#did not proofread this

[relentlesslyexisting]

Alright guys, here's my take on Riyoko Ikeda. I just think she's like the Regina George of 70's shoujo-manga dom. Have you people seen pictures of her? She's gorgeous, and apparently sings opera, and there is this funny case where she's like "I can't believe Hi Izuru Tokoro no Tenshi" is gay. And then she steals Yamagishi's yassified character designs while being like "ah, only i understand them, that trashy hack Yamagishi could never understand." Shes kinda a bitch, lol. I also think Hagio Moto is kinda scary too, but while Ikeda is "Ohohoho!" Hagio Moto will say something to you off-hand that will cut into ever insecurity you've ever had and then get really shocked and confused as to why you're crying on the bathroom floor of her apartment.

That aside, none of what I read by Ikeda has felt especially striking to me. I mean, 13 year old me was did love every second of the ROV anime. But reading the manga, it's hard for me to ignore how weird and flighty it is at first. And well, idk I don't necessarily hate that these days. I kinda like flighty fun, old-shoujo being old-shoujo but I think what's always pissed me off is Ikeda's reputation. She's constantly conflated with y24, and I get it, the work she's most famous for often dealt with similar themes or whatever. But here's the thing, WHERE IS THE RAW PERVERSION. (side note, I also think Moto Hagio is a prude) Anyway, that's my hater essay.

[raining-anonymously]

been thinking about how different aspects of my neurodivergency affect me in multiple ways.

for example—hyperfixation. easily one of my favorite things about my funky brain. sometimes (like this year), i’ll spend a while just feeling… blah. depressed, executive dysfunction, autistic burnout, dissociation, some combination… i don’t know. i felt like i wasn’t fully there and i didn’t know why or when it would stop.

and then i was thinking about the concept of characters that talk to their narrators and went, “hey, wasn’t there a game like that?” and proceeded to look it up. that was friday or saturday. now it’s thursday and ever since that moment i have been swimming in a mass of youtube and fandom wiki and tumblr art and ao3. basically, learning as much as i possibly could about the stanley parable and its history and its fandoms history in a few days. it’s been a while since i had that intense of a hyperfixation, and… whew.

it’s been great.

i’m happier, i’m more energetic, i can’t stop smiling, i’m not getting long periods where i can’t do anything fun productive for hours…

but it’s not all good either. like how my concentration’s been much worse whenever i have to think about anything unrelated. like how i’ve been staying up later. like how when i actually do go to bed, it takes me longer to fall asleep. like how i woke up so many times last night until i gave up on going back to bed. i’m restless and overexcited and needing to mask more.

do i want to go back to a week ago? hard no. i very much appreciate looking forward to the day again. but this was a good reminder that neurodivergency—even the “fun” and “cute” ones—is a nuanced experience. i do consider my adhd to be a disability, mostly because of the affect executive dysfunction has on me, but even when i’m having a high in some areas, i’m lower in others.

i don’t know if i had a point to writing this or if i just felt like getting introspective on tumblr dot com, but… here we are! thanks for reading and goodbye while i go read more stanley parable fanfictions / try to get my pressing responsibilities done.

(disclaimer: this is about my personal experience; i am not trying to say that everyone has hyperfixations/experiences adhd in this way.)

[softersalt]

Real Man

I ought to believe in your manhood.

I can just see you fighting for it,

fists flying or pistols drawn, whatever

method your era desired, your era despised,

for never being good enough for your tastes,

because it will not become the next perpetually.

Once upon a time, as mothers tell children, I felt defended

because I felt as valued as your manly honor.

In a time before anyone called you a man,

you wore my letterman jacket

like we were kids younger than that moment

playing dress-up, so I let myself go colder

to keep you warm, like myself younger than the moment.

I might have played at being your boy, kept close as a pet,

but it should have seemed right that you were the man,

all swagger and occupation of space, happy to take my clothes off.

What surprise could you reasonably feel

when I couldn't make out that name of yours, three years in,

new to my ears, a complete unknown?

I shrieked a name that was not yours, childishly terrified

and wanting your protection from no threat.

Nothing, however often repeated, can be imprinted by mere wear

as that which is branded.

I never saw you so devastated

as when I, confused and nervous, allowed

"Miss" and "she" to slip past my lips,

meaning you. You only said you just

wanted to go home, so I withdrew,

deferent and delicate in my wounding.

I never again wish to see such fragile feeling filling your features.

That defensive brashness which came to the offensive

always gave a certain impression of masculinity,

persecutory perceptions of honor impugned.

You could be so utterly wrong and know it

but baffled at my hesitance to follow along,

perhaps because I have always followed.

My hesitance is all cowardice, no substance.

But who can cause such harm as a woman?

Oh, I know: this should have been the ultimate proof

that you were a man: that you marked my body,

touched me with no subtlety, pulled my hair and laughed at my scream:

that I did not know how to refuse.

Yet I know no man who would have presumed such familiarity

with my body that he had touched so little in four years.

No man but you has ever laid his hands upon me.

You wanted to hurt the first person who had,

and that is so very manly of you, but I begged

you not to do anything, good and gracious girl that I am.

How could I want to be a man like you?

How could a man like you treat me so like a woman?

All the violence in your frame suggest a man

beyond all denial, yet how can I help but question

the manhood of someone who hurts me so well?

Sir, it's a woman's place to whisper and scratch,

laughing with me as she calls me a whore,

all her friends laughing too, like teenage girls do.

What am I to take from this imposition upon my person

juxtaposed with the surety of your control?

Your hands still tease at my clothes, putting on my jacket surely

and grabbing beneath my shirt, the idle consumption of a sated, wild thing

that knows what it possesses certainly.

[kiiozawa]

"You can't keep doing this." You hiss as the tequila hits the back of your throat.

"I can and I will, princess."

You have to crane your head up just to glare at your ex-boyfriend and his stupid maroon colored eyes. Sukuna has a shit-eating grin on his face as he is eyeing you up and down. The baby blue dress that you're wearing that didn't leave anything to the imagination made his grin widen as he saw how flushed your cheeks were.

The scent of cheap liquor and the sweat of dancing bodies lingers in the air of the club. The club where you were supposed to be on a date. Until, Sukuna crashed it. Again.

"You can't be serious." You roll your eyes, arms crossing over your chest.

"As if you're serious about some guy with greasy hair and looks like he stays up arguing on Reddit until 3 in the morning." Sukuna quips back as he leans dangerously close to your face. "I can take you home right now, princess. Just say the word."

What's annoying is that you were already planning on telling your date that this isn't working out. Your date kept saying that they should play some 'real' music and had the audacity to tell you that your outfit may be a 'little too much'. He tried to offer you his jacket to cover up, which you shot down.

That is something that you weren't keen on letting Sukuna know. Sukuna's inflated ego may explode if you willingly offer that information. Instead, you hold out your hand to Sukuna, your eyes never breaking contact with his.

"Fine. But I want to get some McDonald's on the way." You relent as Sukuna's muscular hand engulfs yours as he pulls out through the sea of people.

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

[kits-ships]

✿☆▼ for the specific headcanon ask game? —cephalophoricboyfriend

✿ - Happy headcanon

Celeste, Olive's cat, loves the Doctor! She likes to play with his scarf, chase his neck ties, and curl up on his coats when he leaves them lying around. He's always giving her little snacks of whatever him and Olive and eating (ex. whipped cream !) and she finds that he's a very comfortable place to sit/sleep/knead.

But, initially !!! When Olive is upset (or having a panic attack) Celeste immediately assumes that the Doctor did something and tries to fight this 6'3 mfer. She may be like 10 pounds, but Celeste is ready to protect her mom!! Luckily, she does eventually learn that it isn't the Doctor that's upsetting her and will end up joining them when they're cuddling/trying to ground Olive. She's her lil ESA !

☆ - Appearance headcanon

Olive is covered in freckles and, after years of their relationship, there has been many times where the Doctor has tried to count them. This unfortunately leads to him debating with himself on whether overlapping marks count as one or two before getting mad that she develops more during the summer. She's also had two different Doctors argue over how many freckles she has at the same, which flustered her to the point where she had to tell them to stop.

Harry also once heard the Doctor ask to count Olive's freckles and, after thinking it over, it scarred him.

▼ - Childhood headcanon (more of a story but oh well)

There's a point in time where the TARDIS drops off the Doctor in the middle of a forest and he struggles to figure out why. He knows he's on Earth and it's around 1954-ish, but there's literally nothing around?? Just a few houses in the distance.

Eventually, he finds a little girl sitting in a hollow tree, reading Old Yeller. She seems rather frightened of him (it is the 50's after all,) but he also has an oddly trustworthy aura about him. He asks her where her parents are, and she tells him that her mother is at home and her father is at work. When pressed further, she very calmly explains that her mom gets mad when she makes too much noise while she works from home, so the girl often comes into the woods to play by herself.

The Doctor is a bit upset by this, but she seems rather content as she fiddles with the end of his scarf and tells him about how scary she thinks Old Yeller is. He decides to keep talking to her- hoping to watch over her until she can return home- only to have his hearts drop when he asks her name- Olive!

Even if it wasn't in the best circumstance, the Doctor got to meet a teeny, tiny version of his wife !! He also gave her jelly babies before she went home- reminding him of when Olive told him the little candies were oddly familiar when she met him as an adult.

[oursystemblog]

Shout out to me and the other co-host who are going through the same crisis except in the opposite directions ("Oh no I'm used to stress how do I deal with daily life" vs "Oh no I'm used to daily life how do I deal with stress")

[heich0e]

the itadori house always smells faintly of clean laundry.

it's not because the two boys who live there are particularly diligent about staying on top of their housework—the towering pile of recyclables in the corner of the kitchen is proof enough of that—but it's because the first time yuuji had tried to do his own laundry, he used way too much detergent. the ensuing tsunami of soap suds had flooded nearly half-way across the tiny apartment—coating the floors, the baseboards, and anything else in its path, in a slippery (though pleasantly fragranced) froth that took DAYS for the two brothers to clean up. it must have sunk in to the floorboards, or there must still be traces of it lingering in nooks and crannies that they couldn't reach, because even now, years after the catastrophe, the scent still lingers.

even though the mere mention of the incident still makes a vein of irritation throb in sukuna's forehead, and makes yuuji hang his head in shame, you don't mind the smell. it's familiar after all these years. it reminds you of this place.

you burrow your face down into the cushion of the living room sofa. it's raining today, and a bit humid, so the scent of detergent is particularly strong.

you're nearly asleep when a voice interrupts your quiet moment of relaxation.

"i should start charging you rent, y'know."

you don't open your eyes, even once you hear the words that come from above you. even without looking, you can picture the scene: sukuna leaning over the back of the sofa that you're sprawled across, his weight resting on his elbows as he peers down at you with his usual scowl. it's not the same scowl he shows to everyone else—the one that makes people shrink back under his gaze—this is a softer version of the same expression, dulled by familiarity. if you were more optimistic you might even say it was blunted by affection.

"stop pretending to sleep, kid." you feel his hand grasp your hip, shaking you lightly. "i know you're faking."

you feel a smile threatening to pull at your lips so you turn your face towards the pillow—the one you bought for the sofa, since the itadori brothers' idea of home decor is limited to creased posters for old mafia movies nobody's ever heard of and women with their tits out taped to the wall—and you burrow down to hide your expression from view.

"you're such a nuisance," sukuna groans, and then you feel the sofa dip. you figure he's pulled himself over the back of it now, based on how you feel him kneeling overtop of you with your legs straddled between his own. you're on your belly, but you can feel him rest back on his haunches, trapping your feet underneath him as he sits. "can't you nap at your own house?"

"too tired," you finally rasp out, daring to peek at him over your shoulder.

"and i'm not?" he scoffs, lifting his hand and pushing his hair back from his face. he's still half-dressed in his work uniform—a pair of slacks from the security company he's been working at part-time for the past few weeks, and a white t-shirt that he usually wears underneath the short sleeved button down that matches the trousers. "i just worked a double—been up since 4."

he does look tired, now that you have the chance to look at him. his hair is a bit dishevelled and he's got dark circles under his eyes. sukuna always looks a bit exhausted—and has since grandpa passed away and he took on the responsibility of raising yuuji. but it's particularly noticeable right now.

"and i can't even come home and take a nap on my own couch because there's a freeloader here."

you bite the inside of your cheek, wiggling around a bit underneath him so you can lay on your back.

"charge me rent then," you parry back to his complaint, and he cocks an eyebrow at your challenge. "i want a bed though. s'only fair."

"we'll get bunkbeds for yuuji's room, then," sukuna quips.

"don't wanna bunk with yuuji," you counter again, "he snores."

sukuna pauses, staring down at you. he leans forward slowly, his hands pressing into the couch cushion on either side of your waist as he dips towards you. "only one other bedroom in this place, y'know—"

you do know. it's why you said it.

"—and i have no plans to give up my bed."

sukuna is close to you now. too close, in any other circumstance, but this is one entirely of your own creation. a circumstance that feels more like an inevitability than anything, given the tension that's been crackling between the two of you lately, ever since he rescued you that night at the bar.

"didn't ask you to give it up," you say quietly, your eyes flickering across his features until they eventually settle on his lips.

sukuna makes a little noise in the back of his throat, close to annoyance, but not quite. distinctly tortured in nature.

"you really, really are a nuisance, y'know that?"

his hands are on your hips now. not like when he'd shaken you awake—this touch is greedier, needier than that passing graze. his fingertips slip up underneath the hem of your shirt until they brush against your bare skin, and the contact makes your body flush with heat.

"yuuji's gonna be back from class soon," you murmur softly, your gaze flickering back up to sukuna's heavy-lidded eyes. his nose twitches a little in annoyance, knowing you're right.

sukuna backs away a little, his hands slipping back out from underneath your shirt.

you sit up and catch his wrist in your hand, and his eyes widen in surprise. your faces are close together now—so close you can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. he stole a pack from you a few days ago, and clearly he's still chewing it.

you can't smell the laundry detergent anymore.

"i didn't tell you to stop," you remark lightly, leaning back so you're splayed out against the sofa once more. you stare up at him, waiting for him to process what you've said—watching the thoughts play out across his uncharacteristically shocked face. "i just meant that you should hurry up and do it already."

[zephyrchama]

Obey Me! brothers and an MC with long hair...

---

It drives Lucifer crazy. He's constantly asking you to clean the shower drain and nagging at you to either pull it back while studying or cut it short. His tune changes at night, when there's a chance to unwind with his favorite record. One hand cups a glass of Demonus while the other idly runs through your hair. He'll brush his fingers through it to the tune of his music. He'll grab a fistful of it and let his imagination run wild. The next morning he's back to complaining about the drain again and dropping a scrunchie on your head.

---

It's such a distraction for Mammon. He'll drape your hair across his shoulders like a scarf or hold it up to his lips like a fake mustache to make you laugh. He'll bury his face in it to escape from the world when his brothers find a new reason to be mad at him. He'll tug on it if he feels you're not paying enough attention to him. Mammon enjoys wrapping your hair around his fingers and rings. He's very possessive over it. He has a habit of sticking stuff in it like a mischievous little boy, but instead of gum he'll plant flowers and leaves in your hair, then kick back and watch as you dig out a mirror to see what he's stuck on your head this time.

---

Leviathan has a hoard of anime-themed hair accessories that don't suit him. He only bought them for collection purposes, but now that you're around he's always looking for an excuse for you to wear one. It's too adorable. He's mesmerized over the way your hair bounces and sways in pigtails, versus how elegant you can look when a high bun exposes your neck. He wants photos of them all. If you sit in front of him, Leviathan will comb his dexterous fingers through your hair and ask to style it. He enjoys the smell of your shampoo lingering on his hand and on the accessories he lends you.

---

Satan idly plays with your hair while he reads or spaces out. Most of the time he doesn't realize he's doing it. It does irk him when he finds a stray hair in the pages of his book, or on his clothes, but he doesn't vocalize it like Lucifer does. He'll take matters into his own hands. You'll find Satan randomly tying up your hair without warning, then look all smug admiring his own handiwork. The elastic hair ties he keeps in his pocket for you double as toys for any playful stray he spots on the street. If you have a hair out of place then Satan will tuck it back for you, slowly smoothing it out while making intense eye contact.

---

You never knew how many hairstyles existed until you met Asmodeus. He frequently asks to try out new ideas and products with your hair. He comes to brush it when he wants to vent. Spa days are his way of bonding, wherein he'll wrap your long hair up in a towel and wrap his arms around you while it dries. Asmodeus is addicted to the feeling of it, freshly combed, falling across his skin. He uses your hair as an excuse to touch you and will match your shampoo scents with his. You have to admit the feel of his nails against your scalp is incredibly relaxing, and his intuition for fashion is never wrong. He loves watching you admire his work in the mirror while singing his praises.

---

It worries Beelzebub. He worries your hair will get stuck on something, as he's had to help you untangle it from a hook more than once. He worries someone will use it to hurt you, as he's seen Mammon pull it to tease you. He worries it will get in the food, since he's choked on a long strand before. Whenever you're in the kitchen, asking Beel to tie your hair back is a good way to distract him until the food is done, as long as you don't use a fruit-scented shampoo. When you do, it's fun to have him guess what fruit you smell like and compare it to the real thing. Beelzebub is always conscious of your safety and won't hesitate to put a protective hand on the back of your head if you're walking past a low tree branch or leaning over a pot of oil. He's trying to learn to braid for you.

---

Belphegor finds it annoying to wake up with a mouthful of your long hair. It's pretty, but he hates getting his hands tangled in it while he naps, or finding strands of it on his sheets. If it didn't smell so good he'd have already cut it for you. His solution is to buy you soft hooded pajamas. He thinks it's cute to button a big plush hood (think of kigurumi) around your head and tuck the hair inside it. Sometimes he gets really ugly ones because they're funny. Then he has no problem using your head as his personal headrest. He likes rubbing your head because of the expressions you make. The only downside to these hoods is that he can't enjoy your messy bedhead, so he makes sure to take them off for you, too.

[mostly-imagines]

🌻 anon here

The last few days I stumbled into a few posts about Jason having +18 pics of reader in his phone and I just can't stop thinking "would he tho??" Like would he trust enough his device to have r18 pictures of the one he love and literally worship in his phone??? Knowing he knows damn well how easy it is nowadays to get those types of pictures through hack and stuff??

And I'm not saying he would share the pics, HELL NO he would never. But because I don't think he would trust his phone -and also because it cracks me up- I imagine him having a Polaroid to take the pics. The photos get printed automatically and if he have to he can't literally burn those without having to overthink about someone hacking his phone.

Like can you imagine him just casually take a Polaroid you didn't know where there out his nightstand and taking a pics of you while you reaching your peak??

Anyways all of that just to ask what one of my fav Jason writers would think about the whole Jason having spicy pics of you in this phone

18+

i’ve honest to god been thinking about this non stop since you sent it sunny

i think you're dead on, jason's protective streak rings too loud in his mind to ever take the chance of someone else maybe seeing those photos of you. personally, i’m of the belief that he uses his phone for the most practical purposes only and that his photo gallery is borderline empty, with few exceptions of nondescript images. like the only pictures of you on his phone don’t show your face or any revealing information about you. yeah, he’s a little paranoid in that way but it just makes his alternative that much more interesting.

there’s also something about it that feels more personal, more intimate. there’s not a chance in hell those photos are going near another person and he likes the idea that you’re giving him this amount of vulnerability and trust.

i also think he is an avid supporter of your personal autonomy and feels better knowing that if you want a picture gone, all you have to do is burn it and it's gone forever. he doesn't really like the idea that so many things on electronics can be spread or seen without you even knowing, so he's perfectly fine to stash a few polaroids in unsuspecting places.

he’d be really hesitant to ask you the first time, he was worried he’d make you uncomfortable or that you’d think it was weird. the thought initially came about after he’d gone on an away mission that lasted twice as long as it was supposed to and he was bordering on losing it without a single image of you. that, and frankly, he was stressed and he has never experienced a stress relief quite like you.

so the night he comes back he’s kissing you hard and rubbing up against you, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to capture all your facial expressions and imagery he couldn’t stop imagining while he was gone.

he breaks away from your lips breathlessly, “can I take a picture of you?”

you give him a bemused look, “what? like, now?”

he fiddles with the waistband of your underwear, not making eye contact. “well…in a few minutes..”

his timorous disposition gives you a solid clue of what he means and you smile up at him. “yeah?”

he finally meets your eyes, looking hopeful. “is that alright?”

“of course,” you nod and he leans back down against you, lips meeting your pulse point. “what brought this on?”

he noses at your neck, “jus’ missed you. a lot.”

you nod, pulling back and running a finger down to the tip of his nose. “take as many as you want.”

and he did.

his favorite pics are the ones he takes right when you cum, lips slightly parted, brow pinched. he’s also fond of the moments right when you’re just starting to feel it.

the photos of you on your knees, trying to take him in your mouth as much as you can really do something to him. your eyes watering and you holding his hand for support. he has to pace himself when he looks at those, especially the ones where you’re looking up at the camera.

he doesn’t usually like to be in the pictures, other than his dick in/against you or his hand splayed across your stomach or neck. he also has one or two where you’re riding him and his free hand is on your hip guiding you.

you’d have to be having a particular kind of sex for it to even occur to him to stop and take pictures. it only really happens during the easy times, when you’re both just having fun more than anything. it’s then when he’s really able to take his time with you and savor things, which is why the majority of your polaroids are taken then. he’s also more likely to be in a teasing mood then and not in a particular rush to get you where you’re going. a lot of those pictures show you smiling and completely relaxed which is another reason why he tends to revere those moments.

a grade A way to make him feel better after a long week is leaving him some surprise polaroids in the stash, it makes him crazy. he’s honestly just really obsessed with the idea that you trust him so much with those kinds of photos that you’d go out of your way to take some for him when he’s not even there. i actually think that’s at least half of what turns him on so much about the whole thing, the trust that you place in him and only him to not only see you in those moments but also relive them afterwards. just pics of you in lingerie or even just one of his shirts—it’s over for him.

[pupkashi]

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

a/n: hi friends! i hope you enjoy this :] im not sure if i like it very much but I��ll let u guys pick it apart and decide if i should be run off the app or not :P please let me know what u guys think !!

wordcount: 1,376

masterlist

you’re hesitant to knock on the door you’re facing, one arm squeezing your middle and the other holding you up against the wall. you’re sure you looked like we’re about to die, but still you could help but feel like death was a better option than knocking on gojo satoru’s door at 2 in the morning.

the stinging in your side leaves you no choice, lifting your hand and knocking three times. every passing second seems eternal and you almost want to just walk away and head to campus, hoping you make it until morning.

the door swings open, satoru looks at you with wide eyes and messy hair. he looks so normal, you think, taking in his appearance of sweatpants and a t shirt he must’ve thrown on seconds before.

“what the fuck happened to you?” he breathes out, not hesitating to pick you up, carrying you to his restroom and flicking the light on. if you were any more lucid you might’ve caught the genuine concern in his voice and the pounding heart in his chest.

“think the higher ups hate me” you manage to chuckle out, sucking in a sharp breathe when you try to sit up on your own.

satoru is quick to help you up, large hands gently handling you. his brows are furrowed as he looks at the state you’re in.

“why didn’t you call up shoko or go to campus or- literally anything else?!” he scold you, his voice is a higher pitch than you’re used to, he’s running his hands through his hair, tugging slightly before sighing deeply and calming himself down.

“didn’t wanna bother ‘em” you say, voice small. gojo knows in his mind you of all people could never be a bother, especially when shoko absolutely loves you.

“can i take this off?” he asks softly, tugging at your uniform top. you nod weakly, letting him work the fabric off you gently, sucking his teeth when he sees the gash on your side.

“that bad huh?” you laugh, there’s a beat of silence that you find unbearable. your eyes are heavy and the only way you can muster staying awake is by talking, words leaving your mouth without even thinking, “not gonna tell me ‘I’ve had worse’ or ‘this is nothing’ ?”

satoru only brings himself to snicker, “you’re about to pass out and you still wanna bicker with me.”

“to be fair it’s always you starting shit” you chuckle, hissing when he starts cleaning your wound. satoru mumbles a small ‘sorry’ before continuing.

you weren’t completely wrong, satoru always loved seeing you riled up. he loved watching the way the fire ignited behind your eyes when you shot something back at satoru, he loved watching your nose scrunch up when he said something stupid, he loved how you’d fight back smiles when he disrespected some asshole higher up.

“yeah, yeah, you're always saying that” he smiles, finishing up whatever he could on your side before moving to the cuts on your face.

you were still as he gently dabbed the wipes on your face, the slight stinging feeling was the last thing on your mind. the smell of his body wash was muddling your thoughts, the way his fingertips brushed against your skin gave you goosebumps.

“who sent you on the mission?” his voice was no longer playful and light. there was an edge to his voice as he spoke, and you couldn’t stop the chills that ran down your spine.

the only thing you could muster was a small shrug of your shoulders.

“it was the higher ups from last time, wasn’t it? the one you stood up to?” his voice is threatening and low, blue eyes boring into you as you tried to avoid eye contact.

“y/n, look at me” the stern tone left no room for protest, looking at him and gulping. you nodded your head, whispering a small ‘yeah.’ satoru mumbled something you couldn’t hear, his jaw clenched and hands shaking slightly.

“I’m going to kill them” he spat, taking a step back before look at you again, the sight filling him with even more rage.

“didn’t you say that wouldn’t change anything?” you stated, sitting up as best you could, trying your best to hide the pain you felt from the sudden movement.

satoru ignored your words, already making a move to head out of the bathroom door, but your voice stopped him.

“don’t- i don’t wanna be alone” you whispered, eyes watering a bit as the reality of the situation hit you all at once. “i just- nevermind” you laughed dryly, hissing as you pushed yourself off the countertop and stood.

satoru was immediately at your side holding you up, “what are you-” your words cut him off before he could finish.

“I’m gonna go home, don’t wanna bother you more than i have” you smiled, eyes still a bit teary. you’re brain doesn’t process what’s happening fast enough, only realizing what’s happening a couple seconds later when satoru’s arms are wrapped around your body.

“you aren’t going anywhere” he mumbles against the top of your head, squeezing you gently.

the warmth of his body is enough to comfort you, muscles relaxing and letting your tears spill against his chest.

“why?” you whisper, the question causing satoru to tense up against you. “why do you care so much?”

his thoughts stop for a second, the only thing on his mind is you. the way you’re looking at him in a way you never have before, with an emotion he can’t place. he can only think of one thing.

“isn’t it obvious?” he replies, voice soft, his cheeks heating up and ears burning. he’s trying to hide the slight tremble of his hands as he caressed your cheek softly, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“only obvious thing about you is your ego” you smile, laughing a bit between sniffles as satoru gasps at you.

“and you say i start things?” he giggles, picking you up softly before leading you to his bedroom. the two of you in a comfortable silence as he looks through his drawers, handing you one of his shirts and shorts for you to change into.

“you can drop me off at home-” you begin but satoru is quick to speak over you.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, there’s some toothbrushes in the top drawer under the sink,” he says, continuing to list off any other items you’d need and where to find them.

it’s ten minutes later and you’re laying in the large bed, staring at the ceiling when you find the energy to walk into the hallway, peeking around the corner and into the living room.

satoru smiled at you, the bright tv lights illuminating his figure, “cant sleep?” he asks. you nod your head, slowly making your way towards him. “c’mere” he says softly, gently moving you when you sit on the couch, letting you cuddle into his side until you were comfortable.

between the exhaustion and the comfort of satoru’s fingers running along your arm you were sound asleep in a matter of minutes (10, satoru was counting). he placed a feathery kiss to the top of you head, shifting to pick you up, carrying you to his bed and tucking you in, slipping besides you before facing the opposite direction.

you stirred a bit, mumbling something and causing satoru to turn, “y/n?” he whispered. you seemed to gravitate towards him, one of your arms finding him and tugging his shirt, making him come closer to you. still asleep, you nuzzled yourself against him, sighing softly before stilling again.

satoru draped his arm around you, keeping you close before letting his eyes shut. for tonight, he won’t think about the thing he’ll say and do to the higher ups who sent you on that mission as punishment.

instead he’ll hold you close, keeping you safe and making sure you’re well enough to argue on any and every thing possible. he’ll make you breakfast tomorrow and ask if you feel the same for him. he’ll rush you to shoko so he can kiss you with as much passion and fervor as he’s imagined since the time you almost beat him in an argument.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #3

"Okay most importantly stay quiet and don't touch anything." Jason commanded as he stealthy snuck into one of Bruce's safe houses that had a weapon stash. "We don't want to trigger an alarm and alert the old man."

"You're saying that to the wrong guy dude. I am Ghost I can't really trigger any of that-" Danny started but was then cut of by Jason.

"Don't touch anything. The old man is paranoid..."

"Again, me ghost, well Halfa." Danny pointed out exaggerating when pointing at his self.

Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet as he turned to break into Bruce's newest safety lock on the weaponry in an attempt to make Jason stop 'borrowing' from him. "We got a deal kid. Don't touch anything."

"Yea, yea, you blow up the likely very illegal governmental GIW facility and help me free the others, and I will agree to meet someone..." Danny mutters, staring at something interesting he kind of really wanted to poke.

"Kid." Jason said warningly, not even needing to look to know Danny was about to touch something he shouldn't.

"Relax." The Halfa waved him of. "I am a ghost. It's not like anything will-"

Alarms started blaring when Danny's finger touched the object of interest, and Jason facepalmed, his hand smacking against his helmet.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

" what the hell are you doing ?"

you look away from your screen to stare at your boyfriend from beneath the mountain of pillows you’re laying under. there are snacks ranging from sweet to salty strewn all around your bed and a spot right next to you saved specifically for him.

you raise a brow " i’m watching my show." you state. katsuki’s eye twitches. he stalks towards you slowly, menacingly, like he’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce at you. you shove your chin and nose underneath your blankets.

"you’re watching our show. " he corrects, squinting at you "you’re watching. our show." he reiterates.

"katsu-"

" our show. an’ yer fuckin’ watching it without me." he glares daggers into your fucking soul and with the rage of a thousand suns as he spits the words out like they had somehow caused him harm.

"you said i could start without you last time !" you defend weakly. he rolls his eyes as he stomps over to you and climbs into your bed "yeah, last time, but this ain’t last fuckin’ time, dumbass." he growls. you whine when he lifts up your blankets and the cold air nips at you. "oh shut up, big baby, weren’t whinin’ when ya decided ta watch the one show you know we watch together." his words are mean but he scoots impossibly closer to you

you scoot over to make some extra space for him so he can lay down comfortably before squeezing yourself right next to him again. “you’re the one who said, and i quote ‘ i could give less of a shit about this stupid show, just don’t have anything better to do” he scrunches his nose at your crude impression of him. “ i don’t fuckin’ sound like that.”

“it’s what you sound like to me.” you retort.

he growls, nipping at your ear which causes you to let out a giggle mixed with a little squeal “needa get yer fuckin’ ears checked then.”

“i just started anyway. i can just rewind it” you lean forward to place your mouse back to the beginning and plop back on your pillow with a groan. katsuki snorts. “ i was gonna wait for you, but you were taking too long” you mumble out already invested in the images on screen.

katsuki knocks his forehead against the side of your head softly then also turns his attention to the screen. “ it’s shitty hair’s fault” he gruffs out “fucker kept on yappin’ about whatever the fuck, couldn’t leave.”

you fake gasp in shock. pretending to be hurt you place a hand on your chest and look at him wide eyed. he raises a brow “wow. i can’t believe you like kirishima more than me.” you turn your nose up at him and hold back a laugh when you see his expression morph from confused to straight up insulted.

“where the fuck d’you get that from?!” you can’t keep up the façade when you see his face and burst out laughing, his facial expressions are seriously something else. he relaxes slightly but he still doesn’t look amused. “i’m just joking. i know you just wanted to be nice” you reassure, his face relaxes and his shoulders sag as he releases a frustrated sigh. “you know, since he’s your friend.”

he cracks his head to look at you, wide eyed and brows furrowed he shoves his head against yours so hard he basically headbutts you. you let out a little yelp and laugh “don’t even start with that ! fucker ain’t my friend." he spits the word friend like it tastes gross in his mouth, it makes you laugh even harder. “right~” you sing.

you think things have calmed down after a little bit, your both watching your show, then katsuki suddenly knocks his forehead against your head again.

“hey.” he mumbles. you blink up at him waiting for him to finish. he chews at his lip and looks towards the screen then looks back at you, cheeks turning pink.

"ya know i don’t…like him more than you, right..?"

you tilt your head "who ?" you ask. he grunts like speaking is physically challenging, his face turning redder by the second “shitty hair. don’t like ‘im more than you." his eyes dart away then focus back on yours " don’t like anyone more than you."

you feel your cheeks flush and you suddenly feel extremely warm and giddy. you giggle and his cheeks darken in color "where's this coming from?" you chortled. he scoffs at you and pokes you in the stomach, turning back to the look at the screen to avoid your mushy warm loving gaze. "fuckin'—nowhere ! m'not allowed to…fuckin—!" he fumbles around for what to say. you decide to spare him and place your hands on his scorching cheeks, he struggles a little bit (barely) but let's you turn his head towards you, he pouts at you, trying his best to look intimidating but he just looks like a angry little kicked puppy.

"m'just teasing you , suki" you're rubbing his cheek with your thumb and his eyebrows stay furrowed despite him leaning into your touch "i know you don't like him more than me, if you did, i don't think you'd be here" he rolls his eyes and bites at the palm of your hand. you chuckle "i don't like anyone more than you, either" you're sure there are hearts in your eyes as you speak, you hope he can see them.

" 'f course you don’t." he mumbles out the words into your palms fast without missing a beat, it tickles. he smirks into your hand when he sees you roll your eyes at him, he truly is a little shit.

"don't like nobody more than you." he proclaims quietly, closing his eyes, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks.

"yeah" you purr, the hearts in your eyes spread all around your body to the tips of your fingers and toes, it makes you warm and soft, and so fond of him. you don't like anybody more than katsuki, you can't. not when he opens his eyes and gazes at you with burning cheeks but hearts in his eyes and you hope the ones in yours spread all around his body too, because his have started to intermingle with yours, coursing through your veins.

"yeah." you sigh, " yeah me neither."

you can't like anyone more than you do katsuki as you watch your show together.

@slashersl0t i wrote this thanks to you twin <3 !

[riminiscensce]

cooking with jiaoqiu in your kitchen would definitely be something if you’re not that big on cooking at all.

specifically when you don’t label your shit, yk? like you get used to ordering food way too often that you forgot which one is sugar and which is salt.

that’s when jiaoqiu comes in. literally will scoop some from the jar with his finger and shove it in your mouth for you to find out (one of his pet peeves would probably be unlabelled condiments).

you’d be lucky if the contents of the jar were sugar, that wouldn’t be much of an issue. “so, did you find out?” but in this case, he had just shoved a finger-full of iodized salt into your mouth, you can imagine just how salty that is.

while you’re busy with flooding your mouth with water to cleanse the taste, jiaoqiu is probably giggling his ass off.

most likely saying some things along the lines of, “have we learned our lesson?” you did, in a rather briny way.

after that, not only did he help you cook food, but he also ushered you to name some of the unlabelled seasonings and condiments in your kitchen.

considering he’s a good cook, he probably knows which seasoning is which at a glance. but would he help you with identifying them? haha no. find out on your own.

jiaoqiu won’t help you when you’re trying to figure out which one is curry powder or spice powder. you’d have to taste it yourself or guess correctly or let him take another big scoop with his finger to shove it in your mouth.

bonus points if you have low spice tolerance and he feeds you the spice powder. he’d enjoy seeing that. probably.

just clarifying that the no label thing will only probably annoy him if he’s cooking in a different/unfamiliar kitchen 💀 and also I don’t think salt and sugar have a distinct smell (he could smell it considering he’s a foxian) so 🤷🏻‍♀️

[rafeandonlyrafe]

live like a kook

words: 5.2k

the camerons take you in after your house is destroyed in a hurricane, giving you a month to live like a kook

warnings: enemies to lovers, lots of pogues vs kooks dynamic, rafe being mean to reader, reader is john bs cousin, food insecurity/mentions of going hungry, cursing

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

“dad, this is fucking ridiculous. no way am i sharing my home with a fucking pogue.” rafe argues, his voice raising higher and higher as the fight goes on.

“well, get over it rafe. we are doing our part for the community, this girls house got destroyed in the hurricane, she’s staying here for the next month. end of story.” ward says firmly, hoping to temper his sons anger before you arrive.

“bullshit, you don’t care about helping the pogues, all you want is to look like a good guy.” rafe runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. “it’s not safe. we can’t trust them, what if she steals from us?”

ward pauses. it’s something he did think about, which is why he went through the house and hid the most valuable items, locking them away in a secret safe. “you keep an eye on her then, rafe.”

it’s the end of the conversation as ward walks out of the room, even after rafe continues after him, not accepting his dads solution. wards patience with his son is about to bubble over when the doorbell rings.

ward gives rafe a pointed look to calm himself down, or at least be quiet about his disdain as he opens up the door to reveal you standing there, only carrying a backpack, fitting all of your belongings after losing almost everything in the hurricane.

“hello, mr. cameron, i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out, accepting the firm but friendly shake ward gives you.

“y/n?”

you look around ward into the house, making eye contact with a shocked rafe.

“you didn’t tell me it was- her who was going to be staying here.” rafe spits, looking at his dad, nostrils flaring in anger.

“rafe, watch yourself.” ward warns, stepping back from the door and beckoning you over the threshold.

“hi rafe.” you say quietly. you had foolishly hoped that rafe wouldn’t mind you staying here. it’s not like you ever really interact, but you know that he doesn’t get along with your cousin john b.

ward gives you a tour of the house, introducing you to rose and wheezy, and the whole time rafe stalks behind you, silent and domineering. 

“thank you again for letting me stay here.” you say when ward shows you what is to be your room for the next month, situated between rafes and sarahs, who is currently out, probably with your cousin.

“of course.” ward says. “i’ll give you some time to unpack, we are serving dinner in around an hour.” “okay.” you nod, heading into your room, shutting the door carefully behind you. you glance around the opulent bedroom, so unlike what you are used to, large sweeping curtains covering the windows, sturdy wooden furniture, and best of all, the huge bed covering most of the floor.

you drop your backpack, letting yourself flop back onto the bed, letting out a laugh when you realize that even the ceiling is beautiful. 

you weren’t sure what to expect when you got told that there were some people opening up their homes for those who lost theirs due to the hurricane, but you certainly never expected it to be the camerons, or any other rich kooks.

you’re still smiling to yourself when your door bursts open. your eyes widen as rafe takes up the entire doorway, not asking permission before barging into your room and slamming the door forcefully behind him.

“hey!” you shout, swinging your legs to the side of the bed and turning to stare at rafe. 

“shut up.” rafe warns, quickly crossing the space between the door and the bed, hovering over you. “i want to make one thing very clear.” he holds up his pointer finger, pausing as you flicker your eyes from his hand back to his face. “do not touch anything in this house. if you steal like your loser pogue cousin, i will know. i will be watching you.”

rafe doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t need to, turning and walking out of the room, leaving your door flung wide open, not bothering to even shut it behind him. you shiver at the warning, not that you planned on stealing, but you did plan on a peaceful stay here, and it seems like rafe is committed to the exact opposite.

you stand and shut your door, this time making sure to lock it.

--

“that’s screwed into the wall.” rafes voice suddenly rings down the hallway, making you jump away from the painting.

“i wasn’t going to steal it.” you grumble, crossing your arms. you were still familiarizing yourself with the house, spending some time wandering alone, but around every corner, rafe is there.

“then what were you doing staring it?” he questions.

“admiring the art, if that’s so hard to believe. yes, rafe,” you say with a sigh “even a dirty dumb pogue like me can appreciate a painting.”

“well then you don’t mind if i stand here and watch as you appreciate it.” rafe crosses his arms, muscles bulging. you turn back to the painting, looking over the landscape scene, but rafes eyes are drilling holes into you, and just like he wanted, you quickly get too frustrating, groaning and stomping away.

you head out into the garden, needing a breath of fresh air and to look upon the ocean. 

“he’s an asshole.”

you jump, not realizing wheezie was in the hammock you stopped next to.

“what?” you question.

“rafe. he’s an asshole.” “you said it, not me.” you sigh, taking the hair tie off your wrist and pulling your hair into a ponytail as the wind picks up.

“just try and avoid him when he gets in his pissy moods. he’s not like this all the time.” wheezie gives you a piece of advice as she swings her legs over the side of the hammock, heading back inside.

you watch her until she’s all the way in, before glancing up and realizing that rafe is watching you as well. your brow scrunches in anger and you turn, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you angry again.

you head towards the expansive dock, marveling at how far it stretches out into the ocean as you plop down on the wood, swinging your feet over the edge. your eyes are on the horizon as gray clouds roll in, probably a cell from the recent hurricane that broke off.

you keep your back turned to the house, not wanting to retreat yet as you watch the storm roll in, scenting the air change as the temperature drops. you wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm as the wind picks up, but the rain still hasn’t reached you yet.

you daydream about living in a house like tanneyhill. not for a month, but for your whole life. of getting out of your small cottage, now being rebuilt by your deadbeat dad, and living a life of luxury like the camerons.

strong hands grab onto your upper arms, pulling you to a standing position like you weigh nothing. “what are you doing?” rafe asks, shaking you slightly, his eyes wide with what you think might be worry.

“get off of me!” you shout, pulling yourself out of his hold.

“do you want to get yourself sick? it’s cold, and there’s a storm coming in. get inside.” rafe stares at you expectantly as the first sprinkles of rain starts to fall. you want to fight, to push back, but you also don’t want to get soaked, walking past rafe without acknowledging him as you both head into the house just before the downpour hits.

rafe doesn’t even glance at you as he pushes past, heading to his room.

--

“y/n, you wanna come with me?” sarah asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder, probably going to spend another night at john b’s. she’s been away from tanneyhill more often then she’s been here ever since you arrived.

you glance at rafe who is sitting on the couch, phone in hand. you’re not sure if he’s even paying attention to whats going on.

“sure.” you reply, “just give me a second to get changed.”

“alright, john b will be here in 5 minutes in the twinkie.” sarah heads outside to wait as you move up the stairs, taking off your leggings and opting for a pair of shorts instead, slipping your tennis shoes on.

you gasp in surprise when you open the door and run right into rafes wide chest.

“i heard you’re going to hang out with the dirty pogues.” rafe says, taking a step back when you push against his chest. you know he’s choosing to let you by, and if he wanted to he could have stood firm.

“in case you forgot, rafe-” you shoot him a pointed look as you head down the stairs. “i am one of those dirty pogues.” rafe stays put as you head outside, and you’re thankful to get some time away tanneyhill as the twinkie pulls down the street.

“hey, it’s my favorite cousin!” john b shouts when he sees you getting in along with sarah.

“john b, i’m your only cousin.” you roll your eyes, turning to watch out the window as tanneyhill disappears from view.

it’s nice to catch up with your friends and cousin, spending the afternoon relaxing and talking around a campfire. you are especially happy pope is here, always getting along so well with him.

“there they go again.” pope sighs when kiara starts to fight with jj, both of you rolling your eyes at each other, wishing they’d just work through whatever repressed feelings they have for each other.

“hey, john b, can you give me a ride back to tanneyhill?” you ask, noticing it’s start to get dark.

“aw, can’t you just stay here?” john b asks, his tongue obviously loosened by the beer he was sipping on. “i hate that my cousin is there, taking the kooks charity.” “just because you don’t want any help doesn’t mean that i can’t accept it.” you say, raising your voice. “besides, you knew our house got destroyed and you didn’t even reach out. you were too busy with sarah.”

you stomp away from the chateau, heading down the dirt driveway, determined to walk back to tanneyhill if john b wouldn’t give you a ride.

“y/n! wait!” if it was john b calling for you, you wouldn’t have stopped, but you turn to face sarah. 

“listen-” you interrupt her before she can speak. “i’m not mad at you. i’m not even mad at john b. i’ve just been through a lot and want to go ho- back to tanneyhill.” “i’m sorry.” sarah pulls you into a hug, one that you didn’t realize you needed that much. “john b’s probably too drunk to drive. i texted rafe to come pick you up.”

you sigh, trying not to let your disappointment show on your face. you really don’t want to spend time alone with rafe, but you thank her and tell her to tell rafe that you’re starting to walk so to keep an eye out on the way, figuring it would be better to distance yourself from the rest of the pogues before he got to you.

you spot rafes truck after walking for a few minutes, watching him slow to a stop before you climb into the passenger seat.

“thanks.” you whisper, not sure what else to say as rafe presses down on the gas. you expect him to turn back towards tanneyhill, but he’s driving you in a different direction.

“where are we going?” you ask.

“i doubt you ate anything good while you were with the pogues. you need to get some real food.” rafe pulls into town, finding a parking spot that would fit his truck.

“rafe, it’s okay, i’ll eat at tanneyhill.” you say, but he just gets out of the truck and walks around to your side, yanking the door open and gesturing for you to get out.

“i see what you eat at tanneyhill. it’s never real meals unless it’s what rose makes, and she’s out tonight with my dad. just come on.”

you slide out of the truck, watching rafes back as he walks away, expecting you to follow. you stay a few feet behind him until rafe turns into a restaurant, again holding the door open for you as you duck inside. it’s not one you’ve been to before, probably because it’s out of your price range.

“just the two of you?” the hostess asks. rafe nods in response, and you’re quickly shown back to a table.

“rafe, i-i can’t afford this.” you say when looking at the menu. you can’t even afford just an appetizer. 

“you don’t think i know that, pogue?” rafe rubs his brow. “i’ve got it, just eat, please.”

you study the menu, opting for a simple chicken and fries, along with mozzarella sticks. afterall, rafe is paying. he orders a burger for himself, not even glancing at the waitress who took your orders, like she's beneath him.

“did ward put you in charge of me or something?” you ask after sitting in an awkward silence for a few minutes, waiting on your food to be brought out.

“i don’t want to be sharing a house with someone who is sick because they refuse to eat right.” rafe says. “i don’t want to find you passed out because you didn’t get enough food.” rafe leans back in his chair, glancing over you. “that would just be an inconvenience.”

“ah.” you nod, keeping your eyes on the empty place in front of you until your food is brought out. your stomach growls at the smell, not realizing how hungry you truly were, so used to going all day without a true proper hot meal, surviving on snacks and whatever else you could find.

you dig into your food, moaning when the melted cheese enters your mouth after biting down on the mozzarella stick.

“hey!” you shout when rafe reaches across the table and takes one of the sticks, biting the end of it off. 

rafe just grins at you while chewing, making you shake your head in laughter. you continue eating your meal, not even realizing that you just had a nice moment with rafe until later that night when you’re laying in bed, reflecting on your evening with rafe. he didn’t make a big fuss when paying for the bill, simply sat his credit card down and didn’t mention how you were broke, then drove you back to the house and bid you goodnight upon entering tanneyhill.

you press your cold fingers to your cheeks, willing them to settle down as you shift underneath the covers, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, reminding yourself that one nice thing doesn’t mean rafe doesn’t hate you, afterall, like he said himself, he just doesn’t want you to be an inconvenience.

--

“mr. cameron, i really don’t want to impose!” you say, but ward just shakes his head. “nonsense, y/n. you’re coming with us.”

“let me help you with your hair, dear, come on.” rose ushers you towards her bedroom. you give wheezie a pleading look, but there’s nothing that she can say to get you out of going to midsummers, not now that ward is determined to have you come with them, showing off how generous and charitable he is by taking you in.

you sit still as rose patiently straightens your wavy hair, only to recurl it, pinning sections up until it’s mostly swept out of your face besides for a few face framing strands, then cascading down your back.

“rose-” you breath catches in the mirror. “you did amazing, thank you.” you turn to look at the woman. “i’ve never had my hair done like this before.” “you look beautiful, y/n. it’s a pleasure to have you with our family tonight. i think sarah is in her bedroom doing her makeup, maybe she can put some on you too.”

you nod and head towards sarahs room. you didn’t want to go at first and be surrounded by kooks, but now that you have no choice, you might as well enjoy feeling beautiful for one night. sarah already leant you a dress, but she agrees to do your makeup as well, keeping it light and fresh before helping you sort out putting on the dress.

you look in the mirror at yourself, unable to resist twirling, the fluttery skirt of the dress billowing up on the bottom. 

“girls, it’s time to leave!” you hear ward call, and you finish off the outfit with a flower crown of pale pink flowers to match your dress before rushing out of the room.

you head down the stairs, gripping the railing so you don’t stumble in your borrowed heels. 

rafe looks up, ready to chastise you for taking so long, when his breath catches in his throat, eyes going wide.

“not too bad for a pogue, huh?” you question.

“you look…” rafe trails off, his soft expression quickly being replaced with an angry one, stomping out of the room without finishing his sentence. you resist the urge to chase after him.

you don’t see rafe until hours later. you’ve been paraded in front of all of ward and roses country club friends, but you just put on a smile and boast about their generosity. you’re not sure if anyone can see through the fakeness, but ward seems pleased, and finally lets you stop mingling to rest your tired feet.

you watch the crowd from the camerons reserved head table, feeling like such an outsider, knowing this isn’t where you belong, and if you weren’t scrubbed clean and dressed like them, the kooks would be turning their nose up at you. at least rafe is decent enough to not try and hide his hatred behind a nice face.

you spot rafe in the crowd, whisky glass in hand as he talks to his friends, a bright smile on his face that gives you a funny feeling in your chest. you rub the spot with your hand, willing it to go away as people clear out from standing on the dance floor as the music starts, a few brave couples being the first one to begin swaying to the music. 

you watch as ward and rose dance, eyebrows raising up when they turn their attention to you. “y/n, come on!” 

you consider ruining having a place to stay and sleeping on the street tonight, but you’ve put on a good act so far, you can continue it for a bit longer. you smile and walk over to them, expecting to be shoved into the arms of some random kook boy, but instead you’re ushered to rafe.

“dance, you two!” rose calls, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing waiter.

rafe holds his hand out, looking at you expectantly. you hesitate to place your hand in his, making rafe sigh. 

“you don’t know how to dance, do you pogue?” he questions.

“maybe i just don’t want to with you.” you place your hand in his, letting him tug you closer, his other hand resting against your waist while you grab onto his shoulder. you follow rafes lead, matching your footsteps with his as he sways you around the floor, glad the song is soft and gentle so you can just move slowly.

“see, this isn’t so bad.” rafe says, looking down at you.

“could be worse i suppose.” you hum, keeping your gaze straight forward at rafes chest as the song comes to an end.

the lights dim, and a romantic song comes on. you go to pull away from rafe, but he keeps you close to him, wrapping both arms around your waist and leaving you no choice but to put your arms around his shoulders.

you look to see all the other couples pressed close together, women with their head against their mens chest, some even kissing in the low lighting.

“just relax.” rafe whispers. “you’re so tight you’re gonna snap.”

you let your body relax in his hold, not realizing that you were clenching almost every muscle in your body. your head falls against rafes chest as you dance, letting yourself close your eyes and be swept away in the loving lyrics of the song, once again daydreaming about if this was actually your life.

the song ends far sooner than you’d like, and the lights brighten again. the crowd claps for a moment, but you’re locked into rafes arms, both of you now standing completely still. you can hear his steady heartbeat against your cheek, his breathing slow and deliberate.

“you look beautiful tonight.” rafe says, making you jump, almost forgetting who you are, and who he is. “that’s what i didn’t say earlier.” rafe clarifies, face falling when you look up at him in horror. you pull away from his arms, instantly missing his warmth as you run as fast as your heels can carry you out of the crowd, needing to get away from the music and the man.

you look down at your borrowed dress. you would rip it off or roll in dirt if you didn’t have to give it back to sarah, hating that this is what rafe finds beautiful. when you’re primped up to look like one of them, not the real you.

you find a dark corner to sit in until the party starts to disperse, and when you find the cameron family again, rafe isn’t with them, and no one mentions it as you pile in the car to head back to tanneyhill.

--

“are you sure you don’t want to come out on the boat with us, y/n?” wheezie asks you, but you shake your head.

“i’m okay, i’ll just stay back and read. i don’t want to impose, enjoy some time as a family.” you can tell already from being at the camerons for three weeks that they rarely do things as a family, at least one person, usually rafe or sarah, being left out.

“alright, i guess it’s you and rafe staying home. lets go!” ward calls, ushering the girls out of the room.

“wait, what?” you call, but they’re already out the door. you thought for sure rafe was going with him. you haven’t spoken a single word to each other in the past three days since midsummers. he’s barely even been around, you’ve just caught glimpses as he left for the day or came home.

you make a late breakfast for yourself, deciding since you’re basically home alone to fry up some bacon. you’re too nervous to use the kitchen for anything more than grabbing a quick snack when rose or ward are home.

you hum to yourself as the oil sizzles in the pan, finishing cooking your meal when you hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

“rose, is that bacon?” rafe calls, entering into the kitchen with just a pair of basketball shorts on, freezing when he sees you.

“they all left.” you say, swallowing and resisting the urge to let your eyes track all over his torso. “but um, i made extra if you want some.” “yeah, let me just put a shirt on.” rafe walks away and you take the opportunity to fan your face, dividing the bacon up between two plates and sitting down at the counter, starting to eat when rafe rejoins you in the room.

you both eat side by side in silence, and you’re glad to not be talking. you finish your food, going to put your plate in the dishwasher when rafe takes it from you and does it for you.

“thanks.” you say under your breath, going to turn away when rafe clears his throat. “what is it?” you question, voice coming out harsher than you meant it to.

“i’m going to golf today. did you want to come with me?” rafe asks, not meeting your gaze.

“i- i don’t know how to golf.” you say as your way of refusal.

“right.” rafe nods, letting his shoulders drop.

“dirty pogue, remember?” you question.

rafe doesn’t say another word, he doesn’t even look at you as he leaves the room. you watch him walk away before closing yourself in your room, only moving to peek out the window when you hear his truck start up, watching it speed away from the house.

--

“y/n, you have a visitor.” ward says, ushering you towards the front room. you stand up, confused, not sure who would be visiting. it’s not like you have any friends who would come to tanneyhill.

“dad!” you shout in surprise, seeing him standing in the foyer, looking out of place in his dirty shorts and tank top.

“hey, y/n.” he says casually, like it hasn’t been four weeks since he saw you last, shipping you off to stay with a kook while he fixed up the hurricane damage on your house.

“what are you doing here?” you question, looking to the base of the stairs where rafe is stood on the bottom steps, arms crossed and watching the interaction with a scowl on his face.

“i finished fixing up the house enough for you to come home.” 

“oh.” you nod. you’d completely forgotten in your time here that you were only staying for a month, and that of course your dad would be here to collect you. “let me just get my things.” you force yourself to turn away and rush up the stairs, letting a few tears slip. you don’t want to go back to staying in a broken down house, and you especially don’t want to stay with your dad, having to fend for yourself completely while he spends all your money on drinks at the bar, not even leaving you enough for food.

you head into your room, wiping away tears as you shove things into your bag, including some clothes sarah was going to donate but she gave to you instead.

you control your breathing and stop your tears before you head downstairs, making eye contact with rafe as you walk down, unable to read the emotion on his face.

“thank you again, mr and mrs cameron for letting me stay here.” you say politely, and the both pull you into awkward hugs. 

“and bye, wheezie.” you squeeze the teenager against you, whispering a promise to come back and hang out.

you turn to rafe as your father walks out the door. you can’t find any words, so you simply turn and leave.

--

“dad, i need to buy food.” you argue. “i’m starving!” “you just want to pig out on fast food! we have things here you can eat!” your dad slurs his words, gesturing to the broken down kitchen. there wasn’t as much done in the month that you were gone that you were hoping for. he’s cleaned up the hurricane damage in most of the rooms, but tree that fell onto your bedroom is still there, simply hidden by a closed door, relegating you to sleeping on the old couch.

you curse as your dad stumbles into his bedroom, opening the kitchen cabinets to look for something edible before landing on a packet of saltine crackers.

you take the packet outside along with a water bottle, needing to get away from that house and your father. you sit down on the swing hanging from a high tree branch, crunching on the crackers as you listen to the birds chirping.

the mockingbirds song is interrupted by the rumble of an engine, and you turn towards your driveway, shooting up to stand when you recognize the truck getting closer.

you walk towards the truck, confused at why rafe is here, wondering if maybe you left something at tanneyhill, but it’s already been two weeks since you left. maybe he only just now bothered to return it.

rafe gets out of the truck, his eyes wide as he takes you in.

“how are you already so skinny?” rafe questions, taking the saltine cracker out of your hand and looking at it with disdain. “is this all you have to eat?”

“rafe, what are you doing here?” you question, snatching the precious cracker back.

“i-fuck!” rafe runs both his hands through his hair, “i was worried! and look at you! is he feeding you at all?” “rafe, calm down. you’ll wake him up.” you try and shush him, but it just makes rafe angrier.

“wake him up? does he hurt you? y/n.” rafe grips your upper arms, staring you straight in the eye, needing to know if what he suspects is true.

“what? no, rafe. he just drinks then passes out, he’s never hit me.” you’re still confused why rafe is even here. 

“get in the truck, i’m getting you food.” rafe demands, and your mind says no, but your rumbling stomach has your feet moving. you climb into the passenger side, looking at your broken down home thats truly no more than a shack. you wonder what rafe must feel seeing it as he gets in and starts the truck, backing out of the driveway.

you bring your knees up to your chest, letting your head fall as you sob silently. rafe doesn’t realize that you’re crying until your body starts to shake. he stops the truck in the middle of the dirt road, not caring if it blocks anyone else.

“y/n?” rafe questions, unsure how to get you to stop crying, worrying that it’s his fault.

“i don’t wanna go back there.” you admit, looking up at rafe, letting him see the messy state you’re in.

“fuck it.” rafe sighs, unbuckling both of your seatbelts and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his strong arms around you as you press your face into his shoulder, letting your tears run free, not caring about the wet stains you’re making on his clothes.

“it’s okay.” rafe rubs his hand up and down your back. “you don’t have to go back there. you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. i’m here.”

you cry harder, wrapping your arms around rafes waist, keeping yourself close to him, letting yourself find comfort in his arms.

“i’m here, y/n.” rafe whispers, pressing a kiss to your head.

you look up at him, tears still flowing down your face. “why? why are you here?” “i told you…” rafe cups your cheek, trying to wipe away the tears but they just keep flowing. “i was worried. i had to come check on you… please stop crying.”

rafes words do nothing to stop the deluge, and he’s starting to freak out, hating seeing you so upset, knowing you need some sort of distraction as your breathing speeds up, starting to hyperventilate until rafes lips are pressed against your own.

you’re momentarily confused, hesitating for a split second before kissing back, letting rafe dominate your mouth as you concede, the tears slowing to a stop as he keeps kissing you.

“rafe!” you gasp when he pulls away. “you just kissed me.” “i know.” rafe wipes his palms over your cheeks, and this time theres no fresh tears to replace it. “i care about you y/n. it’s why i came. i missed you.”

“oh, rafe.” you lean forward, letting him hug you tight, squeezing your bodies together.

“i’m here.” rafe whispers again, not letting you spiral, reminding you as many times as it takes that you’re not alone, that you have him now.

“now,” rafe gives your forehead a kiss, “we need to get you some real food. what are you hungry for? pizza?”

[kingbeeleth]

chill chilchuck dungeon meshi. chillchuck if you will

[222col]

My favorite writer, the queen of tumblr can you write something about sub!Art getting upset after an argument that happened between you and he stops talking to you and all of your attempts of trying to get him to talk to you have failed so you try to seduce him while wearing his favorite lingerie and having a passionate love making session while he's apologizing for ignoring you

u sweet sweet angel !!! yes yes ofc

you both hate arguing with each other, but in a relationship it happens. you said some things you regret, and have spent the evening desperately trying to apologise. art was hurt, feeling sorry for himself after some of the things you said, and needed some space. bringing him his favourite snacks, no response, just a grumble when you set it down on the coffee table in front of him. placing sweet kisses to his cheek, only for him to move away from your touch, focusing on the tennis channel on the tv. whispering apologies to him, just met with shrugs and silence. growing more frustrated the longer he ignored you, feeling so guilty and just wanting to make it up to him. slumping down on the couch next to him, arms folded as he continued watching the tennis. all before a devilish idea forms in your mind, rushing through to your bedroom, art's eyes following you before returning to the television.

rummaging through your underwear drawer before finding what you were looking for, a matching pink lace lingerie set. little bows on the top of the panties and between the lace holding your breasts, discarding your clothes and placing the set on your body. spraying some of art's favourite perfume on your skin to compliment his favourite underwear set. strutting back through to the open plan living room and kitchen, his eyes not moving from the tv while you walk over to the kitchen. going about your regular routine, waiting for art to notice the sight in front of him. grabbing yourself and art a glass of his favourite wine, placing the glasses down on the table, bending over as you do. his eyes finally falling on to you, his body melting, mouth slightly agape as you casually sat back down on the couch, sipping on your glass of wine. one leg crossed over the other, smirking into your glass as his eyes wonder down your body. "oh, you're evil." he mutters, taking a sip from his own glass before setting it back down. "finally, he speaks." you giggle slightly, art's hands moving to take your glass from your hands and set it down. his bottom lip between his teeth as he angles his body towards yours. reaching over to caress your skin. batting his hand away when he finally reaches your hip, tutting at him. "you've been naughty, ignoring me all night. you don't get to touch yet."

art's head flings back onto the cushion of the sofa, groaning in frustration at your words. leaning his head in it's position to look into your eyes, pleading with you. moving your hand towards your mouth, dragging your middle finger down your lip before inserting it into your mouth. hallowing out your cheeks as you add your index finger, sucking down on your fingers, staring into art's eyes as you do. watching his eyes grow dark, his hand furthest from you gripping onto the arm of the sofa, his knuckles growing white. "please, baby." art mumbles, his boner growing uncomfortable under his shorts. shaking your head in return, removing your fingers and pushing them into art's mouth. immediately sucking up and down the length of your digits until you remove them with a pop. dragging that same hand down your body, uncrossing your legs, spreading them slightly, knee touching art's. your hand stopping between your legs, rubbing yourself through your underwear, never losing eye contact with art. low groans leaving his lips at the sight, using all of his energy to focus on not moving his hands. art's almost drooling as he watches you pull your underwear to the side and continue playing with yourself in front of him. "princess, you're killing me. please, i'm so sorry for ignoring you, just let me touch you."

removing your fingers from your cunt and pushing them into his mouth once more, moving your body to straddle his hips. feeling his hard-on poking up into you, grinding against him slightly. looking up to you through his lashes, moaning against your fingers at the taste of you. letting his hands crawl up your thighs, resting on your hips. "you wanna touch me, huh?" you ask, pulling your fingers from his mouth, moving them to his hair, tugging at the roots. "so badly. i wanna touch you, kiss you, taste you, anything baby please." his words leave his lips more like moans, his hips bucking up into you. leaning down to his ear, kissing and tugging on his earlobe. "take me to the bedroom then." you whisper against his skin, his hands immediately grabbing your ass as he jumps to his feet, carrying you through to your shared bedroom. giggling slightly as he throws you down onto the bed, discarding his t-shirt and shorts before crawling over your body. kissing up from your toes to your lips, his tongue entering your mouth as your legs wrap around his waist. using your strength to flip you both over, art laid on his back as you grind against him. pinning his arms above his head as you attack his neck with bites and kisses. "tell me what you want." you tell him, lips against his jaw. "please sit on my face." art breathes out, his head pushing into the mattress, giving you better access to his neck. giggling slightly as you climb off his body, ready to remove your underwear. "no, please, don't take them off. you know they're my favourites." he pleads, propping himself up on his elbows.

an evil smirk across your face as you crawl back over art's body, placing your knees either side of his head, his hands wrapping around your thighs. his tongue extending up to you, licking up and down the fabric of your underwear. grinding your hips slowly against his face, his nose bumping your clit as you do. your underwear soaked by the time art hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls them to the side, his tongue flicking over your clit as your hips carry on moving back and forth over his face below you. grasping hold of the headboard, soft moans leaving both of your lips. art high of the taste of you, his cock twitching in his boxers. leaning back to palm him through the fabric, louder sounds vibrating against you as art works you closer to orgasm. he knows exactly which buttons to press, there's nothing he loves more than feeling your body jolt as you cum on his face. one more bump against his nose and that's exactly what happens, moaning out his name as you shimmy down his body. your hips still grinding now against his cock, instructing art to remove them. leaning up to push them down his legs, letting you pull them from his ankles and throw them with the rest of his clothes. "are you gonna be my good boy from now on?" art's head is nodding before you even finish your sentence. "yes, i promise, i'm so sorry baby." he pouts, his hands wondering up and down your body. lifting yourself up, sliding your underwear to the side once more, finally sinking down onto his length. art's eyes rolling back into his head, gripping onto your hips.

rolling your hips against him, steadying yourself with your hands on his chest, clawing at the skin. increasing in pace as art's hips buck up into you as you grind against his cock. feeling him twitch inside as you bounce up and down on him. moving your hand around his throat, pressing down on the sides tightly. your eyes locked on each other as loud moans fill the room. "feel so fucking good." art mumbles, words breathy and forced through the hand around his throat. moving from your knees to place your feet either side of art's hips, bouncing your ass on his cock. the new positioning deepening the angle art's cock hits inside you. whimpering as your hand moves from his throat, back onto his chest to help push on his length. art's hands on your hips guiding you on his shaft, heavy grunts leaving his mouth, his eyes not leaving your body. "mm'getting close, princess. please can i?" he begs you, his thrusts meeting you mid way. "beg." you instruct, leaning down to pull at the blonde hairs on his scalp. "fuck, baby, please, please let me fill you up. want you to milk me dry, need to cum." you can feel him getting closer, his thrusts getting sloppy, his grip getting tighter on your hips. "that's my good boy. cum for me." his wastes no time following orders, pushing up into you once more as his load paints your walls. guttural moans escaping him as you sink down onto him, falling from your feet to your knees, letting him come down from his high.

slipping off his cock, art whimpering at the loss of sensation, falling beside him on the bed. his arm wrapping around your waist, moving his hairs off his forehead. "i am sorry baby." art whispers against your forehead as he places a kiss there. "i'm sorry too, my love." you smile against his face, moving him to kiss your lips. "you know i can't resist that set." he giggles, shaking his head as he looks down your body before back up to your eyes. "i know, had to get your attention some how, didn't i?"