#who has never been called a stupid bitch

[emprcaesar]

honor this. honor that. JAIME HOW ABOUT YOU GET A FUCKING JOB. do some manual labor get some dirt under your nails. have your dad yell at you because you’re not holding a flashlight right. fucking pave a drive way pussy. work in 90 degree weather with the sun beating down on you. work a blue collared job jaime lannister. stop with this honor bullshit.

[shorthaltsjester]

there are literally no standouts in downfall because everyone sat down at that table and said hey you wanna see something cool and proceeded to Become their characters but idk if it’s because they’re beside each other and that aids the dynamic or just because it’s the delicious similarities and insurmountable distance between the god of death and the god of (in various ways) life but ayden and emhira’s interactions were so chewy and delicious. i’ll be thinking of their exchange fairly early on after ayden cast lesser restoration on that old man and emhira not cruelly but just simply stating “you cannot heal everything.” and ayden’s equally simple reply “we can always try.” emhira seeing the family trist has built and wondering at the presence of children, “surprised there is laughter in such a horrible place” and i know she’s speaking of hawk’s hill but i wonder if she is also speaking of exandria itself in some ways. the delicious space between in and out of character that only really happens in improv stories where as brennan is narrating and says “in this dark room” and nick interrupts and adds “it is not dark.” brennan’s incisive point in the cooldown that while the love that ayden and trist have for mortals and for exandria is warm and the kind of love someone would likely Want from gods, there is something maybe more honest or whole about emhira who says . actually these mortals are little shits that will kill you not because they fear you but because they hate you. whose very existence should be (and still often fails to be) a reminder that the gods can be usurped by mortals. the insight nick shared in the cooldown that ayden does not forget emhira’s origins but in a way dismisses them, that the god of death is a different beast. ayden wanting to find. way to save the people of aeor, insisting that the prime deities Win if they can find a way to do so. emhira reminding everyone that death is inevitable (and she does not add anything to clarify that she intends such a statement to only exist for mortals) as she argues for them to work to take down aeor and the people in it. the fact that the god with the most present connection to mortality is also the one given the most explicit clarification that she Is the god we know as SILAHA calls her the matron, brennan’s narration clarifies purvon is her champion, taliesin as asha asks for clarification on the recognition of emhira as a god and prompting the familiar spectre of a woman in a white mask.

i want to be very clear that when i say there are no standouts i Mean it because i’ve been awed and endeared and intrigued by every single character choice everyone made and as always brennan’s narration is so incredibly well suited for the mission impossible greek tragedy vibes that comes with this story and i’m so fucking delighted by the fact that laura, ashley, and taliesin are playing gods that their characters have known quite well in the past. i’m incredibly excited by what we’ve already gotten to see from abubakar, nashir, and nick and cannot imagine what other greatness is to come. i’m psyched to see the relationship between asha and the law bearer and am delighted that (perhaps for now perhaps for the whole arc) it is being seen through the lens of “my wife promised me a visit with apples and all i got was a rock ice emissary”. i also have many incoherent thoughts about the fact that, of the players who appeared as the same character in the opening and the story, taliesin’s ash and asha are the ones whose name remains the most unchanged.

i’m obsessed with the fact that this creature sent as a stand in by the god of law and duty believes his primary gift is love. while there is a certain mourning and sadness to every god we see, that SILAHA has a certain playful whimsy and jofyful curiosity about the world. that the only one of them who has been mortal before stops to steal an imp necklace from the neck of a drunk on the train (and that moment between brennan’s narration that this man will be dead by morning but, with death standing invisible in front of him, he is incapable of seeing it coming, and then laura as emhira breathing in deeply and brennan having that spark a coughing fit. they are Story Telling). asha seeing the erased image of a god, of a family member and saying “there’s a hole in all of us.” brennan narrating “this is a place where they tried to kill a story. it’s a very frightened thing to do.” (and god. the motif of fear. especially given the very present fear felt by the gods in current day exandria. they’re doing insane things in the critical role 3 part departure).

trist reminding ayden “he never tells the truth” and asha contesting “he only tells the truth, it’s just rotting.” emhira and asha both as perhaps the less Good™ much more neutral but doing so in such different ways, asha as bitter and hungry while emhira seems uncomfortable but there’s a familiarity and a certainty in her discomfort with mortality (the law bearer would also be included here but the emissary seems much more like trist and ayden (for now) than emhira or asha). something as insignificant as trist and her husband speaking to their children and affirming that little lies are okay while trist has lead a significant part of her life likely dishonest about who she is. the fact that there’s a certain childlike quality to the emissary who they’re all charged with ensuring makes it to the end of things even if they cannot. the fact that nahal (unclear which god they were, and i’m assuming it’s the first god of death but regardless still an absolutely compelling development in a short amount of time) in those opening moments is horrified by the concept of away which is unfamiliar to them only to soon after look upon their family and say. maybe away was better. Especially if those were words spoken by the god who would one day be replaced. these three episodes are going to haunt me and i’m excited to meet the ghosts.

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[loveinsomesacredplace]

A not so gentle reminder that this tumblr is heavily pro - Show! Belly and I do not subscribe to the she doesn’t deserve Jere or he deserves better than her opinion that floats around in fandom. Some of the fandom is really weird about punishing her and making her grovel and fixated on her cheating on him or him cheating on her just because Book 3 went there. I’m going to say this again and in italics: they are separate canons, season 3 hasn’t even started filming.

There already is a heavily biased narrative against them as a couple, them as individual characters, and the unfortunately predictable fandom tendency to favor male characters even in a presumably female centered/led cast. IMO the characters are all underwritten, with varying degrees of consistency.

Do you really ship Jelly or are you just team Jeremiah and too much of a coward to self-insert yourself/make an OC so you stay in the jelly sphere and shame Belly like she personally cheated on you?

And as for Book Belly:

[ew-selfish-art]

DPxDC Au: Normally when Danny vandalizes ancient cave walls and historic places on his 'favor' missions for Clockwork, he gets sent back to erase them. But no, apparently this time, when Danny added his actual phone number into some painting, he's not allowed to go back and fix it. Ugh.

...

Tim has had the painting of Bruce professionally reviewed a few times since the old Bat was retrieved from the time stream. He's not entirely sure how the painting still exists, he's not even sure that it matters any more... But one day Tim catches something new in the painting.

It was small, and it could've just been the light at first but... Is that a phone number in the background?? It looks like black marker on the black curtains and it makes him feel feral. The family is kinder this time about how they think he's gone crazy- but each one of them admit that they can't remember a phone number ever being present.

The lab reports that the number was added over the paint- and that it's an ink based marking akin to a sharpie but like, hundreds of years old. So... It's been added recently but not at all recently enough for Tim to have an explanation.

Tim doesn't want to hear any more of his family members opinions on the matter and he certainly isn't going to just, stop investigating or something stupid like that. So, he takes the painting to the tower, gathers his team (Cassie, Kon and Bart), and they call the number in the middle of the night after a lot of planning/back-and-forth/catastrophizing.

It doesn't answer until the final ring, and the static that comes through the phone is bone chilling. A deep, monstrous groan which echoed with agony fills the room.

"I have a math test in like, three hours, who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you calling in the middle of the night?" The voice now complains, still sounding vaguely inhuman despite it's very human word choices.

"Your number is in a historical painting, we had a few questions but uh, you can call us back later?" Tim cringes as he says it but he hadn't planned on having to reply to someone trying to go back to bed. Or someone who was apparently also a teenager. (He had so, so many contingency plans for like, every kind of villain, alien or demon. lame.)

"...Ugh. might as well." The voice calls out, agreeing with a sigh that echos so deeply the team can feel it in their bones.

"Cool. Good luck on your test?" Tim offers.

"Mph." And the line hangs up.

...

Danny is at lunch with Sam and Tucker when he remembers the late night call. He'd spent the morning bitching about never getting a full night of sleep and it finally occurred to him what had happened. Of course his friends think it's hilarious that CW wouldn't let him erase his number. Of course they do.

They stop laughing when Danny calls the number back.

"Hello, this is Red Robin of Gotham. I have Superboy, Wonder girl and Impulse present with me. How did your math test go?"

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

"The Dare"

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x demeter!fem!reader

Summary: You and luke have been best friends forever but after the incident things have been awkward between the two of you. Until you're forced to spend the night together...

Contains: percabeth, angst?? (i think? idk bro), swearing, fluff, kissing, ONE FUCKING BED TROPE

Word Count: 2223 did i get carried away? yes.

A/N: Im back bitches! yes i disappeared there lol, but i've resurfaced with my luke obsession (its never going to end). i've always had a small obsession with living in buses and so from that came this. i have little to no idea what im writing here im going off a random idea while half sleep deprived :)

You roll your eyes and grumble as you follow Annabeth out of the apartment.

"This is stupid," you groan. "I'm serious. Are we really going through with this shit dare?"

Annabeth just smirks, shaking her head. "Yes, y/n. We're not going to be chickens and back out," she turns around and eyes you. "It's one night, besides, Percy and I will be there."

You roll your eyes and grip the strap of your bag a little harder. One night with Luke Castellan? After the incident? No way. Nuh uh. You'd rather step on a lego than that.

"Annabeth," you groan.

"Y/n," she looks back with a dead serious look. "I will drag you there if I have to."

"It's a bus!" you almost shriek, but noticing the few people who turn their heads at you, you quiet down and pocket your apartment keys. "I'm serious. Where'd they even find a damn bus? It's a bus!"

"I know!" Annabeth grins, clearly ignoring your bad mood. "I've never stayed in a bus before. This is going to be so cool!"

"Who the fuck hires a bus out to live in?" you grumble clearly pissed.

"Percy-fucking-jackson- that's who," a voice in the distance yells. You look up and fight the wave of panic that overcomes you when you see Luke and Percy walking towards you both.

"I found the two best buses in the area!" Percy announces dropping his bag at his feet. Luke stands just behind him with a forced smile on his face.

"Wait two?" you ask suddenly, your face scrunching up.

"Yeah four of us couldn't fit in one so I hired two out," he says. "The guy was really chill about it and they're parked right next to each other!"

The cab pulls up and all four of you clamber in. Percy in the front, Luke, you and Annabeth in the back. Annabeth being squished between you and Luke.

"this fucking bet," you mutter to yourself, trying to ignore the palpable tension in the cab.

~~

Luke was basically sweating through his t-shirt. He was so glad to have a sweater on, covering his nervousness.

When the four of you had arrived at the bus guys house two pieces of news reached him. One; that while buses look big, they can't fit more than two people. Two; he was going to be sharing a bus with y/n.

Y/n.

The girl he's been desperately in love with since the day she showed up at camp.

This was either going to be really bad, or really bad. He sighs as he picks his bag and climbs into the bus you're both staying in.

It's got a nice crisp, white interior with flashes of wood throughout it. Luke drops the bag on the sofa that runs along the edge of the bus meeting with the kitchen counter.

He sighs when he hears you enter the bus. You awkwardly shuffle past him and put your bag on the bed. The bed. There is only one bed.

Motherfu-

"Y/n!" Annabeth calls out to you climbing inside and dragging you out. "They have connecting rooftop decks!" she cries and pulls herself up onto the ladder. Chattering to herself about how cool this place is, and even though you can't help it you let a smile slip onto your face.

You think you see something inside the bus but it's just Luke's back.

Sighing you clamber on behind her trying your very best to forget the fact that there is ONE BED. ONE BED. Oh gods. You smirk seeing Annabeths cheeks turn bright red when Percy whispers in her ear.

"Am I interrupting anything?" you laugh when you see her whip her head around and blush even more.

"So have you changed your mind about the buses?" Percy eyes you.

You roll your eyes and move your shoulders in what you think is a half shrug but it just ends up making you look like you're trying to do a weird dance move.

"Ahh, so you think it's a dance worthy bus?"

"No that's not what I meant-" you start but Percy jumps up and starts to shimmy.

"I'm actually gonna push you off this roof," you mutter when a presence comes up behind you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It's him. You suck in a breath and force a smile.

"So what's for dinner?"

~~

Three hours later you are all sprawled out in Percy and Annabeth's bus with boxes of pizza and containers of blue ice cream (courtesy of Percy, thank you) around you all.

"I'm not getting up ever again," Percy groans from his spot over the table next to Luke.

"Well, to make sure Percy dies in peace let's play truth or dare!" Annabeth smirks.

"No!" you and Luke both burst out at the same time.

"Relax, babies," Annabeth teases, and pats Percy on the head before groaning and pulling herself up off the seat. "I'm not going to put you through all that again," she says, picking up the boxes and putting them in the small bin.

The tension in the room suddenly increased. And you swore you could hear a pin drop. Silence descended and you slowly peel yourself off the seat. "I'm gonna go."

You slip out of the bus breathing in the night air trying your best to not blush.

Luke watches as you walk out of the bus and groans when he sees Percy and Annabeth's knowing looks.

"You couldn't be cool about it could you?" Percy asks Annabeth.

"What?" she shoots him a look. "They've got to get over it sometime! It's Luke and y/n. They're best friends. I feel like a grandma helping the two bozos get over whatever happened that day. Nobody even knows what happened!"

Luke sighs and collects himself. "Right I'll leave you two, and go deal with this incredibly awkward night by myself."

Annabeth starts to say something but Luke cuts her off. "I swear to god Annabeth! Please don't make this worse than it already is, I'm trying my very best to not focus on the fact that its weird between y/n. So please, please don't say anything to her that'll scare her off. I want to talk to her first."

Annabeth just smirks and nods pushing you out of the bus as Percy wraps an arm around her waist. "Of course lover-boy."

Luke rolls his eyes and walks over to his bus and clambers inside, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He makes his way over to the back of the bus.

You're sitting on the bed on top of the covers, in beach themed pj's (thank you again Percy) and playing with a small flower crown you'd made. Luke falters slightly when he sees you. You look so calm and at peace that he can't help the small smile that slips onto his lips.

Luke has been trying his very best to talk to you ever since the incident a few weeks ago - when this dare was made - but you've been avoiding him, scampering off whenever he tries to talk to you.

You still haven't noticed him and a bright grin lights up your face when you add some daisies to the crown. Luke's heart warms and he clears his turning around to dig in his bag for sleeping clothes.

Your eyes shoot up and your smile wavers. "Hey," your voice is meek. "Do you... uh want," you clear your throat. "Uh... um, which side of the bed do you want"

Luke spins around. "Uh, I'll take the couch. Don't worry about it."

You sigh, stifling your nerves. "Luke, it's a bench seat with  padding. Just choose a side of the bed."

Panic flits into his eyes and you're reminded of the way he acted the night of the incident. It's been rocky ground ever since then and you've avoided him as much as you can. Being hopelessly in love with the Luke Castellan is clearly not an easy task.

"Choose Luke."

Luke nods to the left side of the bed and you move over letting him sit on the edge of the bed. His presence calming you while at the same time putting you on edge.

"G'night Luke," you mumble and he smiles at the sleepiness of your voice. "But don't you dare come on my side of the bed."

~~

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you're warm. It's cozy and you just want to snuggle into the warmth more.

The second thing is that you're lying on top of Luke's arm. If you roll to the right you'll fall off the bed and if you roll to the left you roll into him. Him, Luke. The reason you're so warm right now.

Pulling yourself up you try to move away from him but his arm wraps around your waist and you freeze. "No stay, sunflower," he mutters in a sleepy daze.

Sunflower. Luke hasn't called you that in a long time and it always makes your insides melt.

"Sunflower?" you whisper and Luke's head whips up.

"Y/n?" he says softly.

"Luke?" you whisper back.

"What are we doing?" he asks, noticing his arms around your waist and the fact that you haven't instantly pulled away.

You look up at him. His dark curly hair tousled by sleep and the focused look in his eyes making you very tempted to stay like this forever. But remembering the night of the incident you pull away and clamber out of the bed, cheeks flushing.

"Y/n," your name comes out of his mouth almost tortured.

You ignore him and continue to walk down to where the drapes aren't shut, peaking out to see if Percy and Annabeth are awake yet. And judging by the fact that it's first light.

A blanket wraps around your shoulders. You turn your head to see Luke standing there- shit, he's shirtless. Your eyes trail down his body in a daze. Woah.

Holy Shit.

Now you've seen him shirtless before, but this, this feels more personal somehow. You look up at him, an amused smirk gracing his lips.

"I'm going up onto the deck to watch the sunrise," you say, not looking at him. "Let me know when Annabeth and Percy are awake so I can get out of this dump."

You open the door and climb on to the roof deck, dragging the comforter up with you because yes, as much as you want to be all tough shit and all its freezing and you want the damn warmth - besides it smells like Luke as well.

Luke follows you outside after he puts a shirt on and plops down on the deck next to you. Without even thinking about it you open the comforter for him and he wraps it around himself as well.

"Sunflower, we need to talk."

Here it comes. The inevitable rejection.

"Okay," your voice is small.

"About that night..." he starts trailing off.

"Look," you cut him off, wanting to save yourself the embarrassment. "You don't have to say anything. I get it. That night I kinda jumped on you and I'm sorry. I get it, you were on the spot and then I started acting really weird. But I get it. You don't feel the sa-"

You feel a kiss press gently onto the corner of your lips. What? Pulling back you look at him in shock. "No, please don't humor me on this Luke." A lump forms in your throat.

"Humor you?" Luke asks, puzzled. "Sunflower, I'm not humoring you. I'm serious. That night... I freaked out, I was so surprised when you told me that you liked me, that I froze. Hearing the one thing I'd been dreaming about for years, shocked me," he looks at you, his eyes full of adoration.

"So you don't hate me?" you ask.

"Hate you? No Sunflower, I love you."

Your eyes flit up to his and in the few seconds you take to try and think of something to say Luke presses his lips to yours, pulling you close. You gasp and meet his lips with force.

Luke wraps his arms around your waist, laying you down on the deck, him hovering above you not breaking the kiss once. You wrap your arms around his neck and part your lips, moaning when he slips his tongue inside your mouth. The comforter, forgotten beside you both.

Luke kisses you as if he's never seen the sun before and you are the bright beams shining on the earth for the first time. He kisses you adoringly and groans when you slip your tongue into his mouth. He gently bites your lip and pulls back, gasping for air.

"I love you, Luke," you heave catching your breath. Luke's face breaks into a grin and he presses a soft kiss on the end of your nose.

"Love you, Sunflower."

"Love you, Luke."

He sits you up and wraps the comforter around you both. Resting your head on Luke's shoulder you settle in next to him wrapping an arm around his waist. You swear you can hear Annabeth and Percy cheering in their bus.

"I'm gonna kill them," you mutter.

"I got some ideas," he chuckles back.

[wheneverfeasible]

Omegaverse AU where Steve presents as an alpha just like his father always wanted, just like everyone expects, just like he was supposed to. He exclusively dates betas, scoffing and saying omegas weren’t good enough for him. He said they were too needy, too annoying, too pathetic. He was an alpha.

He hates it.

The truth is that Steve always wanted to be an omega, always wanted to soft and taken care of, wanted to be pupped up, wanted to avoid the stupid knotheads that he was forced to surround himself with, forced to pretend to be. He never dated an omega because he wants to be one and wants desperately for another alpha to take him as their own.

Enter Eddie, an alpha unlike any other. He scorns alphas like Steve and Tommy and Billy and all the other knotheads who act like they’re so much better than anyone else just because of their secondary gender. He rants on top of cafeteria tables about it, has ever since he presented and actually had the other alphas try to talk to him at first as if he was one of them.

No fucking thank you.

Steve is…not enamored, but curious about the super senior. Nancy broke up with him, he and Tommy are sort of on the outs though still barely friends, and Billy has a one-sided rivalry for the crown Steve currently wore, not that Steve truly cared about it.

Blah blah blah, Steve propositions Eddie after watching him for a while, realizing that Eddie might just be the sort of alpha who would fuck Steve and let him pretend to be an omega for a little while, meanwhile Eddie thinks King Steve wants to start shit with him like a knotheaded alpha and is wary and lightly mocking at first, until he realizes what Steve wants.

Steve and Eddie become fuckbuddies, nothing more, where Steve gets to role play as an omega and have Eddie dominate him, who seems to know that Steve wants to pretend to be cared for rather than playing the slut role he’s been doing as an alpha, and Steve actually breaks down in tears the first time Eddie calls him “good boy” and “good omega” though they both pretend he didn’t.

And you see, bitching isn’t really well known yet. It’s not really a thing that’s spoken about amongst polite society. So neither of them clock it when, as their feelings for each other grow, Steve becomes a little more emotional, a little more irrational in regards to Eddie’s attention, and they use scent blockers and neutralizers all the time to keep their affairs secret, so they don’t notice Steve’s scent changing, or the fact that he’s starting to become more than just artificially wet, or his knot doesn’t really pop like it used to because they both steadfastly had ignored it for so long to play the role right.

And it’s just not known. It’s not something that’s really spoken about, so they’d never think about it.

So no, they don’t notice anything until it’s too late, until it happens, and Steve is suddenly thrown into a spontaneous heat after an intense basketball game or something, the final stages of his transition. There was too much sweating, too much testosterone, that the blockers and neutralizers don’t really cut it anymore.

Billy makes the winning shot as the heat hits, making Steve’s legs collapse under him as slick coats his drawers and shorts, dripping down his thighs. All alpha heads suddenly towards him as his new true scent bursts out, surprise on all their faces, even hunger on some.

Billy and Tommy both take a step towards him but are forced to stop by a growl that reverberates through Steve as if it were his own as the familiar scent hits him of blockers and tobacco and weed and leather and that stupid cheap shampoo/conditioner/body wash 3-in-1 that Eddie uses as strong arms wrap around him and dark hair cascades around him.

Because he’s there. His alpha. He’s always there, hiding in the corner or under bleachers or somewhere where Steve can’t see him and he’s always there because this stupid thing between them has become so much more than either of them ever expected and he’s so protective of his omega because Steve is his omega even when he was an alpha because he was always an omega even when he wasn’t biologically.

It isn’t ideal. It far from fucking ideal, but Eddie whisks Steve away in his arms, whispering those words of praise that used to only belong in their role play, but Steve is burning up and he can’t wait can’t wait can’t wait can’t wait can’twaitcan’twaitcan’tfuckingwait—

And Eddie pulls him into classroom, locks and bars the door with desks and chairs and whatever else, and then he’s there he’s there he’stherehe’stherehe’sthere.

Eddie wants to bite, wants to mark, wants to claim, but he knows now isn’t the time so all he does is help Steve through it while he’s all but delirious from the sudden heat rewriting him completely.

Afterwards, they will talk. They will confess. They will admit. They will acknowledge that they were his alpha, his omega, and had been for longer than either of them realized. They will slink to Eddie’s car, go to Eddie’s trailer, will wash off all scents artificial and other until the them, finally just them and they will find the truth in each other. They will find a love that thrived against all odds. A love that beat fate itself.

Eddie does eventually bite him, and Steve completes it with his own, and eventually Steve gets his and his alpha’s pups like he always wanted and he can bask in the knowledge that he was exactly where he was always meant to be, with an alpha that loves and cherishes him exactly as he is, with a pack both of his own pups and the pups he all but adopted as their babysitter and real friends he gathered along the way he never thought he would be lucky enough to have.

It’s not easy at first. Of course it’s not. Something practically unheard of happened in a small conservative town like Hawkins. There were bigots and hateful people galore, and at times it even tested Steve and Eddie, but they always survived and always came out on the other side hand-in-hand and triumphant in their growing love.

They know that the best things in life are worth fighting for. And they vowed to never stop fighting. For themselves, for each other, and for everyone and everything they hold dear.

And they have fantastic sex along the way.

[landos-meat-rider]

theodore nott headcanons part two!!

is it headcannons or headcanons?? anyways i hope you guys like this one, ideas for a new fic are in plan...

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

patriotically italian, esp now that its the euros this man is 10000% against anything english and his friends are still mad at him for last euros (same)

loves to go shopping with you, he’ll hold stuff for you, he’ll buy stuff for you, he’ll ask people questions for you, literally anything

dog person, hates cats

imagine doing that one trend with theo where your lipstick is smudged and you tilt the phone to him and he’s got lipstick kisses allll over

keeps a polaroid of you two in his phone case

has to hold hands all the time

definitely sappy drunk, most times he’ll talk about your future wedding and sometimes he wont recognise that it’s you and won’t let you touch him thinking it’s some random girl

loves watching you get ready

will take your makeup off for you after a long day/night

doesn’t text basically anyone apart from his friendship group and you, and is always that one person in group chats that never texts back to anything

uses "👍" like a dad

buys things for you if you mention them once e.g. if you say one day that you love blueberries, he'll show up with five boxes of them the next day

has all his family recipes in a box and doesn’t let anyone not even you see them, your favourite: his grandads tiramisu 

sees mattheo breaking spaghetti, proceeds to try and break his legs

always has ink on his hands

you guys are not like those couples at theme parks who are basically doing it in a “family friendly” environment, you hold hands and kiss sometimes but nothing more

old moneyyy

knows how to ride horses for some reason

walked in your and pansys dorm once without knocking when you two were doing the jojo siwa karma dance, was traumatised, left silently, never spoke of it again and never came into the dorm without knocking 

loves photography, hes always taking candid photos of you and random things he sees

the majority of his camera roll is you, old photos of his mother that hes been trying to recover from the Nott achives, and just random things he sees that he finds nice, from a painting in a museum to shattered glass in the sunlight on the street

loves taking in italian with lorenzo when he knows you don’t understand things, loves to see you get frustrated

if you speak a language other than english with your parents and you’re on the phone with them and he hears the one or two words he knows, he’ll get all happy and smiley and keep repeating that word/phrase, same with you when theo speaks italian (if youre not already an italian speaker)

super tall, touches the border of doorways when he walks by them, is called slender man on a daily basis as a result

resting bitch face

lorelai gilmore type comebacks 

prideful, knows the status his family holds

fuck around and find out kind of guy

he’s got that built in dad feature of being able to fix absolutely anything from a shelf to the stove

princess treatment both ways

makes sure to wear a freshly washed shirt for a few hours so when you wear it, they smell like him

serves you first in the great hall

loves coming home with you and your family on holidays

does that thing of keeping a flower from a bouquet he gives you so he knows when to get you more

scorpio

if you are an air sign: that one lyric from chemtrails over the country club, "youre in the wind, im in the water" is so you two bc hes a water sign

kendrick supporter

academically smart, womanly stupid

would ask you to teach him how to make daisy chains and get frustrated when all his would break

he and blaise are the appointed spider catchers for you, mattheo, lorenzo, pansy and draco

cursive handwriting

favourite colour is deep blue

[helioooss]

that one summer

synopsis: y/n recalls the summer that changed everything - the one where her and sana end up together

w/c: 2.9k

warnings: none, just cute stuff. not proofread so u can call me stupid 💀

a/n: i seriously can’t write fluff. it’s like i have to be profoundly sad all the time or else i can’t think. !!! how good is sailor song???

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"You know, you're not bad looking," Dahyun starts and you're already rolling your eyes, knowing what's about to come out of her foul mouth. "You just give off, like, really big lesbian loser vibes."

"You haven't seen me in over two months and that's the first thing you say?" you ask her, brows furrowing. She isn't wrong, though, but there is no shame in admitting that either. "And what if I'm a loser?"

"Well, my friend, your grand plan is winning over miss Minatozaki Sana this year, aren't you?" she teasingly raises both of her eyebrows at you. “You really need to grow some balls, Y/N, like look at her at least once when she’s up close - not just from afar.”

You throw a piece of your lettuce at her and she instantly grimaces. “Shut up, you know I can’t do that.”

“Why don’t you hook up with Yunjin? I think she’s still into you,” and she introduces that idea as soon as Sana walks past your table, making you look down at your shoes just to avoid her striking gaze. “Whoops, said that too loud, didn’t I?”

You’re taken aback when Sana pulls away from her friend group and sits herself next to you. Then she unexpectedly wraps an arm around you…but you just had to move away.

"Oh?" Sana's lips curve into a frown, noticing how you're practically pushing her off of you as you let out a nervous chuckle. You want nothing but some sort of phenomenon to swallow you whole and never let you back out right now. "You're ignoring me now, baby?"

And that's it; it's the end of it all. You can feel Dahyun's sharp (and confused) glare from the corner of your eye, she's probably screaming in her head - maybe with a tinge of desire to choke you dead for not telling her why the girl you've been pining over for the past four years has her arms wrapped around you. And kissing you.

The girl in front of you chuckles, her palm tapping your cheek to pull out of whatever trance you're in. "Earth to my beautiful Y/N," she places an innocent kiss on your cracked and dry lips. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you manage to choke out, breath hitching. No. Your cheeks are flushed, heart racing a million more beats than usual; everyone around you mirroring the same expression as your best friend. "What are you doing here?"

It must've sounded wrong to Sana cause now her face is feigned with hurt, mixed with a bit of anger. "Did you not want to see me?"

Dahyun decides that's her cue to leave. You nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt, refusing to look up at her. "No, no, it's not that!"

"You didn't even introduce me to her," Sana's attention is too focused on you that she only notices your best friend's departure when she's steps ahead of you two. "And why are you acting so cold?"

You purse your lips, trying to ignore the prying looks you're receiving from over half of the campus. "Because..." you're dragging your words out, unsure of how to tell her that to everyone else's eyes, she's a goddess.

And you're just you.

"Spit it out," she says in that firm tone that used to scare you as she crossed her arms. "Are you seeing other bitches in campus? Too embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"No, Sana!" you cry out, reaching for her arm. "That's the thing, this place has not seen me get a girl even if my life was on the line and now suddenly, you, you out of all people, are all over me."

"What?" her head is tilted and she looks so cute and you just wanna kiss that frown off her face.

Your frustration gets to the best of you. "I'm a loser who has not had a girlfriend since I stepped foot into this place - and literally, just literally, look at me."

She lets out a lopsided smile, ignoring half of what you just told her. "My gorgeous baby. You look amazing today - might need a haircut though. Your hair's looking a little too scruffy, yeah?"

"Yeah," you sheepishly say, getting distracted by how she can still look good in baggy blue denim jeans and a white baby tee. "I like my hair messy though."

She stands silent for a second, narrowing her eyes at you as she trails her fingers up and down your arm. "I bet you like that everyone swoons over it when it falls down your face."

"Yeah, bold of you to assume that people notice when my hair grows an inch longer - just like when they notice yours," you can't help but roll your eyes.

One thing you learned about Sana is that she's always jealous about the invisible girls that are crazy over you. To her, you have hoes, which comes off as a compliment but it's baffling to try and understand how she doesn't see that you have zero game. And you only pulled her by luck that summer night.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” she stares at you lovingly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Wanna walk me to my next class?“

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the summer that changed everything

The summer before your senior year was something else. It was hot, sticky and sweltering - the streets during daytime were almost empty as the city tucked themselves into the safety of their homes.

Today was no different. The sun was beginning to set and it offered no relief, remnants of the heat still hanging heavy in the air. You were walking along an empty street in your neighbourhood, skateboard in one hand and a Camus book on the other (you were trying to be mysterious, the park today had no one else but you and this guy from your active matter class).

From afar, you could see a sleek, shiny black car (a bit unusual for the place) in the middle of the road ahead of you and next to it was a girl in a white sundress as she paced around the area. She saw you approaching her and she couldn't wait any second longer - you were walking so slow and she just had to run towards you, heels clicking against the pavement.

You tightened your grip on your deck, prepared to deal with one of the many crackheads along this street. You've done it before and it wouldn't hurt to do it again.

When she was close enough to be perfectly seen by you, your knees began to melt and your head was screaming to run, but you stood frozen. It was Minatozaki Sana; head cheerleader and queen bee and she had bows in her hair and it was wavy and she looked sweaty and -

"Y/N!" she panted, seeming relieved at the sight of your familiar face. Your name rolled her tongue off like you could get used to it. "It's Y/N, right? We had the same classes last year."

Not really, you only had two lectures with her. Of course she wouldn't remember that though.

"Yeah, are you okay?" you asked in a worried tone despite the fluttering in your chest.

There was frustration etched on her face, something that you noticed she does whenever things don't go under her plans. "No, my car stalled and my phone's dead so I can't call for help. I'm supposed to be at a dinner party with my family!"

"I'd offer to help but believe it or not, I genuinely know nothing about cars. I'm like if a lesbian was useless,” you bit your tongue, regretting your existence already.

"You're gay?"

"Um, yeah," you cleared your throat, grabbing your cracked phone out of your pocket. "But here; maybe call a mechanic then an Uber?"

Her stare lingered, a tint of curiosity now plastered on her face. Her eyes travelled towards the skateboard and book on your head, then your tattoos before it finally landed on your phone. She took it without saying anything else.

You looked around, trying not to pry into her conversation with who you assumed was her mum. "Yeah, I'm bringing a friend, by the way. Just let everyone else know I'm not coming alone..."

Sana was too beautiful with her rosy cheeks and flawlessly sculpted lips. You could tell the goods took their time with her and instead of becoming the subject of art, she became the embodiment of it instead. Here you were, struck by her beauty once more and there was nothing you could do but watch as if she were something from a museum.

She could be mean at times, she had a status to protect after all, but it looked good on her. You were used to the taunting and sharp remarks from her friends despite her always telling them off - always trying to defend you for whatever reason.

"Let's go?" she tapped your shoulder, a grin on her face, and you just knew she was up to no good. "My driver's coming in ten minutes, we have to go to dinner with my family. Let's wait in my car."

"We what?" your eyes widened, smile faltering as you immediately transformed into a nervous wreck. "What? I can't, I have work in half an hour."

"You work at my cousin's record store, you'll be fine, he's going to be there."

"How do you know that?" you nearly shat yourself there, but you couldn't tell her that. Her eyes were striking and you didn't have the balls (literally) to say no so you allowed her to drag you around.

She reached out for your arm, her warm fingers wrapping around your skin to lead you into her car. “I have my sources.”

“I’m not even dressed for the occasion!”

“Just trust me, Y/N,” she replied, smiling.

And you did, because it was Sana, but her family would cook the shit out of the five dollars in your wallet as you stood in awe at the sight in front of you. You had always known that the Minatozaki's stood in a different tax bracket compared to everyone else - but you didn't expect Sana to live in an actual castle an hour away from the outskirts of the city.

Expensive black cars surrounded the sprawling gardens, they had people in front of the towering columns serving champagne glasses.

“Sana, I think I’m gonna shit myself.”

Over the next few days, Sana clung to you like you were the light of her life. Her family loved you instantly - and you were always welcomed back home. She would be at the record store while you were on shift, insisting to do a bit of manual labour because apparently, she had never lifted a box in her life.

You two spent hours sitting in the quiet corner of the shop - showing her all kinds of music that you assumed she wouldn’t be into. She would bring you lunch in her expensive heels (she eventually learned that sneakers were a must during working hours). Some days, she would sit at the skate park just watching you in your zone.

To you, she was Sana, but the feelings you harboured seemed to grow deeper and harder to keep. Like you could burst any moment.

During that night, your parents had just spent the entire night making their signature dishes for Sana. Coincidentally, their old restaurant was the one her dad had always taken her out to when she was younger.

You were unaware of the fact that it was the place she saw you for the first time in her life and just knew.

You drew the bottle of beer closer your lips, taking a big sip as you rocked back and forth on your seat. “Sorry about that - my parents are passionate about cooking.”

She chuckled. “How come they closed the restaurant?”

“Just financial issues, you know?” you answered truthfully, heart swelling with affection for her. “Dad got really sick one winter and with no one else to help mum, they decided to end that chapter.”

“Is he okay now?”

“Yeah, he is kicking life, just gets mad when he remembers that he has to look after himself.”

The air was much cooler now, leaves rustling as the wind carried a faint scent of the flowers in your mum’s garden. The sky was dotted with stars and the moonlight reflected against Sana’s hair - making her glow. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.

“So,” her voice was soft, the way she looked at you was filled with sincerity. “Last year of college, huh? What’s next for you, miss architect?”

You always knew what was ahead of you, but for some reason, sitting with Sana under the moonlight and her looking so beautiful, you felt scared to tell her. “Um, I think I’m heading overseas.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said, the disappointment visible in her eyes even though she tried to look excited for you. “Why?”

“My uncle said I could make better money working for his place, you know, with the currency difference and all that,” you cleared your throat, putting the bottle on the floor. “It’ll just be good for my family, and there’s really nothing in store for me here. I think if I disappeared today the city wouldn’t even notice.”

Your attempt at trying to lighten the mood just made her scowl deeper. “But I’m here and I would notice your absence.”

“If it weren’t for us getting to know each other this summer, I genuinely think you wouldn’t.”

It was true, you always lived a completely different life from Sana. Even though she was nice compared to how her friends treated you, there was still a huge wall between you. As soon as summer would be over, you know she’s retreating back to her side of the wall and away from you, and you’ll be watching her from the sidelines again.

She was quiet, eyes studying you carefully from the side. She didn’t like that you were kind to everyone but yourself. In her eyes, you were the most beautiful person to ever exist - she wanted you to see that you meant so much to her.

And without really thinking, she pulled your face and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and tentative, and all too familiar, like coming home after a long day’s work knowing that the comfort of a kiss waits for you.

You held her closer, hands roaming down her back as her fingers danced in your hair. It was years worth of built up unspoken feelings and desire. When you finally pulled away, you were breathless as she leaned her forehead against yours. “Sana, I’m sorry -“

She kissed you again. “I’ve waited for this for so long,” her breath came in shallow. “You took your time.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s only midday and you feel like it’s been going on for too long. You start rambling to Sana (who’s feeding you her strawberries) about the way Professor Song spoke to you in class, making you sound like your theory is stupid. "And he goes - my question is not opinion-based Y/N, you should know better, blah blah blah," you mimic his voice, failing to notice Sana's stone-cold look.

"What does Yunjin mean to you?"

The question catches you off guard for a second, the answer running through your head at a quickened pace. "What makes you ask that?" You internally recoil because you should've just given her a straight answer.

"Why is your ex-girlfriend constantly clinging onto you in the same way I do?"

"We never even dated!" your tone is defensive, voice a pitch higher. "We kissed once at one of Miyeon's parties during our first year - you were even there...with Jungkook at the time."

"That's not the point," she clenches her jaw, eyebrows creased and you know she's angry when she doesn't even smile at the dog that just strutted past you two. "I saw her playing with your hair and hugging you, and you let her. You wouldn't even let me do that with you in public.”

"That's how she is with everyone!"

"You should not be a part of her everyone list," she said sharply, intertwining her fingers with yours. "I swear if she -"

You place a hand on her nape, gently pulling her closer so your lips could meet. "Don't worry, okay? As soon as you meet her, she'll cling to you in no time."

She licks her lips, tasting the lip balm she bought you. "You're wearing the Glossier one?"

"Yup," you say, leaning your head on her shoulder. "You caught me at a bad time when you kissed me this morning and it was embarrassing - I had dry ass lips!"

"My favourite," she giggles, making you push her to the side. "Why did you think we weren't dating?"

"You never asked me," you told her, curiosity piquing when she moves in front of you and kneels down. “I just sort of assumed you wouldn’t even acknowledge me on campus - what exactly are you doing right now?”

“Really?” she rolls her eyes at you. “I don’t sleep around. You really think you could get away with giving me forehead kisses in the morning without becoming my girlfriend?”

“Well, don’t people do that?”

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” she holds your hand with adoration written all over her eyes. “Let me call you mine, always.”

You bite your lip at her cheekiness, not knowing Sana could show a playful side around everyone. “Then you’re going to have to officially meet my friends when the day is over because they always said I could never get one.”

“Am I your girlfriend now?”

“Sana, you’ve always been my girlfriend in my head.”

[itneverendshere]

hiiii, i just read the school spirit fic with rafe AND ITS THE BEST FUCKING THING. i need a part 2 desperately please, i need rafe to play the best game he is ever played and everyone it’s like wtf but like omg. AND THE LAST GOL HE LIKE DEDICATES IT TO READER POINTING TO THE BLEACHERS. and then reader just goes with it and they fuck… please i need it

you ask and you shall receive! hope you enjoy <33

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part ii

warnings: smart!reader x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; read part i here; part iii SMUT!;

word count: 4.7k

you were losing your fucking mind.

what were you thinking? oh, right! you weren’t.

the entire situation felt surreal, but there was no backing down now.

plus, when did some little dick hurt your feelings?

it was a win-win like you said before. if he won, you got laid after months without feeling a human's touch. if he lost, you wouldn't get laid and just walked away. either way, you’re not entirely disappointed with the outcome.

or at least that’s why you’ve been telling yourself.

as you walked to the stadium, your heart pounded in your chest, legs threatning to give out underneath you. yeah, you were a little nervous. but you blamed it on pope for giving you so much shit about the game.

he’d been insistent on you learning the rules, the players’ names, even memorizing their more common plays. it felt like he was trying to coach you into a small version of josé mourinho. 

everyone knew you were not the type to get invested in sports, let alone a college soccer match, but today was different and you were stupid enough to let your best friend convince you to wear a stupid jersey with rafe’s name and number on it.

13.

of course that walking disaster of a man would choose the unlucky number for himself. 

as you entered the stadium, the noise of the crowd was overwhelming. the chants, the cheers, the jeers—had you mentioned this was your first time watching a game? in real life? you knew people took this seriously, but it felt absolutely insane to witness it.

you could see the players warming up on the field, rafe among them.

he looked so different out there, focused and intense, very different to the reckless, unpredictable guy you were used to.

you followed pope like a lost puppy, and quickly found your seats in the stands, right in the middle of a sea of fans. some were dressed in the team's colors, others wore jerseys like yours, proudly displaying their favorite player's name and number. you felt out of place, a fraud among true fans, but there was no turning back now.

“turn that frown upside down, you gonna scare the bitches away.”

you rolled your eyes, “stop calling everyone bitches.”

from the corner of your right eye, you saw pope leaning closer, and without so much of a glance, you could tell he was about to spew out something stupid to piss you off.

“why are you so tense, hmmm? you’re getting laid tonight bro, cheer up!”

your hand instantly lifted to knock some sense into his head, “keep it down!” you hiss in his ear, “jesus.”

he just laughed, entirely unfazed by your irritation. “relaxxx, no one’s paying attention to us,” he said, casually draping an arm over the back of your seat. “they’re all too busy worshipping our soccer gods.”

you couldn’t help but glance around, noting the faces of fans who seemed to live and breathe for this moment. it was a different world, one you never quite understood.

you looked back at the field, your eyes finding rafe again. he was in his element, effortlessly moving through the warm-up drills, every motion proof to his athleticism. for a moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate the view. his jersey clung to his body, emphasizing muscles you hadn’t really paid attention to before…closely.

“hey,” pope nudged you, pulling you out of your reverie. “you’re drooling.”

“shut up,” you muttered, but couldn’t help the slight smile tugging at your lips, “i’m assessing the task.”

“don’t worry. rumor has it he’s big.”

you shot pope a glare, half-amused and half-exasperated. "do you ever shut the fuck up?"

pope just chuckled, shaking his head, “i’m dead serious.”

you were quiet for a minute. eyes drifting along rafe’s body, stopping—

“how big?”

“what?”

“how big.” you muttered under your breath, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to smack your friend for his relentless teasing.

he only sent you a wink, “you’ll find out soon enough sweetcheeks, it’s okay.”

"you’re so annoying," you gritted trough your teeth, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, “so annoying.”

pope just grinned, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "the game’s starting, enjoy the view.”

the game started, and you tried to follow along, remembering pope's endless lectures. but rafe was everywhere, moving with a kind of grace you didn't know he possessed, toned legs carrying effortlessly across the field.

you watched him, transfixed, as he commanded the team, shouting orders and making plays. it was like seeing a different side of him, a side you couldn't reconcile with the rafe who caused so much chaos in the library. it was kinda hot. when he touched the ball, your heart leaped into your throat. you could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that drove him. 

then, it happened.

he dribbled past defenders as if they were mere obstacles in his way and then, he unleashed a powerful strike, the ball soared through the air, a perfect arc that left the goalkeeper rooted to the spot. time seemed to slow down as everyone watched with bated breath. then, the net rippled as the ball slammed into the back, and the stadium exploded.

"and cameron with an explosive start here! just six minutes into the game, and he's already showing us why he's a force to be reckoned with. that was a textbook example of skill and determination, folks! he saw the opportunity, he seized it, and he made it count! our boy is back!”

“holy fuck!” pope all but screamed in your ear as the crowd went wild, “what the hell did you tell him?!”

you turned to him, still sitting, momentarily speechless, as the realization sunk in that maybe, just maybe, your unconventional motivation had really ignited something within rafe. 

"i don't know," you managed to shout back, your voice drowned out by the crowd. but deep down, you knew. maybe it wasn't about the specifics of what you promised but the audacity of your offer that spurred him on.

as the game rolled on, rafe's presence on the field took over. every move he made sparked cheers and chants from the crowd, adding to the electric atmosphere. it was a far cry from your usual indifference to sports, but you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement of it all.

in every pass, every interception, and every almost-goal, whenever he got the ball, the whole stadium seemed to hold its breath, as did you, waiting to see what he'd do next.

you were a hypocrite.

because he scored, again. 

when you thought, he was done showing off and making you eat your last week’s words up, you saw him turn to the stands after he celebrated the last goal with his teammates and your heart dropped to your ass.

there was no way in hell he was going to find you in that sea of people, right? you were safe. he was scanning the crowd, your section...searching for... you.

"shit," you muttered under your breath, trying to shrink into your seat. 

“yeah, that’s on me. sorry. told him your seat.”

if you weren’t about to puke, you would’ve punched pope in the face, instead you chose to keep your head down, eyes rooted to your beat up adidas, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“he’s coming up.”

you lifted your head, looking at pope incredulously, “he’s what?! pope, don’t fuck with me.”

“i’m sorry it was just too funny,” pope snickered, shaking his head, “he’s not coming, but he’s staring at you with those love-sick puppy eyes.”

you reluctantly glanced down to find him staring directly at you, chest heaving as he brushed a few stubborn strands of sweaty hair away from his forehead.

you almost, key word almost, gasped at you handsome he looked.

then a grin spread slowly across his lips. without breaking eye contact, he subtly raised his hand, a gesture only you could understand.

and it hit you. it was a callback to your shared sign language class in freshman year.

how the fuck did he remember that? you didn’t. not until he did it. 

hi beautiful.

you’d never felt the need to swoon over a man before. now you might. after what feels like an eternity, but were just mere seconds, you gathered your courage and raised your hand, mirroring his sign for a simple "hi" and adding a tentative smile.

it was an easy gesture, but it felt…different. rafe's smile widened in response before he turned to run back into the field.

pope, ever the instigator, nudged you again. "that was smooth.”

the glare returned to your face.

the rest of the game unfolded in a blur. rafe continued to dominate the field, scoring goal after goal with precision and skill that left you in awe. each time he celebrated, you found yourself holding your breath. 

when the final whistle blew and the stadium erupted in celebration, your jaw was nearly on the floor.

had he played like that his entire life? was this the same boy that you threatened to punch in the face if he didn’t get his life together? the team's victory was clear—a resounding 4-0 win.

"remember that name, folks—rafe cameron. he's not just a player; he's a game-changer. and with plays like that, he's proving why he's a standout talent on this field today!"

"well," pope finally managed to say, his voice tinged with disbelief, "looks like you're in for a ride."

you could only nod dumbly as you watched rafe celebrate with his teammates, the bond between them palpable even from a distance.

you swore you even saw him hug jj. 

as the stadium began to empty, you lingered in your seat, watching as rafe disappeared into the locker room with his team to shower. eventually, you gathered your belongings and followed pope out of the stadium.

“you gonna wait for him here?”

“i don’t know,” you groaned, itching to warm your freezing hands, “didn’t plan ahead.”

"so..." pope started again, "what's the plan now? going to find him?"

“i told—“ 

you were about to drill some common sense into pope when you feel something touch your back. not just something. a warm, blazing palm settling at the end of your back.

you froze, your heart racing as the warmth seeped through your jacket.

“cameron, nice game, for once.”

ignoring pope’s teasing, you leaned your head to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. and there he was. looking at you with that same confident tilt on his pretty lips that had both infuriated and intrigued you countless times before.

"hey," rafe said, his voice slightly breathless from the intensity of the game and the excitement still coursing through him.

"hey," you managed to reply, your voice surprisingly steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“oh okay. i get it.”

rafe glanced over at pope with a knowing smirk. "thanks for coming out, man.”

“you’re welcome by the way.”

rafe ignored the comment, eyes remained fixed on you. "glad you could make it," he said, his tone softer now.

“okayyy, i’m leaving. stay safe, byee!”

“pope,” you yelled out as he excused himself, “my doorm keys are in your car.”

“that sounds like a you problem.”

you stared after pope, mouth slightly agape, as he disappeared into the crowd. you'd have to figure that out later. for now, there was rafe, standing so close that the air between you didn’t seem enough. 

"guess we're stuck together,” you said, trying to sound casual, mentally cringing at how stupid it sounded.

rafe only chuckled, the sound low and warm against your skin, "seems like it."

“sooo—“

before you could finish your sentence, his hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

and then he kissed you

it was messy, sensual, and bruising all at once. his lips moved against yours with a hunger that took you by surprise, but you didn't pull away. instead, you matched his intensity, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you kissed him back with just as much need. it felt like you were losing your fucking mind, but you didn't care.

he just felt so good.

his hands roamed up your lower back, pulling you even closer as if trying to merge you into him. his kiss was demanding, with a sense of deep-seated need that you hadn’t anticipated.

your fingers tangled in his hair, wondering if you’d ever get the chance to do this again after tonight. when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you tried to regain your composure. 

his thumb brushed gently over your cheek, “we’re leaving now.”

you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “now?”

“yeah, now.” rafe’s voice was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

he hoisted you up into his arms effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing. oh wow, you liked this.

“what are you doing?” you managed to gasp out, clinging to his shoulders for stability. he was so fucking strong it nearly made you want to eat him whole.

“taking you to bed,” he replied, his voice low, “we’ve got unfinished business.”

the walk to his dorm? you couldn’t remember.

you were acutely aware of the curious stares from other students, but you didn’t care. maybe the day after.

rafe cameron was carrying you on his arms inside his fraternity and when he finally reached his dorm, he kicked the door open with his foot, carrying you inside, before locking it. he set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as he stared into your eyes.

there was a fire there, an intensity that made your knees weak.

“that wasn’t fair, y’know."

your brows furrowed in confusion.

“tempting me for weeks.”

“well—i didn’t think—nmph!”

his lips were on yours again, the kiss just as desperate as before. you melted into him, your body pressing against his as you gave in to the sensation of his hands exploring your back, pulling you closer. your fingers fumbled to remove his shirt. he’d showered after the game but you were still wearing his jersey. he helped you, pulling it off in one swift motion, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. you couldn’t help but run your hands over his chest, enjoying at the hard planes of his body.

his hands found the hem of your own jersey, “you’re gonna wear this to every game, you hear me?”

you tilted your head to the side, in mock confusion, “who said i'm going to your games?”

he chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your skin as his hands worked to pull the jersey over your head.

“oh, baby. you will. you won’t be able to stay away.”

“confident, are we?” you teased, even as your breath hitched at the way his hands roamed over your now-bare skin, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“you’ll see.”

he was kissing you.

again.

more insistent, like he couldn’t get enough of you, and you reveled in the feeling of being wanted so intensely. his hands slid down to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifted you, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.

you felt the hard press of him against you, a reminder of just how much he wanted this—wanted you. he carried you over to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness despite the urgency in his movements.

 he hovered over you for a moment, his gaze roaming over your body, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he went along.

you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. “then stop talking and show me.”

that was the only warning rafe needed.

his hands were everywhere—tugging at your shorts, tracing the curves of your body, driving you wild with anticipation. he finally rid you of your remaining clothes, and you couldn’t help but shiver as the cool air hit your heated skin. but it didn’t last long, not with his body pressing against yours, his warmth enveloping you.

you lost yourself in the sensation—the taste of him, the feel of his hands gripping your thighs, the way he pressed into you.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt.

“god, yes,” you all but mewled, your hands clutching at his sheets, needing him to just do something, “need you to touch me right now.”

his fingers trailed down your body with deliberate slowness, “tell me how.”

you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone articulate what you needed. your mind was a haze of want and need, every nerve ending screaming for him.

but somehow, you managed to speak, “everywhere.”

a slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, and he dipped his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, drawing a gasp from your lips. his hand moved to your other breast, squeezing and kneading as his mouth worked its magic. 

“like this?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

son of a bitch.

“yeah, oh, just like that,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his blonde hair, holding him close. “don’t stop.”

he didn’t.

his mouth and hands continued their relentless assault on your senses, driving you up the fucking walls. his lips trailed down your stomach, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses that left a trail of fire in their wake.

oh you needed to be fucked all right.

when he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area. 

“rafe,” you pleaded, your hips lifting off the bed in a silent demand, “don’t be a dick.”

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “so needy,” he teased, but his voice was filled with reverent awe.

without further warning, he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue delving into your folds with a hunger that made you cry out. he licked and sucked, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devoured you. 

this man ate pussy like the champion that he was and you loved it.

his tongue flicked against your clit with precision, with ease. rafe was relentless, his mouth working you to the brink, then easing off just enough to keep you on edge.

“fuck, rafe,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his face, desperate for more.

he growled in response, the vibration adding another layer of pleasure, and you felt yourself hurtling toward the edge. he must have sensed it, because his pace quickened, his tongue moving in perfect rhythm with the throbbing need building inside you.

your head was spinning as you looked down at him and met his heavy-lidded gaze searing a path straight to your core. you could only grab his bicep for stability, digging your nails into his skin.

and then, with a final, well-placed flick of his tongue, you came apart, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. rafe didn’t stop, didn’t let up, riding you through your climax until you were a boneless, quivering mess beneath him.

you never came so fast in your life. 

when he lifted his head, his lips glistened with your arousal as he crawled back up your body. he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, the sensation of his weight pressing you into the mattress grounding you as you came down from your high.

“holy shit,” you breathed when he finally pulled back, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. “good job, cameron.”

he grinned, a boyish, cocky smile that somehow made you want him even more. “glad you enjoyed it,” he murmured, his voice a rough, sexy whisper against your lips.

you reached down, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts, desperate to feel him inside you.

“your turn,” you pulled his shorts down enough to free his cock. it sprang free, hard and heavy, and you couldn’t help but wrap your hand around it, stroking slowly.

oh wow.

so big big.

your hand moved around rafe’s cock lazily, feeling its weight and heat in your palm. he hissed through his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch. you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of him—so strong, so utterly at your mercy.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” rafe muttered, his voice strained with need. he watched your hand with hooded eyes, his hips thrusting slightly in time with your movements.

you felt a surge of power, knowing you had this effect on him.

you grinned up at him, loving the way his breath hitched with every stroke. “don’t like it?”

his laugh was breathless, shaky. “oh, i do. but this—” he broke off with a groan as you squeezed him a little harder, “—this is something else.”

without breaking eye contact, you guided him towards your entrance, positioning him at your slick opening. he paused, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. 

“condom?” 

you nodded, your heart pounding in anticipation. “yeah.”

rafe reached over to the nightstand, fumbling for a moment before retrieving a condom. you watched, heart racing, as he tore open the foil packet with his teeth, the sound sharp and thrilling in the quiet of the room. he rolled it on swiftly, his movements sure and practiced. with the condom in place, he positioned himself between your legs.

he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you until you thought you might break. the sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that made you gasp, you were holding on for dear life as he filled you completely.

“god, you feel so good,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the size of him, his hands cradling your face tenderly. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “’m good. just—move.”

rafe didn’t need any more encouragement.

he started to thrust, slow and deep, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to go faster. his pace increased, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more frantic.

“can’t believe— fuck, oh, this is happening.”

“rafe,” you moaned, your voice breaking with every thrust. “just—don’t stop.”

his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. he rubbed it in tight, relentless circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire being. 

“fuck, that’s it,” rafe groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic, his grip on your hip tightening ,“so fucking beautiful.”

his lips found yours in an all-spit kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matched the relentless pace of his hips. your fingers dug into his shoulders as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

"oh fuck," you gasped, breaking the kiss as the sensations overwhelmed you, “rafe,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back, “i’m—”

“i know,” he cut you off, his voice strained. “me too.”

you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body on fire. and then you were falling, your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

your climax triggered his own, and seconds later with a few more powerful trusts, he buried himself deep inside you, body shuddering as he came, his moans low and hot in your ear.

you held onto him, feeling the rhythmic pulses of his release, the raw, primal intensity of it making your head spin.

for a moment, neither of you moved, both trying to catch your breath, your bodies still intertwined. then, rafe rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were lying against his chest.

you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your cheek. you lay there in silence for a while, just enjoying the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest. you felt strangely happy, considering everything that had led to this moment, but you didn’t want to question it.

“so,” his fingers trailed lazily up and down your arm, “does this mean you’re coming to my next game?”

“not sure.”

the sensation of rafe still inside you, combined with the aftermath of your shared orgasm, left you both in a haze of pleasure.

but you weren’t done yet.

there was a need within you that demanded more, a desire to push the boundaries even further.

you slid out from beneath him, leaving him lying on his back. his blue eyes widened slightly as he watched you, curiosity and anticipation written all over his face. you settled yourself between his legs, your hands tracing the defined muscles of his abs before wrapping around his still-hard cock, after you pulled and tied the condom, throwing it into the garbage can in the corner.

“w—what are you doing?” 

you didn’t answer right away.

instead, you focused on stroking him slowly, your hand gliding up and down his length, feeling the pulse of his desire beneath your fingers. rafe groaned, his head falling back against the pillows, his hips lifting slightly in response to your touch.

overstimulation was a bitch. so were you sometimes.

“you won, right?” you replied, your voice sultry. “here’s your prize.”

his breath hitched, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “are you trying—oh fuck. trying to kill me?”

you smirked, increasing the pace of your strokes, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered there. “is that a complaint?”

“not even close,” he managed to say, his voice strained.

you could see the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing, his breaths coming faster. you leaned down, letting your tongue flick over the head of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness of him. he jerked, a guttural groan escaping his lips, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him.

“baby,” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as you took him deeper into your mouth, your hand still working the base of his shaft, “shit.”

you reveled in the power you had over him, the way his body responded to your every touch, your every movement.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him hard. his hands moved to your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you, but not forcing you.

it only made him hotter.

the sounds he made, the way he writhed beneath you, only spurred you on. you wanted to push him over the edge, to see him come again because of you. you pulled back slightly, your hand pumping him faster, your mouth focusing on the sensitive head, your tongue swirling around it, teasing him mercilessly.

“’m so close,” he gasped, his grip on your hair tightening. “please, don’t stop.”

you had no intention of stopping. 

you increased your pace, your hand and mouth working in perfect harmony, driving him towards his release. you felt his body tensing even more, his breaths coming in ragged pants, and then he was coming, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he spilled himself into you with a hoarse cry.

you swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him, the satisfaction of knowing you had pushed him to this point. when you finally pulled back, rafe was a panting mess, his eyes half-lidded, his body trembling.

“you just made me fall in love with you, again.”

"what?"

[babygirl-riley]

Hii🌸 if u don't mind would u pls write for simon w fem reader who's having a difficult pregnancy??:'( if not that's ok, luv ur stuff btw🩷

In Sickness and Health

Simon’s heart breaks when watching going through your first pregnancy

A/N: Omg i watched my old co worked go through a hard pregnancy. It never looks easy no matter how it is going. I love this idea too ❤️

Warnings: sickness, pregnancy, hard pregnancy, underlining depression, arguments, marriage, soft!simon, husband!simon, dad!simon, fluff, little angst, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

When you found out you were pregnant, it was obvious. No period. Your cravings became intense. You threw up every fucking morning. Simon and you were excited that you were pregnant, people encouraging you that the morning sickness would pass. Instead. It came harder and longer. You cramped all the time, you bled once. Thinking you lost the baby when in fact you didn’t. Doctor reassured that it was normal in some women.

However, both of you didn’t expect the pregnancy to get harder than what people said it would have been. Your mom even said that what you are going through isn’t what she did. You are through your third trimester and nothing changed. Eventually your midwife came to put fluids in you since you couldn’t hold anything in. Throwing up was your new aesthetic. It got harder for you to work so you had to quit your job and stay home. Best friends with your toilet, you slept there day and night until your body grew bigger.

Simon was ordered from Price to stay home until the baby arrived and settled. Price heard from Simon about how the pregnancy has been not the best. You been up all night not being able to sleep from being too hot to throwing up to not being comfortable. Which caused Simon not to sleep, due to being worried about you. He would hold your hair up if you were too tired to even notice it was falling inside the toilet. Simon would wash your hair as you cried. Shushing you to keep you from having a panic attack.

You hated all of what was happening to you where you couldn’t enjoy being pregnant. Counting the days not to see your kid but to have her out. It was like you were hating the fact of everything no that was happening. Feeling like a curse then a miracle. Simon was the opposite even though he was heartbroken to see his love going through only hardship, the thought of having a mini both of you made him warm inside. Bringing it up once had you excited until you would hurl once more.

Simon would bend over backwards for anything you needed. Needed a bath Done. Needed a craving. Done and done again. Needed to be carried to the bed. Done. Needed a belly lift. Done. Anything was possible for Simon if it was for you. Nothing would stop him from helping you.

Was it perfect? Not always. Even when you both were tired and exhausted, you would fight, he would always be right by you. No matter what the fight was about, lately things that were ridiculous.

You both finished a fight and made up as he pet your damp hair, rubbing his other hand on your swollen belly. You were laying on his chest in bed, having your belly rest on the comfort of the mattress.

Sweat consumed you, your body working overboard on making your child and keeping you from not dying from everything else. It was silent before you sobbed. You were done, nothing for you. Your feet hurt. You felt like a whale. And your husband hated you. You’ve been only a bitch since you got pregnant and you were done.

You kept repeating in your head that he truly didn’t want to be here that you were just an excuse of a wife. That he never wanted to help you. That he wished you were gone. All because he didn’t get you your pebble ice. Simon had to leave the house for a while and what did he bring back? The stupid fucking ice. You called him a coward for leaving and not say anything about you said just for him to gift you?

Simon’s heart broke when your son burst out, your body shaking. Concern written on his face as he made your face turn to him. “Love what’s wrong?”

You cried harder as you laid your face in his shirt. “I want her out. And I feel terrible that I don’t want to do this anymore. That I have been a bitch. That I can’t stop throwing up. That this whole pregnancy hasn’t been what people have been saying.” He listened to you rubbing your back in soothing patterns. “I’ve been a terrible wife. I can’t believe I have been awful to you. You only been kind and generous and loving.”

Simon shook his head. “I could never do what you are doin’ dove,” He said quickly as he rubbed your shoulders. “This pregnancy is not been the best for ya.”

You sobbed harder as you clenched your hands into his shirt. Simon started to hush you quietly and soothingly. “You don’t deserve me.”

Simon froze from the comment, he used to say that to you at the beginning of your relationship. Telling you that he is a monster and that he would plague you with his darkness. That you were the angel and he was a demon, instead you showed him that he was the opposite. He was just lost in a broken world of his. Simon knew you were not like this. Not confident. Angry. Negative. No, you were the opposite of all of it.

Simon scooted so he would have you sit up against the frame. “Don’t you say that.” He said sternly.

You scoffed. “It’s true, I called you mean things. I said mean nasty things that are not true. Just over ice? Like how…”

“Stop,” He said stopping you dead in your tracks. “I know you didn’t mean it. Never have you showed me that. Baby,” He watched as your lips trembled, as your skin paled. “I know you love me, you are in pain just like I was. Let me help you bring yourself back as you make our child. You’re almost there love.”

You inhaled deeply as you looked away. “I’m sorry,” You turned to him and placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you Simon.”

Simon smiled and grabbed your hand kissing your knuckles. “I love you too. This is through sickness and health yeah? We promised each other that. So that is what gonna happen.”

You laid back down on him, your heart swelled with joy. You didn’t know how you got such an amazing husband. But all you knew is that he was your soulmate and you were his.

Another month went by and the baby was in distress from your body. She would be a month and half early which could lead into problems. However since your was fighting off too many things it wanted the baby to come out. You laid in the hospital bed as they induced you to push your baby girl out. You cried as Simon held his hand on yours and a cloth against your forehead.

“You got this mama,” The gynecologist announced looking up at you. “She is almost there!”

You looked at Simon concern written on your face and his. “It’s al’ight mamas. ‘M right here.” He whispered soothing you by brushing your damp strands back.

With a couple last pushes you heard a wail. Immediately relief went through your body as you laid all the way down into the bed. You panted as nurses and the doctor tended to the baby. Simon watched back and forth between you and the baby. “Go-Go see her.” You whispered gulping air.

You watched as he gave you a concerned look then nodded. You watched as he looked over the shoulders and smiled. Your heart fluttering. One of the nurses came to look over you. She said something but you couldn’t hear her. You felt nauseous and weak, lightheadedness coming in full swing.

The nurse called out as you felt your eyes roll. After that it was dark, you felt like actual sleep took hold. When you woke up, you were in a different room in the hospital, mouth was dry. When you looked over you saw Simon asleep with your baby girl against his bare chest.

You smiled. “They have been so cute,” You turned your head to see the doctor walking in. “How are you feeling?”

You hummed and coughed a bit. “Thirsty.”

“I bet. You had a blood clot form after giving birth to your baby girl. It can be common and could cause from your body being on overdrive to fix you. You are on blood thinners so take it easy. You have a healthy baby girl, she might be a little smaller than usual but that is expected from a early birth,” she explained looking over your vitals. “Your husband knows what to do. Just get to know your baby and rest.”

That you did, Simon once again by both you and both of your baby girl. Never have you felt so much relief and love. You smiled as Simon changed her diaper humming softly to her. In sickness and health. Is all you thought of as he gave you a kiss handing you your baby girl.

[steddie-there]

Steve is bitchy. It's a known fact. He's a reformed mean girl and bitch is like a second language to him. Whether it's scathing commentary about Family Video customers almost before they're out the door,

"So apparently it's national hit on someone young enough to be your granddaughter day, who knew we had such a gross holiday?"

snarky conversations with the kids,

"Well, whaddya know, Dustin, would you look at this?" "What? "It's the coke you said wasn't in the fridge! Isn't it amazing how it just magically appeared?" "Oh, shut up, Steve." "I'm just so completely in awe!"

or calling out the people that still give Eddie nasty looks (and doesn't that make Eddie's heart grow three sizes and threaten to pop out of his chest and burrow into Steve's?),

"You know, Carol, if you keep making that face, it might stick like that. But look on the bright side, at least then the outside would be as hideous as the inside!"

Eddie adores all of it. Loves Steve's mile-wide mean streak. Loves how he can use it to tease the people he loves or decimate the latest idiot he's been forced to deal with.

But Eddie's favorite, the best, the most wonderful, absolutely fantastic moments of Steve's bitchiness? Those happen while he's driving. It doesn't matter what exactly has him riled up about another driver, Steve always has something sarcastic on the tip of his tongue to bitch about them with.

"Do you look as stupid as you drive? Dumbass."

"Jeeze, I never knew the white line was for driving on. What an amazing thing you've discovered!"

"Oh, apparently I missed the memo where 35 mph got changed to 55. Eddie, remind me to check the speed limit sign the next time we drive through here. God, what an impatient asshole."

No matter what it is, it always has Eddie stifling his laughter behind his hand. But this last time - they're at a four-way stop and the car turning across from them definitely went before it was their turn and Steve says, "Hmm, seems someone missed the lesson on taking turns in kindergarten," with that little bitchy tilt to his head - Eddie can't help the guffaw that bursts out of his mouth.

Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye. "What are you giggling about?"

"You. You just - you get so bitchy at the other drivers and, I swear to god, man, it's the funniest shit." He laughs again, says fervently, "Christ, I love you, Stevie."

And then he freezes. Realizes what he said. Takes a deep, horrified breath. It's too soon, they only just started dating, he can't say something like that, he's... He backtracks. "Uh... I mean, uh, I love when you - "

And then freezes again when Steve slides his hand off the steering wheel and onto his thigh, fingers curling around the inside. "So, you love me, huh?"

Eddie chances a glance over at Steve. Despite the teasing tone in his voice, there's something soft around his eyes and the edges of his smile. Something almost... hopeful.

Eddie swallows and decides fuck it. "Yeah, yeah I do," he tells Steve quietly.

Steve makes a quiet sound that goes straight to Eddie's heart. When he peeks over again, Steve is looking back and forth between Eddie and the road and his expression is so open and tender and happy that Eddie doesn't regret for a second what he said, even if it is too soon. "I love you, too, Eds," Steve says and Eddie feels his stomach swoop with butterflies. He puts his hand on Steve's, squeezes it, tangles their fingers together, grins bright at this man he loves so very much.

And if, after that, Steve goes out of his way to play up his bitchiness whenever Eddie is in the car and Eddie never stifles his laughter at it again, well, that's between the two of them, isn't it?

[rizsu]

food for thought, except it’s unwanted jujutsu kaisen : fem-reader.

have you ever wondered about a scenario so much that you must ask? well that’s exactly the last thing they’d wish to answer.

+ love ‘su: gojo, geto, itadori + ‘live, laugh, love’ hater final boss ( sukuna )

gojo satoru ﾉ refuses to answer.

“do you ever think about how it’d be if we never met?”

“ha— no. don’t even go there.”

satoru stops you there. he doesn’t wish to hear another word from you— especially if it extends your former question. he thinks about it— daily, in fact. it's a scenario that crosses his mind whenever he finds himself drunk on the temporary love he receives from you.

you’ve sung the lyric ‘i’ll love you until there’s no more left’ almost every week for him, silently begging that he gets the concept of genuine love through his head.

“why not? imagine if my friends didn’t make that bet where i either hit on you or pay for the night.” you reminisced, remembering the very night you lost the last touch of shame.

he hums, drumming his fingers on your thigh.

“bet or not, we’d still be fated to meet. next question!”

“anddd what makes you so confident?” you threw another question at him. this time, it's lighthearted.

“mind you, i’m the second coming of an angel. i predetermined this since three years ago.”

glances were exchanged, an expression of a grinning fool met the expression of a glaring responsible person who’s the said fool’s other romantic half.

you should've been familiar with satoru’s ways. it’s your fault for expecting a deep-dive conversation with satoru. not quite his cup of tea!

geto suguru ﾉ expects it and tries to escape.

suguru's home was no new, unexplored area to you. you knew his home's blueprint like the back of your hand. if needed, you'd walk through his home blindfolded and still end up in the room you want to be in.

this isn't a good thing to suguru. there are days where the feeling of confusion as to who he is piles up on him, leading him to isolate himself.. until he forgets there's a spare key of his isolation cube in your hold so now the plan goes awry.

that is exactly what’s happening. after he sent the text ‘k bye’ and silenced his notifications, he felt an impending doom. the reason was unknown by then but he should've guessed it was you.

you marched into his home, readying yourself with suguru-loneliness-begone techniques and, of course, the question that's been wandering your mind since you woke up from a dream.

“babe, what if—”

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, too exhausted to put a hand over your mouth.

“what if we were the last persons on earth? would you recreate humanity with me or kill yourself?”

there it is: your special ‘what if’ questions that know no bounds when it comes to absurdity.

“when would that ever happen? please, stop this,” he groans, pleading with his eyes for you to stop.

“that's the thing— you never know! so, what option is it?”

“i'd kill myself a long time ago if possible.”

“so it's the second one?”

“i'm... not cut out to be a good father.”

“i hate an indecisive bitch, my goodness,” it's your turn to complain, a little let down at his grey answers.

suguru's equally offended. you're the one who jumped him with such a question— who even thinks about that?!

“(y/n), baby, has it ever crossed your mind that your thinking skills aren't quite normal?”

“are you calling me stupid?!”

itadori yuuji ﾉ just as stupid.

it's mango season— yuuji's most anticipated season of the year. mangoes are to yuuji what your lipbalm is to you. a necessity, a survival item, a lifesaver, an important part of his lore, something he worships.

peeling mangoes and slicing them to equal pieces has never brought him such satisfaction before. it immediately brightens his mood. this must be how his grandfather felt whenever he took a walk around the neighbourhood.

now you appear, yuuji's second most anticipated person. you to yuuji is what mangoes are to him. this causes yuuji's current happiness level to reach its peak today. such a great level of happiness can defeat any evil being with just being in its area.

“say, yuu,” you begin, stabbing one of the mangoe slices with a fork.

he nods, signalling that he's listening but still focused on his current activity. a true mulit-tasker.

“if one of your limbs happen to detach from your body, do you feel the pain or does the pain go with it?”

he stops, allowing the question to sink in. he's never been asked such a.. divine question before. what's the answer? does the pain go with the limb or does it stay?

“oh... i gotta ask nobara this, she'd know,” he suggests, placing the knife down. a question that'll haunt him if he doesn't act quick for the answer.

“yes, yes!!” you encourage his actions, mindlessly enjoying the mango slices. mangoes are truly a blessing.

sukuna ryomen ﾉ no. nice try, though! A+ for effort.

“ryo, have you ever wondered if—”

“no, i never.”

“you didn't even let—”

“i haven't learnt since two-thousand years ago.”

“you old fuck, let me finish—”

“it's truly been a while since i've wondered.”

“DAMN, BITCH!”

you threw the remote at him, ultimately fed up with him cutting you off before the peak of the sentence. it could've been the question of the year and he'd still dodge it.

sukuna invited himself over since he ran out of entertainment options and you're always there for him. unfortunately, you do not find him as entertainin. he's annoying, arrogant, and attractive so it cancels out the negatives about him.

of course, sukuna caught the remote. his athletic capabilities are its prime despite him being dormant for centuries. it'd be a white lie to say he's not interested in your question, however it is way more benefitting to push your buttons.

he throws the remote back onto your bed, drying his hands with your hand-towel before making his merry way to you.

“your bed's small.”

“well no shit. it's for ME.”

“you mad? you look mad.” his hand holds your chin, turning your head side-to-side to observe your expression.

you rolled your eyes, “i don't get mad that easily.”

“is this how people felt when i told them an obvious lie? i should repent.”

[satellitespinner]

MODERN ELLIE HEADCANNONS

modern!ellie who rides a beat up skateboard from when she was 15 everywhere. i mean everywhere your place, jesse’s, class. everywhere !

modern!ellie whose pen is never not in her hand, or deep denim pockets.

modern!ellie who tries to learn cool pen tricks while “finishing” her homework, but ends up hitting you with the pen..

modern!ellie who was your bestfriend before she was your girlfriend. you two were inseparable! (and irritating.)

modern!ellie who never fucking answers her texts.. it’s infuriating.

modern!ellie who sells weed on the side of working at a small café on campus. (she doesn’t like Starbucks) ((as she should))

modern!ellie who majors in astrophysics! that girl has been in love with space since she could talk. infact! her first word was planet!

modern!ellie who was unfortunately in the foster care system until she was adopted by the lovely man we all know as joel miller!!

modern!ellie whose username on all platforms is more likely to be something stupid than her actual name.

modern!ellie who refuses to turn on auto correct even though she so desperately needs it.

modern!ellie never cooks. ever! it’s either take-out or you forcing a homemade meal down her throat. (she doesn’t mind.)

modern!ellie who cuddles you like you’re married!

modern!ellie doesn’t play about her video game!!!! she will throw a tantrum!

modern!ellie’s playlist consists of hard rock, indie and atleast some rap.

modern!ellie who just shows up at your house?? at let’s herself in!!! the disrespect.. (you don’t care..)

imagine you come home from a long, stressed-filled day. juggling work and exam week AND the weight of being the baddest bitch on campus has really been weighing on you lately; causing you to (as she calls it) neglect ellie..

you walk in, shoulders slumped and release a heavy sigh as you drop your things down on the kitchen table when your bestfriend walks out of your bathroom like nothing.

“hello?” you say, your face morphing from scared to un-impressed as you realize the person in your home was not an intruder.

“hey babe” she says quietly as she walks over to you, slowly watching you as you put your things away.

“how many times have i told you. the extra key i gave you is for emergencies.” you lecture. not really caring as much as you led on to be.

“there was an emergency though!” she argues. you give her a look of scepticism. “and what would that be?” you roll your eyes.

“we haven’t hung out in three days! hello?! i’ve barely seen you since monday!” she whines.

“i’ve been busy, that’s all.”

“busy?”

“yeah.” you whisper, palming your eyes out of fatigue. she gives you a half smile as she realizes that you’re not in the mood for her god awful attitude.

“awh, ‘cmere” the next thing you know your letting yourself relax into ellie’s arms as she rubs your back and gently soothes the tension in your body.

“you wanna go lay down?” she looks down at you and asks. hee voice remaining in the same low whisper as before.

“yeah, please.” you say before she grabs your hand and pulls you into your bedroom. she insists on making you feel better at this point and who are you to stop her??

she opens your pajama drawer and pulls out a big baggy shirt and some shorts, “put these on.” she says as she walks around the bed to the night table, switching the lamp on and peeling back the blanket.

she somehow managed to keep her eyes to herself and when your done she carefully slides into bed next to you. “you comfy?” she asks.

“im good.” god you can already feel your eyes closing. ellie slowly pulls you into her arms and rubs small circles on your stomach as she lulls you into tranquility. eventually you both fall asleep; what seemed to be the weight of the world lifting of your shoulders.

for now.

modern!ellie who had a crusty white dog but it went missing and she never saw it again.

[artdnldsn]

gestalt therapy

college professor!art donaldson x fem reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, swearing, student!reader, age gap, porn w/ a little plot, head (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight degradation (question mark?), one mention of "daddy"

synopsis: you're done with your senior year at college, and all you want is a parting gift.

a/n: my first full fic here wow my first ever smut WOW the only thing that's not a first here is english because it's my second language so be patient pookies. college prof au has been haunting me for days so i needed to get it out. even though i have no fucking idea how colleges work in the us ;) hope you like it! happy reading

The first thing he notices about you is how ridiculously smart you are.

It's not even a stretch or him trying to justify the instant attraction he feels towards you. No, you're genuinely, undeniably brilliant, especially for your age. You've got this way with words, and concepts come to you so easily. You pick up on all his lead-ups to lecture topics, knowing exactly what the main conversation will be about a good five minutes before the rest of the class. You smile smugly, crossing your arms and leaning back, your eyes seeking his because you want him to know that you know.

And honestly, he'd be mad at you for being so smug if you weren't so damn smart.

The way you walk up to him after class to discuss your latest essay, your stance confident and voice sure, as you argue over why you deserved a 100 and not a 98. He's looking at your essay, then at you, then back at his computer screen, squinting just to appear like he's thinking it over, but he knows you're right; of course you are. Your essay is perfect. He was just being a dick about it, nitpicking because he couldn't admit you're basically flawless.

He's getting self-conscious about his teaching. There's nothing he can teach you—you come so prepared for every class that he wonders if you even have a life outside his classroom. Maybe your brain just works like that, but a small, selfish part of him hopes you spend hours prepping for his classes. The thought that you do it for him and not the subject is a nice one, but he shoves it away.

At least that way, it wouldn't be as pathetic for him to spend nights rewriting his lectures, perfecting his presentations to the point where he's sitting in his bed at 3 AM, pondering whether Times New Roman or Arial would make his point come across better.

He's always been a perfectionist, living by the book, striving not for greatness but for the reserved maximum of his natural capabilities. He never really pushed himself. But you—oh, fuck, you. Fuck you. You make him want to lose sleep just to prove to you or himself that he's certainly smarter than some college senior.

He calls you a lot of things in his head. A know-it-all, an "excuse me" because you're always "excuse me"-ing him like he doesn't have a name, a smartass, a bitch—he hates when he's in a mood like this last one because it signals it's time to sleep. You're a lot of things, but you're not stupid.

In fact, he starts wondering if you're a once-in-a-lifetime talent. Because he's rather young for a professor, he hasn't seen as many students as his colleagues, who always crack up anecdotes about past students, someone who graduated 15, 30 years ago, but the older professors still remember them. He wonders if he's going to remember you like that. He's pretty sure he will.

He's never even thought about you as a woman and not just his student. He's just respectful like that. Sure, you were hot, which only added to your confident allure. He's not blind—hell, he'd admit it if he had to—but he's never thought about you like that.

But apparently, you have about him.

You appear at his office doorstep minutes before he's about to clock out for the night. You're looking pristine as always, and with your silhouette illuminated by the office's dim lights, he wonders for a second if you're even human with your endless drive, brilliant mind, and hair that always looks like it's animated because it's impossible for real human hair to flow that perfectly.

"Good evening," he greets you, eyebrows creasing slightly in confusion. You've never visited, your final grades are in, and you're graduating in a week. He's already said his goodbyes to your class, and when he did, you shot him a little smile that he read as everything being good between you. What are you doing here then? "Can I help—"

“Are you impotent?” you cut him off, arms crossed, a challenging look in your eyes.

He actually chokes on air. “E-excuse me?” he mutters under his breath, his expression shocked, his voice strained. God, he’s ridiculed you for years in his head for addressing him like that, and here he is now.

You turn your back to him, lock the door, and make your way to his desk in confident steps. You sit on the edge of his desk, looking at him over your shoulder. "I asked if you're impotent," you shrug, arching your eyebrow.

“No,” he blurts out, his expression still one of pure horror as he doesn’t know where to keep his gaze, his eyes darting between the papers on his desk, and his computer screen, and his hands, anywhere but you. “God, no.”

“Why you never fucked me, then?” you ask, your tone still almost accusatory, but your voice soft. It’s almost like there is a hint of genuine regret in your words, and he doubts his sanity right now, wonders if he’s imagining things. He pinches his thigh under the desk, just to make sure.

“What do you mean, why?” he stutters, his cheeks flushed. “B-because.” Oh, God, it’s really bad. He’s really speechless, his mind unable to conjure up a full sentence. “Because you’re my student, and I respect you, and there are boundaries that shouldn’t be—“

“I’m not your student anymore. Not technically.” Your tone is matter-of-fact, one he’s too familiar with. One you’ve used to tell him about all the typos in his handouts, all the mistakes in his tests, all the times he’s fucked up grading someone’s papers. Only now you’re telling him… Fuck, he really can’t grasp what it is you’re telling him.

“I can’t argue with that, but I really don’t understand the point of this conversation. You’re completely out of—“

“Consider it gestalt therapy,” you shrug nonchalantly. He’s getting mad, really, with you cutting him off like that, like you’re getting back at him for years of having to listen to his lectures without having an opportunity to talk over him. It takes him a second to grasp what you’re implying. He clears his throat.

You sigh, letting your arms drop to your sides, sliding off the desk, walking up to him in these fucking deliberate strides, spinning him in his chair so he faces you, his hands lifted up in the air as if he is surrendering. He doesn’t know to what, exactly.

“Just really have to get this out of my system, Mr. Donaldson,” you sigh almost guilty, your gaze landing on his lap. He's hard, his cock straining the fabric of his trousers. Of course he is, what the fuck?

You cup him, eliciting a soft sigh from his lips, his eyes falling shut. You start stroking him through the fabric, confidently like everything you do. It makes his blood boil. You’re such a bitch. A know-it-all. A smart-ass. And so, so hot that he can’t bring himself not to kinda wish you’re intending to fuck his brains out.

He opens his mouth to say something, maybe a weak protest to give you a final out, but you lean down, pressing your lips to his in a languid, deep kiss, a thorough exploratory one like every single one of your fucking essays has ever been.

You move to his lap, straddling him, the chair creaking under your combined weight. Only when his hands move to your hips does he understand you’re wearing a skirt. God, he hasn’t even noticed that. He lets his hands stay there, caressing your bare thighs as your skirt rides up, and you lean in for another kiss.

There's no raw hunger. If anything, he’s sure he’s incapable of it in this situation, his mind still trying to catch up, trying to relabel you as not forbidden. You’re grinding against his growing erection, tugging at his hair as you deepen the kiss, your curves so unexpectedly perfect against him.

He only realizes you’re working on his belt and zipper when he hears them. Instinctively, he moves his hands to your wrists to stop you, but you just shake them away like you’ve shrugged him off all these years. He gasps into your mouth as you wrap your hand around his freed cock, stroking the length expertly, thoroughly, meticulously, as your lips never leave his. He actually relaxes into the chair, his hands gripping your waist, tugging your top up to reveal more bare skin.

No bra. Of course you didn’t wear any. You’ve come prepared as always.

You chuckle quietly, your lips continuing to move in unison with his, finding a lazy rhythm that drives you both insane. He reads this chuckle as you being amused at him taking any initiative. It makes his blood boil.

He breaks the kiss, one hand squeezing your breast firmly as he leans down, capturing your left nipple between his lips, sucking gently before biting. His other hand lands on your ass with a loud smack, making you gasp. Finally, some reaction.

He starts bucking into your hand, seeking more friction, moving his mouth to your other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, leaving a bite mark on the side, making you wince but moan. That moan—fuck, that beautiful sound. Now he’s angrier at himself than you are at him for not having fucked you sooner.

He understands you were expecting to ride him, like he’s some sexless creature, a toy to use, a dick attached to a fantasy that has nothing to do with the man he is, and it makes him even madder. He’s always admired your insightfulness, your capability to get right to the gist of things through walls of useless shit, but he’s feeling his respect for you slipping as he understands just how wrong you must’ve been about him in your head.

He peels himself off your chest, lips glistening with saliva, smacking your ass again, harder this time, groping both cheeks as he lifts you off his lap to sit you on his desk over the papers he’s grading. He’ll just tell everyone he spilled a drink. No one will miss them.

His lips find yours again in a searing hot kiss. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to hurt you, but he’s not. Of course not. It’s just that something dormant is being woken up in him. You whimper as he cups your mound through your panties, making him chuckle. Well, look who’s laughing now.

"You've seriously dreamt about this?" he whispers against your jaw, his long fingers sliding into your underwear, finding your slickness. Fuck, you're so wet for him, it almost makes him black out. "Wanted me to fuck you on this desk? Or the one in the classroom? Or in the library? Or right in the fucking hall, huh? Why not? Let everyone watch." His tone is almost taunting, his every word accompanied by a painfully slow and teasing circle of his thumb over your swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes," you mutter, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressing against his shoulder, hips bucking helplessly into his hand, seeking friction. It’s not clear if you’re answering his questions or begging him to go faster. It doesn’t matter; his smirk is already in place, his eyes glistening with amusement as he looks down at you, breathing hard through his nose.

"Yes, what?" he chuckles, shrugging, his eyes scanning every reaction on your face. The way your head falls back, your lower lip caught between your teeth, your cheeks flushed. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, what?" he murmurs softly, his hand in your panties slowing down to the point of stopping.

A groan of disappointment escapes your lips as you snap your head back up, eyes darting open. He can see your pupils blown wide even in the dim light, the lamp on his desk illuminating you from behind like a renaissance painting. "Yes, fuck me," you say dryly, like it’s obvious, still seeing him as some pathetic, stupid nobody, but you’re slightly out of breath when you say it, so that’s a win in his book for now.

Just means he’s gotta try harder.

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place. He’s standing between your legs, keeping them spread wide for him. He pulls his hand out of your panties to bring it to your face, shoving two fingers into your pretty smartass mouth. Your eyebrows crease, eyes falling shut at the action, a hum leaving your lips, vibrating through his skin, but you still suck on them obediently, tasting yourself on his fingers and coating them in your saliva.

He slips one finger right inside you when it makes its way back down. He starts thrusting it into you at a steady rhythm, his lips finding your neck, nibbling on it, his teeth grazing your delicate skin, tongue sliding over the little marks his teeth leave there, as he curls his finger inside you, thrusting deeper, deeper, almost aggressively.

"God, I really thought you were smart," he mutters under his breath, hot against your skin as he adds another finger and starts stretching you, eliciting a soft moan from you. He leans down, sucking on your tits again, noticing how hard your nipples are now, almost painfully so, matching the way his dick is rock hard, still standing at full attention against his clothed abdomen. "Thought you were different. Hard-working. Proper." He sinks onto his knees in front of you, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes you can’t quite read. "Turns out you’re just a slut."

He tugs your panties down, his tongue finding your cunt, one of his hands moving to throw your leg over his shoulder, keeping it there tightly as the fingers of his other hand re-enter your cunt, starting to finger it at the same urgent pace, his tongue moving feverishly over your clit, making you moan quietly because, yes, there are still people in the building, you have to keep quiet, but a part of him, the one you’ve awoken, wishes the circumstances were different, that he could hear you scream for him.

He’s getting high off the taste of your juices, off the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils, his nose pressed into your pelvis as he fucks you with his fingers in a relentless rhythm, curling his fingers inside you, feeling your walls clench down onto him, searching for that sweet spot that’s going to make your toes curl.

“Tell me,” he rasps out, pulling away from your cunt just for enough time to say what he needs to say, peppering your inner thigh with kisses in the meantime. “Tell me exactly how long you’ve wanted this. And how you wanted me to fuck you. Leave no details out.”

You whimper when he delves back onto your clit, sucking on it, not caring to keep his teeth from grazing your sensitive skin here and there, but it’s a good feeling.

“S-since that lecture. Sophomore year,” you breathe out, you throat tight from holding back so many moans that are begging to be let out. Your mouth falls open in a silent ‘oh’ as he sucks your whole clit in, lapping at it with his tongue inside his wet hot mouth, your hand snapping instinctively onto his head, gripping his hair to pin yourself down to the reality. “You wore that slutty turtleneck, and of course I’ve thought you’re hot, but then you had one wrong date in your presentation, and I got so fucking mad at you. Thought you’re too careless to teach.”

He hums against your cunt, encouraging you to go on, or agreeing with your point, he can’t tell himself anymore. He’s completely gone at this point, drinking your juices like he’s drinking in your words. Amidst all this, he actually appreciates you not calling him stupid. You might’ve, but you didn’t.

“And you were always s-so passive, like I tried arguing with you, reading all that shit instead of going out just to get a rile out of you, and you never fucking bucked. I-I-I—“ you stutter, your mind going into overdrive for a second as he continues abusing your g-spot, his fingers moving at a frantic speed in and out, in and out. He smacks your thigh to get your attention back on the topic. “I just couldn’t fucking believe you. I was being a bitch, I was nagging you, just because. And you didn’t even care.”

He smiles into your cunt, a huff of air leaving his nose. At last, you admit it. He suddenly doesn’t feel bad at all for calling you a bitch in his head. He can feel your walls contracting around his fingers, your breathing irregular, you’re practically panting, your grip in his hair tightening as you guide him closer, rolling your hips against his tongue and fingers, seeking release. You’re close.

He pulls away, earning another cuss and another groan of disappointment off your lips. He smacks your thigh again, hard, the action leaving a red print of his big palm on your skin. “You didn’t answer,” he rasps out, delving back into you. Fucking students, he thinks to himself. Always so smart, thinking they know it all, and always forgetting to answer the second part of the question after they’re done answering the first.

Your mind is so hazy at this point, it takes you an effort to rewind the interaction in your head to understand what he means. “L-like this,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as he grips the one that’s not on his shoulder to stop it from shaking too much, keeping you in place. “I-I didn’t want you to be nice. You’re always so fucking nice, it’s not human, I knew it wasn’t true.”

He’s too set on making you cum to chuckle now, although it is pretty funny. He’s been doubting you’re human, too, but the way you gasp for air, trying desperately to hold back your moans as he feels you coming closer and closer to release, it tells him all that he needs to know. You’re just flesh and bones, not the perfect genius he’s painted you to be in his mind.

“Fuck!” you whimper, giving his hair one last tug before your hand springs up to cover your mouth, biting into your index finger to keep yourself quiet. It takes one slide of his fingers, one roll of his tongue, five seconds, and your muscles go taught as your hips buck off the desk, his pens in the glass standing on the edge of it clattering against each other, the keyboard of his computer flying up for a split second from impact of your ass slamming back down onto the desk. It’s like a mini-earthquake, that’s left your world erupt into white behind your closed eyelids.

He fingers you through it, lapping his tongue over your clit until you wince quietly from it hurting, and he pulls away reluctantly, standing up from the floor to stand in between your legs again. His neck and back hurt like hell from crouching down on the floor for so long, his muscles are not what they used to be, after all, and for a split second he considers actually giving up and letting you ride him, but it would be your win in his book, and he can’t allow that.

He spits on his hand before he leans down to kiss you, his tongue sliding back into your mouth, letting you taste yourself once again, as he brings his hand down to stroke himself, breathing softly out of his nose at the relief of some friction, finally. “You’re such a hypocrite,” he murmurs into your lips, softly, almost lovingly, the same fucking slightly condescending tone he’s always used in his classroom.

You open your mouth to ask what the fuck he means, but he pushes his tongue back into your mouth, all thoughts of a protest evaporating from your mind. You slide closer to the edge of the desk instinctively to accommodate him when he eventually pushes into you. You almost can’t wait.

He gropes your ass to position you like he wants you, his fingers digging into your plump skin maybe a little too hard. You don’t protest. He breathes heavily, like it’s physically paining him to hold back any second longer — it does,—and his brows are furrowed in concentration while he slides his tip over your clit, coating it with your slickness, the same way he frowns when he’s grading papers or goes over tomorrow’s lecture in his head.

He pushes inside in one determined thrust, piercing through you, a quiet grunt escaping his lips, a soft moan escaping yours. Before you have any time to adjust, he starts pounding his hips into yours, one of his arms hooked around your torso to keep you in place as his free hand flies to your chest, squeezing your right tit roughly, pinching your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, making it harden again.

“Careless?” he scoffs, an expression of pure disbelief on his face at the fact you’ve even dared to say that. He grunts again, his hand falling from your breast to your hip, gripping it firmly as he continues pounding into you, your breathing quickening again. He’s rather big, and it hurts a little from you still being sore from your orgasm, but you still moan softly under your nose, your wrists hurting from you leaning on the desk behind your back for so long.

“You call me careless for a typo in a presentation I made six years ago, and it’s not careless for you to come here, asking me if I’m impotent? Fuck you,” he grunts again, a grin pulling on his lips as he throws his head back, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. You’re squeezing his cock so tightly, there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to be asking him or yourself that question again.

He lets go of you, reaching behind your back to pull on your wrists, tugging them further to himself, which makes you fall back on the desk. “Fuck you,” he repeats, his words almost sounding like a moan now as he holds your wrists near your stomach, basically transfixing you. He moves one of his hands up to throw your leg over his shoulder again, another continuing holding your wrists down, as you both groan quietly at the change of the angle, the new one allowing for him to go so deep he’s touching parts of you you didn’t know existed.

“So, you wanted me to be a good teacher and a good dick all at the same time?” he muses, a smirk pulling on his lips again as he looks down onto your dishevelled form, your tits bouncing out of your tugged-down top, you skirt ridden up to your waist, your fucking face, so unbearably beautiful, flushed and your lips swollen from his kisses and from you biting on them so much. He can’t fucking get enough of how silent you are now after running your mouth at him for all these years. “Did you want me to be your boyfriend, too?” he chuckles, shaking his head, his expression faltering as he picks up the rhythm for a good minute, pounding into you so hard all the items on the desk are clattering, and you have to bite on your lips again not to scream from him practically tearing you apart, because you can’t cover your mouth anymore with your wrists held by him.

“Daddy never loved you, right?” He understands he’s probably taunting you too much, his words almost feeling cruel, but he’s too far gone at this point, he’s making a forceful effort to continue looking down at you to imprint the way you look right now into his memory to revisit later, even though his eyes are almost rolling back from just how good your cunt takes him. “That’s why you’ve been pining for my dick for fucking three years? Are you getting what you wanted?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper weakly. Yes to all that, actually, but he doesn’t need to know that. He feels too good, filling you up to the brim, you can almost feel him in your guts, he’s making your toes curl. And he’s finally not acting nice. Just like you wanted him to.

“Good,” he growls, letting go of you for a second before his hands find the undersides of your knees, bringing them close to your chest, changing the angle again as he starts hammering down into you, the room filled with the sound of your shared ragged breaths, the desk creaking under you and the sound of his pelvis slapping against yours. “Fu-uck, you’re taking me so good, none of your schoolwork was ever that good,” he’s lying through his teeth. Not about the sex — you’re taking it like a champ—but about your schoolwork. It was, indeed, that good.

He basically has no power left over what words leave his mouth, he’s completely drunk on you, the taste of your cunt and your mouth still lingering on his tongue. “Are you gonna come again?” he pants out, slowing down, feeling your walls clenching down on him, squeezing him tight.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter, fluttering your eyes open to look at him from under your eyelashes, but you can pretty much only make out his silhouette with how hazy your vision has become with just how good he’s fucking you. “I knew,” you repeat, your throat feeling tight again, your head falling back on the desk as you bring your now free hands to your mouth, covering it to muffle out the scream you know is there, brewing, destined to roll of your lips when he drives you to release again.

“You—“ he starts in disbelief, but he’s getting closer, too, there’s no point in arguing now. He just can’t fucking believe the nerve on you. What do you mean, you knew? Knew he could fuck you like you wanted to? Knew you would be walking out of here with a limp? Such a know-it-all, always thinking she’s two steps ahead everybody else.

He sighs shakily, a broken, needy sound as he brings his hand in between your legs, finding your clit again, his other hand still holding your knees pressed to your chest. He rubs at you in sync with the thrusts of his hips, his pace picking up, up, and up, until he finally lets out a low grunt, stilling, slipping out of you as he watches you bite on your hand, tears streaming down your cheeks as he feels your pussy convulsing under his fingers, another orgasm hitting you, and in a matter of seconds, after a few fast strokes, he comes, too, thick ropes of his seed landing all over your stomach and knees, and some of it lands on your chin.

For a few seconds, he just stands there, catching his breath, watching over you. He opens his desk drawer, pulls out a tissue pack, and wipes himself before doing the same for you. You're still lying there, face hidden in your hands, your outfit a mess. He's already caught you crying and knows you might feel awkward doing it in front of him, so he just makes sure you're clean for when you leave.

He tucks himself back into his trousers, fastens his belt, and walks to the other side of his office. You hear him rustling around while you try to get your breath back and keep your emotions in check. His soft footsteps approach the desk again, and you feel him gently patting your knee. You open your eyes to see him holding out a cup of water—a peace offering or an apology. But you know he doesn't owe you either. He just gave you everything you've wanted for the last three years. And he even brought you fucking water. Because he's disgustingly nice like that.

You nod in gratitude, sit up, and take the plastic cup from his hand, downing it in one gulp. It actually brings some life back to you. You breathe out shakily, fix your top, and tuck your tits back in before sliding off the desk. Your shoes land softly on the floor, your legs still trembling, your knees feeling like they'll give out any moment. You tug your skirt down and sheepishly meet his gaze, unsure where to go from here.

He steps closer and brings his hands up to your face to fix your hair. His eyebrows furrow in concentration again as he smooths it down, making sure you don't look disheveled when you walk out of here.

He sighs, letting his arms drop to his sides, and keeps looking at your face as if making sure you're not just looking okay but are okay too. “I didn’t mean that. The ‘fuck you’. And the ‘slut’ comment. Well, I kinda did,” he shrugs, averting his gaze with a humorless chuckle, “but I didn’t.”

You punch the air out of his lungs as you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. It takes him a second to gather himself, but he hesitantly hugs you back, just letting his hands rest on your lower back as you nuzzle your nose into his chest.

You had to get it out of your system, but now that it's in, you feel like you’ll never get enough. He feels like a beacon, one he's always been for you. The guy you picked a rivalry with your first week of sophomore year just to push yourself harder, to strive for greatness. He wasn’t even aware there was a rivalry to begin with. He's an academic, though, they’re all fucked up in the head, he must understand a part of it, at least.

And he understands. Truly. He just hopes you won’t start crying again, because he doesn’t know how he'd handle that. He pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes, cupping your face in his hands, and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says, his voice low, the small, friendly smile on his lips sincere, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he looks down at you. “You’ll figure it out. I don’t doubt it.”

He had this whole speech prepared for the class about how adult life is going to treat them, the challenges they'll face, how scary it’ll be, but also insanely rewarding. It was long, sentimental, with a few jokes thrown in. Some girls cried, but it was all bullshit. What’s real is this. Him understanding your fears without you having to voice them. Him telling you you’ve got this.

“And until you do, you always know where to find me,” he nods to the side, obviously meaning his office, a lopsided smirk making him look a good decade younger. His gaze finds yours again, and he pulls you into another tight hug, one he initiates this time.

In his mind, he’s already thinking how long it would be appropriate to wait before he can invite you for a coffee.

[d1xonss]

H EY could you possibly write a fic where the readers been on some heat the whole day just overall pissed, then there’s a fight outbreak in Alexandria and everyone crowding around & people calling Daryl so he comes, just to realise it’s his girl and he has to restrain her, pulling her away so she doesn’t continue beating the shit out of whoever and she’s MAD so he has to calm her down and gets her to just talk to him so he can help her. Just a thought yk 😛

Sticks and Stones

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3k

AN ~ I like this idea a lot! Just the thought of Daryl helping her clean up and take care of her after something like this just makes me melt. ps- Sorry for the inactiveness lately, April has already been such a crazy month for me and I've sadly had little to no time to write. But I'll definitely start getting back on track soon. Hope you enjoy!

The weather was hot, sticky, and humid. Your hair was a frizzy mess, sticking up everywhere as you worked in the miserable weather. You were sweating in places you didn’t even think were possible to sweat from. Bottom line was, you were miserable.

The bad mood that was embedded in you only seemed to grow as the day dragged on longer and longer. It was bad enough that your group joined this new community in the first place, having to live with all of these complete strangers after everything you had been through with your family. But what seemed to make it even worse, was this community had some high expectations upon your arrival. The leader, Deanna, made it very clear that she wanted each and every one of you working like dogs in order to do your part just like everyone else.

Meanwhile her sons were sitting in their air conditioned houses without lifting a damn finger.

Though you didn’t mind putting in the work, in fact, that was all you did your whole life. You were never handed a damn thing, needing to learn to find your own way in life and work for everything you got instead of being spoiled rotten. But again, you didn’t mind. The only thing that bugged you was that there were clearly a few favorites that got special treatment. Though you weren’t just talking about Deanna’s sons.

For the past couple of days you had been scheduled to work with a small group of others that you tried to play nice with. And for the most part, they all seemed friendly enough, willing to pitch in and do the part they were told to complete. Everyone…except for this one bitch who seemed to love getting a rise out of you.

You didn’t know her name, you couldn’t be bothered to learn it. But that didn’t mean the urge for punching her in her stupid, fake ass face wasn’t growing the longer you were in the same vicinity. She didn’t do a damn thing other than tell every other person what to do. And she always seemed to make it her mission to get under your skin at least once a day to really add to your sour mood, really wanting to see how far she could push you. But you, of course, always did nothing. It’s not because you weren’t capable of defending yourself, but you knew even one screw up could get you, and possibly the rest of your family kicked out of here.

You didn’t want to take that chance. After all, this whole opportunity and hard work was the chance to prove that you were all worthy to stay within the thick, sturdy walls they had built. You didn’t want to screw it up for yourself, but you especially didn’t want to screw it up for anyone else. Which is why you kept to yourself for the most part, only smiling politely to the ones who showed you even an ounce of kindness as they passed by with a friendly greeting. Other than that your eyes just stayed down, in hopes that somehow the day would go by faster that way.

You and a few others were currently in the large garden that was placed practically directly in the middle of the community, instructed to pick the fruits and vegetables that were ripe enough to bring back to the pantry. The job was simple enough, knowing that when this last basket of yours was full, you would take everything back, wash them off, and place them in the right sections before finally heading back to your new home. You could practically hear the cool shower calling your name from all the way over here.

Though subconsciously, your gaze traveled up a few different times to keep an eye out for Daryl, seeing if he was maybe passing the area. You didn’t necessarily know the job he was given for the day, but what you did know was that it was hot as fuck outside. And seeing Daryl with his arms exposed, the signature leather vest, and sweat glistening off of him…the sight would surely make your day ten times better than how it was going.

But everytime you did a subtle scan, he was nowhere to be found, and you couldn’t help but sigh a bit dramatically as all you wanted was to take him home and use that last bit of energy you had left.

“Hey!”

You were snapped out of your lustful daze suddenly when you heard a familiar voice from the other end of the space, seeing the one blonde bitch who wouldn’t get off your back, her face scowling into a glare.

You raised your arms up from your slightly crouched position, “What?”

“I can see you slacking off from all the way over here, get back to work!” she called with her hands sassily on her hips.

You sent her a bitter smile before ducking your head back down in attempts to pull yourself together, “Oh, I’ll get back to work.” you spoke under your breath, “Work on shoving this foot up your ass.” you grumbled as you began picking a few more ripe strawberries.

A few minutes of peace passed, moving down the line as you scanned for any more things that were ready to be picked off the vine. Your small basket sat by your feet as it was nearly filled to the brim with the amount of fruit you collected over the past hour or so. That is…until it wasn’t.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see someone’s shadow coming from your left as whoever it was seemed to just be passing by. But the sound of their foot coming in contact with the wooden basket right beside you is what caused your gaze to snap up, already knowing who the hell it was. Her blonde hair blowing behind her as she didn’t even stop to look at the mess she made was kind of a dead giveaway.

You shot up to your feet as annoyance began to quickly overtake you, causing you to open your mouth before you even got a chance to think twice. “What the fuck?” you called after her.

She turned around on instinct, as if she was expecting you to say something, a small smirk on her face as she shrugged. “What?”

You pressed your lips together as your annoyance grew, stepping up closer to her so you could keep the conversation quiet, “What the hell is your problem? You don’t think I can tell you’re doing this shit on purpose?”

“Oh I know you can.” she said with a bitchy tilt of her head, her arms coming to cross over her chest, “I’m just wondering when the fuck you’re going to get a clue.”

“Well, why don’t you just spell it out for me, because I’m getting pretty tired of dealing with the same bullshit from you.” you stated bluntly.

She scoffed, “You and your grubby little group don’t belong here.” she spat harshly, “None of you are what we need for this community, in fact, you’re only tearing us down. I don’t even know why Deanna let you people in here in the first place.”

Her words caused your eyebrows to fly up in utter surprise. You expected her to attack you, shoot insults directed toward you. But you never expected in a million years that she would have the audacity to go after your family the way she did with little to no reason at all. 

And in the end, that’s what pushed you over the edge as you laughed at her, not needing to come up with a single response as you had a few other things in mind.

Daryl was on the other end of the community, patrolling around the streets when he heard the sudden commotion. At first he couldn’t quite pinpoint what was going down, only seeing a swarm of people flooding toward one area where lots of shouts and panicked voices were coming from. Curiosity eventually got the better of him as his brows furrowed in confusion, his pace picking up as he approached the gardens, opening the white gates to step inside.

His eyes squinted as he could tell there was some sort of fight breaking out, the people surrounding them either cheering them on, or trying to rip them apart. He leaned from side to side, trying to see who was in the middle of it all as he silently prayed he was wrong about what he originally assumed. But then there was a small parting in the crowd, allowing him to catch a glimpse in between them, and his face dropped.

Some random guy was holding you back as you attempted to hit the blonde girl at the other end of the circle they created, clawing out of his grip every so often to get another swing in while she cried. Daryl then didn’t waste another second, harshly shoving his way through the crowd to get to you in attempts to stop you from doing anymore damage. It was almost like he couldn’t get to you fast enough, either that, or you were just quick when it came to nearly tearing her head off.

“Hey!” he shouted once he was close enough, pulling you out of the man’s grasp in attempts to hold you back himself, “Stop!”

You hardly even heard his voice, your ears ringing as you continued to try and pry his hands off of you, desperately trying to swing again as the woman sobbed. Her nose bloody and a bruise forming on her right cheek. She clearly couldn’t fight for shit considering she had such a big mouth.

Daryl groaned as he yanked you back harshly, “Damnit (Y/N), I said stop!” he shouted once more, his voice enough to silence everyone in an instant.

The familiar voice then finally registered with you as well, whipping your head around quickly to see him, smoke nearly coming out of his ears. Your face softened as you instantly came to the realization of the damage you just caused, the potential outcome of your actions suddenly terrifying you.

Your head shook slightly as you tried to speak, “I-”

“Get back to the house.”

His tone was firm, but somehow still held a bit of gentleness. You sighed as you took yourself out of his hold, not needing to be told twice as you slowly began to walk out of the crowded area. Now seeing the amount of people that witnessed your meltdown, you suddenly wanted to crawl into a hole and die, feeling all their watchful eyes on you as Daryl quickly ushered you the rest of the way out. The last thing you barely caught a glimpse of, was a few others crowding around the blonde as she continued to cry her eyes out with her beaten face.

There wasn’t a single word spoken between the two of you. Just silence. And it was killing you.

He didn’t utter a word, only gesturing you into the bathroom for you to sit at the edge of the tub, before pulling out a first aid kid from the closet. Your brows furrowed in confusion as she hadn’t laid a hand on you, but then your eyes traveled down to your own hands, seeing how cut up and bloody they were. The pain hadn’t even registered to you, you hardly felt the sting at all as if your adrenaline was still pumping fast through your system.

Daryl wordlessly kneeled down in front of you, taking your hands with such softness in his touch as he cleaned you up with precision. You could tell he was trying to be as careful as he could, despite the fact that he was probably upset. Hell, the whole group would probably be upset with you for a while, over something that you could now never take back. Something that you could never undo. All because you couldn’t keep your head on straight.

You were forced to think about it even more as the silence only lingered, playing the imagines back over and over again in your mind. You wanted to say it was worth it, to see her actually get somewhat of a taste of her own bitter medicine, knowing now she would probably never fuck with you again. But the fate of the future, what would come next, still weighed heavily on you as it was clearly unknown.

You then sighed softly as you looked down at him, “I…I’m sorry.” your voice spoke barely above a whisper.

He nodded as he kept his eyes down, finishing up your left hand as he wrapped it in some bandages, “I know ya are.”

“You don’t know the things she was saying…what she’s been doing ever since we fucking got here. God…I know I shouldn’t have taken it that far, but that bitch got what she deserves, trust me.” you spoke bitterly, trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince him.

Daryl’s eyes then glanced up to you, a small smile on his lips as he nodded again, “I know.”

Your brows furrowed in both confusion and surprise, “You’re…you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked, his voice a lot more gentle than it was before. But then again you could only assume it was all just the heat of the moment.

You shook your head softly, “I don’t know…” you muttered, glancing down to your hands as you slightly examined them, mostly to avoid his eyes as you knew he would be able to see right through you.

And he did. His brows furrowed as a few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again, “Yeah ya do. You just don’t wanna say it.”

A heavy sigh passed through your lips as you looked back up at him, “I just…I know that doing that was a big mistake.”

His eyes softened as he heard the timidness in your tone, “Everyone makes mistakes, sweetheart.” he said as he raised his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, “It’s alright.”

“No…that’s not what I mean.” you said with a shake of your head, “I…I fucked up…I fucked up everything. Once Deanna finds out what happened, once she finds out that we can’t work with her people, she’ll kick us out. And then we’ll be back on the road without any food, or water, or anything. We barely made it last time, I-”

“Hey.” Daryl interrupted you softly, raising his hands to gently grip your forearms, “What are ya talkin about? None of that’s gonna happen.”

“But she’s already weary of us, we’re the big, scary outside people. The second she realizes that we won’t be able to fit in here, there’s no way she’ll let us stay.”

The man in front of you couldn’t help but smirk, which at first confused you, but then you found yourself rolling your eyes. “The big, scary outside people?” he repeated with a light chuckle.

You gave him a pointed look, “This is serious.”

“I know, I know.” he assured, “But I also know you’ve been bustin yer ass damn near everyday tryin to prove that you can be trusted here. That we can be trusted here. So…I think right now, you just need to take a second and breathe…okay?”

You stared at him for a moment before swallowing a bit thickly and nodding your head, taking a deep breath in attempts to calm your nerves. It felt like your brain was scattered all over the place and you knew he was right in saying that you just needed to fucking chill out for a second. You still had your worries about the outcome, but for some reason the longer you looked at the man sitting in front of you, the more those thoughts started to disappear.

After a few moments of silence, you felt him gently squeeze your arms again as he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you, “Ya got pretty worked up back there, killer. And I don’t think this stress and worryin is helpin. We’re here for a reason…to have a fighting chance. And you just gotta trust that over time, everythin’s just gonna work itself out…no matter what.”

He was so confident in his words, it made you want to feel confident too. It made you want to believe that this would all pass, and you didn’t completely screw up this opportunity like you assumed. Though there was still something else on your mind.

“But what about the fight? I mean…I messed her up pretty bad.” 

He simply shrugged, “Good.”

Your eyebrows raised in slight shock, “What?”

“That bitch got what was coming to her. Truth is, ever since ya told me about what’s been goin on, I’ve been dyin for ya to knock some damn sense into her. If anything, I wanted to cheer you on.” he winked.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Well, you always have been my biggest supporter…” you trailed off as you looked down toward your hands again, “And the best doctor around.”

He hummed with a small smile before grasping your hands gently, raising them up to his mouth to leave a few kisses on the back of your bandaged knuckles as if to seal the healing process.

You smiled a little to yourself at his actions, “So…you really think we’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be just fine.” he muttered as he placed one final kiss on your skin, “It’ll breeze over, people will move on. Cause I think they all kinda know she was the problem to begin with.”

“God, I hope so.” you scoffed, “And even though I kinda lost it…it felt good.” you admitted almost a bit sheepishly.

He chuckled as he pulled at your hands a little, helping you stand back up to your feet as he did, “Looked pretty good too.” he confirmed as he held you close, placing a kiss on top of your head. “I think you could use some kinda award for doin that.”

You smirked as you looked up at him, “Well…I could use a massage.”

He smiled right back at you as he nodded, “Done.”

~ Thanks for reading!