... that's enough time for you to glue a fragment of the dupe coffee mug to your hand mostly carefully so you don't actually cut yourself and pour the blood in a way that it is dripping down your arm from your hand.

Once you are sure it looks amazing from every angle, you smirk and set up the camera. Which probably would have been easier to do with two hands but whatever. You like to do things the hard way sometimes.

Natasha comes in and yells out, "Y/n! I'm home!"

You yelp out pretending to be startled by her voice and you drop the mug on the floor.

Natasha hears the familiar crash of shattering ceramic and runs down to check on you saying, "Y/n? Are you alright?"

You fake a worried face and tone, "Yes! I'm fine baby! Just whatever you do, don't come down here!"

She frowns, "I need to make sure you are okay, I'm coming down okay?"

"Baby No!"

It's too late, she is already rushing down the stairs to check on you, the first thing she sees when she scans the room is you cowering in the middle of the floor with shattered ceramic pieces all around you and one big shard in your hand, "Y/n! Oh my god!"

She runs over, careful not to kick any ceramic pieces around, and carefully takes your hand in hers, "What happened detka?"

She looks into your eyes and you make your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears as she tries to hush you, "No baby, its okay, please don't cry."

You let a few tears slip and say, "but- but you- I-" Your eyes widen as you look down and say, "Nat please don't be mad!"

She furrows her eyebrows reaching in the closet quickly to grab a first aid kit as she sits you on a table to assess your hand.

You frown and rush out, "I was drinking with your mug and then you scared me, and I dropped it and broke your favorite mug!"

She freezes when she realizes exactly what mug you have stabbing into your hand right now, but only briefly. She quickly composes herself and shakes her head, "I don't care baby, mugs are replaceable, you are not."

You quickly smirk at the camera when she looks away but recover when she comes back. She sets up her stuff and stops to look up into your eyes, "Detka? I know this isn't your first rodeo, but this is probably going to hurt like a bitch. I still need you to sit still though, okay?"

You nod your head as she starts to carefully wipe the blood off to try and assess the wound and how many stitches you'll need.

She frowns, "This looks like it should be deeper, but I think it is only superficial. That is a good thing, it means you might not have to go to Bruce, but I'm going to need to take the ceramic shard out before I make any final decisions."

You nod your head, but as she goes to pull it out slowly you yelp and pull your hand away before she can even touch it, "I'm scared! What if I bleed out?"

She shakes her head and holds yours in her hands, "You're not going to bleed out, I promise. If I was worried about that, I would have already taken you to the Med-bay, okay? I just need you to trust me. Take a deep breath, okay?"

You inhale and exhale slowly, and then bring your hand over to hers and nod your head.

When Natasha pulls the cut shard off of your hand though, she sees that it was glued on, and your hand underneath it is completely fine. When you see confusion cross her features, you start giggling, and not long after you are laughing your ass off.

She makes the connection, and her face drops to a glare. "Are you kidding me? I was so concerned about how the hell you even got a piece of ceramic this big into your hand in the first place, and you were just pranking me the whole time?"

You giggle and nod your head, but you forget to tell her about the duplicate mug scenario, so she frowns and says, "Did you seriously break my mug for a prank?"

After thinking about it, you decide to double prank her and nod your head laughing even more, but you realize you crossed the line when she drops down and slowly starts picking up every piece she can, and she starts trying to place them together.

Obviously, this doesn't work, and it crumbles to pieces again, but she sniffs a bit, and you realize the gravity of the situation. You place a hand on her shoulder, and she shrugs you off, so you try to talk to her, "Baby? I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realize it meant that much."

She shakes her head and mumbles out, "My sestra got that mug for me. It was the second thing she ever bought for herself once she got out of the red room, and she gave it to me. She- she's going to be heartbroken when she finds out it's broken. I'm heartbroken that it is broken." She lets a tear fall and then composes herself.

"Wow, I- I never knew, I'm so sorry. Can't we just find one on ebay or something?"

Nat lets out a frustrated huff and stands up and she starts cleaning the glass off the floor as she rants, "No! I can't find one on ebay, don't you think I've tried? Don't you think I know how clumsy and stupid you are, and was trying to be prepared for a situation like this to happen because you never ever listened to me when I told you not to touch my mug, but you're Y/N so you have to break the rules! I just didn't realize that the reason I would need such a duplicate would be because you are so careless and awful that you'd break this!"

Your jaw drops a bit at her rant, and you try to find words as Nat huffs and starts calming her breathing. You are a little hurt by her words which, on one side, you don't have a right to be hurt because you are the one that wanted to do a prank, but on the other hand, Nat just admitted that she never initially trusted you with her mug which really hurts. "I- I don't know what to say..."

Nat sighs and mumbles, "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I am just frustrated and I-"

You put your hand up to stop her and move to open a drawer and grab the original mug. You hold it in your hands, "I found a mug that looked exactly like yours at the thrift store today. I thought it would be some harmless fun to smash the duplicate one and prank you, but I'm realizing that I may have taken it too far."

You try to not let the fact that you are incredibly hurt show, but you are not the black widow or anything, so you just start on your own rant. "I know it was heartless and cruel of me to play this kind of prank on you. In my defense you never told me the story behind the mug, so I didn't realize how much it meant to you. Now... I am very sorry that I broke the duplicate on purpose, but here is your precious mug that you clearly don't trust my clumsy ass with. And most of all, I'm sorry that you never trusted me enough with it in the first place, so much so, that you thought you had to find it online so that I wouldn't hurt your precious mug."

You softly, but firmly, push the original mug into Natasha's hand and step back. You turn to go upstairs and inevitably lock yourself in the bathroom or something, but Nat says, "Y/n wait! I- I didn't mean it, I was just angry, okay? People say things that they don't mean when they get angry."

You huff and turn around and hold up your pointer finger, "No Natasha, you’re lying to me, want to know how I know that you are lying? Natasha Romanoff does not say hurtful things when she gets angry. Maybe I do, maybe Yelena and Tony and Steve and Alexie and so many others do, but not Natasha. No..."

You pause and start using every name in the book you can come up with, "Natalie Rushman stays calm and collected when she is angry, Fanny Longbottom takes a step back and thinks before she speaks, Natalia Romanova is calculative and smooth with her words. So, no... Do not tell me that MY Natalia Alianovna Romanova has suddenly had a change of heart, and suddenly starts spewing nonsense that she doesn't mean when she is angry, because that is a lie. The Nat I know, has more self-control than anyone on this earth, the Talia I know does not say something that she doesn't mean unless she knows I will catch her joke or understand her sarcasm, the Natty I know doesn't lie for things like this. So don't go and say something just to make me feel better after you spoke your truth, even if it did hurt my feelings..."

You take a deep breath and look deep into her eyes, "And before you say it, I know I have no right to be hurt over how you felt when I broke your mug, but you and I both know it goes so much deeper than just a mug. I get why you were angry and frustrated, I really do, and I understand why you said those hurtful things, you had every right to do it. Those hurtful things were at least truthful, I just wish you didn't feel the need to lie to save my peace. I wish you'd have told me that you didn't trust me with something that meant so much to you. It probably would have saved a lot of hurt."

She opens and closes her mouth to try and come up with something. Anything. She sighs eventually and nods her head, “you’re right. I should have just told you, it’s no excuse but I thought it would be better if I kept it a secret, but now I see that I was wrong. I'm sorry baby."

You hum and say, "Honestly, I'd have done the same thing. So, sorry for getting all pissy about it, you were just trying to look out for me, but unfortunately it was a lose-lose situation for the both of us." Thankfully, your ADHD brain jumps topics swiftly when there is an awkward pause, and you say, "I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Let's make dinner!"

You both go upstairs and start cooking y'alls dinner and live happily ever after. ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey guys, so this has been in my drafts for a few weeks now, and I am just really trying to get it out to y'all, so it is super rushed at the end. I honestly don't even remember where I was going with it, but I had enough to bullshit it. I hope y'all like it!

Also, I am going to stop writing for a while, I think college is really catching up to me, and honestly, I am only apologizing to the people who I promised I'd write their fics. I really got in over my head and I am so so sorry. If I end up writing those fics, it is definitely going to be a surprise for the both of us. I might write a few things every now and then, or if your request can be shortened then I might do that. BUT that is only if I am inspired to write. Once again, I do apologize for breaking a promise, but I have to prioritize myself and I can't apologize for that.

Also Also, I have not been super active on tumblr recently, so if I don't reply or I am not interacting with your posts as I usually would, I am okay, and I pinky promise I am not going to do anything concerning. Maybe I break my normal promises, but you best believe I hold true to my pinky promises.

Masterlist

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao @mrsrushman @kkreader78o @cheekysnake

[alltheselights]

i still think about this blog post all the time

We don’t really know anything about One Direction. You can look at a hundred thousand pictures of someone and still not understand what it is like to be in the same room as them. You can be in the same room with them, watch them cavort onstage or even interact with them personally, and still know nothing about who they are. You can research meticulously, write a hundred thousand words about the heat rising off their skin and the quickenings of their heart, and still never touch the truth of what they are feeling, what they have felt. We cannot reach their truths if they choose not to tell them to us.

They’ve learned to be guarded, and thank goodness for that, since this world is so hungry for access to them. The demands of celebrity, the difficulty of navigating a public life as well as a private one — it’s enough to warrant another essay altogether. Suffice it to say that when myths are at play, insisting upon truth is dangerous. Believe in them, if you want; believe they’re yours, but don’t believe they’re yours alone, and don’t believe you hold their secrets.

See, at this point, the truth — the capital-T Truth of One Direction — is mostly meaningless. We actually do know One Direction — it’s just that we know them as characters, as archetypes, as the stuff of stories. Lazy journalists like to talk about how rock stars are worshipped like gods but it is true that One Direction form a kind of five-point pantheon, a collection of figures with their own known attributes and traits that come together to be all-powerful. We’d recognize their symbols anywhere, well enough to ace a pop quiz: To whom is the banana sacred? Who is known alternately as the possum and the lion? Which member would you call upon for the lifting of a heavy object? We know that Zayn is as both as beautiful as Aphrodite and as merry as Pan; we understand that Niall is the heart of the band the same way we know Yggdrasil lives at the center of the world. They become stories so easily, cast and recast again into new shapes, fitted against existing stories to gain new perspectives. Their smallest moves become metaphors. Their grandest gestures can be enough to anchor us to a new day.

We’ve already heard this week about how One Direction has a unique capacity to awaken anew a sense of wonder and joy in the universe, to ease pain and to diminish wrongs. When I say One Direction is a myth, what I mean is: One Direction, like any good myth, help us tell stories about ourselves to ourselves. One Direction help us unravel the great mystery and terror of being alive in the universe. One Direction help us make sense of the shapes of things, help us see what a person can be or could be or could embody: luck, strength, charm, joy, grace. We adorn our bodies in honor of them, we paste icons of them on our walls. We whisper and shout and sing their words, in the good times and in the bad ones. They are for us, and we can always rely on their magic. They’ll be gone someday, of course, but that doesn’t mean they will be really gone; Troy fell thousands of years ago and my high school mascot was still the Trojans. One Direction will part ways and pass from this earth, as everything eventually must, but who knows the last time a mother will turn to her daughter and whisper once more the ancient proverb: “They were just normal guys, but terrible, terrible dancers.”

[amourcheol]

filmbro-zoned (teaser)

❝Who knew all it takes is a hot girl with top-tier taste for a man to admit he's wrong?❞

g e n r e : college! au, fluff, crack, suggestive

w o r d c o u n t : 1k for teaser (approx 20k words for full fic)

s u m m a r y : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slams his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

w a r n i n g s : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, mc is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual sex because im fearing god today, barbenheimer reference <3

p l a y l i s t : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : who would have thought i'd be writing a college au huh...alice will never let me live this down...also guys once again so sorry for constantly posting this hopefully i have found a way for the loophole...let us see if this teaser gets shown in the tags...

“WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON WOLF OF WALL STREET, AMERICAN PSYCHO, PULP FICTION…FIGHT CLUB, SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, SCARFACE…”

You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.

“This ex of yours has an…interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”

“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.” 

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”

“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”

Right. 

Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. 

What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis. 

It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”

The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.” 

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!” 

Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”

The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” 

Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”

Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”

That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”

He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.

So much for minding his business.

“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”

As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”

“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”

“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”

Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”

“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”

Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.

“What master plan?”

He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.

The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.” 

[kelstey]

the smiths

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings: none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

you were in hogsmeade, in a small little coffee shop tucked away from the crowded village. exam season was absolutely beating your ass and you loathed it but knew you had to revise.

you were about 2 essays deep - yet you wouldn't be able to tell anyone what was in them if they asked. all your 'revision' was going in one ear and out the other into a drain.

you threw your head back in frustration, unable to concentrate on a singular thing. all you were writing was rubbish and were sure that once you read them back would be utter gibberish.

you got up form the window seat, walking over to the counter to order your fourth coffee of the day. it was also only iam.

your day was meant to be motivational - but you were struggling to even stay awake let alone concentrated. you heard the bell from the door opening ding, not even having an ounce of energy to turn around.

you waited for your iced coffee, oblivious to mattheo riddle stood next to you. "the coffee's here must be good," your head turned to the voice.

"sorry?" you were confused.

he pointed to your lone 'study' area, three mugs of empty coffee scattered around. "how are you not bouncing off the walls?".

your eyes met back with his warm brown ones,"exams are killing me. i need any ounce of caffeine i can get."

"mind if i join your little study session? maybe a study buddy might help," a cute smile was present on his face.

"i suppose," you smiled back. you paid for yet another coffee and headed back to your seat, waiting for mattheo.

the two of you had never really spoke much - maybe a couple words had been exchanged but no where enough to call him a 'friend'. you couldn't deny though, he was absolutely dreamy.

but you were sure the countless of girls he had wrapped around his finger told him everyday. you were too far deep in your thoughts to notice he had made his way over to you.

"nice hand writing," he complimented the countless piles of parchment over the small table.

you nodded, unsure how to reply. "anything in particular you want to study?" you asked.

"could do with some help with astrology, it absolutely kills me," he chuckled.

"oh i love astrology, one of the very few subjects i actually enjoy," you started to go into depth about astrology.

mattheo wanted to listen to you - but he was truly entranced on your gorgeous looks and the way you were so passionate about astrology. the way your hair looked effortlessly done, your eyes twinkling when you got super into a particular

subject.

"mattheo? you there?" you giggled. mattheo was snapped out of his thoughts with the way his name rolled off of your tongue so perfectly.

"i'd be lying if i said i wasn't admiring you," he smiled and you could feel your stomach going flips.

"how many of your little girlfriends do you also say that to?" you teased him.

"just you," he shot you a wink.

"sure," you gave him an unsure look. "i better get going, i told luna i'd go over some potions stuff with her."

mattheo was disappointed to see you leave, truly savouring every moment he had with you. "will i be seeing you again soon?".

"hopefully, maybe next time you'll maybe be focused on the work," you joked about his clear un-amusement in studying, more so studying you instead.

"i'll wish on a shooting star," he shot you a killer smile. you waved him off, putting your earphones in as you played the smiths.

the music was blasted in your ears, mattheo's ears perking up at the familiar song. you left the cafe, makine vour way to luna's dorm.

you were too absorbed in the smith's, oblivious to the brunette boy chasing up to you. you felt a tap in your shoulder, you turned around and took an earphone out.

"back so soon?" you giggled at his flushed cheeks.

"i love the smiths," he said.

"sorry?" you were slightly disorientated.

"i said i love the smiths."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[kaleidohscopic]

SWEET — BBH

PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader SUMMARY: it's one thing to run into the guy you maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for at your mutual friends' birthday party. it's another thing to find out he maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for you too. GENRE: friends (ish) to lovers! au, romance, a hint of smut, some pining if you squint WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, jenkai (humour me), wayyyy too much sexual tension, it gets a little hot and heavy towards the end but nothing super explicit (bc idk how to write that stuff sorry!), general mature content and themes WORD COUNT: 4.4k NOTE: super self-indulgent w barely any plot or characterisation (basically four thousand something words of foreplay lol), i saw that video of baek at one of the lonsdaleite stops unbuttoning his shirt and it drove me a little loopy ngl...

The last time you had seen Byun Baekhyun was two years ago.

Graduation. Gowns. Bouquets. There was probably a photo of the two of you, along with the rest of your cohort, sitting around somewhere in the depths of your camera roll, fresh-faced and eager to take on the exciting new world outside of 3000-word essays and 9 am tutorials. Four years taking variations of the same courses and bitching about the same tutors meant you were far from strangers, but sadly, the friendship had dwindled once you’d left the classrooms for good — something you had been just a little gutted about. These days, his appearances in your life were rare, save for the times he’d come up in conversation with the friends you both shared back in the day, or his sporadic likes on your instagram posts.

Except now, of course, as you watched him climb up the stairs to the rooftop bar, gift bag in one hand and suit jacket in the other.

“Happy birthday!” he beamed, enveloping your best friend in a hug. The fabric of his shirt strained against the movement of his arms, and you caught a whiff of his delicious woody cologne as he approached. 

You had known there’d be a possibility he’d show up today. This year, Jennie had made the enlightened decision to throw a joint celebration with her boyfriend, and obviously that entailed inviting all of his friends — which honestly, wasn’t even that many extra heads since Jongin only ever spoke to the same eight people. You’d seen Baekhyun’s name on the guest list that you had helped her put together, and seen it again listed under the ‘going’ tab of the event, but having the real deal in front of you was another experience entirely.

Crisp white button down with the sleeves rolled up, fitted slacks, and just a glimpse of his toned chest peeking out from where the top few of his shirt buttons were undone.

He looked fucking good. 

Even better than he did two years ago.

Jennie squeezed him back with just as much fervour. “So glad you could make it! Jongin’s been stuck to my side all night with no one to talk to, he’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

He pulled back with a chuckle, and it was then that he finally laid eyes on you, seated next to the birthday girl, holding matching martinis, and doing your best not to look like you had been shamelessly checking him out for the entire 45 seconds since he had arrived. His eyes widened slightly with recognition as your name left his mouth.

“You haven’t forgotten each other, right?” Jennie laughed. The descent of his eyes down the length of you was quick, but not careless, and heat flared in your body all the same. When his gaze returned back to your face, the beginnings of an appreciative smile were shaping the curve of his mouth.

“Not yet, I hope,” he answered her, but his eyes were still on you. “Nice seeing you again. You look good.”

“So do you, Baekhyun,” you replied, because it was the truth. His smile only grew. 

Jennie tipped back the rest of her martini and bade the both of you a hasty farewell, saying something about fixing up the photo zone as she hurried towards the other end of the rooftop. A few of the girls, too excited about the open bar, had knocked the cushions onto the ground, and were doing a poor job of rearranging them back on the wooden swing.

He slid into her now-vacant seat, elbows resting on the bar counter, giving you an excellent view of the shape of his forearms and the veins that adorned it. 

“You’re not going to have that?” he asked, nodding at the sad little olive that sat all alone at the bottom of your empty glass. 

“Not a fan of the saltiness,” you answered, and offered it to him. You watched as he plucked the garnish stick out of your fingers and put the olive in his mouth with no hesitation, eyes lingering a little too long on the movement of his throat as he swallowed it. “I like sweet things better.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he chuckled. “You used to only ever drink vodka cranberries.”

Suddenly, you were twenty-one again, peering through the cafe window and getting a little too giddy at the thought of meeting up outside of the stuffy tutorial classroom to work on the project you had both been assigned to. You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that a crush on Baekhyun was something you never entertained throughout your four years of university together. And maybe it had been reciprocated, for the briefest of times, just after that joint presentation on data structures, where the thought of stepping over from friendly more-than-acquaintances into something more had crossed your mind enough times for you to lose count. There had been something there, or at the very least a hint of something, in the nights spent crammed into a tiny library booth meant only for one person, poring over stale and tedious papers on algorithm organisations in each other’s company.

But nothing had happened. He hadn’t made a move, and neither had you, laden with the fear of rejection that was so indicative of youth. And maybe that had been a huge misplay on your part, because a few weeks after wrapping up the project that had brought you together, he was at your faculty’s monthly pub crawl, introducing you to his new girlfriend, who had actually asked him out just the day before. 

Safe to say that had been the end of that. You were not the type to homewreck.

“How long has it been? I feel like I haven’t seen you since — god, it must have been graduation?” 

“Something like that,” you replied through a smile. “I still have the photos on my phone.”

“So do I,” he said, flashing you a boyish grin. Then, as if doubting the accuracy of his own words, he promptly pulled out his phone and began scrolling towards the top, brows furrowed with determination. It was a few seconds later that he found what he was looking for, turning the screen towards you with a triumphant noise. 

The picture had been taken outside the ceremony hall, set against the familiar sea of graduation gowns, but that was the only familiar thing about it. In the foreground stood just you and Baekhyun, not stiffly posing for the camera as you had been in all of the group shots that existed on your phone, but turned towards each other, faces bursting with elated smiles. Neither of you looked to be aware that there was even a camera on you. The you in the photo had your mouth half open in the tell-tale way it always did when you were about to laugh at the ridiculously corny jokes he loved to crack. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, partially from the glare of the sun overhead — the weather had been phenomenal for the usual gloominess of May — and partially in delight at your reaction, having cracked said joke. 

“I’ve never seen this one before. Did you forget to Airdrop this to me on the day?” you asked, a joking accusation colouring your voice. 

“My mum only sent it to me a whole month later. I didn’t even know she had taken these,” he said, zooming in to better see the expressions on your upturned faces. “We look so happy here,” he added, voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

“And young,” you agreed, but not without a sigh. The you of two years ago had yet to know the pains of having seven different bills to pay every month, and watching the money trickle out of your bank account like water from a leaking tap.

He gave you a gentle, teasing nudge with his elbow. “We’re not that old now. We could definitely still pass as twenty somethings.”

“That’s probably because we are still actually twenty somethings,” you countered with a laugh. 

There was an unprecedented ease with which you fell into conversation with Baekhyun. Despite the considerable gap of silence between now and the last time you had seen him, there was nothing in his demeanour or your own that indicated just how much time had passed. It was rather comforting to see a face from your university days, and even better that that face was still as gorgeous as ever.

You watched as he flicked through a few more photos from the day, mostly of him and his friends from university — one of whom was the other main event of tonight — until he landed on a picture of him with his girlfriend. You recognised the photo, seeing as you had been the one who offered to take it. He had an arm around her waist while she carried a huge bouquet with a teddy bear sitting atop the arrangement.

“Didn’t I help you order that thing?” you asked, pointing to the flowers in her hand. He hummed in agreement, but didn’t say much else, scrolling through to the next photos with his parents, which had also been taken by you. They stood on either side of him, beaming with pride, and then there were a few after that with his girlfriend as well, the four of them all standing together and looking picture-perfect. 

Perhaps the you of today would have chosen differently, found the balls to ask him out first — because what was the use in sitting and waiting around for the guy to make the first move? — and maybe you’d be the one in the photo instead, smiling up at the camera, an integral part of the family portrait. Maybe he’d be running his fingers across the inner curve of your wrist, instead of along the rim of the gin and tonic he had just ordered.

“She couldn’t make it today? Or was she not invited?” you asked, having not seen anyone walk in behind him. Although you hadn’t been paying much attention to anything else since he arrived, and if she had been here, you doubted she’d be all too pleased with how close your heads were, even if he was just showing you through his camera roll. With that in mind, you drew back slightly, just enough to catch the expression on his face twisted with an odd sort of surprise.

After a second or so, it melted into an easy-going grin.

“We broke up a while ago. A month or two after graduation, actually.”

Oh.

You and your big mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know — I shouldn’t have —”

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” he reassured, waving off your clumsy apologies. “Things just didn’t work out and we weren’t right for each other. It was a pretty amicable break, all things considered. But now, I get to sleep however I want in my own bed, so I really can’t complain,” he added, fishing another laugh out of you.

“Nothing beats starfishing in your sleep after a long day,” you hummed in agreement. Wednesday nights in your bedroom after a full day of client meetings could attest to that.  

Baekhyun took a slow sip, pulling the drink into his mouth with a contemplative carefulness, and weighed up his words before he spoke again. 

“What about you? Still with Jinyoung?” he asked, tone light and regarding you with curious eyes. Without meaning to, you let out a groan, and his left eyebrow quirked with interest. 

“Don’t even go there,” you half-grimaced, reminded of the fling you had towards the end of fourth year with the business major. He was pretty, and had been nice enough, but by the fifth time he blew off spending time with you so that he could track the world stock indexes, it had become pretty clear that the two of you were on different paths in life. The sex was okay, but it had not been enough to warrant any more than a few late night rendezvous. For all you knew, he was probably now a very successful investment banker with 90 hour work weeks and making a shit-load of money you could only dream about having. 

You sighed, drumming your fingers against the counter. “Let’s just say, he was more interested in looking at his dividend yields than he was in me.”

Baekhyun’s gaze flickered over the rest of you again, taking in the ridges of your collarbone and the soft curve of your waist, the touch of his eyes hovering above your skin like a tangible thing. You tried your best to look unaffected, forcing yourself to remain still under the weight of his stare despite the way it was melting you down to your bones.

“He definitely did not have his priorities in order,” he said, once his eyes ended their journey and returned back to your face. “You’re much nicer to look at.”

His words settled beneath your skin, pulling a sweet warmth to your cheeks that slowly radiated through the rest of your body. You watched as his mouth curved around the rim of his glass again, and followed the path of the drink down the length of his throat. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

He rewarded you with a sly smile. 

“Then maybe you don’t know any better.”

Christ. Those were definitely bedroom eyes.

Your lips parted again, though you had little idea as to the words which were preparing to come out of them. Forming coherent and decent thoughts proved to be a great struggle when he looked like he was undressing you with his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and you swore you could have crumpled right then and there if it hadn’t been for the bar stool underneath you. 

“Baekhyun, you’re finally here,” said a giggly Jongin, suddenly appearing between the two of you with Jennie in tow.

The tension from seconds earlier dissipated as quickly as it had formed. 

Someone (the birthday boy) had evidently made good use of the open bar to shed the self-imposed shell that came with introversion before the arrival of his friend. “I’m so, so happy to see you. We need to do some shots right now,” he said, now all serious, leaning over to peer at the drinks menu that he himself had signed off on. 

Baekhyun was the first to break eye contact, turning to flash Jongin a fond smile. “Sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had,” he said, before downing the rest of his gin and tonic. 

The birthday girl requested tequila shots, and the bartender was quick to supply, lining up four glasses and filling them with the clear alcohol that was a recurring character in all your worst hangover episodes. You passed them around, but not before turning back around to the bar for one more thing. 

“And a vodka cranberry, please,” you added, catching the amused smile Baekhyun threw your way. 

“For old time’s sake.”

It was approaching the early hours of the morning when the remainder of the party retired to the hotel suite Jennie had booked for the night. One of her chill, moody, late-night R&B playlists had been queued up and was playing softly on the speaker system in the living room — she had a playlist for every conceivable mood and situation — and you could just make out the melody of a Daniel Caesar song, quiet and soothing against the nighttime.

“Okay, you win,” Baekhyun conceded with amusement, sitting up to grab the soju bottle from your outstretched hand. “I’ve never had someone throw up on me, at least not on the first date.” He settled back against the pillows, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a small, slow sip. 

“Thanks, but it’s a victory I’d rather not have. There’s no pride in knowing I’m the only person I know to have a guy spew all over my shoes within ten minutes of meeting me,” you said, leaning back and letting your hands sink into the plush comforter. 

Some thirty or so minutes ago, you had found yourself in one of the smaller rooms of the suite, sitting across from Baekhyun with nothing but a few inches of egyptian cotton separating you. All night, you had felt his presence, whether it was the light brush of his warm fingers across the bare skin of your shoulder to grab your attention, or the weight of his stare from across the rooftop bar while you posed for pictures with Jennie and the rest of the girls. He had infiltrated your senses, occupying his own little space in the corner of your consciousness. Right now, having the whole of him so unobstructed before you, being the sole focus of his attention within the four walls of this small room — it was obvious that the alcohol wasn’t the only thing bringing a heady warmth to your face.

He levelled you with a careful look, and instead of handing the bottle back to you as he had done for the last thirty minutes, he set it onto the nightstand beside the bed with a soft clink. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“I think you should probably slow down,” he said, catching the curious tilt of your head. “Wouldn’t want you to do something you regret.”

You let a coy smile turn the corners of your mouth upward, shifting your weight off your hands and leaning towards him ever so slightly. “Trust me, I know my limits,” you said, and moved to grab the bottle. 

The hand you placed on the top of his thigh to steady yourself as you reached over him was deliberate, and you failed to hide the deepening of your smile when you felt the muscles flex beneath your fingers. You also didn’t miss the dip of his eyes below the neckline of your dress as you hovered over him, only pulling back once the cool glass of the bottleneck was firmly in your grasp. The glimmer in his eyes, previously light and boyish, had darkened imperceptibly.

You were playing a dangerous game, and you both knew it.

Beyond the door, Jennie’s playlist had changed to something a little more sultry, Kehlani’s honeyed voice now floating among the sounds of the city from below. His gaze remained on you as you raised the bottle to your lips, tilting it back and letting the tartness of the grape soju fill your mouth. 

The song wasn’t the only thing that had changed. There was a palpable shift in the room, a simmering heat gradually seeping into the atmosphere, brought on by your brazen touch. Still, he kept a safe distance, giving you the reins and the freedom to dispel the tension you had created. 

Which you had absolutely no intention to. 

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, relishing in the way his eyes immediately left yours to track the movement. “You know,” you began, turning the bottle over in your hands, “I used to have a bit of a thing for you.”

His eyebrows raised with interest, but there was also a hint of surprise layered beneath.

“Third year, that data algorithms project. I thought a lot about asking you out, actually,” you continued, watching as his face slowly took on a smile at your words. A soft laugh escaped those pretty lips, as if he was enjoying some private joke that you weren’t in on. Without meaning to, you leaned in, drawn to the sound, wanting to understand the amusement behind it. 

“You wanna know something?” he asked, to which you weren’t sure if you had actually nodded, or if you had only imagined that you did, too preoccupied by the inviting curve of his mouth.

He was all too willing to comply with the unspoken request behind your curious eyes, moving forward at a languid pace, until his lips hovered just over the shell of your ear, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the fluttering pull of air with each of his inhales and exhales. You could smell him too, his cologne now infused with the scent of his skin over the course of the evening, smooth and sweet, and much too dizzying. 

His cheek brushed yours for a fraction of a second before you registered the conspiratorial whisper in your ear.

“So did I.”

You hadn’t even realised your own eyes had closed until they were fluttering open with his departure from your space. He pulled back, eyes gleaming with a furtive satisfaction like he had just let you in on some big, juicy, forbidden secret. It took a while for your chest to start pulling oxygen back into your lungs again. How he could render you so breathless when he had barely even touched you — you would’ve been embarrassed if not for the foggy warmth circling your head and radiating throughout the rest of your body, leaving you oblivious to everything but the sheer force of how much you wanted him.

He reached for the bottle, now almost empty, and you fought the flinch when you felt his fingers close around your hand. This time, you didn’t complain when he removed it from your grasp and set it back on the nightstand. The warmth of his hand did not leave yours, flipping it over to trail his fingers lightly across your knuckles. 

“These are pretty,” he murmured, thumbing at the rings decorating your fingers. You could only manage a noncommittal hum in response. His touch had stolen your voice right out of your chest, along with all the rationality usually contained inside your mind, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of your own blood thrumming in your veins, hot and fast beneath your skin. 

All night, you had danced around each other, stealing furtive glances and exchanging flirty smiles, carefully toeing around the edge of politeness and propriety. And maybe Baekhyun was just too polite, too respectful, letting you take the wheel and steer tonight in whichever direction you wanted, despite the want that was so clearly etched on his face. 

Surely, your face was a mirror of his own. Surely, he could tell.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, unfurling your fingers to lace his own through them. The press of his warm skin against yours had you light-headed and almost delirious, but you forced your gaze to stay steady on him while you tried to find your voice again.

“I’m thinking,” you began, low and breathy, “about how you’ve been eye-fucking me this whole night.” 

His sharp inhale was unmistakable above the quiet of the room. A meteor could have landed right outside the building and you wouldn’t even have noticed, held captive by his dangerous touch and the hunger flaring in his eyes. 

“And,” you continued, “how I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it ever since you shut that door.”

The second after the words left your mouth seemed to stretch across an eternity. You watched as he registered them, transfixed by how his whole body seemed to cloud over with desire, pushing out any remaining trace of restraint.

One moment you were sitting on the bed, revelling in the delicious tension you had created, and the next he had pulled you flush against him. His mouth was on yours, hot and needy, the self-control he had been so meticulously keeping to for the entire night disappearing the instant he felt your lips move against his own. You were no better, hands leaving his to fist desperately at the fabric of his shirt. An airy moan left your throat when his tongue brushed against yours, letting you taste the sweetness you had been imagining ever since you laid eyes on him on the rooftop. He swallowed the sound, the plump flesh of his bottom lip tightening into a pleased smile at your reaction.

Baekhyun pulled away first, lips leaving yours to trail across your cheek and down the side of your neck, where you felt the light graze of his teeth over the skin, and then the wetness of his tongue following the same path. His hands had snaked around you, fingers digging into the curve of your waist, keeping you in place while he nipped at you, drawing stilted gasps out of your parted mouth. When he pulled the flesh into the warmth of his mouth and sucked it to a nice, dark bruise, the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach flared, violent and hungry. 

You were going to lose your mind.

“You know, you could just try again,” you managed to get out between heaving breaths. “Ask me out.”

“Would you say yes?” he asked, and you felt his lips shape the words against your skin. They dragged back up the column of your throat, capturing your mouth again with another heated kiss that had your head spinning. He shifted, and your knees came to rest on either side of his leg, the firm muscles of his thigh pressing against the part of you that ached for his touch. In the haze of this moment, you didn’t know much, but you knew you would’ve said yes to absolutely anything to come out of that sweet, tempting mouth. 

Still, you played along, letting a devious smile pull the corners of your mouth upwards. “That depends on how tonight goes.”

He drew back slightly, fixing you with a wicked look that held promises he was nothing short of determined to fulfil. You could see yourself reflected in the darkness of his blown-out pupils, flushed and already wrecked just from the attention of his mouth. Anticipation and thrill jolted through you like lightning, zipping through every cell in your body as your mind drifted to what he might have in store behind those enticing eyes. 

You weren’t left wondering for long. His hands left your waist and moved to your calf, pushing up the silken fabric of your dress as they slowly crept upwards, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The brush of his fingers against your inner thigh drew another shuddering breath out of you. 

His next words were not unlike an oath.

“Then I’d better make tonight fucking spectacular.”

[writteninkat]

Adoration's Abyss | Bakugou , Stalker Reader

synopsis: He was the untouchable star, and I was just another face in the crowd—until I wasn’t. What starts as admiration spirals into something far darker when love turns to obsession, and boundaries blur between devotion and delusion. You really are different from other girls… but at what cost?

w/c: idk i was hoping for 5k, i hope it reached

warnings: stalking

a/n: hey i wrote this while i was at the beach for five days. update on my life: been getting into poetry and essay writing again. finally had the balls to share my work with my friends and family lol

navigation

The moment I saw him, the world folded itself into something smaller, something manageable, as if the chaos of existence could be trimmed to fit within the orbit of his gaze. Katsuki Bakugou: a name that rippled through crowds like a thunderclap, his presence igniting every room he entered with the ferocity of a supernova. He wasn’t just an idol; he was a phenomenon, a living pyre burning too bright for ordinary mortals.

And yet, there I was. Just another face in the sea of adoration, clutching my ticket to the meet-and-greet like it was a lifeline to salvation.

“Hi, Katsuki! I loved you in—”

He cut me off, sharp as a blade but not unkind. “In Beyond the Blast?” His voice was rough, gravelly—a symphony of jagged edges.

I faltered. Did I seem too predictable? Too common? A sheep in the flock of screaming fans? My heart plummeted.

“Pouts are overrated,” I said, forcing a small smile, my voice softening into something calculatedly vulnerable. “I want to be different. Not just like…other girls. I loved you in the Eclipsed show, but also in Burning Hearts, Live Loud, Infrno's Edge...” I trailed off, naming a more obscure project, the kind only the most dedicated fans would know. I even threw in a few lines about a candid interview he once did, where he spoke about how sunsets reminded him of fleeting time.

His expression shifted—slightly, almost imperceptibly. But it was enough. The ghost of amusement danced on his lips, and he said, “Maybe you really are different from other girls.”

Inside, I was roaring. Victorious. Outside, I laughed softly, demurely. “Maybe.”

I am so much worse.

When I left the meet-and-greet, I told myself it was enough. To stand in his presence, to hear his voice aimed in my direction—wasn’t that already more than most could hope for? But hope is a greedy thing. It feeds on itself, growing hungrier with every indulgence.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. His voice lingered in my ears like a song on repeat, the low rasp of it curling around my thoughts. I replayed our brief exchange in my head, editing and polishing it, imagining what I could’ve said to make him linger just a second longer.

And then, of course, I opened the scrapbook.

It started innocently, as these things always do. A collection of concert photos, magazine clippings, interviews. But now, as I flipped through the pages, it felt insufficient. Two-dimensional. Katsuki wasn’t just a face on a page. He was a force, raw and untamed, and these flattened images could never capture him.

I needed more.

When I heard about his upcoming promotional event, I didn’t hesitate. The tickets were sold out within seconds, but I had connections—or rather, I made them. A fan forum moderator owed me a favor, and I cashed it in without a second thought.

The event was in a sleek, glass-paneled venue that gleamed under the city lights. I arrived early, blending seamlessly into the crowd. I wore my best dress—not flashy, but memorable. Just enough to catch his eye again.

This time, I didn’t bother with the front row. No, I wanted to watch from a distance, to see the full scope of his energy. He moved onstage like a storm contained within the fragile frame of a man. His voice electrified the room, his words sparking laughter and applause.

But every now and then, his gaze flickered over the crowd, scanning faces. Did he remember me? Did his eyes pause, even for a fraction of a second, on mine?

I convinced myself they did.

It was after the event, during the afterparty, that things began to change. I wasn’t supposed to be there, of course, but slipping past security was easier than I thought. People underestimate how much you can achieve when you’re polite, invisible, and just persistent enough to not raise alarms.

He was there, naturally—leaning against the bar, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. A few people approached him, but he brushed them off with a curt nod or a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

And then, somehow, I was beside him.

“Hey,” I said softly, almost shyly. “I’m surprised you’re not the center of attention.”

He looked at me, and for a second, I thought he might not remember. But then his expression shifted—a flicker of recognition, like a match striking against stone.

“You again,” he said.

From that moment on, it was as though I had been given permission. Not by him, of course, but by the universe. Surely this was fate, wasn’t it? To have crossed paths with him twice, in places swarming with thousands of people?

I began to learn things. Little things, at first—his preferred coffee shop, the route he took to the gym, the kind of music he played in his car when he thought no one was listening. These were harmless details, gathered with the precision of a collector adding rare gems to their trove.

But soon, harmless wasn’t enough.

The first time I followed him home, I told myself it was a mistake. I had been walking in the same direction, and it was pure coincidence that his apartment building loomed ahead of me. But then I did it again. And again.

His building was tall, sleek, and anonymous, but I found ways to breach its defenses. A delivery uniform, a borrowed ID badge—small deceptions that felt exhilarating in their simplicity.

I never crossed the final line. I never entered his apartment, though I knew exactly which door was his. Instead, I lingered in the shadows, content to imagine the life that unfolded within.

But imagination, like hope, is a hungry thing.

It’s funny, the way routine can warp into ritual. What began as occasional glimpses became a nightly pilgrimage. I knew his schedule better than my own. His habits—oh, how they fascinated me. The way he left his balcony door slightly ajar, as if inviting the wind—or something else. The flicker of his apartment light in the early hours, suggesting sleepless nights.

Once, I saw him standing there, silhouetted against the glow of his television, shirtless and utterly at ease. It felt intimate, watching him like that. Almost sacred.

He would never understand how much I admired him.

I started leaving small things behind. Harmless tokens—an autograph request slipped under his door, a pressed flower on his windowsill. Gifts that could be explained away if he ever noticed. They were never acknowledged, but that was fine. It wasn’t for him to notice. It was for me.

One night, he deviated from his routine. The precision of his life had always been a comfort to me—a series of movements I could predict and follow like a choreographed dance. But that night, he didn’t go home after his gym session.

Instead, he stopped at a convenience store, and I, foolishly emboldened by months of watching, followed him inside.

He was standing by the drink cooler, scanning the rows of energy drinks with a scowl. His hair was damp, his hoodie slung low over his face, and yet he was unmistakable.

I wasn’t supposed to get this close. Not yet.

But he turned, and suddenly we were face to face.

“Oh,” I said, startled into breaking the sacred silence between us. “Hi. Fancy seeing you here.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

My heart thrummed like a caged bird. Did he recognize me from the meet-and-greet? From the afterparty? Did he know I’d been watching him all this time?

“I’m a fan,” I said quickly, keeping my voice light, casual. “We’ve met before, at your event. Twice, actually.”

His gaze lingered on me, sharp and assessing, and for a moment, I thought I saw suspicion flicker across his face.

“Right,” he said finally, brushing past me with the kind of indifference that only he could make seem regal.

But as he left the store, I caught a glimpse of something in his expression—something that wasn’t indifference at all.

After that encounter, I couldn’t stop imagining what he thought of me. Did I stand out to him? Did he wonder about me the way I wondered about him? The thought was intoxicating.

I found myself becoming bolder. My nightly visits turned into longer stays. I started leaving notes with no name, no context—just fragments of thoughts I thought he might find poetic.

“The stars envy your light.”

“Even storms pause to admire you.”

“You are the reason the sun rises.”

Each one felt like a confession. A prayer.

But then one night, the notes disappeared. When I crept back to his door the following evening, there was nothing waiting for me. No sign that he had read them, or even seen them.

Had he thrown them away? Or worse—had someone else taken them before he could?

The thought burned like acid.

The line between admiration and possession is thinner than most realize. I crossed it without even noticing.

I started taking photos—not of him directly, but of the spaces he occupied. His balcony, his car parked in the same spot every night, the shadow of his figure through the curtains. My phone became a shrine, each image a sacred offering.

But it wasn’t enough.

One night, when I was sure he wasn’t home, I found myself standing at his door. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, testing it. Locked, of course. But locks are just puzzles waiting to be solved.

I didn’t go inside—not yet. But I stood there, breathing in the faint scent that lingered in the hallway. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, the abyss yawning beneath me, daring me to jump.

The day it all unraveled was unremarkable. A sunny afternoon, ordinary in every way—until I saw him again.

This time, he wasn’t alone.

She was tall, elegant, with a laugh that rang out like silver bells. She touched his arm as they walked, her presence so seamless beside him that it made my chest ache.

The world tilted, sharp and unforgiving.

How dare she? Didn’t she know? He wasn’t hers to touch, to smile at, to laugh with.

He was mine.

I followed them, of course. Through the crowded streets, past the bustling cafes and shops, until they arrived at a small restaurant. They sat by the window, their faces illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun.

I stood outside, watching, my reflection in the glass overlapping with theirs.

For the first time, I allowed myself to hate him. Not just her—him. For being so blind, so careless, so utterly indifferent to the devotion I had poured into him.

You’re supposed to be mine.

The thought felt foreign, even to me. But once it took root, it spread like wildfire.

That night, I found myself back at his apartment building. The familiar routine should have soothed me, but it didn’t. My heart was pounding, each beat a war drum, as I stared up at his window.

The light was on. He was home.

But I wasn’t standing there just to watch anymore. I wasn’t there to leave notes or flowers or to bask in the glow of his existence. No, this time, I had crossed the threshold.

I waited in the shadows until the lobby door opened. A tenant stepped out, their face buried in their phone, oblivious to my presence as I slipped inside. The elevator doors gleamed like a portal to another world.

His floor was silent. The kind of silence that feels alive, pulsing with expectation. My footsteps were soft, my breath shallow, as I approached his door.

The lockpick trembled in my hand, but I’d practiced this moment a hundred times in my mind. The faint click was both satisfying and terrifying.

And then I was inside.

It was everything I had imagined and nothing like it at all.

The apartment was minimalist, almost sterile, with only a few personal touches—a jacket draped over a chair, an empty mug on the counter. The air smelled faintly of him, a mix of cologne and something darker, more primal.

I moved slowly, reverently, like a pilgrim in a holy place. My fingers traced the edge of the kitchen counter, the back of the sofa, the spine of a book on the coffee table.

And then I saw it.

A framed photograph on the bookshelf. It was him, of course, but not alone. She was there, too—the woman from the restaurant, her head tilted against his shoulder, her smile soft and radiant.

Something inside me snapped.

The sound of the front door opening shattered the silence.

I froze, the photo still in my hand, as his voice echoed through the apartment.

“Yeah, I’m home,” he said, his tone clipped, probably on the phone. “I’ll call you back.”

The click of the call ending was deafening.

And then he saw me.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His expression was a kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, anger, disbelief.

“What the—?” he started, but the words died in his throat as his eyes dropped to the photo in my hand.

“I just wanted to understand,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “Why her? Why not me?”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?”

I stepped closer, the photo still clutched against my chest like a shield. “I’m the one who’s been there for you. Watching, supporting, loving you when no one else understood.”

His face darkened, the anger in his eyes hardening into something sharper, colder. “You need to leave. Now.”

But I didn’t move.

“You don’t see it, do you?” I whispered. “How perfect we could be. How much I’ve given up for you. She doesn’t know you like I do. She’ll never understand you the way I do.”

His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Get. Out.”

But I wasn’t afraid—not of him, not of anything. Not anymore.

“I’m not leaving,” I said, my voice steady now. “Not until you see me.”

The argument escalated quickly. His anger clashed with my desperation, the two of us locked in a battle neither could win. He tried to push past me, to call for help, but I grabbed his arm.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice breaking. “Don’t do this to me.”

He wrenched free, his movements sharp and unforgiving. “You’re insane.”

The word hit me like a physical blow.

Insane.

After everything I’d done for him, everything I’d sacrificed, that was what he thought of me?

I don’t remember much after that. The emotions—rage, heartbreak, betrayal—all blurred together in a red haze. I remember the sound of something shattering, the photo frame hitting the floor. I remember his voice, shouting, but the words were lost in the chaos.

And then, silence.

When I came back to myself, I was standing in the middle of the room, my chest heaving, my hands trembling. He was gone—whether he had fled or whether I had…

I couldn’t let myself think about it.

The apartment felt different now. The air was heavier, the shadows deeper. I looked down at the shattered photo frame, the glass shards glinting like tiny stars.

I picked up the photo, carefully tucking it into my pocket.

It wasn’t over. Not yet.

Katsuki would understand eventually. He had to.

After all, no one loved him like I did.

The room is cold, sterile. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones, reminding you that you’re somewhere you don’t belong. A single light hangs overhead, casting harsh shadows on the walls, and the mirror on the far side reflects nothing but my own weary face.

Well, not just my face.

I know he’s there, standing on the other side. Watching me. Listening.

The officer across from me clears his throat, his expression caught somewhere between pity and disgust. “You’ve said enough. We’ve got everything we need.”

But I’m not finished. Not yet.

“You don’t understand,” I say, my voice soft but steady. “It’s not what you think.”

He sighs, flipping through the file in front of him. I catch glimpses of photos—my notes, my gifts, his shattered photo frame. Evidence, they’d called it. Proof of my “obsession.”

“Help me understand, then,” he says, leaning forward, his tone patronizing. “Because right now, it looks like you broke into Katsuki Bakugou’s apartment and—”

“I didn’t break in,” I interrupt, my voice rising just enough to startle him. “I let myself in. He left the door open for me. He knew I was coming.”

The officer’s brows knit together in disbelief. “And why would he do that?”

I smile, leaning back in my chair, feeling the faintest flicker of triumph. “Because he needed to see me. To finally realize who I am.”

The officer shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before standing. “You’re delusional.”

The voices outside the interrogation room are muffled, but I can still hear fragments of their conversation.

“She’s nuts. Every detail she remembers—it’s like she’s been living his life alongside him.”

“Obsessed, more like. Did you see the journal we confiscated? She knows what time he brushes his teeth, for crying out loud.”

Someone else laughs nervously. “Poor guy. No wonder he’s freaked out. She’s on a whole other level.”

But then I hear his voice—low, gravelly, and unmistakable.

“She’s different.”

The laughter stops.

“What do you mean?” another officer asks cautiously.

There’s a pause, and I imagine him standing there, arms crossed, that signature scowl on his face.

“I’ve had fans follow me before,” he says, his tone unreadable. “They scream, they cry, they cross boundaries. But this one… she’s worse.”

His voice drops lower, and I lean forward, straining to hear.

“She’s worse because she actually got under my skin.”

The officer returns to the room, his expression stony. “This is over. You’re being transferred soon.”

But I barely hear him. My eyes are on the mirror, on the faint outline of movement behind it. I know he’s still there. Watching. Listening.

“I’m not sorry,” I say, directing my words to him, not the officer. “I’d do it all again. For you.”

The officer exhales sharply, shaking his head as he gathers his papers. “You’re a real piece of work.”

He leaves, and for a moment, it’s just me and the silence.

And then the door opens again.

I feel him before I see him. The weight of his presence, the intensity of his gaze—it’s unmistakable. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t speak. He just stands there, arms crossed, his crimson eyes burning into me like fire.

“You really are different,” he says finally, his voice low and sharp.

I smile, the kind of smile that comes from knowing you’ve won something no one else ever could.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I whisper.

He doesn’t reply. His jaw tightens, and for the first time, I see something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Not anger. Not fear.

Something darker.

Something that looks an awful lot like acknowledgment.

End.

a/n: another reminder to never stalk people. i didn't write this to romanticize stalking, however, this idea's been weighing in my head and i knew i needed to write it down somewhere. here is somewhere. k bye.

[dulc3vida]

you.

rafe cameron x bunny!reader

part 1. this is my au so don't think too much about canon lore. characters, times, events, ect... might not match but PLEASE JUST ENJOY THE STORY PLEASE JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASe

warning: 18+ read at your own risk. this is a dark fic loosely inspired by the tv show you. dubious content lies ahead, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

UNC Chapel Hill: September, Sophomore Year

there was nothing rafe cameron hated more than being tutored. it made him feel stupid, needing someone to explain and break down concepts that others understood easily. ward used to lose his mind trying to find rafe new tutors because in all honesty, when rafe felt cornered or helpless, he got nasty. saying the rudest things that made these well-paid, private tutors basically discard a paycheck, was one of the first times rafe ever felt true power. the first time he ever came close to knowing what his dad felt like, even though his dad had a much better reputation than rafe ever would.

rafe especially hated english. the books were boring and he could never be bothered to sumbit more than a half baked essay regarding the text. that's how he ended up in the study room in the library sitting across from you. he remembered you from class, the TA. you always sat besides prof. callahans desk and you looked younger than any TA he had ever had, probably even his age. your face was familiar but rafe couldn't put his finger on it. you were clean, you smelled good, and your nails were done which meant you had the time and money to take care of that kind of thing when most college students forget to feed themselves. you occasionally looked up from the signup sheet as the minutes ticked 5 past 3pm, where only rafe's name was signed.

"i guess we can start now." you mumbled, flipping your notebook open. "this weeks quiz is going to cover part 1 of crime and punishment. have you... started the reading?"

rafe's hard gaze bored into yours and he shook his head without another word. he was thinking about how cute and neurotic the way you had your notes organized was and how soft you spoke to him. were you scared of him? rafe was intrigued.

"okay, no biggie. we can just start there. did you check out a copy of the book?" you asked, pulling out your own copy that was bursting at the seam with sticky notes and colored tabs. again, rafe wordlessly shook his head. "good thing we're in the library. come on, let's go see if they have any left."

rafe followed close behind you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck as you walked through rows of books before finding the one you were looking for. you showed rafe how to check a book out before returning to the study room. "okay. let's start."

you began dissecting the book from the very beginning, soft voice describing the historical context of the book. rafe was surprised at how well he was keeping up. it didn't hurt that you were cute, nose all blushed and button, scrunching up whenever you couldn't read your own handwriting in your notes. a pair of clear framed glasses sat on the bridge of your nose which you constantly adjusted due to your eyelashes hitting the glass. you had a habit of licking and biting your lips, applying lipgloss on every "brain break" as you called it. maybe all this time, all he needed was a cute tutor that he could stand looking at.

in between writing notes and flipping through the book, he caught glimpses of a "j" necklace dangling in your cleavage. did your name start with a j?

"what's your name?" rafe asked once the two of you began packing your things up. it was now 7:30 with the sun beginning to set. you told him and he repeated it under his breath.

"my friends call me bunny though." if you're bunny, who is j? you tossed your bag over your shoulder and let your hair down from the claw clip that was holding it up. it billowed over your shoulders and you tucked a few stray strands behind your ears after taking your glasses off. you weren't the shy good girl he met at the beginning of the session, no, you were different. good girl in front of everyone but he knew there was another energy in you that he wanted- no he needed to see. rafe watched you leave, staying a few steps behind, where he could comfortably watch you and before he knew it, you were jumping into the passenger side of a beat up old brown van that pulled up, and leaning over to give whoever was driving a kiss.

rafe felt a familiar, red hot anger wash over him. the first time he felt that anger was when sarah was born and ward wouldn't stop fawning over her. ward basically forgot he had a son when sarah was born which made rafe incredibly insecure. that insecurity built a home inside rafe's heart, where any little inconvenience could turn it into an ugly monster with sharp teeth and a desire to tear everything in sight into fucking pieces. this time, the monster was awakened at the reality of you having a boyfriend.

against his better judgement, rafe ran to his truck the second you took off, speeding down the road he saw you drive down. it took him a minute, but he managed to find the shitbox on wheels you were riding around in. he made sure to stay far enough away to where it didn't seem suspicious, but close enough to where he wouldn't lose you again.

he wouldn't lose you again.

he repeated that phrase to himself as he drove into jacksonville and while he parked his car a few spaces from the van in a place where your little group was fully visible. you came to the beach. there was 3 guys, 1 girl, and you. gone were your leggings, tank top, and cardigan. instead, you donned a pair of cutoff jean shorts, a bikini top, and a huge smile on your face as you settled yourself in the blonde boys lap.

rafe thought he recognized the group you were with, but he was hoping his eyes were just playing tricks. of course, it could never be that simple because rafe did know them. the pogues. what were they doing on the mainland? he hadn't seen them in a while and was getting used to not having to see or smell them other than when he went home for holidays.

jj, he knew worked in the cafeteria ever since he graduated earlier in the spring, which is probably how he met you. rafe had never been fond of jj, in fact, rafe lived to antagonize jj back on the island (if he cared for the cafeteria food, he would probably be in there a lot more to mess with him) so him having you felt like poorly timed karma. to be completely honest, rafe hadn't expected such a dramatic shift of power dynamics when coming to college because now there was at least 10 other rafe's who were dating the girls he should have been dating. he did just fine at parties, more than fine, but he was starting to get tired of drunk girls who just lied there all limp and sweaty or threw up on his dick (happened twice freshman year and he didn't enjoy it like he thought he would). the first decent, eligible girl he meets is getting her pussy dug out by jj maybank of all people and it felt like someone, somewhere was laughing at his misfortune. it almost made him want to give up on you.

almost.

he would never let jj maybank win at anything, let alone your heart. there was just something about you that he couldn't let go. the only thing he couldn't figure out was why everyone else was here too? none of them had a chance of getting into chapel hill. you either had to have perfect grades, be incredibly wealthy, or be a legacy student. thankfully, rafe managed to be 2/3 of those things.

rafe sat back in his seat and just observed you. he cracked his windows open and tried to listen to your conversation but he was too far to hear anything other than laughter and unintelligible voices. he pulled his phone out and typed your name into instagram, easily finding your very public page.

rafe decided to do some digging. he would start at the bottom. scrolling all the way back through a very curated feed (rafe could tell you pick and choose which of your old posts get to stay up and which ones ruin the feed) rafe felt his heart sink.

he knew you.

OBX: Summer 2018

"come on, bunny, i don't wanna go without you." your friend, esther, pleaded. she had been invited to rafe camerons party, a coveted event where anything and everything happened. esther was dating rafe's friend kelce, who invited her to the party.

"you're not even gonna talk to me so what's the point in going." you responded, filing your nails while you laid in bed.

"honestly, when's the last time you really went out? you only ever go to the country club and don't say your parents make you because last time you weren't even with your parents."

"well, the old men buy me drinks if i talk to them and make them laugh. sometimes they give me money. one of them gave me this tiffany bracelet." you stuck your wrist out to show off the silver bracelet with the heart tag which was branded with the company's insignia.

"that's kinda gross." esther scrunched her nose. you only shrugged your shoulders.

"so is going to a party at rafe camerons house. jungle juice is probably roofied" rafe had been the stereotypical jock douchebag who only hung out with other jocks, cheerleaders, or other impossibly gorgeous girls. you saw right through him which is why you never caved. not when he invited you to his lunch table, not when he asked you out, not when he tried to grind against you on the dancefloor at junior prom and called you a bitch when you pushed him away. at some point, rafe stopped trying trying with you and turned his attention and "where my hug at?" energy towards other girls who were much more susceptible.

"so we'll pregame. just please don't make me go alone." in a flash, esther sat on top of you and pinned your arms down while a string of "please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top!" tumbled out of her mouth.

"OKAY!" you had enough, but were still giggling. "i'll go, just get off of me so i can change."

"yay!" esther rolled off of you. "wear the black one, the one that makes you look slutty."

"aren't we supposed to be getting you laid?" you asked, looking through your closet that was practically overflowing with expensive name brands.

esther looked down at her hands. "me and kelce already..."

"no way. really?" she nodded and you squealed rushing over to hug her. "babe i'm so proud of you! wait- why do you need me there then?"

"its the first time i'm meeting his friends and i'm nervous." she explained, now looking through your clothes with you. "i need a buffer, yknow, a cute friend who can keep my boyfriends friends occupied."

you blinked. "so basically, you're whoring me out?"

"you just told me that you talk to old men for money and gifts."

"yeah and they don't even get to see me in my little black dress."

when you arrived at the party, it was in full swing. rafe caneron's parties had a reputation. booze flowed, drugs were shared, and there were enough rooms in the house for every couple to get busy in. it was the perfect haven for teen delinquency.

you were unimpressed, as per usual, with rafe's antics. he had been in the pool when you arrived, a girl on either side of him while he smoked a joint.

"how long do i have to stay?"

"until you start enjoying yourself."

you went to the bar. grabbing a red solo cup, you mixed yourself a drink of cherry vodka and coke. you chugged it, always having the attitude that when it came to alcohol you had to get right to the point. when you finished it, you made yourself another one.

"excuse me." a hand gently placed itself on the small of your back which made you jump. "my bad, didn't mean to scare ya- hey you're esthers friend right?" it was topper. "i just saw her with kelce. i'm topper." he stuck his hand out.

"bunny." you took it.

"whatcha got there?"

"chery vodka and coke."

"nah nah nah- you like the cherry vodka?" you nodded and he took your cup from you. "let me make you a drink."

"okay." you watched his every move as he fixed cherry vodka, cranberry juice, and lime in a brand new cup. "thank you. what is this?"

"it's called a cherry bounce. cheers to you, bunny. hopefully this isn't the last time i see you."

you only smiled at him, tight lipped and gently tapped your cup against his before taking a drink. "topper, this is really good. make me another?"

"you're not even done with that one yet." with that, you drank the rest of your cup. "okay, party girl." he took your cup back and fixed you another. "you wanna dance?"

you hated to admit it, but you actually were having a good time with topper. he was funny, kind, nice to look at, and he was a good dancer. the night was going so good, until esther invited you and topper to sesh with her, kelce, and rafe as the party died down.

it wasn't the sesh that was bad, no, you even managed to be polite and sociable with rafe. it was after the sesh when your drinks had caught up with you and you needed to pee. "esther can you show me where the bathroom is?" you asked but it fell on deaf ears as esther and kelce were mouth fucking.

"c'mon. i'll show you." rafe got up and began walking inside the house without another word. you quickly followed, only wanting to relieve your bladder and be alone for a few minutes to gather yourself and your thoughts that were racing on account of the sativa blunt you had just smoked.

rafe walked up the stairs, basically torturing your bladder with every step until he got into his room. "just use this one."

you were too desperate to argue about whatever his intentions were bringing you here so you went in and almost tripped over yourself getting to the toilet. you made it through, no accidents happening and feeling a lot more gone than when you walked up the stairs.

you stepped back into rafes room and he was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. "you okay? you were in there for a while."

"yeah." you stumbled over to sit next to him but he got up and went to his window. "just a little dizzy."

"everyone fell asleep." rafe watched his friends make themselves comfortable on the outside couch on this hot summer night. you climbed over his bed and looked out the window at the sight of your friend asleep on her boyfriend's chest and topper asleep, hugging a pillow.

"do i get a prize?" he cocked his head at you. "for being the last one awake at a rafe cameron party?"

"what do you want?" rafe asked you seriously and you sighed, lying back against his navy blue sheets.

"for you to not be such an asshole." you murmured and stared at the ceiling. "i mean, you're really cute but you ruin it by being... you."

"i knew you had a thing for me." rafe must have only heard half of what you were saying because he was taking his place back next to you on his bed. "c'mere." he patted his lap and it didn't take much more coaxing than that to get you crawling into his lap. he positioned himself the way he wanted you, straddling him with your crotch right on top of his. "been waiting for you to finally come around." he trailed his hands up and down from your waist to your ass. "y'gonna let me inside that pretty pussy babe?" rafe whispered in your ear, sending all your intoxicated arousal straight to your core.

if you had been in a clearer state of mind, you would have never even been in rafe's room, but here you were letting him guide your hips to grind against you through the thin layer of your black lacy panties. your short dress had already ridden up your thighs, exposing you even more than you already were.

unexpectedly, rafe tugged the top of your dress down and leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. when he grazed his teeth against your sensitive, hardened peak, you gasped and jolted against him. "rafe." you whispered, trying to get his attention because your head was spinning. instead, his hand found a place between your legs and pushed your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your folds and spreading your wetness. he used it to rub your clit in circles, encouraged by your whimpers in his ear. "oh rafe..." you felt your orgasm building quickly due to your drunken state, but you also felt a pit building in your stomach. this felt wrong.

you blinked and you were on your back. your dress had found a place across your stomach and your panties were torn off of you without your knowledge. you closed your eyes, hoping if he thought you were asleep that he would just stop.

of course, things would not be that simple.

while your eyes were closed, rafe got undressed and slipped a condom over his cock. he grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips to prop your pussy up for him at the perfect angle. he took his cock and tapped it against your clit. "wake up, sleepy girl." you only whined and tried to close your legs but he forced himself between them so you couldn't.

your eyes snapped open when you felt the intrusion of his cock. "uhhh..." you let out a mixture of a moan and a whine. the stretch burned because no matter how wet you were, rafe was objectively big, especially the mushroom tip of it. you didn't know if it was the liquor, the weed, or what, but you could basically picture what it looked like based on the way it felt inside you.

rafe gave you no time to adjust and set a punishing pace off the bat. he had one of his large hands splayed over your stomach, pushing down and making you let out a short, loud moan. "let me hear you. wanna hear how good i fuck this pussy." rafe grunted while thrusting in and out.

you, in your state, were incredibly embarrassed no matter how good he hit your spots so you were barely letting any noise escape your mouth.

"always playing hard to get... you're gushing around my cock... and making a mess on my sheets... but you still act all stuck up..." rafe spat at you through his teeth and you let out another high pitched whine. he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, his balls now slapping your ass with vigor. "gotta put you in your place, huh?"

he flipped you over and pulled you onto all fours. his hand splayed across your back this time and pushed your chest into the bed, creating a beautiful arch to your back. "so fuckin pretty." he moaned when the slid back into your tight warmth. the change of position did nothing to help you hold onto the little composure you had as he was now deeper than before, mushroom tip generously rubbing against your g-spot and his balls now smacking your clit. you were too far gone to care how you looked throwing your hips back against his. "fucking slut." he grunted, grabbing a handful of your hair. "y'wanted this huh? yeah, yeah, you been needing this huh?"

you could only moan as he painfully gripped your hair and pushed himself balls deep, rolling his hips against yours. "you like the way i fuck you baby?"

"mhm..." you had your eyes closed as you focused on the tension building in your stomach. a heavy hand landed a smack against your ass.

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..." you desperately moaned out.

"good girl." rafe pushed your head back into the bed and drilled his cock into you brutally. you were struggling to hold your hips up, but rafe held you up with one arm. "fuck... m'gonna cum. y'gonna let me cum in this pussy?" rafe grunted and pulled out, sliding the condom off before thrusting back into you. "there we go." he spoke through gritted teeth. "thatagirl, pussy feels like heaven."

you felt the difference and opened your mouth to protest but all that came out was unintelligible pants and moans.

then you saw white.

your orgasm washed over you, making your pussy clench and flutter and cream around rafes cock. you felt rafes hips stutter against yours and then you felt hot ropes of cum paint your insides. you couldn't stop moaning because rafe was still inside you, slowly thrusting and rubbing your clit. "so fucking tight..." he commented as he watched the way your pussy suctioned his cock and pulled out.

against your knowledge, rafe had been recording since he got you in doggy and was still recording. "shit..." he groaned as he focused the camera on your glistening pussy. a drop of his cum came dribbling out and he pushed it back in, earning a soft "ahhh..." from you. he played with your sensitive cunt until you came again for the camera and passed out.

when you woke up, you were alone. for a brief moment, you hadn't remembered what happened and were just confused as to where you were. you peered around the room and saw your dress and torn panties and it all came rushing back. the drinks, the sesh, having sex with rafe cameron. he must have changed you because you didn't remember putting on one of his shirts or sweats.

you checked your phone and your parents had been blowing you up since 8am. it was noon. you had missed calls from esther and a series of texts that said she couldn't find you in the morning and hopes you made it home safe. "shit." you groaned and got out of bed, legs sore from the sex you could only remember flashes of. you tidied the room up and changed back into your clothes before walking downstairs with your heels in hand. you slowed as you reached the foyer, hearing voices from the parlor.

"i don't know dude, doesn't feel right to watch this."

"she was totally cool with it, c'mon."

"you're gonna wanna see this."

you recognized the voices as topper, rafe, and kelce. then a video began playing and at first it just sounded like porn, then you realized it was your moans streaming through rafes phone.

"you like the way i fuck you?"

"mhm..."

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..."

"good girl."

you felt sick to your stomach as you heard the boys commenting on the video. how could you be so stupid? of course rafe would record you without permission while you were off your ass last night. you only blamed yourself as you walked home from tannyhill.

the video followed you around over the summer and you only managed to escape it when you went off to college.

rafe never thought twice about you after that.

JACKSONVILLE: Present.

rafe stared at your instagram feed in utter disbelief. he hadn't thought about you or the video since that summer. he honestly forgot it even happened. he wasn't a douchebag, he was a handsome young man who took all the opportunities presented to him (as he told himself). was sending the video around immature and stupid? probably. he was a kid though. everyone makes mistakes, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself as he looked through old pictures of you. did you remember him? you must have. you looked different from the last time he saw you but he looked the same. you definitely knew who he was the second he came into the study room and he didn't know how to feel about that. it made his job easier and harder. he already had a connection with you, but he would have to go through a grueling apology process that he really didn't care for. he just needed to have you.

as he scrolled into the more recent stuff, he couldn't help but notice that you didn't post jj on here at all. the page was a monument to you, all the better, and you were gorgeous on here. 2k followers with 1k likes on every post you made and comments that varied from "you're so gorgeous" to "just give me one chance." you had a highlight titled "my <3" and there was only one picture of you holding jj's hand with the song "melting" by kali uchis which was posted only a month ago.

he left your profile and went into his camera roll, into the hidden folder and scrolled back to 2018. he found the video and pressed play, his cock getting hard immediately and straining against his pants. soon enough, he had his phone pressed to his ear and his hand down his pants as he watched you and kie gathering firewood. soon enough, he was cumming in his hand to the sound of you saying that you loved his cock.

rafe managed to clean up a little and continued to watch you, well into the night as you and your friends built a bonfire and smoked a joint. it was midnight when you all had decided to leave. he followed the dirty old van back to campus and learned where your dorm was, watching you and jj head in.

rafe made it back to his dorm at around 3:30am. the more he learned, the more questions he had. rafe fell asleep with only one thing on his mind.

you.