#( not like i’m doing any better but whatever )

[reidmotif]

Check Your Window (He's At Your Window)

Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion. 

Mine happened to be a badly placed window. 

Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold. 

Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers,  and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be. 

And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him. 

I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep,  so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last. 

What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence. 

He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon. 

While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means.  I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was. 

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas. 

I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact. 

Him. The man in the window. 

“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod. 

“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other. 

“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice. 

“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately. 

There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit. 

I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin.  “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient. 

“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds. 

There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion. 

The man in the window was hot.

He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names. 

“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment. 

“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands. 

I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.

It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex. 

I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me. 

And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right? 

So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor.  I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do.  I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win. 

And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties. 

It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this,  literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach. 

Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.

 It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow. 

It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right? 

Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.

It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.

What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks,  the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit. 

My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own,  mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer. 

That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation. 

I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.  

Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for? 

I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered. 

After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come. 

Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do? 

I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.

As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything. 

Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes. 

Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed. 

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep. 

I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave. 

“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me. 

Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to. 

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed? 

“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost. 

I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that? 

There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever.  If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly. 

I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it. 

“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.” 

A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief. 

He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs. 

“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body. 

“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.” 

His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him? 

 It was so fucking hot. 

“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?” 

I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth. 

“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.” 

I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there. 

“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.” 

Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me. 

“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation. 

“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.” 

There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer. 

I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem. 

I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me. 

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock.  “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.

It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm. 

“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder. 

“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?” 

I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?” 

“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.

“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?” 

“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.” 

I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit.  “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.” 

“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.” 

A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.

 “Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip. 

A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday. 

All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted. 

woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3

also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #doctor spencer reid #Spotify

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - two

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader x sorta canon!rafe; doesn't exactly follow the real plot line but...it does?; am i turning this into a series? maybe.

word count: 6k...

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination. 

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that. You knew better.

Despite that...You found it impossible to look at him for the next forty-eight hours. In fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound. Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age. 

Initially, there was an undeniable tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it gave you whiplash. In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets. Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the knot of frustration building in your chest. He was so fucking insufferable. 

"Oh, so you've got a better suggestion?" you shot back in defiance.

He shot you a glare, but you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky, "I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"Hell no?” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, "C'mon,” he scoffed, his voice tinged with impatience. "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness. On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause. There was no third chance. 

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

Rafe’s stare flickered with a hint of irritation,  “I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’m not about to let us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The tension between you two was palpable, but there was no time to dwell on it. You both turned your attention back to the task at hand. The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom. As night fell, you both moved with practiced stealth, with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat. The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards. Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back. Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention. The sound was louder than you expected. But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat. 

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously. Rafe didn’t need to be told twice. The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a surge of hope. For the first time in months, freedom was within reach.

As Rafe guided the boat out of the harbor, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

“See? I told you it’d be fine,” Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed. "Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving," you snapped back, your voice tense.

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing. The silence between you was a common thing, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the night. Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding. You kept scanning the horizon, every wave a potential threat.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but edged with irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rafe let out a sharp laugh. "Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him. “No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, the easy bravado slipping for just a moment, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints.”

“At least they’re not murder—”

You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching as he ground his teeth, lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water with renewed urgency. The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed.

What could you possibly say? Apologize? There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him. Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. And you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words. It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind and he still refused to show remorse if not between four walls with you. Never out in the open, never too loud.

The sound of the engine became a steady thrum, drowning out any other noise, as if creating a barrier between you and the rest of the world. You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the weight of the past pressing down on you like a lead blanket. It was done. And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t. 

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, like a never-ending path.

After what felt like an eternity, a sliver of light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. You breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats," he instructed, his voice curt and businesslike. He was all focus still, facade slipping away to reveal that calculating side that had always unnerved you. 

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently. The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, breaking the silence. Your voice was softer, the edge of anger dulled by exhaustion.

Rafe glanced at you, his expression unreadable. "We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you want to get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end. Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death. 

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that twisted in your gut. 

“You know what I meant, Rafe.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you pressed on, determined to break through the wall of resentment that had formed between you, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly; the hard edges of his demeanor were momentarily blunted by your words. He looked away, his jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before.

“If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you. The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage. With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence.

Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead.  You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water laps gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness. In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps, despite your efforts to remain composed. You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet. The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees. It was larger than you had anticipated, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps. The warm, humid air carried the scent of salt and seaweed, adding to the coastal ambiance. As you walked, an uneasy feeling crept over you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, maybe it was just the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year.

After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island. The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you said, nodding towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Rafe followed closely behind you, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the dimly lit room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what? Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly masked your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a knack for getting what he wanted. To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," he said, his tone disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks. 

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment. "Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you; his expression unreadable. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway ahead.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual brooding demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump,” Rafe said, his tone light but with an underlying note of exhaustion. "But it'll do for now."

You sank onto the edge of the bed with a weary sigh “Better than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised," you said with a wry smile, a hint of defiance creeping into your tone. "We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization dawn on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the underlying edge of irritation. "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

“I can sleep on the floor, relaaax.”

You shoot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Seriously?" you ask, a hint of incredulity coloring your voice. "You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "Why not? It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that. Instead, you only studied him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none. Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind. As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the calm before the storm. It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness. For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. 

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. Concern gnawed at your gut as you watched him, the sight of him trapped in a nightmare and it weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, despite the walls he put up, you didn’t like to see him in pain. It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Rafe," you whispered softly, trying to rouse him from his restless slumber. "Hey, wake up."

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear surged through you, your body instinctively fighting against his hold as you struggled to break free.

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper as you clawed at his hands, desperate for release. But he was lost in the grip of his nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as the world blurred around the edges, darkness creeping into your vision while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp, "Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat vanished, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed. Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. It was a startling sight, seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see. For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say in the face of such raw emotion. But then, instinct kicked in, and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could. Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline. 

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. The weight of his body against yours was oddly comforting, grounding you in the present moment and pushing back the memories of his violent outburst just moments before.

After a while, Rafe pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you "I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead, your touch gentle and reassuring. "I know," you whispered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You don't know why you offer him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light. 

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside. Then, Rafe spoke again, his voice tinged with curiosity, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression urged you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once, “Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing. He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily. With a sigh, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded, his defenses crumbling. 

"Okay, okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you on the bed, his usual bravado replaced by a rare hesitancy. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you, a wave of warmth and comfort washed over you, “Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of fitful sleep and restless dreams, but somehow, with Rafe by your side, it felt more bearable. When morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes, brb. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you. Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, probably sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night. It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions and weaknesses. You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

Pushing aside your conflicting emotions, you rose from the bed and stretched. The events of the previous night began to fade into the background as you focused on the task at hand: a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl. You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets if you stayed another night.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a soothing balm, washing away the remnants of fear and tension from the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you like a comforting embrace as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles. You focused on the simple act of washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you.

Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness, his vulnerability laid bare. It served as another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence. 

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air and with a towel wrapped snugly around your body, you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction. His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you. As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a withering glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall. There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about. Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

As you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room. The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast. As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. It was strange, hearing Rafe talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to coast through life on his family’s wealth and influence. But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him. He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan,” you said, your voice steady and confident. “Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began, your tone light as you tried to sound casual, "I've been curious—why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food, a hint of surprise in his expression. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted his voice casual but tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?” 

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table. You knew what that meant. 

You leaned forward, expression softening as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catches you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness and irritation. You straightened up, your expression hardening as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his. 

"It’s not important," he snapped, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled slightly at his harsh tone, the sting of his words making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this. But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You blurted out, frustration bubbling over. You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted, his tone laced with irritation. "I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

The words stung like a slap to the face. Resentment flared within you; the color drained from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I don't carry that guilt with me every single day?"

His words caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door.  “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, “I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wants to say.

“Right,” You swallow, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours, “You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion, his movements graceful yet filled with an underlying urgency. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch wavered between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. It was as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it. 

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t kiss me to avoid questions, Rafe.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled jawline, "It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell. But then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I know," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come. 

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x pogue!reader #rafe x Maybank!reader #rafe cameron x maybank!reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe angst #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff

[fum1ku]

LOVE TROPES - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, daichi sawamura, kei tsukishima, keishin ukai, atsumu miya

should i be working on the highly requested pt. 2 to my recent works that’s currently sitting in my drafts? yes. should i also probably be working on the few requests i’ve got in my inbox? also yes. am i still over here writing whatever this is instead of doing those things? absolutely. at least i’m writing something!

OSAMU: friends to lovers.

you had been friends with the miya twins since high school. you had always butt heads with atsumu; bickering back and forth about anything and everything. but it was different with osamu. it felt like you both understood each other, in a way. plus the mutual dislike you both had for atsumu definitely helped. and now, nearly 8 years later, your friendship was still going strong.

well past 8pm, you stood over the front counter at onigiri miya with samu cleaning behind the counter for closing, and atsumu sitting at a stool next to you.

“i don’t know what his problem is! we go out for drinks one night, wind up at his place, and then the next day he can’t even be bothered to send me a single fucking text. seriously. i’m done!” you were going on about your.. most recent boyfriend.

“why don’tcha just dump him then?” atsumu offered, his mouth full of the onigiri osamu had made for him.

“atsumu, you’re disgusting! and i can’t because we aren’t even a thing! which is good—i don’t want us to be.”

osamu laughed at you two from behind the counter.

“okay well then what’s the problem! i don’t understand you women,” atsumu exclaimed, licking off the last bits of onigiri form his fingertips and shoving his plate behind the counter. “i’ve got practice tomorrow. so i’m gone. some of us actually have real problems that aren’t centered around one night stands with guys!”

“oh right, atsumu, like your sex life is any better,” you muttered. the door slammed shut behind him as the bell above the door exhibierst through the building.

you sighed, sinking further into your chair.

“here,” osamu slid a plate towards you. “might make ‘ya feel better. plus i need feedback to see if it’s worth addin’ to the menu.”

you smiled. “thanks, osamu. and yeah, i’ll give good feedback, promise!”

osamu smiled to himself as he wiped down the back counter. yeah, sure, after 8 years of pining he was no closer to asking you out. but, no matter what, he’d always be here to make you food whenever another boy made you cry.

DAICHI: love at first sight.

it had been a long practice and daichi had decided to treat everyone to a snack down at sakanoshita. daichi stood with suga and asahi waiting for the 1st and 2nd years to finish grabbing their fill. tanaka and noya had seen daichi paying as an opportunity to grab whatever they wanted.

“c’mon you guys!” suga yelled from across the store. “we don’t have all day!”

it has been a long day of classes for you, so it wasn’t even an option in your mind whether you should stop at the convenience store or not. only now you had found yourself in your own little debate.

“milk tea.. or coffee?” you mumbled to yourself. you were bent down over the drinks section taking your sweet time.

daichi turned around to see you and knew he was gone right then and there.

suga scoffed at the two 2nd years taking their time, only to turn back and find daichi’s gaze focused on you.

“hey, daichi, maybe we should—” he started, but stopped as soon as he noticed daichi staring. he whispered to asahi and they both began berating their poor captain.

“c’mon, dude! why don’t you just go talk to them? we obviously have the time!” suga nudged at his arm.

daichi denied anything. “hey, i don’t even now what you’re talking about, suga! we’re here for snack for the team, just go focus on that.”

“hey, don’t we go to school with them? y/n l/n. class 2, i think,” asahi piped up. he couldn’t remember where exactly he knew you from, though.

daichi was sure if he had gone to school with you, he’d remember.

“they’re in photography club! that’s how i know them! they asked me to join after i dropped out of volleyball,” asahi recalled, loud enough to grab your attention.

you looked up to find the set of 3rd years staring in your direction. your drink in hand, you made your way up to them.

“azumane, right? nice to see you again!” you beamed.

“y-yeah, right! good to see you too, l/n,” he smiled, nervously.

“are you guys in line?” you questioned.

“no—no we’re not! sorry about that!” daichi apologized, moving to the side to allow you to get to the register.

you placed your drink on the counter, making small talk with the guy at the front register.

“c’mon, daichi! if you don’t ask them before they leave you might not get to again!” suga whispered.

“suga, let it go. it’s too strange—they don’t even know me.”

suga shoved daichi forward just as you turned around to make your way towards the door.

“oh! hi!” you mused.

“s-sorry. hi.. again.”

“sawamura, right? you’re the captains of the volleyball team!” you smiled.

“yeah, i am. and you’re l/n, right? asahi was telling me about you. you’re in photography.

“i am, actually! and please, just call me y/n!”

“then just call me daichi!”

first name basis after 10 minutes? way to go daichi!

“actually..” you started. “i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to take some action shots of the volleyball team? i was going to use them for an upcoming project of mine. of course if not, that’s okay too! you probably need to talk it over with the team.”

“yeah—absolutely! i’ll have to talk it over with everyone, but i don’t see it being a problem at all,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “what class are you in? i can talk to you some time next week to figure out what day would work best.”

“here,” you said, turning around to the man behind the counter. “excuse me, do you have a pen i could borrow?”

the man tossed you a pen, not giving a second look to you from behind his magazine. you pulled out daichi’s arm and started scribbling down numbers.

your.. phone number?

“now you can call me, that’ll be easier!” you smiled. “anyways, i gotta run. see you later, daichi. tell azumane i said bye too!”

he was speechless. did he really manage to get your number without even trying?

suga ran up behind him. “dude! how? you hardly said anything to them!”

“wow, daichi’s got skills with the ladies!” tanaka mused, noya trailing behind them. their arms were stacked full with all kinds of snacks.

he was definitely not paying for all of those.

KEI: academic rivals to lovers.

you worked at the library at the university you attended. tsukishima had seen you around campus a few times. yamaguchi would go as far as to describe you as tsukishima’s “campus crush”—which tsukki of course denied. he hardly even knew you.

but, this semester is when things finally got interesting. you had wound up taking the course tsukishima was the TA for.

you were currently bent down behind a bookshelf in the campus library, organizing the books that needed to be put away. you noticed a hand grab a book off your cart.

you stood up. “anything you need help finding?”

“no,” the man stated, blankly.

you examined the book in his hand. “wait. are you in psych 301? haven’t seen you in there before.”

“kei tsukishima. i’m the assistant in that class this semester.”

“oh! i’m y/n l/n. are you reading that book for fun then, or?”

“i know. i graded your last essay. something about the human consciousness or whatever,” he stated, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

your face went hot. “oh? so you were the one that gave me a B- on that. that was the best paper i’ve written all semester!”

“yeah, only because you can’t write any better ones. and maybe actually read the syllabus before you join the class,” he deadpanned.

“okay, mr. know-it-all. and for what it’s worth, i did in fact read the syllabus.”

“well if you actually paid attention, then you’d know this book was meant to be read alongside the other materials.”

wait. what?

before you could say another word, he placed the book back down in the cart. “my email is on the syllabus if you’d actually care to read it. good luck actually passing the class.”

you were so going to find that syllabus. and you were definitely doing to pass that class.

KEISHIN: second chance.

stepping foot into sakanoshita after years felt like a dream. but seeing keishin, your high school boyfriend, sitting there behind the counter, was what really sent you back.

“keishin?”

ukai actually took the time to look up form his magazine, and he was glad he did. “y/n?”

“keishin!” you smiled. “i didn’t realize you family still owned the place!”

he stood up form his seat behind the counter. “yeah! work here part-time, coach volleyball the other half.

“you coach volleyball? does the old ukai not coach anyone then?”

“nah, old man retired last year. still coaches a few younger kids on the side. but, hey, how have you been? it’s been years since i last saw you in miyagi. 4? 5, maybe?”

“yeah,” you sighed. “it’s definitely been awhile. but life has been great in tokyo. my internship finally ended and so i’m back here for the next month or two!”

“really? you got to let me take you out sometime—drinks, to celebrate.”

you felt the slight rush of heat to your cheeks. “r-right! of course!”

“hey, if you wanted, we close in less than an hour. you could wait here till then, catch up, then let me take you out for drinks.”

“alright,” you smiled, taking a seat behind the counter next to ukai. “tell me about your team then. where do you coach? karasuno?”

you felt like you were 16 all over again. just him and you.

ATSUMU: opposites attract.

you were the promotional manager for the msby black jackals. everyone on the team loved you—yes, even sakusa. though he wouldn’t admit it. but, atsumu being the sly guy he is, took every opportunity to flirt with you. of course, keeping things professional, you shut him down every chance you got. plus, it would never work. ever. you knew that.

he was childish, you were mature—top of your office only a few months in. he was selfish half the time, and he’d always describe you as one of the most thoughtful people he’s ever met. he was confident and bold. you were quiet and reserved, at least time him. so when you find yourself alone with him at the gym one night late after practice, going through your binder of advertising ideas, you didn’t know what to make of it. the way you could feel he eyes focused on you and only you drove you insane.

you finally took a break form your rant about new promotional ideas for the team, leaving a heavy silence between the two of you.

“y/n?” he finally said, breaking for silence.

“yeah, atsumu?” you respond, not looking up form your binder.

“you should let me take ‘ya out. i mean it.”

you quietly gasped to yourself.

sure, atsumu had made pass after pass at you every day for the last few months since you started working with the team. but, this time, he sounded so.. genuine.

what’s even worse is you couldn’t help yourself from the words the escape your lips in the last moment.

“okay.”

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #sawamura daichi x you #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi sawamura #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #ukai keishin #ukai keishin x reader #ukai x reader #keishin ukai #osamu miya x you #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #haikyuu anime #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x you #osamu miya x y/n #osamu miya x reader #daichi x reader #haikyuu daichi

[slut4thebroken]

Teacher’s Pet

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | After months of trying to earn your professor’s praise, he finally gives you an opportunity to prove you deserve it.

Warnings | Smut, dub con, blackmail, coercion, humiliation, anal, bondage, praise, creampie, degradation, inappropriate use of fear toxin.

Words | 6.2 k

Notes | Started this a million years ago. Finally got the motivation to finish it cause of @hllywdwhre ‘s fic that I proofread lol. Also ty to the post that gave me the fear toxin idea 🙏🏻

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

In honor of the one year anniversary since the start of my Cillian hyperfixation <3

Dr. Crane was one of the most strict and unforgiving professors at Gotham University. He graded harshly, didn’t tolerate late or incomplete work, and no one would ever dare be late— if they were, they just wouldn’t show up because an absence was better than his response to tardiness. He didn’t have any favorite students, just some that he tolerated slightly more than the rest. That was what you hated the most. 

You’ve always been the favorite student for every single teacher you’ve had, whether they said it out loud or not. After the first couple of weeks, you figured he’d just be harder to crack than the rest. But after almost two months, you were starting to get frustrated. Nothing you did ever earned you any sort of praise. You were always early, always the first to turn in assignments, participated in class, paid attention— you were the perfect student. But he never seemed to recognize that. What made you snap was when he gave you a B on your latest essay. 

Lightly knocking on his office door, you tried to control your nerves and push down the nausea— You’ve never had to talk with a teacher about a grade before…

“Come in.” He called out. So you opened the door and hesitantly stepped inside. He glanced at you quickly, then did a double take once he realized it was you. “Close the door.” He said, resuming what he was doing. You took in a quiet, deep breath and closed the door before walking over and sitting on the chair across from his desk. 

“I’m assuming this is about your essay?” He asked, not even looking up from his work. 

“Yes.. You gave me a B, I was hoping to understand why.” You said tentatively. 

“Did you not read my notes?” Of course you did. But it still didn’t make any sense. 

“No, I did, but-” He finally looked up at you with a sigh. 

“Then you should understand why I gave you that grade.”

“This essay was practically perfect.” You argued, holding up the stapled together pieces of paper, marked up with red ink. 

“Clearly not if you got a B.” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to get too upset or emotional.

“Dr. Crane, I’ve aced every single test and assignment, I’d hardly say this is a fair grade.” You frowned. 

“Your argument was weak and biased.” Your lips parted in shock at the bluntness of his criticism. “And your previous assignments have no impact on my grading. If you’d like them to though, I’d be more than willing to grade them again to see if I missed anything.” 

“It- it wasn’t… I spent weeks on this.” 

“And yet… You still weren’t good enough for an A.” He said, making your stomach churn. Especially because he didn’t even say ‘your essay’ he just said ‘you.’ Looking down at the papers in your hands, you scanned them quickly as if it would magically give you the answer. “Review my notes for the next essay. Maybe you’ll do better.” 

“What is your problem with me?” You snapped, looking up at him again, watching his brows raise slightly. “Have I done something to offend you?” 

“I don’t tolerate entitled students who are used to being the teacher's pet. Whatever previous, unearned success and praise you're used to receiving is of no concern to me. It is not my fault if you came into this class expecting to be treated differently for doing the same thing as every other student.” 

“I- I’m not.. entitled. I just like my work and effort to be appreciated and not.. given a B.” 

“You want me to tell you that you’re such a good girl, turning in everything on time— as expected— and doing well on your assignments— as expected.” The faux praise, as well as the condescension that laced his voice, made your cheeks heat up instantly. 

“No, but,” 

“Then I think we’re done here.” 

The next day, you almost considered not going to class, but you’ve never had an absence on your record and you’re not about to start now. 

“We’re going to deviate from the lesson plan a little and talk about something else today; fear. Specifically, fear of rejection.” Your mouth dropped open at his words and if you had any doubts that this was because of your previous conversation, they quickly disappeared when he made eye contact with you.  

“There are a few different causes, can anyone give me an example?” This would’ve been the time where you raised your hand. But that apparently wasn’t necessary because he called on you anyway, making you freeze. 

“Um, I— I’m not sure.” You said nervously, sinking back into your chair a little. 

“There’s a perfect example right there; anxiety and social comparison. Too anxious and insecure to answer a simple question. Who else can give an example?” You stared at him with wide eyes that quickly started burning with tears. Now you felt even more stupid than you would’ve, had you just answered him and potentially gotten it wrong.

Class dragged on slowly. He talked more about causes, what it looks like, how it affects performance— especially in school— and various treatments. 

You couldn’t have been more relieved when he finally dismissed the class. You rushed to pack your things and stood up, quickly making your way to the exit. 

When he called your name though, you froze, praying you heard him wrong. “Stay back for a moment.” Your peers gave you sympathetic looks as you turned around and slowly made your way back over to his desk. 

“Yes, professor?” You asked, voice strained. 

“I hope you found today's lesson helpful.” You gritted your teeth and gave him a dry smile. 

“It was… inspiring, Dr. Crane.” You said plainly, trying to control your tone. His expression was only becoming more and more amused. 

“I’m glad. Though I didn’t see you taking notes.” That made you falter. 

“I- I was,”

“Great. Let me see them.” You looked away from him and shifted your weight awkwardly. 

“See them?” 

“Did you not understand?” Your face flushed with anger and embarrassment at his patronizing tone. 

“I did. I just wasn’t aware that notes were something you needed to see.” 

“If a student isn’t paying attention for the entirety of my class then, yes, notes are something I need to see.” You swallowed thickly, trying to come up with a response, and he watched you intently as he waited.  

“Look, professor, you’ve made your point, okay? I don’t think you need to continue humiliating me.” You said quietly, not looking at him. He let out a heavy breath through his nose and you watched in your peripheral vision as he took off his glasses, setting them down. He slowly rounded the desk and you couldn’t help it when you instinctively took a step back. 

“That’s a shame. I had hoped this lecture would’ve been helpful, but since you clearly weren’t paying attention, maybe I need to try another method.” 

“I- I was paying attention…” You muttered, keeping your head down. 

“Really? Then why don’t you tell me some of the ways one can overcome a fear of rejection.” He leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. The feeling of his eyes on you almost made you shiver and you took a quiet, deep breath before lifting your head to look at him again. 

This is an easy enough question. You can probably figure out the answer if you just use critical thinking since he was correct about you not paying attention. 

“Um… cognitive behavioral therapy?” You waited and when he didn’t out right humiliate you, you assumed that was a right answer and continued. “Exposure therapy. Self esteem enhancement… Emotion regulation?” 

“Anything else?” 

“…You said “some.’” You muttered, briefly looking away from him again. 

“I did, didn’t I?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t care about what he previously said. 

“Um, I- I’m not sure…” 

“Feel free to use your notes.” 

Fuck. 

When you looked up and saw the almost smug expression on his face, you finally snapped. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that for one day, I couldn’t pay attention after you humiliated me in front of the entire class.” You spat, clenching your jaw as soon as you finished speaking. The longer he stayed silent, the more uncomfortable you became under his gaze, making you look away from him awkwardly. 

“Tell me why this shouldn’t affect your grade.” You knew his question was rhetorical, but you still tried to defend yourself. 

“Dr. Crane,” You started, but he raised his brows, silently warning you to not talk back. 

“I’ll see you later today during my office hours.” He said as he packed up his belongings. 

“But,” 

“Five pm.” He didn’t let you continue as he walked toward the door. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave. 

At 4:30 you paced around your dorm, debating what to do. At 4:35 you decided not to go. At 4:40 you changed your mind. At 4:50 you were pacing outside his office. At 4:55 you finally knocked, feeling like you could throw up at any second. He called out for you to enter, so you hesitantly opened the door and stepped inside. 

“Close the door and sit down.” He didn’t even look up from what he was working on. You closed the door quietly, then made your way over to the chair in front of his desk. You tried to sit there patiently, but he wasn’t saying anything. Your leg bounced incessantly as you picked at your cuticles, over thinking more and more with each tortuous second that dragged on. 

“Professor?” You finally asked. 

“You’re early. I told you to come at five and I need to finish this.” He still didn’t look up from whatever “this” was and you were quickly growing angrier. 

Was this some kind of mind fuck? Making you sit here, stewing in nerves that were only getting worse? You weren’t sure how much time had passed because you didn’t want to check your phone and give him another opportunity to chastise you. But after a while, he finally sighed and gathered the papers, setting them in a pile on the side of his desk. 

You forced yourself to stop bouncing your leg and place your palms flat on your thighs to keep from fidgeting, trying to exude confidence you were severely lacking. 

“I’ll admit, I’ve been struggling to decide what I should do with you.” Immediately your stomach churned, getting even more anxious. “I could have you removed from my class, but that would be a lot of paperwork.”

“Professor,” 

“I’m speaking.” He said harshly, making your mouth immediately close. “However, that does mean I’ll have to put up with this for another few months… So the paperwork might be worth the hassle.” You tried not to cry at the thought. You need this class to graduate— getting dropped from it will set you back a semester unless you add another course to your already heavy schedule for next semester. You waited, not sure if he was done talking or not. After another few seconds you decided to try again. 

“Please…” You said hesitantly, waiting for him to snap at you again. When he didn’t, you continued. “Please don’t drop me, professor. I need this class to graduate.” He stayed silent, eyes dragging over your body as you did your best not to squirm. He still hasn’t said anything… Is he going to drop you anyway? With tears in your eyes, you tried again, “Please… Please I- I’ll leave you alone— I won’t bother you about grades anymore, I swear, just please don’t drop me.” You all but whimpered, feeling even more pathetic now. 

He sighed and took off his glasses, then set them on his desk before leaning back in his chair a little, still studying you. 

“I’d still have to put up with you in class as well though.” 

“Please! I’ll sit in the back and not talk— I’ll do anything, just please don’t drop me.” You cried.

“Anything?” You stiffened a little at the dark expression that suddenly took over his face. Would you really do anything? You wouldn’t mind fucking him if that’s what he’s implying— despite his off putting personality, you’ve always been attracted to him.  

“Y-yes?” You said, unsure.  

“That didn’t sound very convincing and I’m not going to force you so I’ll just go through with the drop request,”

“No! I will— I’ll do anything… Please.” He continued studying you, probably trying to gauge if you were telling the truth or not. 

“Fine. We’ll call it an internship of sorts. You’ll come with me to Arkham Asylum every Friday and help me in whatever way I may need— no questions asked.” 

“I- I don’t know if I’m qualified for that.” 

“Good thing it’s not an actual internship then.” He sneered, the patronizing tone making you blush. 

“What will you have me do?” You asked quietly. 

“It’ll be easier to just show you instead. Give me your essay and after Friday if I’m satisfied with your performance, I’ll change the grade.” Your heart practically skipped a beat— all you have to do is go to Arkham with him for a day and you’ll get an A? You’d be stupid to say no. So you retrieved your essay from your bag and handed it to him. “Good. Six pm, do not be late. I’ll meet you in the main lobby to take you to my office.” He said sternly. 

Since you left his office, your heart has been pounding. You weren’t sure what to wear so you just decided on a skirt and blouse that were professional, but still mostly casual. After that, there wasn’t much else you could do. You were too anxious to focus on literally anything so you just sat at home, overthinking. Friday rolled around and you left at five, just in case anything happened, and arrived at 5:25. So you sat in your car, waiting anxiously and watching the clock on the dashboard. You were too scared to even listen to music. At 5:55 you decided to go in, worst case you’d just have to wait five minutes for him, but you figured it’d be better to be early— even after what happened during his office hours. 

It was only a minute before six when he showed up. The second he saw you, he gestured for you to follow, so you trailed after him on wobbly legs. When you arrived in his office, he closed the door and told you to sit in the chair across from him as he sat behind the desk. 

“I want to make sure that we’re on the same page and I have your consent for anything that happens here.” The way he worded that made you nervous, but you chalked it up to the fact that you were already overcome with anxiety.

“Yes.” You tried to sound sure of yourself, but you were having doubts. What would he make you do? Would it really be worth a better grade?

“Good. Take this.” He picked up a small paper cup from his desk with one pill inside and handed it to you. 

“…Why?”

“There are certain aerosol drugs that are administered to patients sometimes. That will keep them from affecting you.” He explained calmly, easing your nerves a bit. So you took it from him and swallowed it, waiting for what was next. “Follow me.” He stood up again, this time holding a briefcase, and you followed him out of his office. He led you down some hallways before stopping outside of a door and unlocking it, gesturing for you to walk in. 

There was a small table in the corner and two exam chairs with restraints on them, one of which had stirrups. Other than that the room was bare. The door closed loudly, making you jump and turn around. 

“Sit.” He ordered, walking over to the table and setting the briefcase down before walking toward you. 

“Why?” You asked skeptically. He just stood patiently and watched you. You suddenly got hit with a wave of dizziness and stumbled to the chair to sit down. The dizziness quickly turned into exhaustion and you could barely keep your eyes open. When you started falling forward, he quickly moved closer to catch you, then leaned you back against the chair. 

Your head hurt like hell and you forced your eyes open to find that you were now laying on the other exam chair, thankfully not with your legs in the stirrups, but with the restraints on your wrists. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 

“The effects should wear off soon. I apologize for using that, but I figured you wouldn’t willingly let me restrain you and I didn’t feel like fighting you.” 

“What… what was that?” You asked through a breath. You could slowly feel yourself getting less and less foggy. 

“A drug.” He said, in the most annoyed and patronizing tone you’ve heard from him so far. 

“Why?” You whimpered, closing your eyes again because they still felt so heavy. 

“If you’re going to ask stupid questions then I’m just going to gag you. I already answered that.” You heard some rustling noises and his footsteps, then a hand was running along your cheek, startling you and making you open your eyes. “You remember our agreement?” You nodded hesitantly. It felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest with how hard and fast it was pounding. “Be a good little girl and if I’m satisfied, I won’t drop you. I might even change the grade of your essay.” You didn’t need the reminder, but the way he said the first part was making your stomach flutter. 

“I have to say,” he removed his hand from your cheek and moved down to place it on your leg, just above your knee, “I prefer the sluttier skirts you wear to class than this.” He teased the hem of your skirt with his fingers, making you tremble. “Next week wear something shorter. And a more flattering top.” You figured by ‘more flattering’ what he really meant was more revealing. All you could do to respond was nod. 

“Good. Let’s begin.” 

He reached for the zipper of your skirt on your hip, making you stiffen. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked, beginning to panic again, and he paused with a sigh. 

“If you don’t consent, that’s fine… There is still the matter of your seat in my class.” He said coyly. “If you want me to let you go, just say that. I’ll fill out the paperwork first thing Monday morning.” 

“No,” You choked out. “No.. please.” You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack. He shushed you softly, staring at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Relax. If you consent to this, you’ll keep your seat in my class. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You nodded, looking up at him with teary eyes. “Good girl… Now be quiet and let me do this.” His tone was significantly darker and all you could do was tremble as he unzipped your skirt, then pulled it down your body before discarding it on the floor. 

“I’ve been working on a new form of a drug.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a strangled whimper when he grabbed your leg and placed it in the stirrup, then used the restraints to keep it in place. “We’re going to try it together.” He grinned wolfishly and did the same to your other leg. 

You heard his footsteps as he walked across the room for something, then back over to you, now wearing a latex glove on his right hand, holding a small bottle in the other. 

“Remember, you can withdraw consent at any time…” You couldn’t though. Because you would be dropped from his class and set back months. 

His hand landed on your thigh, making you jump a little, and he started slowly dragging it up. Once he was close enough, he brushed his thumb over your clothed mound, forcing a quiet sob from you.  

“You probably thought this was going to go in a very different direction, didn’t you?” He asked teasingly, making you blush. Truthfully, you didn’t put much thought into your undergarments because you were too busy worrying about your actual clothes and what he was going to make you do. You cried out when he suddenly ripped the lace off your body, feeling the burn of the fabric pulling too hard against your skin. “Ready?” He asked, almost eagerly. 

You saw now that the bottle was a clear liquid and when he squirted it onto his fingers, you assumed it was lube. As soon as his finger brushed your asshole, you stiffened. 

“Wait!” You rushed out, chest heaving as your heart pounded in your chest. “I- I’ve never…” 

“You’ve never done anal?” You almost thought he was going to give you sympathy. “Good.” You couldn’t even get another word out before he was pushing a finger in, making you tense up as you whimpered in discomfort. “Tell me when you start to feel it.” 

“Feel what?” You said through a breath, trying to relax around the intrusion. Even though it wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, your heart was pounding even harder and faster in your chest, and your breathing grew ragged. “Dr. Crane,” You whimpered, suddenly a million times more anxious than only a moment ago. 

“Already?” He checked his watch, “That was fast. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Anxious.” You said quickly, letting out a strangled whimper when he forced another finger inside. “M-my heart is pounding and it feels hard to breathe.” 

“That’s good… Anything else?” 

“My hands are clammy… and it feels like I'm sweating a little.” 

“No visual or auditory hallucinations?” 

“What?” You choked out, eyes widening. “W-why would I have that??”

“The drug we’re testing is my fear toxin. It’s a hallucinogenic that targets the amygdala and releases stress hormones, causing a fear response in the brain.” He explained, only making you feel worse. “So far I’ve tested it two ways; administered intravenously and in aerosol form.” 

“I don’t understand..” You said quietly, trying to calm your breathing a little. He let out an exaggerated sigh and forced a third finger inside you. 

“I guess I should really expect you to.” He almost sounded.. disappointed. The realization made the twist in your stomach even worse. “Let me dumb it down for you. In its most potent form, it causes visual and auditory hallucinations of the subject’s worst fear.” If you weren’t currently on the verge of a panic attack with three fingers in your ass, you probably would’ve rolled your eyes at his tone. 

“Now I’m testing it via rectal administration. The concentration is about the same, but the effects shouldn’t be as strong. At least, that’s my theory.” His fingers continued fucking you slowly, occassionally spreading apart to open you up more. Despite the amount of anxiety you were currently feeling, you could just barely feel your growing arousal.  

“W-why would you want the drug in this form?” You asked, gasping for air between words. 

“I’m a doctor. Why wouldn’t I experiment?” He asked rhetorically. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the anxiety rather than the arousal, but it was only becoming more difficult. A choked moan escaped you when he suddenly dragged a bare finger through your folds, spreading the evidence of your arousal. “Are you enjoying this?” His voice sounded unnervingly clinical. 

In response, you bit down harder on your lip and shook your head, denying it. You could practically feel his eyes on you, studying you closely. 

“I knew you’d be perfect for this.” He suddenly said, and you bit back a moan because he almost sounded proud. “You’re just pathetic enough and desperate for my approval to willingly become my little lab rat, and now look at you… Leaking onto my hand as I finger your ass.” He chuckled wryly. A dark blush took over your face and you whined quietly, but the flutter in your stomach was unmistakable. “I bet you want my cock also… Don’t you?” 

You let out a choked sob and turned your head, trying uselessly to hide yourself. When he suddenly pulled his fingers out, you whimpered quietly at the sudden loss. 

“Look at me.” He demanded, in a tone that left no room for argument. As if you were in a trance, you turned to face him and opened your eyes. “You want to keep your seat in my class?” He removed the glove and tossed it aside, then worked on unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. 

“Yes.” You whispered shakily. 

“And you’re willing to let me fuck your ass to ensure that happens?” He pulled his already half hard cock out and started stroking slowly as you gaped at it. How was that supposed to fit inside you?

“I- I’ve never..”

“It’s a yes or no question.” He sighed impatiently. “I fuck your ass or you leave and I fill out the form Monday morning.” 

“I… I’m scared.” You whimpered, looking nervously between his face and his cock. 

“That’s the whole point, darling.” Right. Because he was testing his fear toxin. You blushed furiously at the new pet name. “You have three seconds before I fuck you, then fill out the form anyway.” 

Your stomach dropped at the threat and when he raised his brows, you blurted out, “Yes.” Tears were brimming in your eyes and he stepped closer, but didn’t line up yet. He just used his free hand to gently rub your thigh. 

“Yes, what?” Your bottom lip began trembling when you realized what he wanted from you. “Say it. Beg your professor for it.”

“I- I want…” You let out a strangled sob and squeezed your eyes shut again, making his hand stop moving on your thigh to grip tightly in a silent warning. “I want you to fuck my ass… Please, Dr. Crane.” You whimpered. You’ve never felt more humiliated, but at the same time… you were only becoming more aroused. Your cunt ached to be filled, and your clit was practically throbbing.

“Good girl.” When you let out a choked moan at the sudden praise, he chuckled quietly. “Open your eyes. I want you to watch.” He demanded, lining up. Only after your eyes fluttered open, did he finally apply some pressure, entering you with little difficulty. 

“Fuck- You’re so tight.” He hissed, moving his hand to your other thigh and squeezing almost painfully. Your breath and all of your sounds were caught in your throat as he pushed in deeper, not stopping until his hips were flush with your ass. “Tell me how it feels.” He said breathily, not moving yet. 

“Big.” You whimpered, barely able to get the word out. 

“Does it hurt?” You shook your head, trying to steady your breathing, but the overwhelming feeling of being stretched as well as the anxiety still weighing heavy on your chest made it feel almost impossible. “You look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack.” He sounded uncharacteristically dulcet.

When he reached for your shirt and unbuttoned it to expose your bra, your breathing picked up even more as your heart started pounding even harder in your chest. He pulled your bra down below your breasts and groped you eagerly, showing little regard for your pleasure with his rough, almost painful touch. 

“Your heart’s beating so fast. Is my little lab rat still scared?” He cooed, very obviously mocking you. 

“Professor..” You whimpered, staring up at him with glossy eyes as you struggled to cope with all of the overwhelming feelings, both physically and emotionally. He shushed you softly and brought his hands back down to rub your thighs, trying to soothe you. 

“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to take it.” He said plainly. “You try to resist at all and I’ll keep fucking you until I finish, then you won’t have to bother showing up to class on Monday. Do you understand?” 

You nodded reluctantly and he moved his hands to grip the tops of your thighs. He slowly dragged his hips back, then forward again, forcing you to feel every inch of his cock stretching you open. It didn’t… hurt. But it definitely wasn’t the most pleasurable thing you’ve ever experienced. 

When he suddenly sped up, you cried out and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on taking deep breaths. He was grunting and moaning quietly with each thrust, clearly enjoying this far more than you, and you couldn’t help but open your eyes again to watch him. His grip tightened on your thighs, making you whimper, and you watched his mouth fall open in a silent moan as he closed his eyes. 

“Fuck…” He said breathily, letting out a low groan before opening his eyes again. “I didn’t account for transdermal administration” He almost sounded amused again, but you could barely focus on his words. “The effects are far less than what you’re feeling, I’d assume. It almost feels like adrenaline, rather than fear. Next time we’ll try it intravaginally to see if your reaction is the same or more like mine.” 

You almost forgot that this wasn’t a one and done. You have to let your professor do what he wants with you every week for the rest of the semester…

“And I think I’ll try the other forms of delivery on you as well. Not so much for an experiment… I just want to fuck you while you’re hallucinating your greatest fears.” His lips curled up into a small smirk at the thought of that. “I can’t wait to hear you scream and cry for me.” He cooed, but his tone was far from comforting and your anxiety was only getting worse as he continued sharing his future plans for you. 

He started bucking into you rapidly and his sounds got louder, clearly getting closer to his release. You could even feel yourself just barely starting to inch toward the edge. Your moans caught his attention and a pleased look took over his face. 

“You like this, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan and bit your lip, trying to quiet your sounds. “It’s either that or misattribution of arousal... but that seems less likely.” Even though you knew his guess was correct, you were still going to convince yourself that it was misattribution of arousal instead because that was far less humiliating. When he started rubbing your clit, any chance you had of keeping quiet was gone instantly. His moans got louder too when your body tensed up, tightening around his cock. 

“Oh god— Dr. Crane, please.” You sobbed, feeling the arousal steadily taking over the anxiety that had settled in your stomach. 

“What do you want?” Now that he asked, you realized that you don’t even know what you want. You wanted the overwhelming anxiety and stretch to stop… but the thought of him pulling out and ending this almost brought tears of desperation to your eyes. His fingers sped up on your clit and your back arched off of the exam chair as an involuntary mewl escaped you. 

“Please let me come.” You whimpered pathetically and he let out a quiet chuckle in response to your brazenness. 

“How curious…” He murmured, gaze dragging all over your body. “I’ll admit, I figured some part of you would enjoy getting to please me, but I never imagined it’d be to this extent.” He said amusedly and your blush darkened in response. “You want to come?”

You were nodding eagerly before he could even finish. “Please.” 

“How about this— I'll raise the grade on your essay… or I’ll let you come.” You could see the barest hint of a smirk on his lips and you let out a frustrated sob, squeezing your eyes shut. “Well?”

“Dr. Crane…” You whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you tried not to cry. When you opened your eyes and stared up at him through the tears, his smirk widened. “Please..” 

“Should I choose for you?” 

“No…” You sobbed, looking away from him and biting your lip. The whole point of this was so he’d change the grade… You can’t give in to the pleasure now that you’re so close to finally getting what you came here for. “I- I want you to change my grade.” Your voice was barely a whisper. As soon as he got your answer, he removed his hand from your clit to grab the top of your thigh again, bucking into you rapidly as he chased his orgasm. 

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, my little lab rat.” He was clearly satisfied with your choice and while part of you was almost crying from frustration… another part couldn’t help but revel in the fact that you pleased him, even if it was at the expense of your own pleasure. 

His hips snapped into you rapidly, the force of it almost pushing you up the exam chair, but the restraints on your legs kept you mostly in place. As he focused on his impending orgasm, you were practically mesmerized. He looked so… pretty. The pleasure in his expression was obvious and there was a faint blush on his cheeks. His normally pale blue eyes were darker as he took you in, studying every tiny reaction to his ministrations. 

When he suddenly pushed forward all the way and stayed there, you let out a whine of displeasure, knowing whatever pleasure you might’ve been feeling before was about to disappear. But the choked moan he let out as he closed his eyes made you almost forget all about it. His hips bucked forward sporadically as his cock twitched inside you with each rope of come that shot out, filling you up.  

Finally his sounds quieted into heavy breathing and his body went still. You waited anxiously for what was next, not sure what to expect. Opening his eyes again, he watched as he slowly dragged his hips back until his cock slipped free, forcing out a quiet hiss from him and a whimper from you at the sensitivity. 

“Push it out.” His voice was raspy and still thick with arousal. When you pushed his come out, he let out a low groan as he watched, bending down a little to get a closer look. “Good girl.” He cooed, making you whine as the words went straight to your cunt that was still aching with need. 

“You can remain here until the effects wear off. I want to see how long that takes.” He said, almost clinically, while checking his watch. Your eyes stayed on him as he tucked his cock back in his pants before collecting the lube and discarded glove. 

“Are you going to let me go?” Your voice was quiet and timid as submission still heavily clouded your mind. He looked over at you again, almost surprised by your voice. He glanced at the restraints before dragging his gaze all over your body for a moment. Finally, he smirked a little and went back to what he was doing. 

“Soon.” You sighed in response and stayed quiet. As you breathed deeply, trying to ignore the arousal still lingering in your stomach, you noticed that the anxious feeling was starting to subside a little. Your heart was still beating rapidly, but now it was hard to tell if it was from fear, adrenaline, or your own unsatisfied arousal. 

“I think it’s wearing off.” You told him and he checked his watch again. 

“What are you feeling?” He finally walked back over to you and stared at your face with an almost impressive level of professionalism, given the circumstances. 

“My heart is still pounding, but my breathing is better. And I don’t feel very nauseous either.” 

“Next week I want to test this again so I have a control group to compare these results to. It’ll be the same thing, but I won’t finger you for as long and I won’t fuck you until after it wears off.” He reached out and gently grabbed your chin, angling your face up to look at him as he stepped closer. “Of course… that’s assuming you still want to keep your spot in my class…” He trailed off, making the statement sound like a question instead. 

“I do.” You said quickly. Especially after this… you were desperate to stay enrolled in his class, but you were also— as much as you didn’t want to admit it— desperate for more after he gave you this small taste. 

“Good girl.” Your cheeks heated up instantly and he patted one with his hand before stepping back again. “Keep being my little lab rat and I have no doubt you’ll pass my class… maybe even with the grade you think you deserve.” 

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #cillian murphy

[igotanidea]

The perfect story: Dick Grayson x reader

requested by @fullbelieverheart (thank you! <#)

summary: Dick waking up alone for the third time this week because his beloved girlfriend/fiancee is away promoting her book (she's a successful writer) and he can't accompany her because of his duties as vigilante.

warnings: LIGHT SMUT, MDNI.

***

Dick groaned in his sleep and rolled on the side, instinctively reaching out to Y/N’s side of the bed. Though Instead of meeting with her soft warm flesh, that would ground him in reality, helping ease whatever burden was haunting his mind, his hands met with emptiness.

Third time this week.

He should have known better.

It’s been like that since she published another book, which obviously became another market success, reaching a dizzying number of copies sold. There was no denying his girlfriend was a literary genius and he was proud but it also made him …

Lonely.

If waking up at 4 am feeling your entire body tense from touch starvation is not loneliness then what is?

He was doing everything to ease it.

Clutching her pillow.

Taking off his sleeping shirt and holding himself.

Running his hands on his skin imagining her soft caresses.

Nothing helped.

It was like he could just tear his own skin off from all the tension and need to feel.

Feel her hands on his body.

Feel the warmth of her embrace.

Her skin against his.

Not in a sexual way. Not at all. More like - tender way. Just being close.

He craved physical affection and her presence.

Meanwhile, even her scent on the sheets has almost evaporated and he could not recall the last time she spent the evening or the night with him. Just being there, both mind and body. He yearned for her desperately, but doing all in his capacity to hold those feelings back, knowing it would bring her down from her success high.

Instead, he settled on listening to her interviews on the radio, reading her stories (books with dedications after all) and watching her on the breakfast TV.

Lonely.

Sighing in both frustration and resignation he sat up in bed, running hands over his face, hoping to wipe his emotions away. If only he could be there with her. If only his nightwing duties weren’t keeping him glued to Gotham and Bludhaven. If only he could just travel with his fiancée, without worrying about the future of their relationship.

Cause it was pretty obvious that given their lines of work, situations like that were to happen more often than not.

And losing her for the books and writing started to become his biggest fear, and a threat worse than any villain could pose. At this point it seemed like she had more in common with Jason, constantly babbling about the authors, publishers, plot twists and book characters, of which Dick had only vague ideas.

“Dickie…”

His head snapped to the doors, where she was standing. Still in her pretty party dress, with stilettos in hands, slightly tipsy with weariness on her face. The light coming from the hallway illuminated her silhouette making the contours of her body blur. An angel or a demon.

“I’m sorry…” her tone was sincere, almost pleading as she carefully came inside, perching on the bed, reaching for his hand.

“It’s 4 am Y/N…”

“I know. And I’m sorry…”

So lonely.

“I miss you.”

“Dickie…”

“What?” he raised his head, meeting her eyes, unable to hide the longing and pain. “What’s more there to say? I miss you. That’s it. There’s nothing you could say to make it stop.”

“I’m sorry…” a few tears brimmed in her eyes

“You said it.”

“The party—”

“Did you at least have fun?” he cut her off, not wanting to hear about another fancy banquet where she was the star. Even from her words he could imagine the looks men must have given her and how most of them would love to just whisk her away.

“I—”

“You know what, just forget it.”

“Please don’t be like that…”

“Do you even still love me?”

“Hey, that’s not fair! It’s my work, Dick. The same kind of work as yours, when you are absent the whole night, patrolling on the streets. Just because you are taking some sort of break and are here doesn’t change it.”

“This is not about me—”

“No, this is about us. Us, Dick. You and me. So how could you even ask me that?”

He sighed in frustration, running hand through his hair. This was not how this conversation was going in his head. She was finally here, and all he did was pout and act like a moody five year old.

“Don’t worry babe. Once the press starts digging into my personal life once more you’ll get all the paparazzi and journalists in your pretty face.” She teased, sensing his unease, trying to soothe the atmosphere.

“The only thing I want in my face are your lips.” He smirked, picking up the tone, taking a chance to diffuse the tension.

“Finally you’re making sense.” she smiled, rolling up her dress and climbing on the bed next to him, capturing his lips in hers for just a second, before pulling away. 

“Don’t you dare-“ he placed hand on the back of her head pulling her back to him.

“I’m tired-“

“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work. You just have to lay down and look pretty for me…”

He tangled fingers in her hair, capably messing up the elegant updo she was sporting letting the curls flow down, symbolically freeing her not only from the hairstyle, but also from the work mask. Right now, she was the home version.

His home version.

The one that didn’t require much stuff and definitely nothing on her.

“I missed this…” he caught onto her hips, sliding the material of her dress even higher, up to her waist and over her head.

“Me too…” she responded laying on her back, giving him full access to her skin, almost fully exposed.

“Why are you wearing such pretty underwear for an official party?” Dick hummed, trailing a path down her chest and between her breast with his nose. Her smell was intoxicating and he was going to make sure it stayed with him longer this time. “This little thing is supposed to be only for my eyes.”

“I thought you only liked not seeing my lingerie?”

“But yet, removing it is only my job…” he whispered, playing with the clasp of her bra. “Did you put that front fastened one on purpose, pumpkin?”

“I'll take the fifth on that…”

“Whatever, it doesn’t really matter much now.”

His touch was like fire, showing off the inferno inside him. Fueled by their time apart, but still fought off bravely to avoid premature ending of this sweet reunion of two lovers lost amongst the sea of everyday duties.

Lips met lips, body brushed over body, skin touched skin, covering with goosebumps.

Intensity of the movements causing the cover to fall onto the floor, incapable of standing up against the naked passion.

“Dick…”

“Yeah, keep saying my name, baby …” he grabbed the back of her thighs, caressing them only adding to the sensation of being fully embraced by him. “Isn’t that better than your books?”

It was so much better.

No description could ever give justice to everything she was feeling now. The divide between heaven when he was thrusting forwards and hell when he was pulling back. The fire burning her to the core, leaving nothing but an immortal soul melting into his.

Carnal pleasure bellied by the explosion of the spirit, finding a way home. To the place where it belonged.  

How could she even put into words all the longing, all the need, the want to both keep him like that forever and let go in his arms?

To be possessed, dominated and loved like this till the end of all time?

“Dick…”

His body under her fingertips, his muscles clenching in time with each movement and stroke.

‘Y/N….”

Her softness and warmth, her eagerness and finally the feeling of him being complete.

In time Dick started becoming a little rough and possessive, purposefully moving slower and deeper, relishing each breathless moan and spasm contorting her face. Pressing thumbs into the undersides of her breast, before moving them to cup her ass, pressing her core more into him. 

Developing the urge to ruin her but also to keep her safe and protected.

“You’re mine…” he groaned, connecting their foreheads, intensifying the thrusts.

“I’m yours.” She moaned, letting him bite her neck to leave a mark for everyone to see.

“Mine!””

“Yours!”

The grip on her waist tightened, the digging of nails on his back left crescent marks.

His mouth was on her breast, licking, nibbling and kissing.

“Yes!”

Her hands pulled at his hair, arching to his ministrations.

Neither of them broke the pace of the thrusting, almost grasping the peak of the mountain. Just within reach.

“Dick!”

“Y/N!”

Falling into the abyss in the best possible way, knowing that this descent will undeniably end right here.

In this bed, in between the crumpled sheets with the loved one by the side.

Reality has never been sweeter.

***

“How much longer till the promotional tour’s over?” he asked some time later. His back was against the headboard, but this time Y/n was right next to him, with head on his shoulder, with legs hooked over his lap.

They were exchanging soft, lazy kisses, speaking volumes about the depth of their connection.

“I hope the hype on my writings never stop-“

“Y/N!” he pinched her side, causing a gasp of surprise and pain. “Come on, it was not that hard.”

“Maybe, but someone made my body sensitive!”

“And I’m gonna brag about it.” He kissed her again. “But seriously, when will I have you all to myself again?”

“In a few weeks—”

“FEW WEEKS!?”

“There’s really no need to shout about it. I could—”

“You could end up tied to the bedpost.”

“Dick!”

“Okay, fine, we can work with chairs too.” He raised hands in surrender, agreeing to another piece of furniture as if that was calming her down.

“You really have to stop watching Netflix shows labelled as voluptuous. You’re getting ideas.”

“I’m sorry? I’m getting them all by myself, thank you very much! Besides, you weren’t complaining fifteen minutes ago, cumming happily.”

“I need to enjoy you for a long time…” she sighed.

“Wish I could go with you-“

“You could. But we both know you won’t.”

He sighed, and for a second they just sat there in silence holding onto each other, with interlaced fingers and heavy hearts.

“Promise to call me. Skype me. Text me. Whatever. Just don’t leave me hanging.”

“Promise. You will be sick of my voice when I come back.”

“When you’re back after those weeks, it won't be your voice that I’ll be interested in” he teased.

“Want to remind me what exactly you’ll be longing for?” her lips found a way to his.

“Since you asked so nicely—” he pulled her on top of him, reciprocating eagerly.

In a few hours, she would have to get up and finally pack her suitcase, but for now – it was just them two.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing smut #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

[lyssasdrafts]

★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

chapter four: (written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist previous next

you never expected to be in the position you were right now.

a part of you considered leaving at the sight of rhysand, dying inside at the possibility that he knew your secret interest. you thought about all the ways he could use this knowledge against you, taunting and teasing you about it in class as usual.

if it weren’t for mor, and if it weren’t for how great of an opportunity this was, you would’ve packed up your things and walked out the door.

you can stood there frozen in place, staring at rhysand and thinking of all the ways this could go wrong when he calls your name again, forcing you to answer him.

“y/n?” he repeats, his voice questioning you.

“rhysand,” you respond with the same tone. “what are you doing here?”

he picks at the invisible lint on his clothing, dusting off the imaginary dirt on his shoulders before he says, “i’m today’s model.” he holds his head up high, still as stuck-up as usual. you didn’t know why you had expected him to be more professional outside of school.

“well, i’m the photographer,” you respond, blinking at how obvious that statement was. you wait a moment in silence before adding, “i guess that means i’m working with you today.”

you expected him to throw his head back groaning or make a retort about your inexperience. instead, a flash of amusement lights up in rhysand’s eyes, he swiftly brushes a hand through his hair while he walks closer to you.

“you must be the photographer that mor was talking about,” he realizes. “it’s your first time working with velaris?”

you nod silently. rhysand seems taken aback, “i didn’t know you did photography.”

“you never asked,” you shrug. it was the truth, though you had to admit that you purposefully kept any details about your life outside of academics from him.

“i saw your portfolio,” rhysand says, “it’s… quite good for a beginner.”

you blink at him before responding, “thank you….” staring blankly at what he just said. “is that a genuine compliment?”

“i can recognize fellow talent when i see it,” you could’ve sworn rhysand gave you a wink there, there was that arrogance again, before he continued, “don’t tell me you’re one of those photographers who think they’re better than us models.”

you cross your arms, “well then, don’t tell me that you’re difficult to work with—”

“and what if i was? have you heard what other people at the studio have said about me?” rhysand cuts in, only for you to shake your head.

“it doesn’t matter to me,” you say. you knew plenty about how insufferable he was already, you wouldn’t be surprised if other photographers have felt the same during their much briefer experiences with him.

you expect rhysand to further question you about your photography and working with the studio, but instead he smirks deviously at you, “it doesn’t matter because i am still a great subject model, after all.”

“oh please, you’re anything but,” you scoff.

the hint of playfulness in rhysand’s violet eyes never dulled as he licks his lips before smugly responding, “really? because i could’ve sworn you were repulsed by me until you called my face pretty today.”

“let’s just start the photoshoot.”

rhysand chuckles, but the look in his eyes never leaves his face as he waits for your direction in front of the camera.

“not like that!” you say, correcting rhysand’s pose. he pauses and turns his head towards you frustratingly, “what do you mean?”

“i said to pose like that, not this,” you frown, bringing your camera down to examine the photos. taking a pause from your photoshoot, rhysand walks over to you while you squint at the pixels on the camera screen.

“i never knew your stuck-up self did anything but study,” rhysand huffs from behind you. “let alone anything creative.”

you shoot him a look, “it’s just for fun.”

“whatever you say,” he crosses his arms. “but there’s definitely nothing wrong with the way i pose.”

“it looks awkward in this photo,” you tell him. you hesitant before confining, “…i think it’s better if you pose like this.”

you take his wrist and position his arms above his head. “place your arms like this,” you mumble. then you instruct him to lean back so his posture seems more natural. you had never been this close to rhysand before, even physically touching him. you tried your best to push away the thoughts in your mind, thankful that he had only complied instead of complaining, quietly nodding whenever he asks about your opinion on the slightest movement.

you try your best not to look him in the eyes and focus on his position, blinking when you lingered too long on his raven hair. maybe his stylist did a good job earlier. rhysand looks at you starry-eyed before you clear your throat and move away from him, but his gaze still never leaves you.

“perfect.”

he gives you a sidelong glance while remaining still in his pose that you directed, “you want me to stay like this?”

you nod, moving with your camera to start taking pictures at different angles with this new pose. then you slightly position rhysand differently, with his arms placed over his chest and his head tilted.

“you take everything so seriously, no wonder you’re like this with photography too,” rhysand mutters.

“i think we’re finished,” you say dryly. “i’ll send these to the studio and they can decide which ones are good.”

you begin packing your things as rhysand fixes his hair in the mirror before leaving, you fight the urge to roll your eyes at the sight. this first photoshoot hadn’t actually been half as bad as you expected. while you had put up with rhysand’s humor and remarks, you also noticed that he didn’t seem as unprofessional as you thought he was.

“i guess i’ll see you again next time,” you sling your bag over your shoulder, placing your camera around your neck with the strap. you don’t bother to wave goobye to rhysand and expect that he doesn’t give you the curtesy either. you weren’t nearly close enough for that yet.

he’s still getting ready to leave the studio by the time you’re by the door when you walk out. you let out a deep breath knowing that your nerves about this first photoshoot were for nothing. taking one more look around the lobby of velaris studios, you’re about to catch a ride home before you feel a tug on your arm.

“give me your number, y/n,” rhysand says. “we should keep in touch for the next photoshoot.”

— NOTES

the tension between rhys and y/n 👀👀

cassian and azriel will make their appearances soon 🙏

— TAGLIST

@thelov3lybookworm @starsand @lilah-asteria @therealmoonstone @just-a-social-casualty-1 @ashjade19 @girlontheblock @cherry-cin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sweet-chai-amore @kierramofficial @noelli-smv @c-dizzle99 @littlestw01f @marina468

#— starcrossed #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand imagine #rhysand acotar #rhysand au #high lord rhysand #acotar rhysand #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x you #night court x reader #night court x you #bat boys x reader #bat boys x you #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand fanfic #rhysand angst #acotar angst

[thewertsearch]

EB: i would like to be culturally sensitive, but i wish it didn't have to be like that for you. […] AG: Well, thanks John. That's nice of you to say. 8ut let's face it, it doesn't fucking matter anymore, since our whole race was wiped out! […] AG: […] we'll never actually get to come of age and enter troll society, and see if we got what it takes. AG: 8ut that doesn't mean we stop growing up! AG: I think the game knows it's always gonna 8e played 8y kids, and it always rigs it so they enter right around the cusp of sexual maturity, whatever the race is. AG: Which kinda makes sense, since if they succeed, they've got their whole lives ahead of them to do whatever the hell they're going to do in their universe, like start repopul8ing and whatnot.

Vriska thinks that Sburb Players are always kids, because the game wants to give them more time to live in their universe. I'm a little skeptical, and not just because it de-canonizes my Homestucksona.

With the scale of what we’ve seen so far in the game, I didn’t expect a paltry concern like human lifespan to matter. With access to cloning, time travel and brain duplication, rejuvenating one's body would be trivial for a non-ascended Sburb Player, let alone a god of Life or Time.

AG: I really think how successfully they mature is tied to success in the game. It challenges the players in all the ways they need to 8e challenged to grow, which is different for every individual, and veeeeeeeery different for every race.

If Sburb absorbs the cultural standards of its Players, then I’m very happy we didn’t see the Quests that the game tailor-made for the Alternian Empire.

That would explain why we’ve never seen any troll Consorts, though. It's because they were conquered.

AG: I don't think we were so hot at that aspect of the game. In fact, I'm sure we were quite awful. Hell, even I wasn't that gr8 at it! I actually just kinda fell ass 8ackwards into the god tier, to 8e honest.

I wouldn't put too much stock into Sburb's idea of 'growth'. Its primary purpose is to propagate reality, and it's probably designed to mold you into someone well-suited to that task, regardless of your own desires. Your happiness and personal fulfillment is a secondary concern, at best.

Listen to what Sburb has to say, if you want - but take it with a huge pinch of salt. I doubt it has your best interests at heart.

AG: 8ut what really gets me is this didn't even occur to me until just now, while I was sitting around thinking a8out it. […] AG: That was why the game split us up into two teams. AG: It knew as we came of age, we'd pro8a8ly start killing each other. AG: So it just provided the stage. Red team vs. 8lue. It was so simple! All we had to do was what we were naturally inclined to. It might have worked out 8etter for us.

I don't agree with this take on the teams, either.

My interpretation is pretty much the opposite of Vriska's. I’ve always believed that the game pretended to split the trolls into teams, in order to trick them into joining one single cooperative group. If we assume propagation is Sburb's primary goal, then it must have concluded that this arrangement increased their chances of victory. In other words, the trolls are better together.

Plus, Sburb has never even hinted that the game can or should be played competitively. I think Vriska's just searching for reasons why everything's gone so wrong, and she's fallen back on Alternian conditioning again. Successful trolls kill, so her team must have failed because there weren't enough killings.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3468 #s127

[saerins]

𝑩𝒀 𝑴𝒀 𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬

dabi x reader. cw: they smoke, timeline is before dabi revealed who he was, mentions of death, very suggestive.

notes: for @saeist my beloved <3 i hope i didn’t massacre your boy :’)

“i’m bored,” you whine, sauntering over to the living room where the villain you’re so generously housing (for now) is sat, playstation controller between his palms, thumbs on the buttons, body half-naked leaving nearly nothing to your imagination.

you notice that he’s wearing your ex’s sweats, probably something he fished out of a random closet. but you also notice that dabi makes it look much better.

call yourself screwed up or whatever, but even in this age of impending war between heroes and villains, is it so bad to find dabi so attractive?

“and i’m a villain, what do you want?” dabi states the obvious, barely paying you any mind, eyes glued on the screen, blues and reds bouncing off his face from the game he’s playing.

normally, you’re too cautious to get up in his space, choosing to steer clear of him whenever he’s around. you’re too timid to even bring up the fact that you don’t come from money and it’d be really nice if he could pay some rent! unfortunately today, you’re not. you’ve just had a hell of a bad day, getting disrespected and ridiculed at work, and you’re in the mood for a distraction.

anything, even if it means it has to be dabi.

besides, you’ve been cohabitating for so many months now, he probably won’t kill you, right?

you take a puff from your device, blowing into the space in front of him, obscuring his vision even if just a little. his eyes narrow, turquoise hues flicking up as he sneers at you—but they soften, turning amused when he gets the hint; you’re the kind to wear your heart on your sleeve, it’s easier than normal to guess what you want.

“getting a little stressed out is all it takes for you to come my way?” the wide smirk that graces his face almost takes you aback; it almost makes you feel like he’s any other normal human being and you’re both a normal pair of people flirting.

you lean into it, finding that you don’t want to let go of it. the small glimpses of humanity you see in him are few and far between, and while you know it’s probably you reaching, it’s still intriguing.

“what flavour?” he asks you, nodding towards that little thing in your right palm as you straddle him on the couch, controller tossed to the side and already forgotten, even when the game’s still running. 

mirroring his smirk, you take another slow, long puff, pressing your forehead against his as you exhale, “wanna take a guess?”

dabi watches as you take another puff, eyes staring into his like you could be medusa. and you’re irritating, because there’s no way he can tell whatever’s rolling off of your tongue when you’re this close. you’re saying something, and you’re taking another puff, and everything’s muffled—all the noises are one, and all he can do is stare at your lips, half-lidded with his hands on your waist.

not a thought crosses his mind when his other hand pulls your neck close, his mouth pressing over your own, his eyes glinting with mischief as he inhales whatever’s left inside of you before pulling away and leaving you breathless.

“ew, what is that, peach pop or some shit?” he grimaces, internally chuckling when he sees you mildly horrified thinking he meant otherwise.

you roll your eyes, “excuse you, it’s grape yoghurt and i think it tastes great.” you’re ready to retract the idea of doing anything with dabi, moving to get off of him when his firm grip around your waist tightens, pulling you back.

“mmmm,” he hums, low and raspy and it’s like you can feel the distance closing in between the two of you. “i wanna know what you taste like without all that bubblegum coating though.”

is it possible for just simple words to heighten your emotions like this?

dabi doesn’t even let you get any words out before his palms slip under your shirt, so rough and so different but so welcome. he makes quick work of flipping you so that your back hits the couch, his body hovering over you.

when you’re forced to look at him like this, you can tell so much more than when you stare at him through the tv screen being hailed as an arsonist maniac. like how his eyes are so blue and how the black dye in his hair is falling off in some places. his body is more purple than normal, and you wonder just what he had been through to turn out like this.

his lips come up to yours, only for it to be stopped by your index finger coming in between. he tilts his head to the side, an amused grunt leaving his lips. “i don’t get a taste?”

“you will,” you assure him, but not before you get to be a little selfish. “once you tell me your name.”

“you know my name.”

“your real name.”

dabi sighs, rolling his eyes and getting off of you, relegating back to his original position and ignoring you.

annoyed, you take another puff and blow it at him, his jaw clenching in irritation.

“you waltz in here one day demanding either i leave or put you up, you refuse to tell me why or who you were but thank god for the news one day that reported on you and the other people in the league, i’ve never reported you or asked you anything until now and you still refuse to tell me?” you recount, giving a dramatic sigh as you sit up. you put on a pout knowing that he can still see you out of the corner of his eye. “give me something, dabi.”

feeling particularly bold today, your fingers trail a line down his arms. you can feel the heat radiating off of him and you can’t tell what it means, whether it’s just a bodily reaction to your words or if he’s about to blow this place to ashes.

but the next thing you know, he’s pushing you back down on the couch, his lips on yours and he’s kissing you this time, barely letting you catch your breath. are you crazy if you think this is him telling you not to go? your hands come up around his neck, careful with the way you touch his skin, and you’re considered breathless once again when you hear him breathe a name into your mouth.

“touya.”

he pulls away for a few seconds after that, and you let it sink in. he only says it once, probably because there’s some story attached to his real identity that he doesn’t like. and it’s enough for you.

“that enough for you?” he asks, though he doesn’t wait for an answer, hands pawing at your shirt before he removes it.

he’s not sure why he even told you his name. he’s not sure why he hasn’t burnt you to ashes like countless others. he’s not sure why you’re so addictive somehow—why this one interaction is enough to make him feel some sort of relief.

but he knows one thing: if it isn’t a sin, could he keep you?

#dabi x reader #touya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha imagines #dabi imagines #touya imagines #bnha imagines #mha dabi x reader #mha touya x reader #૪ aeri’s fics !

[ironunderstands]

Dr. Ratios predictions, theories and ideas I have for his lore BECAUSE SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED AND I AM INSANE ABOUT HIM AAAAAAA

‼️INCLUDES DISCUSSION OF LEAKS SO BE WARNED‼️

So, I’m sure if you like Dr. Ratio even a little bit or have kept up with what leakers are doing, you have heard of a little something.

That little something being our new planet in coming in 3.0 is Ancient Greece inspired 

Oh boy.

And oh it gets better, thanks Sparkle for playing genderbend Ratio during Cosmoddesy because 

Yup, this is his planet.

I’m well aware it will be like 7 months before we start getting proper leaks about this place, but for now, let’s do some speculation shall we, because if there’s anywhere we are gonna get his backstory/lore/a story centered around him, it will be here.

So let’s begin 

Whatever the hell I think is gonna happen during 3.0

A) He will serve as a guide for the Astral Express in navigating this planet 

I don’t think he will immediately go to them to help, or they will immediately seek out him, but rather coincidentally or through the connivence of circumstance he will end up helping lead us around, at least partially until we really get roped into a conflict.

Or, it’s the other way around, where we kinda are left to our own devices a bit and then something happens and either by his own decision or something that’s forced upon him, Dr. Ratio now has to supervise from now on.

Personally I find the second option way more interesting and I think it has way more potential for angst so I’m going with that one let Ratio be dragged around by a malicious entity or his own experiences I’m so here for it. 

B) Something happens.

Wow, descriptive. 

Ok, what I really mean is that something bad happens like a prophecy comes true or the express breaks something or a stellaron comes to eat people’s grandmas and Ratio is implicated in it. 

And this is where the fun begins, as the nature of what this something is can completely shift the story in very interesting ways.

Perhaps he was prophesied to doom Amphoreous’s civilization with his presence or something, and was abandoned by his parents on another planet?

Perhaps he has connections to the leaders there who desired for him to be their puppet/tool, so he left to find his own path and now they are trying to force him back.

Perhaps he failed at a test of theirs when he was younger, some universal trait on the planet that he couldn’t live up to and was exiled because of it. Now that he’s back, they blame whatever bad thing happens on Ratio. 

I actually really like these particular theories as Ratio has a lot of themes about creating your own destiny, so seeing him resist one forced upon him would be compelling. Moreover, I feel as though an arc demonstrating how exactly he wanted to become a Genius/where he got all his insecurities and motivations from is not only necessary for his character but would flesh out the way we see the path of Erudition in general, even if I already really like the way they have gone with it so far. 

C) Resolution/Self acceptance 

I doubt they will permanently kill him, it just doesn’t suit his character at all.

However, do I think is he gonna get messed up by whatever that “something” is? Yes. 

If the story centers on this remains to be seen, honestly, I doubt it will considering we have the entire cast of the planet and its own lore to meet and learn about, but I do think Ratio will be a major player and I hope how he feels gets some of the plot’s focus as we have quite literally only have 1 full scene of him where we see who he truly is, and it’s all the way back in 1.6 (Ratio-Screwllum conversation my Roman Empire). 

Like guys I needed this man bleeding out screaming dying crying throwing up clutching his wounds looking up at the screen like a kicked puppy losing all hope in himself and others YESTERDAY 

I NEED SOMETHING BAD TO HAPPEN TO HIM FOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND BECAUSE RATIO IS SO HIGH STRUNG THAT ANY AMOUNT OF PRESSURE WILL CAUSE HIM TO SNAP SO PLEASE HOYO LET HIM BREAK!!!

He needs another scene where he’s being sincere, he needs a scene where he’s being vulnerable, Ratio’s marble facade needs to crumble to reveal the man underneath and I need that man to pick himself back up again knowing he can allow himself to be human as well AAAAAAAAAA

His connections to Acheron 

If you have seen my other posts I have already talked about this at length, however the brainrot for this particular detail is all consuming so let me just demonstrate:

Dr. Ratio has the same philosophy as Acheron, an emanator of Nihility.

Look.

Essentially, they both believe that only in desperate situations will humans reach their full potential and begin to truly live for themselves. Moreover, they also both try and offer the tools to help people save themselves, Ratio with knowledge and Acheron with destroying the dreamscape, and that even if people can only become their true selves through struggle, it is the guidance and love of other people that will allow them to pick themselves up. 

Interestingly, pre-2.2 I also believed Ratio was walking the path of Nihility, due to how he engages with knowledge. That very viewpoint spawned from the 1.6 conversation I just showed you, as Ratio demonstrates to the audience that he does not care about knowledge in of itself, but rather the value it can bring to people.

Now, this sets him apart from the Genius Society members, who believe knowledge is inherently valuable and that it is what brings the universe meaning to them. Every person Nous has acknowledged has expressed this belief, which is why they were acknowledged and Ratio isn’t.

Before you say it, no, it’s not that he isn’t smart enough, quite the opposite actually.

Screwllum himself acknowledges his genius and time and time again are Ratios myriad of accomplishments brought up. In universe plenty of people believe he should have been instated into the society by now as well:

These are just the ones that implicate the society directly, as so many of Ratio’s character stories also mention just how accomplished he is.

Moreover, in 2.3 we are getting a new Sim Uni update made by Ratio himself, centered on humanity because of course it is, therefore he’s even smart enough to do the same things the GS members do, even collaborating with Screwllum to work on their favorite pet project.

So, what does this have to do with his lack of acknowledgment, and the path of Nihility?

I have established Ratio is smart enough and that he doesn’t view knowledge in the same way the other member’s do. Therefore, this difference in mindset is why Nous has never acknowledged him, because as much as Ratio thinks he is walking the path of Erudition, his personal philosophy and behaviors have never aligned with that, even if he thinks they do.

I mean, the man says it himself, even if he doesn’t realize the implications of it:

“The Path of Erudition has neither reason nor logic. While geniuses wander among the stars, the ordinary can’t even trace their footsteps.”

That is the path the Genius Society members walk, the path Ratio is criticizing in this sentence, the path he refuses to travel along himself, because what defines Ratio is that he will never leave the ordinary behind to stumble alone.

That is the path of Erudition.

And Veritas Ratio does not follow it. 

So what does he believe in?

Finding your own path. Forging your own future, in the face of a meaningless universe, that is the only thing we should do, the only thing we CAN do. 

“even a life marked by failure is a life worth living”

That’s what Ratio believes.

It doesn’t matter if the masses cannot escape their mediocrity, if they will never be geniuses, if their efforts will go unacknowledged, because the universe doesn’t care, therefore they shouldn’t either. There is no grand test, no final destination, no perfect goal people must attain.

Destiny is uncertain, and people’s fates are theirs to choose. 

Dr. Ratio believes people can still improve themselves, and that it doesn’t matter if people cannot reach the ceiling of knowledge, as they should still push themselves off the floor and stand up. 

He doesn’t think anything confines people from bettering themselves, and that it’s pointless to deliberate over whether one can achieve perfection or not, they should strive to improve themselves regardless and live their best lives because why not? Sure there’s nothing saying they can, but there’s also nothing saying they can’t, and in the face of a meaningless universe, devoid of purpose, one must create their own, and he dedicates his life to aiding others in realizing this.

Ironically, Ratio does not take his own advice. He can recognize the merits of the masses, but he cannot appreciate his own. Ratio is forever walking forward, but he cannot see the path ahead of him, or appreciate the lengths he has gone, the distance he has traveled, and the lives he has improved. 

Ratio spreads knowledge across the universe, believing that is what Nous desires, what the Erudition means, or rather should be, which is partly why he views himself as mundane, as a failure. 

Not just because he is as ordinary as any other person, but because Ratio thinks he hasn’t succeeded in his goal without Nous’s acknowledgement. I think he believes that he hasn’t done enough, that he isn’t smart enough, that he will never be good enough, therefore no matter what has happened, Ratio is doomed do be as mundane as everyone else, and his accomplishments will never be worth the gaze of the entity who inspired him to help others in the first place, as that’s what Ratio believes they would want.

However, helping others is not something Nous cares about, it’s something Dr. Ratio cares about. Even if he doesn’t understand or acknowledge it, Ratio’s accomplishments are meaningful, and he has walked his path further than most ever have. 

However, that path just isn’t the path of Erudition, it’s the path of Existence. 

Initially I believed it to be the Nihility, and in a way I’m not wrong, considering one must cross underneath the shadow of the Nihility to find the Existence, so in a way he is still approaching them.

However, as always, Acheron clarifies everything.

The Nihility envelops all, therefore it is meaningless. And before our final ending, our predetermined destiny (death), we have so many choices to make, therefore we should make them, as it makes both our life and death develop a completely different meaning.

As I have stated, this is what Ratio believes in, even if he attributes it to the Erudition, rather than the Nihility.

Ratio’s entire goal in life is to help others bring meaning to their lives and guide them in the right direction so they can begin to choose for themselves, using knowledge as his means to do so.

Which is exactly what Acheron does, “on the still waters of oblivion, I guide the wandering souls,” isn’t just a line she says because it sounds cool, rather, that is her goal as well. An emanator of Nihility, whose goal is to help others find their meaning in the universe. 

But Acheron doesn’t just want that. She is looking for the Existence, and to kill the Nihility (meaningless) forever.

Which is significant, because if Ratio believes the same exact thing she does, and is walking the same path as she is, then like Acheron, he is heading towards the Existence, not the Erudition.

And Nous will never acknowledge him, not because he isn’t smart enough, but because he never followed them to begin with.

In fact, we know what Ratio is, or rather, what he might end up becoming.

So far no Doctors of Chaos have succeeded in their goals, but perhaps Dr. Ratio, Dr VERITAS Ratio, will be the one to do so. After all, who else could it be but him?

How fitting that the man named after truth would be the one to find it.

That fuckass owl 

Glaux I want to throw you into a blender 

This is Professor Glaux, one of the figures from the Hanunue-Clockie Era of Penacony who did some things like bring the stellaron there, was a scholar of the Intellgenica Guild, became the first dreamweaver, inspired the paper birds, did some shit with the Nightingale Family and presumably died.

I know, horrible explanation, especially considering I haven’t even done the quest this guy is from, but hopefully that’s all the information you need for now so I can introduce you to this theory (which I did not create, sadly I don’t remember who did but it was someone on twitter somewhere so shoutout to them)

That being… Dr. Ratio is Glaux

I hate it I’m sorry. But I will attempt to explain where it’s coming from.

A) Glaux has very similar references to Ratio, aka they are both associated with Greek culture, wisdom and owls 

Glaux is the Greek word for owl and they are heavily associated with Athena, the god of wisdom.

Now Ratio has extremely obvious owl, Greek and wisdom association if you have looked at him for any longer than 2 seconds so I’m not gonna bother to demonstrate it, they have similar references, moving on.

B) The Intelligencia Guild + their titles 

They are from the same faction, and both are referred to as Professors (ratio gets called that more in the CN version I think), and at least Ratio dedicates his time to spreading knowledge, which I think is something Glaux shared.  

C) This occurrence in Gold and Gears

You know, the one where a student kills themself because Ratio thinks they are an idiot.

Well, it’s complicated because apparently the story told in Gold in Gears takes place a long time ago?? 

How long I don’t know as my brain melted in my skull when trying to piece it together, so please do correct me if I’m wrong, I’ll try to make sense of it later.

Moreover, this is also complicated by the fact that this particular occurrence was used by Herta to teach the trailblazer some mechanics of the sim uni, which makes me thing it’s not a part of the lore/timeline in it in general, and just something funny she added in anyways. Continually, there are also occurrences from characters like Argenti and of the Genius Society members themselves, so I don’t think every event is set in the distant past.

However, I think this idea comes from the other person in that occurrence, Dr. No5, but he also kills himself in it, and I can’t find anymore information on it, so I doubt it. (also apparently in the Chinese version the Ratio they refer to isn’t in the way they refer to Dr. Ratio/the one we know so idk)

Either way, what this means is that if this occurrence did take place a while ago, then Ratio must be super fucking old and he must have been part of the Intellegencia Guild during that time, like a certain owl aka Glaux, who was part of it.

D) Ratio’s weird origins

By weird origins I mean we know jack shit about his past (although we finally know the planet he’s from!) and for all we know the man could have spawned in one day, with some other theories even coming to that conclusion, like the infamous worm theory.

Essentially, if you put this all together, Ratio was once an owl-humanoid named Glaux who was from the Amphoreous, and then became part of the Intelligencia Guild a while back, which is when that occurrence happened. He then went to Penacony, did some stuff, faked his death and like came back as Dr. Ratio on that planet again, which is why we don’t know anything about his origins.

Can you tell why I hate this theory as a concept.

I find it to be dumb, nonsensical, a waste of potential and just straight up random as hell. However it is also objectively valid and could have happened within the plot of the game which is why I hate it so much because please hoyoverse do not go in this direction I will skin you.

However, I do not think Ratio has nothing to do with Glaux.

Rather,

A) The stuff Glaux did on Penacony is meant to parallel how Ratio acted there, as both served as a guiding figure for people on their respective timelines 

B) Ratio is the same species as Glaux/ they are from the same planet (Amphoreous).

Now this I fuck with heavily. Yes, Glaux is way more owl looking than Ratio is, however more human versions of his species could exist, and Ratio could just have the ability to like shift forms or something.

He also looks extremely similar to the owls on Ratios design, which I now deem it appropriate to show to you the metric fuck ton of owls in Ratios design.

(there’s a few more btw I just couldn’t fit them due to the image limit LMAOO)

Why do you have so many, and why is it the same fucking owl, same culture, same goddess referenced, same symbolism???? 

Like even if I hate the 1 : 1 Glaux-Ratio theory, they are clearly connected, and this is no accident on behalf of the developers. 

Therefore, I would keep an eye out for Glaux mentions in the future, especially on the planet coming in 3.0, as I 100% believe that they are from the same planet. There’s no way they can’t be connected in some manner, and if I am right about this I will be annoying about it for the rest of time. 

I can’t believe owl Ratio might actually be a reality. 

So uh, let’s put this all together.

We go to Ratio’s planet in 3.0, problems happen and we learn both his past and his connections to that owl species Glaux is from which likely causes even more problems. Bbg probably gets his ass handed to him in 3.0 and 3.1 and gets to make up for it in 3.2, ending the arc off more fulfilled as a person, and perhaps making some realizations about himself including that he isn’t actually following the path of Erudition. Then we skip all the way to endgame when the trailblazers are fighting Nanook and him and Acheron come in with the steel chair hopped up on Existence juice to give the trailblazer enough of a will to live as to not succumb to the Nihility because oh my god how can you defeat the embodiment of Destruction. We somehow win and Dr. Ratio gets married to Aventurine and they ride off into the sunset roll credits we all cheered. 

So, yeah.

If I’m even a little bit right about this I will be the most insufferable person on this planet. Anyways I hope you enjoyed reading this, and even if these theories don’t end up being true I do still think the speculation gives a lot of insight into his character.

#honkai star rail #hsr #dr ratio #veritas ratio #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio hsr #hsr theory #hsr leaks #i am insane about this #I will be insane about it #You don’t understand. #GIVE IT TO ME HOYOVERSE GIVE IT TO MEEEEEE EEE #God I can’t wait for 3.0 I need Ratio to get his ass kicked PLEASEEE #HE NEEDS TO SNAP! HE NEEDS TO SNAP! #Aventurine pls save your husband from my delusions thanks #Acheron #Acheron hsr #she always shows up #I swear

[koolades-world]

HIIII CONGRATS ON 2K FOLLOWERS 🗣🗣🗣

Can I request prompt #32 with Mammon?! Where the brothers are doing their usual teasing of Mammon and it finally gets to him. He then goes to MC for comfort! Maybe cuddling involved? 👀

thank you! of course you can :)

i love a good hurt comfort with mammon

enjoy <3

prompt 32 w/ Mammon

You loved the brothers, no doubt. You’d all formed unbreakable bonds and you spent lots of time together. They loved each other too. But at the end of the day, they were demon who really did treat each other as siblings. They were downright cruel to each other at times. You understood to some degree, but you and your siblings never went that far. You would get into a loud argument, but about ten minutes later, be good friends again and give each other a helping hand. Maybe that’s how the brothers expected their relationship to be, but it felt like more times than not, they took things a little too far.

It was oddly quiet in the house. You and Lucifer were sitting in his room together. He was doing paperwork, while you tried planning the latest shenanigan that Diavolo had proposed. You occasionally asked him for advice or his opinion on something. From time to time, the two of you would randomly start to chat about things that happened to come to mind. It was nice to work in silence, but it did leave you questioning what the rest of the household was doing.

“Do you think I should try plan the venue set up around the ice sculpture, or the games? If the sculpture was in the center, it would definitely help elevate the overall elegance, but the games are the whole point of the event. I’m not really sure what Diavolo was thinking asking me to plan a classy, but fun event. It’s very him though, I will say.” You stared blankly at the paper you were sketching on. It was rather crude, but it was only the first draft.

Lucifer remained silent for a second. “Plan around the games. The sculpture can be at the far end of the venue. Still center, but helps put the focus on what Lord Diavolo wanted. Besides, who know what kinds of games he wants to plan? The more room the better.” Lucifer didn’t look up from his work, but you could tell he’d thought hard about what you’d said.

“Thanks. You’re right.” You went back to sketching, making note of what he said off to the side with your other little notes. The two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, before Lucifer spoke up again.

“It’s awfully silent. I think I’m going to go check up on everyone.” He abruptly got up. You had been thinking the same thing.

“Alright, I’ll stay here for now I think. If you have any issues, call me.” You had a few ideas you wanted to get down, alas you forget them.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He shut the door behind him, leaving you alone in his room. You thought about snooping a little, but that would be a breach of his privacy. Besides, how many people could say they were trusted so much so by Lucifer himself that they were left alone in his room? You continued to work, jotting down ideas that came to mind to bring up with Diavolo and Barbatos later.

When you finally looked up, you realized Lucifer still wasn’t back. With that, you got up and decided to look for him. He hadn’t called for you, but knowing him, he wouldn’t even if there was something wrong. The house was still silent. It gave you an icky sort of dread. Something was wrong. You grew more and more panicked by the minute, throwing open every door in the house in search of anybody, but to no avail. The last place you could think to check was outside.

Fortunately, they were all out there.

Unfortunately, some kind of conflict seemed to be happening.

You struggled to take in everything that happening, But, the first thing you zeroed in on was Mammon. He strangely wasn’t part of whatever was happening. He was sitting on the ground, head hanging and looking defeated. Ignoring everyone else, you quickly made your way over to him and knelt beside him. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you.

“Mammon?” You took his hand, but you still got no reaction. You gently took his face in your other hand and turned it towards you. You’ll never forget the expression on his face. It was devoid of the joy and that smile you were so used to seeing. Instead, it was blank. It was eerie seeing him with a blank slate of an expression. He looked without looking, as if he didn’t even register you were there. “Mams. Let’s go inside.” You didn’t know what happened, but that could wait. Right now, you knew he needed to be away from the ongoing argument. They were so into the fight, they didn’t even notice the two of you leaving.

After you shut the door behind you, the din was deafened. No wonder you didn’t realize they were outside. You led Mammon back up to his room and locked the door behind the both of you. You knew he had some snacks and drinks in his mini fridge in case you needed them. You sat him down, and threw one of the blankets you’d left in his room around his shoulder. “What happened?” Now that the two of you were alone, you figured he might be more receptive to you.

Mammon turned to look at you: the most reaction you’d see out of him so far. He stared at you, and you held his hand comfortingly. He gazed at you, still with a mostly blank expression. “Yer too good to me.” He finally spoke.

“You deserve it. I don’t think I could imagine my life without you.” You were a little confused where all of this was coming from, making you wonder what might have happened.

“Well, my brothers could. They don’t need me.” He looked away from you again.

“What are you talking about? Of course they need you. This family wouldn’t be complete without you. You’re the great Mammon.” You tried to lift his spirits, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Ya’d think differently if you didn’t see me so positively. I’m a piece of scum.” You lent forward a little, trying to meet his eyes, but he fully turned away. He gripped your hand tighter. You sunk back into your chair, but he didn’t move back to how he was before.

“What’d they say?” You move his hand and held it to your chest.

“They told me I was a stain on the family and I didn’t deserve my title. That all I did was make their life harder. They said it in the heat of the argument, so maybe they didn’t mean it, but I’m starting to thing they’re right.” You felt your heart throb for him. It seemed as if he was past the point of tears, because you saw none now and before. He seemed almost numb to it all. If you didn’t know him, you’d just assume he was tired. But you did. And you knew just what you needed to say to try and help.

“You’re Mammon. You fought beside Lucifer and earned your spot fair and square. They might not see what makes you special, but I do.I got to know you much more recently than they did, but we’re so close. Did you ever stop to wonder why? You’re so sweet and loving to me, even early on. It was really great to know I could trust someone in this new and scary world. To me, you’re perfect. I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re my first demon, after all.” You spoke from the heart. “You light up my world, Mams. I’m really glad I met you.” While he was still facing away from you, you felt the grip on your hand soften a little.

“Do ya really think that?” He seemed tentative with his words, as if you might take them back any second.

He still seemed unsure, so you continued. “Think of it this way. Every choice you ever made led you here, and the same goes for me. Even if every choice was a bad one, which they weren’t, we still ended up here, together. You make my life better, and if I need to tell you it a million times, I will.”

“Really?” He finally turned back to look at you. His eyes were still free to tears, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Of course I do. Why else would I be here with you right now?” With that, Mammon tackled you into a hug. You playfully screamed, but hugged him back. He needed it. You let him have his moment, and the two of you remained snuggled up in your blanket on his bed. He rolled over, so you were on top of the cuddle hug now.

“I can’t be suffocating my human, now can I?” His signature smile was back. You were glad you were able to help him. You’d do anything for that smile.

“Prime example of you being sweet.” You laughed as he threw the blanket over your head. As much as he tended to deny it, he truly did love his human. You picked him up during times likes this and supported him no matter what, even when he tended to act prickly with his emotions. You were just what he needed in his life.

#obey me #obey me! #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we datee? #obey me! shall we date

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [24] - Journals

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Couples can have different opinions on many things.

Word Count: 2400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex, there's a fur coat line. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Alright.

Keeping a sex journal while you weren’t currently having sex was going to be challenging but you couldn’t let it stop you.

It was homework, and there was a reason why you had been such a perfect student back at school.

You sipped your coffee before putting it back on the kitchen island, then grabbed the paper bag to turn it over, the contents spilling onto the island, making you let out a happy noise. Stationery shopping always made you feel excited, gathering different notebooks and papers and pens, so you were beginning to feel like you were going to ace this already.

Alpine jumped on the island to inspect the pens, then smacked one off the counter with her paw.

“Alpine!” you said. “Don’t.”

“Charm I’m—” Bucky lifted his head when he reached the bottom of the stairs, then frowned, making his way to the kitchen island. “What are those?”

“Stuff for the sex journals,” you said as you opened a notebook, then closed it and tossed it at him. He caught it mid-air and looked down at it.

“This looks better than the notepad I have.”

You made a face as you lifted Alpine off the counter, then put her on the floor.

“It’s a journal,” you told him. “She didn’t say a notepad.”

“Can I borrow a pen?”

“No!” you said quickly, grabbing the multiple pens on the island. “Get your own, these are mine.”

“There are like one hundred pens here and you’re telling me—wait a second, did you get glitter pens?”

“Yeah,” you said and Bucky approached the counter, tilting his head.

“Are those stickers?”

“Mm hm,” you said as you started sorting them through color and Bucky blinked a couple of times.

“Why do you have stickers?”

“As a rating system,” you said. “I mean the journal will be detailed and whatever but I think using stars stickers for it will be useful.”

“You’ll give our sex life star ratings?” he asked as he took one of the tiny sticker sheets into his hand and you nodded your head.

“Yeah. It’s important to be organized while keeping a journal, and it’ll make it easier to read. This is how I used to study for exams as well.”

“Teacher’s pet,” he teased you and you arched a brow.

“You just lost a star.”

His eyes widened. “Wait what? No I want—I want five stars!”

“Then fucking act like it.”

Bucky licked his lips.

“So how are we going to do this?” he motioned at the journal. “Make stuff up?”

“No, we’ll just have sex because it’s a part of couple’s therapy.”

His head shot up. “I take back everything bad I said about therapy—”

“Of course we’re going to make stuff up!” you snapped, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “I’m not fucking you for some sort of homework, this is a business deal.”

He opened his mouth to retort but his phone started buzzing, making him look down at the screen before rejecting the call.

“So I copy off of yours?”

“I’m not going to do your homework for you,” you said. “We’ll do it together, tonight. Try to find your favorite fantasy today, it’ll make things easier.”

“It’ll make one thing harder.”

You let out a groan, rolling your eyes at him but that didn’t stop the smirk pulling at his lips. His phone started buzzing again and he made a face, then put it back into his pocket.

“Want to grab lunch in the afternoon?”

“No I’m meeting Becca,” you said, your whole attention back on the sheets of stickers again as you separated them and he stepped to press a kiss on top of your head.

“Tell Becca I said hi,” he said and you hummed as he walked out of the apartment. You could feel your cheeks burning but you frowned at yourself and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you.

“Your father is just…” you trailed off and held one of the pens so that she could smack it. “Something tells me he used to be a bad student.”

                                      *

“So yeah, my boss has been kicking my ass,” Leila said before taking a sip of her coffee and you tilted your head, stealing a look at Becca.

“And you’re letting that happen?”

“I told you!” Becca said, motioning at you and Leila let out a laugh.

“Unbelievable, both of you.”

“It’s a problem and the solution is very clear,” you said and Becca nodded.

“Exactly!”

“We’re not intimidating my boss.”

“It’s not intimidating,” Becca said. “Just…you know, a gently nudge to not push you so hard.”

“I offered Ethan the same thing,” you said. “He refused.”

“I wonder why,” Leila said and Becca heaved a sigh.

“What’s he been up to?”

“He’s very busy.”

“Still in love with you?”

“He’s not in love with me, we’re friends,” you told them and sipped your drink. “Besides, don’t get off the subject. Leila—”

“The new client is a hard ass, that’s why my boss is being uncharacteristically pushy,” she said. “It’s fine, really. How about you, how’s everything with Bucky?”

“Oh our therapist gave us this homework,” you said. “Sex journals.”

Becca shot you a puzzled look but couldn’t say anything with Leila right there so you only shook your head slightly as Leila let out a laugh.

“Do you want me to cover your ears, Bec?”

“Yeah!” she said after a beat. “Yeah no I don’t um—I don’t want to know anything about my brother’s sex life, I’ll just pretend you guys only hold hands in bed.”

“Aw sweetheart…” Leila said, patting her hand and you gave her a grin, then bit into your muffin.

“Listen, it’s just—” you started, then got distracted when you saw Ryan walk into the café. He made his way straight to the counter, clearly not having seen you or the girls, then gave his order to the barista before stepping sideways so that he could wait.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Becca and Leila, then stood up from your chair to approach him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you said, making him turn around and he immediately straightened his back even more as if you were his commander.

“Ma’am.”

“How are you?” you asked and he gave you a faint, hesitant smile.

“I’m alright ma’am, how about you?”

“I’m good,” you said. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to you since that night at the club. Thank you, again.”

“I didn’t do anything ma’am,” he said. “I’m glad you disarmed him before he could hurt you or Mr. Barnes.”

You nodded your head.

“You know how amateurs are,” you said with a wave of your hand and he swallowed, his eyes darting over your face.

“And um…” he cleared his throat. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“It wasn’t the first time I kicked someone’s ass—”

“No I mean,” he paused for a moment. “After the dinner?”

Ah.

The dinner your father had named Ian his heir.

Considering how happy Ian was about it and how Ryan was his right arm, you would have thought he would be very happy, perhaps just asking you to pretend to be polite but nothing in his eyes signaled insincerity. You pulled your brows together in confusion and he licked his lips.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my place—”

“No no,” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence and offered him a small smile. “No I was just surprised, that’s all. No one from my dad’s side asked me if I was alright after that dinner, so…”

He nodded his head, looking down at his boots and you took a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” you said. “And I really appreciate you asking that, it’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

His head shot up when the barista called out his name and put the coffee on the counter, and he grabbed it.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you long,” you said with a smile. “Have a nice day, Ryan.”

“You too ma’am,” he said gruffly and walked out of the café while you returned to the table, Leila and Becca both watching you.

“He looks like freaking Hercules,” Leila commented and Becca let out a laugh.

“I’ll never understand why he is working for Ian.”

“Me neither,” you said with a sigh. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”

                                               *

By the time Bucky got home, it was past dinner time.

“I’m so sorry, this fucking meeting—” he said as he walked into the apartment, making you look over your shoulder from the couch. “Isn’t it weird we can’t kill people over zoom meetings?”

“I’m sure technology will get there some day,” you pointed out, sipping your wine. “I ordered sushi, it’s on the counter.”

“Awesome,” he said, getting rid of his jacket to throw it over the chair and you tried not to stare at his white button up fitting perfectly to his muscular body, then licked your lips. He pulled a chair to sit by the kitchen island and reached out to grab your journal.

“Did you write anything?”

“Nah, I was waiting for you,” you said and muted the TV, then grabbed your wine glass to make your way to him. You sat down as well, then pulled the sticker sheets and pens to yourself from the other side of the counter, taking the journal from him as well. He took chopsticks into his hand and dug into the sushi while you opened the journal, then fixed your hair.

“So?”

“Hm?”

“What is your sexual fantasy?”

Bucky chewed his bite before swallowing it, then pointed at you with the chopsticks.

“You know, when I imagined you asking me this question you weren’t wearing anything and my mouth was busy with something else.”

You tried to ignore the way your stomach did a pleasant flip, then narrowed your eyes at him.

“Bucky.”

“Why don’t you tell me your fantasies first?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Aside from the obvious medieval knight thing—”

“That’s not my fantasy—you know what?” you said, grabbing your phone. “I’ll just google it and then we can decide.”

“…You’ll google sexual fantasies?” he asked with a grin on his lips. “You actually need to google it? Aw, have I ever told you how adorable you are?”

“Bucky, I’m warning you.”

“Missionary doesn’t count as a fantasy so I’m guessing yours isn’t gonna be there.”

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with missionary, don’t blame me if you have too many issues to be able to look your partner in the eye while fucking them—”

“Whatever you say, pillow princess.”

“And I’m giving you three stars, how about that?”

He pulled his brows together, swallowing his bite in a hurry. “No!”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not, we don’t know if we can trust the therapist or if she’s working for someone else.”

“I feel like if she was working for someone else, we’d have other problems than her thinking you’re not good in bed.”

“That’d be the biggest problem for me,” he said, his voice completely serious. “I can deal with people trying to kill me, but they can’t think my wife gives me three stars.”

 You rolled your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” you said. “Fine, I’ll give five stars to the fantasy thing but I’ll write I faked it the second time we had sex this week.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not giving you five stars all the time Bucky, she’s going to know we’re lying.”

“No, none of my girlfriends have ever faked that shit, my wife sure as fuck won’t.”

You blinked a couple of times before tilting your head, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Aw, I forget how naïve men can be about this,” you said. “Have I ever told you how adorable you are?”

He narrowed his eyes. “None of my girlfriends—”

“That’s what you think.”

“No, I know they didn’t.”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep your expression straight. “Really? And how do you know that?”

“One can tell.”

“Not really.”

“I’m not talking about porn screams all the time,” he insisted. “You can just…feel it.”

You raised your brows, smirking at him and he frowned slightly.

“Bullshit,” he said after a beat. “You can’t fake that.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your teeth, now grinning wide but before he could say anything else, someone knocked on the door, making both of you turn your heads. Bucky checked his wristwatch, his frown getting deeper and he pulled his gun out of his waistband, then made his way to the door with you following him. He looked through the peephole, then put his gun back into his waistband and opened it to reveal one of his bodyguards that you had met back at the club; Hannah.

“Hi Hannah!” you said, waving at her and she smiled at you.

“Mrs. Barnes,” she greeted you and turned to Bucky. “Mr. Barnes, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour but we figured you’d want to know. There has been an attack to the Wilson territory.”

Your jaw dropped and you covered your mouth while Bucky’s shoulders tensed up.

“Sarah—?” you started, your heart beating painfully against your chest but thankfully Hannah cut you off.

“Everyone in the Wilson family is alright ma’am,” she said, making you let out a relieved breath. “It wasn’t an attack to any of their houses, just the territory.”

Bucky’s voice was stern when he spoke: “Where?”

 “One of the bars,” Hannah said. “A couple of his men got hurt, so did some civilians.”

“HYDRA,” you murmured, your jaw clenching. “Fuck.”

“Is Paul around?”

“Yes sir, he’s downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Bucky said and closed the door, then turned to you but you had already turned around to make your way to the coffee table to get your gun.

“Charm, you should stay here,” Bucky said, making you look over your shoulder. “It could be dangerous.”

You arched a brow, then grabbed the fur coat on the rack to throw it over the mini silk dress you were wearing.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” you asked him as you pushed the gun into your handbag, then walked past him. “Let’s go.”

Bucky threw his head back and grabbed one of the car keys off the key hook, then followed you out of the apartment.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob au #mob!au #bucky barnes x you

[yandere-daydreams]

personally i, as a pretty man enjoyer to the bone, do not find gojo hot.

i think it’s because no matter how powerful he is in canon, his vibes are truly just SO pathetic to me and i don’t like pathetic wet cat men

i’ve also literally never seen the show and i’m not gonna start now so i have no personality to attach to his character to give him any depth or bonus hotness

like i don’t care if he’s the most powerful wizard or whatever the fuck, fundamentally he looks like he’d dig in my trash and jack off into used pads while sniffing my dirty underwear and eating my deodorant like. be better.

i cannot imagine this man ever putting his dick in anything even vaguely human and thus he is unfuckable, and i don’t care for him

tbh i think gojo being considered almost-universally hot despite his absolutely rancid vibes is kind of a testament to jjk's character writing. i'm honestly more of a geto enjoyer and i really wasn't interested in gojo at all when i started watching the show, but he just kind of,,, seeps into the wrinkles of your brain and stays there. you start off kind of rolling your eyes at his silliness to being like 'well i guess he's KIND OF cool when he's with his students' to crying into your pillow at night because of the tragedy of pure love in an endlessly cruel world + the kindness that can sprout from the decaying corpse of heartbreak allowed to fester. none of that does anything about the fact that he is absolutely a 27 year old virgin who would jerk off to used deodorant if it smelled enough like you but. it adds a little extra spice y'know.

#i promise geto is my favorite T-T #gojo's just such a wacky little dude #and i think about him constantly #personal #anon ask

[st4rngirl]

— ON CAM 💝.

pairing: enemy!chris sturniolo x reader

summary: reader & matt are fwb, and chris seems a little jealous

warnings: SMUTTTT, dom!chris, oral, unprotected, roughhh, degrading names (slut, etc.), slapping, use of ma/baby, camera/recording, praise kink, choking if you squint, arguing

a/n: first time writing smut, so hoping for the best! please give me feedback on anything i can do better!

ੈ✩‧₊˚———————————————————————˚₊‧✩ੈ

you and chris had known eachother since you were kids, just like you had with the two other triplets. so matt and nick were confused when you two had suddenly become distant and rude towards each other in car videos.

so, they decided you and chris needed some alone time to work out whatever conflict had been going to between the two of you. so, they set you two down on their living room couch, and told you both exactly that. after that, they had left you two alone, and went to the store to get some things for tomorrows wednesday video.

the second nick and matt stepped out of the door, you shot up from the couch to leave this situation as soon as possible.

you’re quickly stopped by chris grabbing your arm, and pulling you back down onto the couch.

he looks at you like he wasn’t the one who ruined your friendship.

the truth was, you and chris had something going on a few years back. but you cut it off, and went back to being friends. for awhile, you had no idea why he had started being such a jerk to you in recent months. but eventually you pieced together a suspicion that it could be about what’s going on between you and matt.

you and matt hadn’t had anything truly serious going on. just flirting, and occasional making out.

but apparently that hadn’t stopped chris from being jealous, because he speaks in a playful tone, “i know what’s going on between you and my brother.”

you look at him confidently, and respond confidently as well. “okay, do you want a cookie?”

chris rolls his eyes at you and inches closer to you on the couch. he grips your wrist tighter, which causes you to whimper softly in response.

chris isn’t saying anything, so you decide to speak up again, “i don’t understand why your upset with me chris, i thought you would be over us by now.”

chris responds swiftly, like he had already had this conversation in his head before it happened. “i am over us, but i’m not over us if your with my brother.”

you look at him confused, you understand that he could be jealous, but that’s not like him. he could literally get any girl he wanted. “chris, what? are you seriously jealo-“

he cuts you off by slamming your faces together, his hand that was gripped tightly on your arm suddenly moves to your waist.

he pulls you closer to him, almost onto his lap as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. you allow him entrance as your mouth opens and a soft whimper falls out.

his grip on your hips tightens as the kiss deepens. chris can’t help himself, the desire to make you his is becoming stronger with each second.

you pull away from the kiss for a slight moment, just long enough for him to pull you fully onto his lap, his forehead resting against yours as you try to catch your breath.

he glances at your swollen lips, and gently traces his thumb over them.

“you have no idea what you do to me.” he says, before starting to move his hips around to create friction, just where you want it.

“i’ve been trying so hard to stay away from you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks.

he places soft kisses along your neck, his teeth lightly nibbling at your skin. his hands begin to roam all over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he’s trying to memorize every curve and detail.

his kisses become more intense, his tongue swirling against your skin as his hands grab your hips, and slowly grind you against him.

“chris.. fuck,” you mumble into the kiss.

he suddenly breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looks at you, his eyes dark with desire. he runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regain his composure.

he tugs at your shirt, motioning for you to take it off. you oblige as he reaches for something behind the couch. his hands searching for something specific, and finally grasping it.

chris pulls out a camera.

his eyes linger on you as you take off your shirt, biting his lip softly as he watches the reveal of your skin.

“your so beautiful,” he whispers before motioning for you to take your shorts off. you comply, as he swiftly pulls off his shirt and sweatpants.

you cover your body with your arms, just for chris to take them off so he can see your body. “ma, let me see you.” he mumbles.

chris then takes out the camera, and starts recording as he slowly takes off your bra.

he pans the camera down to your bare tits, “fuck, baby” he mumbled as you breathed deeply, unable to move as he moves the camera down to your lap.

“now your panties,” he requests.

“but- your filiming.. i—” you stuttered.

“so? strip.” he interrupted

again, you do as he says. you slowly take off your panties as he spins you around for the camera. you couldn’t help but notice how much his demanding tone turned you on. you maintained eye contact with him as you discarded your panties on the floor.

“so sexy, ma” he praised

chris discarded his boxers as he gave the camera a better view of your exposed body.

“shit,” he groaned as he inched closer towards you.

you slowly turned around, to hopefully give him and the camera a better view. he snickered before running his hands past your tits, and up to your neck.

“you gonna let your little ‘boyfriends’ brother fuck you, slut?” he whispered while gently squeezing his hand around your neck.

his actions caused you to whimper, as he brought his free hand down sharply against your skin. his hand then slides down past your waist, pulling you even tighter against him.

“chris, please..” you whisper, your voice strained with effort.

“what? use your words ma,” he teased, clearly knowing what you wanted, but wanting to hear you say it.

“chris please fuck me,” you plead desperately, needing him inside you.

chris chuckled, letting go of you and pushing you onto the couch. he pumped himself with his free hand before lining himself up with your pussy. his tip teased you as you looked back at the camera with a grin.

as you focus on the camera, he snickered again just before shoving himself quickly into your pussy. he smiled as he noticed he captured your face in that moment on camera.

“chris,” you cried out, as he slapped your ass again.

“can’t take my dick slut? i know you can.” he huffed

at his sudden actions, you feel your walls clench as you adjust to his size. before you could make any more noise, chris brings his free hand to your face, and shoves two of his fingers into your mouth.

“you’re taking me so well baby.” he dryly praised as he adds another finger into your mouth.

chris continues slamming in and out of you as you suck on his fingers. your whimpers become louder and louder with each thrust. this whole time, he’s making sure the camera gets a perfect view of everything happening.

“who fucks you better?” he suddenly groaned.

“what..? fuck,” you replied confused.

“who fucks you better, slut? me or my brother,”

“you.. fuck, you fuck me better chris,” you panted.

chris smirked at your response. as you feel your orgasm approaching, your walls begin to clench around chris’ dick. looking back at him for approval, he grants it while chasing his own.

“that’s it. fuck, come for me baby.” he groaned as you felt your orgasm reach its highest point.

“get on your knees baby,” chris ordered. you followed and settled down on your knees as you looked up at him, still holding the camera.

“open your mouth,” he demanded as he ran his free hand through your hair before using it to pump himself, before entering your mouth. you took him all the way to the back of your throat, with his free hand gripped against the back of your head.

“fuck, that’s it.. i’m close,” he whimpered as he began to thrust into your wet mouth. your eyes formed tears as he released down your throat.

he slowly pulled out of your mouth, holding your jaw with his free hand. showing the camera the mess he had made.

he saved the video as you panted, trying to catch your breath.

“chris! what if someone sees that??” you whispered, embarrassed.

“that’s the point sweetheart.” he snickered as he put the camera down.

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— THANK YOU FOR READING 💝.

a/n: i kinda like this 😛 PLEASE lmk what i can do next time to make my fics better 🙏🏼🙏🏼

masterlist 💝!

taglist 💝!

@sturnsxplr-25

#sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader

[miracles-and-butterflies]

The sixth part of Ride the Cyclone AU.

This will make up for all the missing angst in the last chapter. Probably.

The previous part if you need a recap.

Comments are always appreciated.

Warning, sensitive topics ahead, especially character death.

Nombre Desconocida

Another awkward silence filtered through the space. Unlike previously Camilo didn’t shrink in on himself the way Isabela had, if anything he took the fact he had left everyone speechless in his stride. As his sister and cousins around him slowly gained their autonomy again, they pulled off their cat ears and glanced in confusion at the matching tails.

“When you said marrying a prince, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Luisa admitted.

“Hell yeah, this was way better!” Isabela echoes, she threw an arm around Luisa and Camilo. “I thought I was gonna have to handle the flowers for some stuffy fake-wedding. Getting to be a villain and ruining lives? Life goals. So, thank you. You are weirdly awesome in the afterlife, Milo.”

Camilo shrugged, “I’m the same person I always was. It’s just nobody really listened to me when I was myself.”

“Well, we’re listening to you now, space Jesus.” Isabela ruffled his hair playfully.

“¡Ay!” He batted Isabela’s hand away, trying to hug his two cousins properly. “I guess the real tragedy is that we couldn’t all be in a drama group together. We would have been amazing.”

“We could always do it now. Just mess around in the corner?” Isabela suggested. “I mean, it’s not like any of us are actually care about this competition besides Dolores. I say we just rebel against the weird old man and do whatever the fuck we want!”

They cheered, laughing at the idea. Which was actually a very good one to say out loud, if only for the look of horror on Dolores’ face.

Luisa wheezed, beaming brightly, looking and feeling better than she thinks she ever had in life. Not even a single concern over work or expectations. She was finally at peace. “I’m so happy right now, I could never come down!” She gushed.

“My turn!”

As if on cue, they all turned, jumping out of their skin and their already dead hearts stopping, to where Desconocida had appeared directly behind Luisa, out of her cat costume and carrying that same headless doll again.

“Aww, man,” Luisa groaned, regrettably.

They left the stage, slowly, watching as the corpse stiffly made her way over to the suited man. In horror. Unable to look away.

“Desconocida,” the man introduced. “The one unidentified body of the Cyclone rollercoaster disaster.”

The girl in question glanced at him momentarily before reaching for the door. Unlike the others, it did not glow and show her magical engraving, for she was not a Madrigal. That was expected. What was surprising was the lack of photos that filled the room. The walls remained bare and empty, no sign of memories of life. She stared, perplexed why it did not work.

She cocked her head at the man, who too had gone quiet in favour of just watching her. She went to try the doorknob again. This time, she awkwardly brushed her hand across her ruined clothes, wiping away some imaginary dirt, before reaching for it. As if that might have been the issue. But again, as she turned to look about the room, there was nothing. No photos, no reenactment of her life from the other contestants, nothing to symbolise any identity or life she might have had.

Without any comment or reaction, she stepped aside solemnly, letting go of the door.

The man continued, “Everyone knew everyone in Encanto, but no one could recall this member of the community. There were rumours of a girl who joined the queue at the last minute, but as the employee (running the Cyclone) died of a heart attack shortly after the accident, there was no one to verify. Some say she was never part of the town at all. I sadly cannot tell you. All one knows for certain is that a body was found below the tracks of the Cyclone without a head. So… a mystery.”

~~~~~

14th September 1951, three hours before the Cyclone accident

“Roll up, roll up! Come one, come all! Step up and test your strength! Only the strongest here today will win one of our fabulous prizes!” A male voice bellowed loudly through the fairground.

Dolores caught Isabela’s sleeve immediately as she turned her head towards the sound. “No. You already wrecked that duck mini-game because it was, and I quote, ‘rigged’, I’m not letting you destroy another. Let’s go find those shooting games. You can be violent all you want there.”

“But I can be violent here!” Isabela whined. “Come on, Lola, I can win this one. Easy!”

“No, you can’t. You are getting overly competitive and cocky now. Keep walking.” She insisted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Isabela got overly competitive and cocky twenty-two years ago, Dolores.” Luisa teased. She pulled away from the snack cart she had been eyeing up, following Isabela’s gaze. The same idea filling her head. Eyes lighting up eagerly, grinning like the devil.

Dolores let go of Isabela’s sleeve immediately, grabbing Luisa’s wrist with both hands firmly.

“No! If Isabela isn’t going over there, you certainly aren’t going over there!”

“Come on, prima. It’s literally my game. It’s literally called ‘The Strongest’! It’s like they’re begging me to play it.”

“Exactly! And it wouldn’t be fair for you to play with your gift! So you aren’t playing!”

“The people working here don’t know that.”

With ease, Luisa pulled her wrist free and followed Isabela through the mangle of people. Mirabel glanced at Dolores and Camilo before deciding to go after her sisters

Dolores groaned, almost growling in frustration, “I just wanted to see the music box. Was that so much to ask?” She muttered to herself, throwing her hands down to her sides.

“Hey, I thought you said we were gonna find a bathroom for me? I still need to go!” Camilo complained.

The test-your-strength game was a long red, wooden tower of sorts, full of whirling noises and flashing lights. At the bottom was a huge rubber pad. The player would strike it with a heavy mallet, the force would hit a little puck that would shoot up (and then fall down) the tower’s length based on how hard the person had hit. The tower was marked all the way up with various levels. The very top of the tower, the highest score, was emphasised with a bell that looked like it wasn’t being rang much, if at all.

Luisa thought for a moment. Then she nudged Mirabel. “You want to see something impressive? Something that will cheer you up?”

“Sure,” she said, “Though I don’t think there is anything here that will impress me.”

Her sister clicked her tongue. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Meanwhile, Isabela watched a young man in front of her take his turn. He confidently grabbed the mallet from the kids who had gone before him and shot a confident look to the people behind him. He slid up beside Isabela, offering her a wink.

“This one’s for you, boñita,” he whispered.

Before going to take his swing, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Then he separated, puffed out his chest and raised his arms back, and swung the mallet forward. The little puck bounced up, hitting one of the levels around the middle of the tower before falling back down.

“Ah, better luck next time, my friend.” The employee offered, patting him on the back.

The man handed back the mallet and circled to leave the cue, not before pulling Isabela close to his side again.

“Stupid game is rigged. How about we got to something else and I can win a prize for you there, mi rosa?” He asked, smiling down at her.

“What?” Isabela questioned.

“Then what else would you be here for?” He scratched his head in confusion. “This game is too difficult for pretty women like yourself.” His eyes widened a little in realisation, looking a little more seductive. “You wouldn’t happen to have come over just to watch me, would you? I’m flattered.”

“I’m not here to watch, I’m here to win.” The woman hissed.

She pushed him aside, tossing her hair proudly. The employee, having not been paying attention what was happening, handed her the mallet without any ceremony and stepped aside to let her swing.

“Oh, here we go,” Luisa mumbled, pulling away from the conversation she was having with Mirabel. They too were unaware of what Isabela had been dealing with. “This’ll be good.”

Isabela slammed the mallet down loudly. The puck shot much faster than the previous attempt and Isabela flashed a smirk to the astounded man behind her. Only it faltered when she caught sight of the puck going back down again. It had only gotten a level or two higher than the previous one. The mallet dropped into the grass from Isabela’s hand with a thump.

“B-but… but I was…” she stuttered.

Luisa cleared her throat. She cracked her fingers carefully, pushing Isabela aside. “Excuse me, Bela. Let the professional show you how it’s done.”

She stepped forward, grinning, scooping the mallet off the ground and dusting off a few specs of dirt on it. After taking a dramatic breath, she shook herself, getting into an unnecessary stance and holding the mallet with both her hands. Mirabel saw Luisa’s muscles tense through her clothes and quickly shifted her hands over her ears. Isabela simply rolled her eyes at the show Luisa was making. Finally, Luisa brought the mallet down with all her might.

Vibrations came from the mallet hitting against the pad and spreading through the crowd, shaking the very ground and making teeth chatter. The little puck went wizzing straight to the top, hitting the bell and bursting clear off the top. Everyone watched as the spec disappeared high in the sky with no sign of coming back. The tower rung with the sound and lights of victory before it glitched, broken, and went silent.

Everyone nearby, minus Luisa, stood with their hands over their ears for a good twenty seconds as they waited for the noise to stop. Luisa stood, letting out a relaxed, satisfied sigh but didn’t say anything.

The crowd was quiet too. The employee’s mouth hung agape as he stared into the sky, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun as he looked up. Squinting, trying to see when or if the puck would reappear and fall back down. Slowly, they all turned to Luisa. Some children were crying, some were boldly insisting they could do that to their friends, most people were glaring - either form the disturbance/the upset of their children or the fact they were no longer getting a turn. All except Mirabel, who offered Luisa a round of applause once it was safe to stop covering her ears.

Luisa clicked her tongue, stepping back to Isabela and bending to her ear, “That’s how it’s done. I could give you a little sisterly advice on how to reach the top, seeing as you need a little help there—”

“Oh, fuck off!” Isabela snapped. “Stupid thing was rigged anyways! I could have won easily!”

She stormed off in a flurry of petals, already ranting under her breath, as she spotted Dolores hovering nearby but out of the queue. No doubt about to talk her ear off about how rigged this game was, just like the last one had been. And the one before that. And the one before that. And the one—

The other sister just laughed as Isabela disappeared and placed the mallet down on the pad for the next person - as though she hadn’t just broken the game.

“How was that, hermanita? Impressive enough for you?” Luisa asked, flexing a bicep.

“Oh, very,” Mirabel agreed. Looking up at her sister in awe. To be fair, Luisa had done what she promised. “It was the most impressive thing I have seen all day.”

“It’ll get better though. I mean, I do believe I get a prize now?”

“…Ah, um, yes… Right. Here are the prizes!” The employee shook himself and gestured to the set of prizes beside him. “Take your pick!”

Luisa tapped her chin in thought as she surveyed the table. Unlike some of the other games, the prizes here weren’t the same. Probably because the likelihood of a child winning this was slim to none, there was no need for little games or stuffed animals. Her previous prizes throughout the day had all been stuffed animals, most of which she dumped with Bruno thus far.

“That one,” she exclaimed, finally.

“Excellent choice!” The employee said. He slipped behind the table and picked off a doll from one of the back shelves, handing it to Luisa. “Thanks for, eh, playing. And breaking my machine?”

She tried to hold back a chuckle as she waved him off, “You’re welcome.”

With all said and done, she walked off with Mirabel following behind her, a little more than confused. The eyes and crowd slowly dispersing as Luisa found her way to a more empty part of the fairground - a relatively empty space of grass that was full of baby strollers and a few people sitting down to eat.

“Um, Luisa?” Mirabel called. “Where are we going? I saw Isabela and Dolores back the other way… Should we not stay together? It would be easy to lose someone here, the place is so—”

Luisa stopped in her tracks and turned. She held the doll down for Mirabel. The younger raised an eyebrow.

“Here,” Luisa said. “It’s for you.”

“But you won it.” Mirabel countered.

“Yes.”

“So it’s yours.”

“I’m giving it to you.”

“I didn’t win it, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Then I don’t deserve it.”

Her sister handed her the doll anyways before settling down against a tree, pulling Mirabel into her lap to hug her. The doll stuck between them.

“Why are we sitting?” She questioned.

“I thought you would want a break. Or well, maybe not want one, but you need one. Your short legs must be killing you after all this walking.” Luisa explained.

“Well, yes, but if this is your solution to get me to accept your prize, it is not going to work. I won’t take it.”

“Nope, you can argue with me all you want; you’re keeping it. If I have to hammer it into your wall, I will.” Luisa insisted, ever an impenetrable force. “And you do deserve it. Okay? You may not be as strong as me, but your stupid amount of patience should be rewarded. You don’t want to be here and yet you are. You said you were staying because Dolores asked you to do so for food - but you could have just given her the food and left. She doesn’t need you to carry it. You know what I think? You are staying because you don’t want us to get hurt, sure. You are staying because you just want to see us happy.”

She smiled, a little. “I’m staying because I love you.”

“And I love you. So, here. Consider the doll a ‘thank you’, if you don’t want a gift.”

Luisa pulled the doll out and handed it to Mirabel, who did take it this time.

“She is rather pretty. With very fine embroidery,” Mirabel said, giving some approval to the doll as she admired it. “I honestly might recreate this pattern on my new skirt when we get home.”

“And she has very soft curls. Just like the real thing.” Luisa added.

“Will you stop playing with my hair?”

“No can do, I’m afraid. It’s one of my older sibling privileges. And it’s so much softer than mine! You also don’t have any knots in it, perfect to play with!”

“Well, stop messing up my forehead curl, it’s my favourite one. Every time you fiddle with it, you pull it loose and then I just have these wavy strands in front of my glasses for the rest of the day—”

There was sudden screaming in the distance and Mirabel sat up, alert, looking around for any of danger, steadying her glasses to see properly. Luisa turned her head, pointing to a large rollercoaster nearby.

“That’s where the screaming is coming from. Don’t worry, nothing is broken. It’s just people on a loop.” She paused, watching the rollercoaster soar along the tracks for a moment. “That’s the Cyclone. That was the big one on all the posters, you remember? Tío Bruno says it’s very popular. We’re gonna ride on it later, when the queues have gone down a bit. You wanna come?”

“Absolutely not! I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.”

Luisa laughed at her bluntness.

“Besides,” she continued, fiddling with the lace on the doll. “Someone should stay on look out. See if that puck ever comes back down to earth.”

#encanto #encanto ride the cyclone au #my writing #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #bruno madrigal

[skriblee-ksk]

“I checked the drinks… Princes’ outfits are up to code… Grimmy’s with Ryoko right now… I didn’t forget anything, did I?”

“Okay. Ready as I’ll ever be…! Let’s make this ball a success!”

Set to Home Screen: Are you ready? I’ll wait for you, if you need me to.

Home Transition:

1: Woah… The chandeliers are so bright and sparkly… 12 arms from the bottom bowl, which are four more than the one in the Mirror Chamber, but the top… Ah, sorry!

2: Deuce called me Lady Kiyuu earlier, which really made me happy. I would have worn a pretty dress, but these clothes are a lot warmer and comfier. I think I managed to make myself look feminine either way!

3: Kalim’s really enjoying talking to the attendees. He seems to be getting friendly with everyone, including people from RSA! Must be because he’s familiar with hosting parties.

4: So many attractive people are here… I wonder if I’d be bothering them if I said I wanted to take a picture of them…?

Home, after Login: This ball is really fun! If I lean back on this wall and squint, it just looks like a blur of blue, white, and gold. I think it’s nice that there’s a time these schools can merge like this.

Tap Home:

1: I’m excited to vote for the Belle of the Ball! Huh? Oh, no, I never had any intent to participate. I just enjoy seeing pretty people.

2: Ah, what? Oh, I’m just reviewing my notepad to make sure I’m not forgetting any etiquette. I’m doing perfectly well, so far! I reviewed it before I entered too, but just in case, you know?

3: Oh, no, wait, Grim’s gonna devour the entire table of finger foods at this rate. I’ll be right back!

4: I know I’m supposed to be helping the princes out, but I’m not sure if I’m doing a proper job here… Hm? You think I’m doing pretty well? Mm… Hehe, thanks!

5: It’s a little bit harder than usual to catch the attention of the attendees here since there’s so many people… Well, I guess I just have to find better ways to make my presence known!

Glimmering Soirée is a twst fan event hosted by: @starry-night-rose!!

Groovy Lines: [LOCKED]

Notes and stuff under cut!!

Groovy art coming soon!! maybe. hopefully. i have the sketch done so hopefully i can finish lol. I slightly tried imitating the twst shading style, but idk.

I searched up men’s victorian era clothing and ended w making this design. few obvious design changes in the end (color) result, mostly the gloves.

Here’s the pic without the SR thing! And the sneak peak for the groovy (which i rlly tryharded on so maybe i should’ve listed it as an ssr but whatevs i’ll leave that to my friend + ryoko because ryoko deserves that ssr title)

And tag list for my friend who rlly wanted to be tagged in Kiyuu stuff (if you wanted be added, just tell me!!): @kathxrat-01

#skribleedoodlz #twst stuff #twst kiyuu #glimmering soirée #I had a lot of fun drawing her!!!! #rendering the buttons and the silver stuff were so hard tho.. #metal…… #EITHER WAY SUPER FUN #cant wait to finish the groovy!!! #WILL include ryoko btw because i adore ryoko #and they come in a set they are THE ramshackle duo #would love to add grim in the bg too. #possibly tho i’d have to add to the sketch #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst yuu #skribleeoc

[dreamchasernina]

Someone sent this to me and it’s obviously aimed at my post and they have me blocked (which is fine it she hadn’t blocked me I would’ve blocked her), but if you’re going to address me, you might as well let me see it so I can debunk your dumbass statements. Now, I’m not looking for confrontation, that’s why I always tag my posts properly but you and your friends tracked my post to lash out at me for addressing the hate you’ve been spewing for years now. And the notes on that post prove how much this fandom is fed up with your nonsense. There’s a reason everyone says ZK shippers are the worst part of the fandom. You know you can ship your pairing without constantly mischaracterizing other characters, right?

The irony is just unbelievable because you don’t even understand that I made that post as a response to your friends who keep saying Katara deserved better than ending up with Aang. Which is the problem you are addressing in your post! Why is what Katara deserves tied to a boy she ends up with? It doesn’t. You’re the one who’s been saying that for years! And I’m not making this stuff up, it’s literally all over your blog. Saying how Katara was done dirty because she ended up with Aang. Mind you, her ending up with Aang does not take away any of her accomplishments throughout the show.

So you don’t like the pairing and you’d like to imagine her with someone else, go at it. But don’t sit here and tell me that Katara was disrespected in her ending because she ended up with someone you didn’t want for her and call it “feminism”. I don’t get how you like Katara as a character and everything she represents for 3 seasons but the last 30 seconds of the show make you so mad you sit here and tell me I’m a misogynist because I believe Katara ended up with someone she actually wanted to be with. The show presents Katara as a strong willed, badass, fights-for-what-she-believes-in character. Throughout the 3 seasons Katara did what she felt was right, what she wanted to do, going against people who tried to steer her away from her goals…and me believing she is in charge of her own destiny is misogynistic? No you’re right, you telling me Katara had zero agency and was forced into a relationship or stayed in a relationship she was miserable in makes a lot of sense for the character that was presented to you in the show.

You’re the feminist here, obviously, because if a woman steers away from YOUR idea of a “good female character”, then she was suddenly “done dirty”. Because a woman who chooses to have 3 children was obviously forced into it. A woman who doesn’t fight at 80 years old is obviously not well written. A woman who, throughout 61 episode did whatever the fuck she felt was right, but chose to be with the guy YOU think was wrong for her, “deserved better”. That’s what you’ve been saying for years and that what I’m addressing in my OG post. Katara’s worth is not tied to a man she ends up with!!!

And I don’t even like Bryke, I have a lot of problems with them. But I hate that you’re disguising your hate for a pairing as “feminism”, because it’s not. It’s the complete opposite of that. Because feminism is supporting a woman’s right to choose whatever she wants to do. But if she’s choosing something YOU don’t agree with you’re crucifying her! You see the irony here?? I beg some of you to look up the definition for feminism because it’s been a while.

#I’m so done with this topic #I didn’t want to engage with any one of them #but they’re so bored they’re preaching feminism to ME #Stay out of our tag for fucks sake #I get if they’d attacked me if I was hating on their fave character but that’s not at all what I was doing #why are y’all even here #avatar: the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #aang #kataang #katara #anti zutara #pro kataang