#problem is i just really really really really really despise driving

[airenyah]

i don't want new bbs special eps i just want to watch all of แค่เพื่อน​ครับ​เพื่อน​ BAD BUDDY SERIES (2021) live on a weekly basis for the very first time again

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

[neoameba]

Hey, how was your day/night?

i was wondering if I could request a Gyutaro x male reader, please.

Like sfw and nsfw headcanons(if your ok with nsfw), or maybe like a nsfw story about the reader wanting to go on him, and him being embarrassed about his looks and we tell him that his beautiful and all that stuff? Thanks for reading this!

Gyutaro x Male! Reader Headcanons

Warnings: sfw and nsfw content, slightly abusive behaviors, mentions of blood. There are headcanons for ftm people, nsfw is below keep reading!

☆ Your relationship would not be easy, at least in the beginning. He is a reserved guy and loves to scare people, so be prepared for subtle threats.

☆ Now if you were an oni and especially an upper moon, things would change quite a lot. He wouldn't respect you at all at first, like a spoiled brat. But after the relationship, he would be more clingy. Not on an extreme level, but he would respect you and constantly give you compliments.

☆ And speaking of compliments, Gyutaro loves them. "You're such a handsome man... So strong... I can't believe you're with a guy like me..." And if you were a human, he would still continue to give you compliments, albeit with some insults. "You are so fragile, my love... Such a pathetic human but so beautiful..."

☆ Daki doesn't really like you at first. She hates men and the only one she allows to be by her side is her older brother. Gyutaro really wanted you guys to get along, but he would never pressure his sister to accept you, so he just prefers you stay away from her. Nothing would change if you were a upper moon, the only difference is that Daki wouldn't tell you to your face that she despises you.

☆ But over time, she would learn to deal with you. And after a long time, you would have a healthy relationship as far as possible. Gyutaro loves this and doesn't want to hide it.

☆ Gyutaro doesn't know how to express his feelings. Everything he feels is too overwhelming for him. So, he wouldn't say "I love you", he would scratch your skin while enjoying the blood flowing with a smile on his face. He wouldn't do that in your face, so as not to ruin your beauty.

☆ If you were a human, he would bring you food and some bandages as an "apology", since he knows you are fragile and those cuts were deep. Now, if you were an oni, prepare to receive a million bodies of your favorite humans. Do you prefer to eat men? Here it is, the best ones for you. This isn't an apology for scratching your skin, since he knows you weren't hurt. It's another way to show affection.

☆ He would often ask Daki's opinion in dealing with you since he has never dated and has no experience with men. The problem is that Daki's experiences weren't exactly romantic, which would lead to slight embarrassment.

NSFW

☆ I don't see Gyutaro as a restricted dom/top, or restricted sub/bottom. If you were top, he wouldn't mind being the passive one. He's just very inexperienced, and would trust whatever you say is best.

☆ He loves praise and reassurance, even during sex. If he was the bottom, I'd love to hear your voice telling you how beautiful he looks writhing in pleasure beneath you, or how cute he looks while riding you. And if he was the top one, he would definitely whisper in your ear how beautiful you are, and how warm and comfortable your body is for him.

☆ His favorite positions are the ones where he can look straight into your face and the ones where he doesn't have to move as much. Although, when he is the top one, he hates anything slow.

☆ He cries with pleasure when he is the passive one. It's simply a lot to deal with. He would grab the sheets and ask you to stop (spoiler: don't stop, he wants you to be even more aggressive).

☆ Punishments? He hates it. The worst are the ones where he can't look at you. So blindfolds and positions where his face is against you drive him crazy. On the other hand, when he becomes more experienced at it, he loves to punish you. He hurts you a lot in these punishments, even too much. If you are a human, you better not make any mistakes.

☆ If you are ftm/afab, I wouldn't change anything. He would still love you and have no problem with sex. If you were the top/dom one, he probably wouldn't be able to take a bounce before asking for a break. If you were the bottom, he would make a point of going as deep into your cunt as possible, and would always tease you with it. Of course, at first he didn't even know he could go that deep without hurting you.

☆ He has no idea what "aftercare" is. Explain to him and one of two things: either he'll think it's a waste of time because he's an oni, or he'll get the best beginner aftercare of all. If you were a human, regardless of whether you are bottom or top, he would take care of you afterwards, even in his own way. If you were an oni, he would be the one who would have to do the aftercare. Not because he needs it, but maybe, and just maybe... Because he likes to be taken care of by you.

Author's note (my notes :P)!

I hope you liked it, and that it turned out the way you wanted!

I don't post nsfw here, but I decided to break the rule and make an exception for you ♪⁠┌⁠|⁠∵⁠|⁠┘⁠♪

[talaok]

I NEED some protective pedro. Oh God how about them being in a relationship, had a fight and not talking to each other at that moment, attend a friend's party and pedro taking care of her and making sure she is alright while being mad at her and maybe some cute sexy ending...

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

Warnings: the most allusion you can allusion to smut

It wasn't one of those huge important fights that break up couples, it was just a stupid little fight.

You wanted to spend Christmas with your family, and him with his, and neither of you was gonna budge.

Silly, right?

Now the only problem was that this "little" argument, had happened right as you were getting ready to go to a party, which you were now driving to in complete silence.

Not even the radio was on, only him, you, and countless passive-aggressive comments on the tip of your tongue.

The tension in the confined space was more than palpable, and when you finally got out of the car it felt as if you'd been underwater the whole time, and for the first time in twenty minutes, you could finally get a breath of fresh air.

Which, now that you realized, it really was fresh... maybe even a little too much for the dress you chose.

"You're cold" Pedro stated, a clear tint of annoyance in his tone.

The fact that all he needed to do was look at you for a second to understand what you were thinking would have been sweet at any other moment, now it was just irritating.

"take my jacket" he urged, handing it to you without so much as a second glance.

"I don't need it, I'm not cold"

And just as you, he would have found your stubbornness cute if it had been any other time.

"The party is in the garden y/n, you're gonna freeze all night just to prove a point?"

God but did he always sound so condescending?

"fine" you grumbled, begrudgingly putting it on as he started walking to the front door, not even bothering waiting for you.

__ __ __

You spent the rest of the night purposely ignoring each other except for exactly three times (yes you had counted them), the first one was when Margareth, whom you very much despised since the only way she seemed to be able to talk to people was by judging them straight to their faces, had cornered you and forced you to listen to how much better she was then you until Pedro had appeared out of nowhere, and pretended he needed to talk to you just to get you away from her.

You didn't even have time to decide whether you wanted to thank him or not that he'd already gone his way.

The second time was when he saw you trip over a patch of grass out of the corner of his eye and as much as he wanted to ignore it, he just couldn't, so he had to excuse himself from the conversation he was having and reach you to make sure you were alright.

"I'm fine Pedro" you'd rolled your eyes

"Have you drank any water?" 

"Oh my god, I'm not drunk I just tripped" 

And that's exactly why the third time you had talked to each other he had approached with a glass of water.

"I told you I'm not drunk"

"You should still drink this"

"Who are you, my mom?" you'd exhaled dramatically "Oh no that's right, My mom is in New York and I won't get to see her this Christmas because apparently we just have to spend it with your family"

You were lucky nobody was ever around anytime you talked because... sheesh, that would have been embarrassing.

"Just drink this please" he'd insisted with a sigh, and finally, partially because you wanted him to go away and partially because you were actually kind of thirsty, you had accepted with a heavy "fine"

And now you were back at home and back at not talking... except that this damn zipper was stuck and as much as you forced it it just wouldn't go down.

"You need help with that?"

He would have been lying if he said he hadn't been enjoying the show for a while now.

"it's stuck" 

Without another word, he was up from the bed and walked behind you as you stood in front of the mirror.

He put one hand on your waist while the other undid your dress with care.

And now yes you were in the middle of an argument, but you weren't responsible for the warmth that spread inside your body at his touch.

 A soft thud reverberated through the room as your dress fell to the floor and a low "fuck" fled his mouth as he took you in from the mirror.

A long beat passed, and then, as if he'd read your mind he asked "Truce?"

And all you could do was nod

"truce"

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 42

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

TW : Violence

Masterlist

———————————————————————

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 06:00 AM -  Lucy’s Room 

I jump slightly when the alarm goes off in the room. I blink, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Once I do, I sink back into my pillow, muttering softly. It’s already morning. I have absolutely no desire to leave my bed.

“Ona, wake up,”  Lucy orders me as soon as she turns off her alarm.

I sigh, not moving an inch.  Lucy has decided to take control of my nights again. Our relationship hasn’t progressed, but now she forces me to come straight to her room after dinner, for the past week. This means I go to bed an hour earlier, without even being able to text Mapi. What  Lucy hasn’t realized yet is that this doesn’t affect my exhaustion at all. It’s still there since I still struggle to fall asleep and wake up during the night. Lucy, on the other hand, must think the problem is solved. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t keep doing this. Knowing her, she would have found another solution. Today, though, waking up is particularly hard. On other days, I managed to get some sleep, but that wasn’t the case last night. I really don’t want to get out of bed. I have no motivation left.

“Ona,” she growls.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up,” I reply sharply. “Just give me two minutes…”

“You said that yesterday and didn’t do it. So get up, now.”

I sigh and kick the blanket off with my feet. Once I’m up, I give Lucy a mocking bow, accompanied by a fake smile before locking myself in the bathroom. I don’t miss the opportunity to slam the door loudly to show my displeasure. It’s childish of me, but I’m fed up. All my troubles have worsened in just a few days, including my relationship with  Lucy. I had forgotten how resourceful she could be. She figured out that the only way to get even a bit of my attention is to become the commander I despise. She gives me orders and threatens me at the slightest protest. The worst part is, I still can’t get her out of my head because of it. She continues to take care of me. It’s as if she’s trying to make up for her mistake. Even though I try not to show it, the fact that she’s looking after me affects me deeply because I already miss her so much. Alexia is right when she says I’m slowly destroying myself with my methods. She’s going crazy because she sees me falling apart without giving her a chance to help me get better. She’s started insulting Lucy because, in her opinion, she’s not reacting when she could. It’s funny to hear her talk like that when she’s always respected  Lucy so much. It seems that Mapi is also going crazy. Since I no longer have the chance to reply to her, she’s driving Alexia mad to get news about me. Of course, Alexia keeps her informed of every detail since she’s closely following our situation. The only thing I can still hold on to are my friends. I’m so glad I’ve opened up to them. Alessia continued with evening classes after ours. I really need them, even though I doubt they’re as effective as Lucy’s lessons, but there’s no way I’m giving her that satisfaction. Spending more time with her wouldn’t help me.

“Ona, hurry up! I need to use the bathroom too, remember?”  Lucy scolds from behind the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble.

I make sure I’ve hidden the signs of my sleepless night and fix my hair before coming out.  Lucy takes my place, and I move toward my bed. I stop when I see it’s already made, which surprises me. Since we stopped talking and I’ve been refusing to sleep with her, she hasn’t touched it once. I must have been staring at it for a while because  Lucy snaps me out of my trance.

“Let’s go.”

Without a word, I grab my bag and jacket before heading out. She closes the door behind me, and we walk down the stairs in silence. Usually, I would go straight to the cafeteria. However, since she changed my nighttime routine, she now makes me accompany her to the back of my dorm, where she waits for Ingrid every morning since I’ve been sleeping in her room. According to her, it’s to make my presence near their dorm less suspicious. I think it’s just an excuse to spend a few more minutes with me. I didn’t argue, as it would have led to another fight for sure.

“Have a good day,” she wishes me.

“Thanks, you too.”

I force myself to keep a cold, unwavering demeanor so I don’t lose my composure. I wish I could tell her that none of my days have been good since we became distant, but I don’t. I mustn’t. As I leave, I give her a final small wave, which I immediately regret, realizing how friendly it seems. Finally, I head to the entrance of our dorm where Alexia is the first to come out. She’s gotten used to hurrying so no one discovers what’s going on. We’ve been quite discreet, surprisingly. I prefer that no one knows, even though I’ve gotten closer to some people. Our friends come out one by one, barely giving us time to ask each other how we’re doing. Once everyone is there, we walk to the cafeteria. I smile when Alba walks up to me and gives me a playful shoulder nudge. She’s one of the people I’ve gotten closer to. She cares a lot about me and has become almost as protective of me as she is of her sister. I find it really sweet of her. Judging by her expression, I must look terrible or something. I mean, I’ve lost all my joy of life.

“How are you today?” she asks me.

“The same as usual.”

“You started your exams this week, right?”

“Yeah. Yesterday,” I sigh. “And I’m failing all of them. I didn’t understand any of my classes.”

“It’s because you don’t focus enough when we study,” Alessia, who was nearby, comments. “But if it helps, the exams were really tough.”

“It doesn’t help, actually. And I’ve already told you, it’s not my fault if I can’t focus on this crap.”

“Why did you choose management anyway?” Alba laughs.

“It’s better not to know,” Ale interjects.

No, indeed, it’s better not to know. I’m liking my field less and less. I get no enjoyment out of it, and I’m losing sight of my initial goals without Lucy. Even though Alessia is helping me, I’m still lost in the important subjects. The only thing I can confirm is that there’s no connection between literary letters and mathematical letters. Lucy tried to push her lessons on me again last week, but that’s the one thing I managed to refuse. Alexia encouraged me to accept, but that’s out of the question. Doing it with Alessia allowed me to spend more time with her outside of class. I definitely don’t regret apologizing to her last week. Our relationship has taken another leap forward because of it. I’ve never known a girl as open-minded and wise as her. Even after everything I’ve done to her, she continues to act like nothing happened. I also discovered her well-hidden sense of humor, which allows us to have a lot of discussions and even playful jokes from time to time. I don’t regret having her in my class. Not to mention Lotte and Leah. Although Lotte is the one I’m least close to, I’ve been able to open up to her because we rotate seats to sit with everyone. Lotte seems to be uncomfortable around me, as if she’s afraid to say something. If she’s waiting for me to break the ice, she can keep waiting. My lively conversation with Alba and Alessia made me forget to be aware of my surroundings. That’s not a luxury I can afford these days. As a result, I didn’t see the clearly intentional shoulder bump from a young student I recognize as a friend of Korbin’s. It’s the first time I’ve been attacked while surrounded by my friends. Alba doesn’t miss it and doesn’t hesitate to hit her back from behind. The girls guys glare at each other with dark looks.

“Got a problem?” the girl spits.

“What about you?”

“Let it go, it’s fine,” I murmur, holding Alba back by the arm.

If I don’t, she might do something reckless that would have repercussions later. Plus, it’s not the time to make a scene here, in front of everyone. The young woman gives me a nasty smile, as if this situation won’t end without consequences, just as I thought. I still don’t understand why Korbin and her friends are bullying me so much, but I’ll need to figure it out soon to stop them. It’s no longer just taunts in class; it’s starting to go much further. If it were up to me, I would have already dealt with her, but there’s a lot at stake, and violence certainly isn’t the best defense. I’m the best person to know that.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say, pulling Alba with me.

“They won’t get away with this, those bitches!” she swears angrily once inside.

“You really should tell someone,” Ale adds from my other side.

“You know that would only make things worse.”

“Maybe, but it won’t get better if you don’t do something!”

“Mind your own business, please.”

I love Alexia, but lately, she’s been meddling in my problems a bit too much. I hate it when people do that. I ignore her grumbling complaints and follow her sister in the line. At least she doesn’t insist when I say no. I fully intend to deal with this issue myself, even though I still don’t know how I’m going to do it. All I’ve concluded is that Korbin has noticed the coldness between Lucy and me and is taking advantage of it to make my life hell at every opportunity. Is it related? I couldn’t say.

- “They’ve been bothering you for more than a week, seriously! How do you stay so calm and not react?!” Alexia hisses harshly at me.

- “Alexia, leave her alone,” her sister reprimands her.

I’m far from calm. I just don’t show it openly to avoid making things worse. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask  Lucy for help anymore. So, it’s up to me to handle this on my own. I roll my eyes as Korbin and Emma, her little lapdog, giggle while passing by our table. I’m determined to find out what she has against me that makes her and her friends use me as a punching bag. They regularly switch between physical attacks, like earlier, and even psychological ones. I’ve lost count of the homophobic remarks they’ve thrown at me or the little shoves against the wall in the hallways. It’s as if they’re constantly trying to put me down. The worst part is when I’m alone. They take advantage of my defenselessness to attack. Because of that, I make sure to stay mostly in the company of others. Just thinking about it gives me chills. If Alexia knew about this, she’d definitely pressure me even more to speak up, but I’m stuck. There’s no way I’m going to do that. I’m already shaken enough. I don’t need  Lucy or anyone else getting involved. I eat my Nutella toast without much enthusiasm. My appetite hasn’t returned, not even for breakfast. If Mapi were here, she would’ve already made a comment. As usual, we linger in the cafeteria for a long time. It’s the only time we’re sure to all be together, so we always spend more time than planned. However, today is different for me. I decide to leave earlier than the others to use the bathroom before going to class. I’m taking a risk by being alone, but I need a moment to breathe. In my rush, I realize halfway there that I’ve forgotten my bag. This is the first time it’s happened to me, how stupid of me. My mind is definitely elsewhere today. I hope someone will think to bring it to me, otherwise, I’ll have to go back and get it. After I finish in the bathroom, I wash my hands before heading out. I sigh when I come face-to-face with my two current enemies. It’s actually surprising I haven’t run into them earlier.

- “What do you want from me, idiots?”

- “Don’t get all high and mighty, you filthy lesbian.”

I roll my eyes and make sure to bump their shoulders, just like they always do, as I pass between them. I don’t really feel like getting into their games today, but that doesn’t stop me from physically shoving back.

- “So, what? Did you screw your roommate too much last night to fight back today?”

I don’t have time to respond before I’m violently shoved against the wall. I groan as I slide down to the floor from the impact. Damn it. Haven’t they had enough of tormenting me? If their goal is to provoke me, they’re going to succeed because I won’t hold back forever.

- “Are you going to answer, you worthless piece of crap?”

- “You’re the ones who are going to answer my questions.”

I lift my head, relieved to no longer be alone. Who knows what they might have done this time. They’ve never physically hit me before, but they’re certainly capable if I were to respond to their provocations. Lucy pins my two troublemakers by placing her hands on their shoulders while keeping her eyes on me. I turn my head away to avoid her gaze. I know her well enough to know she can read me just by looking, and I don’t want that. Korbin and Emma stay silent in the face of the question hanging in the air.

- “Well? Are either of you going to explain what’s going on?! And you’re all late, too,” she retorts sharply.

Now that she mentions it, I did hear the Alba. I could have done without it. I haven’t been late in a long time.

- “I- um…” Emma stammers.

- “Ona insulted us. We just wanted to make sure she doesn’t do it again,” Korbin finally responds, leaving me completely stunned.

- “I’m sure there are worse insults than ‘idiot,’” my supervisor replies coldly. “And if she said it, there’s probably a good reason.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Maybe luck is still on my side a little bit. If she’s saying that, it means she’s been following our altercation from the start. The girls in front of me turn pale at her response.  Lucy removes her hands and offers me one. I take it hesitantly. I don’t even need to support myself against the wall; she lifts me up with ease.

- “Here, you forgot this in the cafeteria.”

I’m surprised to see her with my bag. I thought someone from my class would have taken it. I frown, realizing it’s impossible she found it herself. She left the cafeteria well before I did since she goes for a run after breakfast. She must have sensed my confusion because she explains without me asking.

- “Alexia ran into me on her way to class and asked me to bring it to you since she didn’t have enough time herself.”

- “Thanks…” I murmur, sliding the bag onto my shoulders.

- “Alright,” she says, patting the two girls on the shoulders. “You two are staying with me today.”

- “What?! Why?” Korbin exclaims.

- “Keep playing innocent, and I’ll take you straight to the principal’s office so you can explain your unjustified homophobic comments towards Ona.”

Korbin pales as she realizes the situation she’s put herself in. I can’t help but be happy that  Lucy found out this way. At least I won’t have to confess it to her.

- “What about her?” Korbin retorts, pointing at me. “She just gets off scot-free?”

- “She didn’t do anything, so we’re going to escort her to class.”

- “You just said it yourself. She’s late.”

- “And whose fault is that?! Anyway, I’m not asking for your opinion. As far as I know, I’m still the one in charge here! You don’t realize how lucky you are that it’s me you’re dealing with,” she says sarcastically.

She orders them to walk ahead so she can keep an eye on them. As for me, I quietly stay by her side with my head down. My shoes suddenly become very interesting. Did  Lucy know? It seems like it, but how? Could Alexia have dared to say something to her? Maybe I’m just overthinking, though it wouldn’t surprise me much. I have other worries for now. If the girls get punished because of me, it won’t go without retaliation. Even if  Lucy chews them out, I doubt it will change anything about their intentions towards me.

- “Come to my office after your classes tonight. We need to discuss what just happened,”  Lucy tells me. “Understood?”

Her voice softens suddenly. She seems genuinely concerned about what’s going on right now. I nervously bite my lip. This doesn’t help my plans.

- “Do I have to?”

- “Do I really need to answer that? If you don’t come, I’ll drag you there by the skin of your neck. That would be unpleasant, if you know what I mean.”

- “Fine,” I mumble. “I’ll come.”

I give in to avoid making her anger worse. I still know when to stop. Besides, I owe her one now. Without her, who knows how this would have ended. We arrive at my classroom. I hope my teacher will let me in. He’s not obligated to, even if Lucy excuses me. If not, I’ll have to stay with them. I’d rather be in class than deal with these two bimbos. My supervisor knocks on the door and opens it after getting permission. The whole class has their eyes on us. Lucy pushes me to the front.

- “Good morning. Sorry for the disruption. I’m bringing you a student who was held up,” she adds, pointing behind her.

- “No problem. Take your seat, Ona.”

Luckily, I start with my management teacher. Since he’s young, he’s more understanding and cooler than my other teachers. It’s a shame I don’t like his subject. I sit down in my seat, trying to ignore the knowing look between my supervisor and my teacher. I shouldn’t feel this damn jealousy, but I do. If only that poor guy knew he didn’t stand a chance.  Lucy has clearly told me she prefers women over hairy men. Still, I have a feeling their looks weren’t innocent. Could she have lied to me...? That would explain a lot of things.

"Don’t forget we’re meeting later," she reminds me finally. "Sorry again for the inconvenience."

"No problem, I assure you," he smiles at her. "Goodbye."

Keep that sweet voice for someone else, jerk. I sigh, cursing myself for thinking something like that. I pull out my things, ignoring the persistent gaze of Alessia on me.

"Is everything okay?" Leah murmurs as he turns around.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

"Alright, let’s get back to it," says my teacher. "We’re continuing the lesson, Ona," he tells me. "Grab a new sheet of paper. You can catch up on the rest later."

I nod, and he offers me a smile that I can’t bring myself to return. The scene between  Lucy and him has irritated me. He turns to continue his lesson, writing a few words on the board. I pick up my pen and leave half a page blank, as Alessia suggested, to get back into the lesson as best as I can.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 4:40 PM - Restroom. 

Twenty minutes have passed since I sat on the floor of a restroom stall. I told my teacher I wasn’t feeling well. Well, it’s not entirely a lie. He let me come here, and now here I am. I wipe my face with my sleeve to remove the remaining tears. I couldn’t hold them back this time. I’ve never had good luck in my life, and I probably never will. My morale being so low is really starting to weigh on me. At this moment, I feel like I could relapse at any moment. I try to calm my trembling. It’s as if I’m going through withdrawal, even though I haven’t touched anything like that in months. I’m just at my wit’s end. I take five minutes to collect myself before standing up. I splash some water on my face to hide the damage. My teacher will probably never let me go to the restroom again after this incident. With my things still in the classroom, I have no choice but to go back. It’s my last hour anyway. What’s waiting for me afterward is even less appealing. When I return, I apologize for taking so long. Against all odds, he doesn’t seem to be mad at me. My awful appearance probably had something to do with it. I go back to my seat, and he resumes the lesson as if nothing happened. I finish the class with my head resting on my arms. I’ve missed most of my lessons anyway, so there’s no point in trying to follow along now. Besides, I don’t understand anything. I’m lucky my math teacher doesn’t reprimand me for my posture. The bell finally rings ten minutes later. I leave with my friends but abandon them on the way to head to Lucy’s office. I hope I’ve regained some color; it would save me from some comments. I wanted to stop by the restroom again, but I’m running out of time. I’m afraid  Lucy might carry out her threat if I don’t show up within ten minutes. I tap softly against the open door of the office. My facade drops when I see that only Ingrid is there. Either Lucy is already out searching the halls for me, or she’s not here yet. Either way, the answer won’t please me.

"Wow, Ona," she says, surprised. "What’s going on? You look awful."

"Nothing," I mumble. "Where’s Bronze?"

"You know you don’t have to call her that in front of me," she replies. "She told me you’d be coming. Have a seat; she shouldn’t be long."

At least she’s not looking for me everywhere. This is the first time she’s been late after giving me a time. I slump into one of the chairs in front of me and place my bag on the other.

"Can I go to the restroom?" I ask.

"No, sorry. I’m not allowed to let you leave before she sees you."

Of course. That answer doesn’t surprise me. I slump onto  Lucy’s desk while I wait. She better hurry up.

"You know, Ona, just because things are tense with  Lucy doesn’t mean you have to ignore me."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I tend to avoid anything related to Lucy, if you know what I mean."

I turn around as she sighs. She nods, giving me a sad smile.

"I understand. Just know I don’t agree with her decision, anyway. I hope she realizes it soon enough."

She falls silent as a noise at the door catches our attention. Lucy has arrived with slightly red cheeks and nose from the cold. She sighs in frustration as she takes off her jacket and scarf. At least I know neither of us seems to have had a good day. I glance over at Ingrid, who gives me a sympathetic smile before getting back to work. I didn’t expect her to be aware of what’s going on with  Lucy. Anyway, it’s nice of her to let me know. It makes me feel somewhat supported.

"Damn, it’s cold today," grumbles  Lucy. "Sorry for being late, Ona."

"Hmm."

She hangs up her things on the coat rack, then comes to sit across from me. She gives me a small smile that I don’t return. Her eyes then drift to my bag on the other chair.

"Perfect, you have your things."

"Yeah… And?"

"Take them out, please. We’re going to study together."

"What?" I frown incredulously. "I thought we were going to talk about this morning!"

"You should have guessed I already have all the answers on that. Come on, take out your things."

I sigh in frustration, running a hand through my hair. I knew it. She already knows. How did she find out? From whom? Anyway, she lured me here like a fool. This confirms that I’m far too naive under her influence.

"How do you know?" I snap.

"I never stopped keeping an eye on you," she says calmly. "Your things—I won’t repeat myself. You need to make up for your missed tests."

"Who do you think you are?" I spit. "How can you know something like that? I never asked for your help, as far as I know!"

We stare each other down, our eyes as fiery as the other’s, for a long moment before a chair scrapes the floor. It’s neither of us, so it must be Ingrid.

"Seriously, girls, this is getting ridiculous. You’re only hurting each other. I’m going to leave, so take this chance to talk and sort out your problems."

I puff out my cheeks and turn my head away, crossing my arms. There’s no way I’m talking to  Lucy when this is all her fault. We’ve said everything we needed to say to each other. Ingrid finally leaves the room, closing the door behind her. This is the first time she’s ever locked us in.  Lucy’s first reaction is to fix her hair.

"There’s no need to sulk," she scolds. "Take out your management course. You’ve got a test tomorrow."

"I had it on Monday," I reply.

"It was so disastrous that I convinced him to let you retake it tomorrow."

"Again, I didn’t ask you for anything."

"A simple ‘thanks’ would have sufficed. Now hurry up, you’re wasting my time."

"But I didn’t ask for anything, damn it!" I shout, standing up. "I might as well leave if I’m wasting your time so much!"

"That’s not what I meant," she sighs. "I’m sorry. I really want you to pass this year, so please, come sit down next to me."

I was about to turn on my heel, but her gentle eyes won me over. I hate the influence she still has over me.

"Fine," I sigh. "I agree, but this will be the last time you interfere in my life."

I openly challenge her, feeling a certain pride at having found this compromise so quickly. She tilts her head as if considering my proposal. I need compromise with her. It’s how we’ve always operated.

"Alright, I won’t intervene in your life anymore. But it will take more than just one lesson to satisfy me. We both know you’re struggling in this field."

She raises an eyebrow, challenging me in return. Always and forever with the negotiations. I suppose I can come back here, knowing she won’t interfere in my life anymore.

"Fine. Your promise not to meddle in my problems in exchange for evening study sessions."

"We’re in agreement, then."

I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m losing in this deal. She may not meddle in my life anymore, but we’ll be spending more time together. Despite this thought, I conclude our arrangement with a handshake. I then move my chair to sit next to her. I pull out some scrap paper and my notes, which look like complete gibberish to me. I had never studied management before today.

"Let’s start from the beginning. Stay focused."

I listen closely as she explains the lesson in her own way. I can already see the difference compared to Alessia. I hope this time I’ll be able to understand something; otherwise, I’m in deep trouble and should really worry about my future.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 8:45 PM - Student Dormitory. 

I spent my evening avoiding  Lucy. After our study session, I slipped away to the cafeteria to join my friends. I felt Lucy’s eyes on me the whole time I ate. Unfortunately for me, our study session went well. I feel even more unsettled than before. Why is she doing this? She’s acting so contradictory. I mean, she pushes me away, but she continues to help me and worry about me. Someone is going to have to explain her behavior to me because I don’t understand it anymore. Maybe I should talk to Ingrid. She’ll probably explain what’s going on, why Lucy is still keeping an eye on me. Maybe she even knows what  Lucy really thinks. No one keeps an eye on someone they don’t care about, right? She’s going to drive me crazy.

"You know you need to go back, right?" Ale asks me.

"Yeah. I'll go soon...," I sighed.

Before leaving the cafeteria, I asked Lucy if I could hang out in my room for a bit, and surprisingly, she agreed. I slightly regret not asking her earlier. Maybe she would have let me do it on the other days as well.

"Hey, Ale? I had a question."

"Yes?"

"Did you tell Lucy about Korbin and her friends?"

"No," she replies, frowning. "I just asked her to find you quickly. Why?"

"You're not lying to me?"

"Why would I? I know I insist a lot, but you asked me not to do it, so I didn't."

I sigh as I get up to put my sketchbook away in my empty wardrobe. All my stuff is still in  Lucy's room since I haven't left the school since I spent the weekend at her place.

"She knows, anyway," I announce. "Unless she was bluffing, but I doubt it."

"Knows about the harassment?"

"I guess," I shrug. "I don't know exactly what she knows. Anyway, she punished Korbin and Emma today for making homophobic remarks towards me."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"We'll see when I have to face them tomorrow. Don't you think?"

I see her nervously biting her lip as if she's thinking it over. I sincerely hope she didn't say anything to  Lucy like she claims. I would be upset if she did. I decide not to push the matter and put on my jacket, then adjust my bag on my shoulders. It's time for me to return to my cursed den. I give her a quick hug and kiss her on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Ale."

"Goodnight, ex-roomie! Please come back soon, okay? I'm starting to miss you in the evenings. I feel lonely."

"Be happy I’m not hogging all the hot water anymore," I tease.

"That's true," she giggles. "You did that to me a lot! Doesn't Bronze complain about it?"

"I apologized for weeks! And no, she showers in the morning."

"Oh, you two even have your routines..." she chuckles.

I roll my eyes at her remark, though she's probably not wrong. Even though we’re not on good terms, we live together quite well. I say goodbye one last time before leaving. I walk calmly down the hallway until someone suddenly shoves me hard against the wall. I don't have time to react before the person grabs my throat to strangle me. I close my eyes, trying hard to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. I grasp at her wrists, trying to pull them away, but the surprise of the attack makes it impossible. She’s managed to lift me onto my tiptoes. I quickly start running out of air.

"You bitch," spits my attacker, whom I recognize as Korbin. "You’ll pay for ratting us out! Don’t think you’ll get away with it so easily, and you’d better keep your mouth shut this time!" she snarls.

She suddenly lets go, making me collapse to the ground. I stifle a groan as she kicks me in the stomach. She giggles as she walks away down the hallway. I cough, gasping for air, before finally letting my tears fall. This girl is insane. She'll never stop! Why does this kind of thing always have to happen to me? I stay on the ground for a moment to recover from the attack. Then I force my trembling body to get up and quickly leave the hallway, heading to  Lucy's room. I don't hesitate to use the instructors' access route. Lucy has given me permission to use it in the evenings to be more discreet. When I reach the other side, I immediately lock myself in the bathroom after grabbing my things. Luckily,  Lucy was too absorbed in her computer to notice me. Maybe she watched me over the top of her screen, but I didn’t see it. I expected my shower to clear my head tonight, but it's no use. I can still feel those cursed fingers on me. I only return to the bedroom once I feel ready. I expected to have to face  Lucy for taking so long, but the room is plunged into darkness. I move blindly to find my bed. I find it without difficulty and sit on it. I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. In front of me is  Lucy, who has her back to me. It's the first time she’s ever ignored me, and it’s happening at the moment when I need her most. I’m almost certain she’s not sleeping. Her breathing isn’t as steady as it should be. I glance at her clock, which shows 9:45 PM. I close my eyes to chase away the moisture starting to form.

"L- Lucy?" I attempt.

I bite my lip when I get no response from her. I know she's not asleep. I lower my head, playing with my fingers. This is the first time I feel ready to set my pride aside, but this situation is too much for me.

"I-I-... Uh... C-can I sleep with you?"

I feel so desperate asking her something like that, but I know full well that I won’t have a peaceful night after what just happened. I lower my eyes at her silence. I sigh in defeat as I start to pull up my blanket when I hear her move.

"Come here," she murmurs.

I blink, not expecting a response from her. To confirm her words, she gently pats the empty spot on her bed.

"You can come," she confirms.

I quickly move around the bed before she can change her mind and lie down next to her. Now I can see her face. Our eyes meet for a moment, but I quickly turn my back to her, keeping a reasonable distance. She doesn’t seem to agree with that, though, as she wraps her arm around me, pulling me close to her. She holds me tightly, as if she’s afraid I’ll leave. This thought brings tears that start streaming down my cheeks. I had terribly missed the feeling of having her close to me. I try not to choke so she won't notice, even though I think she can feel it given our proximity. Yet, she doesn’t say anything. I intertwine my fingers with hers, which are resting against my stomach, seeking as much contact as possible. Since I’m here, I might as well fully embrace the moment. A whimper escapes me unintentionally when she kisses my head.

"Goodnight, Princess."

Not feeling capable of replying, I just tighten the embrace between us. I try to calm the anxiety gripping me, but it's difficult. Yet, in her arms, I know that everything will always be okay. I finally close my eyes, trying to enjoy the moment and relax. Tomorrow is another day, and who knows what awaits me after this night.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Yandere Muichiro, Tanjiro and Giyuu forcing his beloved to eat, and she spits the food out or turns her head to the side refusing. Because she is angry after the kidnapping?

Ooooh! Okay! This can be very simple to write about! It’s been so long since I’ve done a proper request so let’s go, here it comes!

Yandere Muichiro

“Darling… I am done with this foolish game, eat now”

Muichiro’s patience is running thin very fast as his fingertips press firmer on the pair of chopsticks he is holding out, the contents inbetween the eating utensils being a fresh hot salmon dumpling. It’s been fifteen minutes straight of this going on and on…

You, his beloved little angel, just refusing to eat the lunch he had spent almost two whole hours making, all for you and you’re rejecting him? What is he doing wrong? Why aren’t you happy? You’re with him now, you’re in the safety of his home and it’s so cozy, warm and perfect in this bedroom. What is there to dislike about this situation? Muichiro doesn’t get it

To you, you couldn’t despise Muichiro anymore than you already do. He took away your freedom, disorientated your senses, dragged you to this awful mansion and has tied you up to a futon by a pair of steely Nichirin metal chains, you cannot break free and he is forcing you to stay put all so obediently until he comes back. Everytime Muichiro walks into the room, you want to throw up

Muichiro, with furious sharp mint green eyes and a open scowl at your refusal as you stay silent and tilt your head away from him, uses his free hand to roughly grip your chin and pull your face back into his forward-facing direction to pry open your mouth by your cheeks with no-longer gentle calloused fingers to shove the dumpling into your mouth, forcing you to close your mouth with his strong, stern hold as it looks like he is ready to snap your neck if you disobey him…

How could such a sweet, timid little cutie like Muichiro, the young adult you had fallen for. End up being such a sick psychopath like this? And what did you do to deserve this type of treatment? Kidnapped, socially-isolated, heartbroken and now being forced to eat food you are thousand percent certain may just be laced with some type of drug…

Yandere Tanjiro

Tanjiro sighs gently, on the verge of just losing himself but he will not give up at all, never, he cannot just risk being all flimsy whilst his beloved is incapable of caring for herself. His determination is made of titanium and his will is stronger than steel. The Kamado smiles warmly and sweetly, his pretty plum red eyes almost glowing as he, once again, picks out a chopstick-full of nice healthy seafood rice and places it in his mouth. Like with a picky stubborn child, he is demonstrating that the dinner he has brought for you on this fine cool night, is not dangerous and not laced with anything

The food, its quality and its safety is not the problem to you at all, the real problem is what Tanjiro has done to you… your ex-crush, the man you really liked. Ended up being a complete and utter dangerous monster to you, drugged you up with a simple cup of tea, dragged you back to his Estate and is now keeping your disappearance a secret, so nobody can try look for you as he has made sure everybody thinks you had passed away from a mission

Continuously spitting out the rice chopstick-fulls that Tanjiro gently but firmly shoves into your mouth, his tolerance over the ‘disrespect’ grows more and more unable to keep up. You just keep refusing him at every turn and he finds it so heartbreaking, he has done so much for you… so much. His love for you is so strong that he can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving him mad, just as much as you refusing to eat the dinner is

Tanjiro can only hope the demonstrations he keeps doing for you will break through your stubborn barrier, he is only doing this for your health and your safety. Just eat the food already, you need some type of sustenances, you can’t starve yourself. That’ll make Tanjiro just lose his marbles to a uncontrollable state if he cannot make you digest anything beneficial and life-saving, especially when you clearly need it. Now, that you’re restrained to his futon and not going anywhere anytime soon

He is very ready to just begin begging as you close your mouth with a open hateful scowl directed at him, it makes his heart shatter further at how much you openly despise him, how angry and agitated you are. You’ve been this way for hours, for days and it’s getting tiresome. You just need to accept your new life, that’s Tanjiro’s thought process. He doesn’t like seeing you so upset and so irritate but he cannot risk you going out, where demons and men run around… it’s too dangerous

“Please, sweetheart… how about just half? Can you just have half?”

Yandere Giyuu

Giyuu is growing frustrated. So frustrated as he gazes the shattered ceramic bowl and the discarded of piping hot udon, the savoury liquid pooling over the large broken pieces of the cutlery. How disappointing and cruel… Giyuu is trying his best to make you eat, his precious sweetheart, the one woman he needs more than anything ever. He has gone far beyond any other person would to make sure you will stay with him, he can’t stand the fact you’re not cooperating him

Giyuu’s cold dark sapphire blue eyes slide from the destroyed remnants of the dinner he cooked for you to you directly, tied up with firm tight ropes up against his futon and trying to wiggle out of the grasp of the irritating binds. Giyuu won’t let you leave at all so there is truly no point for you to try, you’re never walking out of the door without him linked to your side, you’re never talking to anybody without his permission. He won’t take any chances and he cannot lose you, like he has lost everybody else in his life

“My love… was there something off about the udon?”

You didn’t even answer Giyuu, not at all giving him a single side-glance at your pure unadulterated fury bubbling over uncontrollably that you just desire to lash out at your kidnapper. The sweet, shy, small-voiced man you had enjoyed speaking to in your time of independent freedom. The one who went from gentle but interested to a full-blown threat as he took you away from humanity, he took away your ability to walk around and now suspects you to love him back?!

Giyuu, on his end, is just trying his best to prove to you how much you mean to him, that he has gone to such a extreme drastic, the most extreme drastic possible, to show you his undivided passionate love. That he is devoting so much of his time to you and taking care of you, the most perfect little housewife. You don’t need to do anything anymore. Don’t you want a man to take care of you and ensure no demons ever touch you? That sounds great to Giyuu as a whole

Maybe not today, but Giyuu will make you love him as much as he loves you, he will make you willingly accept every longtime cooking gift he presents you, he will have you all his to the point you don’t even want to go out anymore. He must, he needs you and he knows he can’t live without you nor with himself if you’re still running around the dead of night where demons prowl, you’re safe here and that’s the greatest thing a Hashira like him can do for his lover

[deepdisireslonging]

A Good Handle on Things

The Reader turns heel, which turns on her boyfriend. Despite not having much time to explore the possibilities, the Reader makes the best of it.

Pairing: Will Ospreay x Reader

Warnings/Promises: public SMUT in a closet, subby!Will, handjob, oral (male receiving), quickie, implied further smut

Word Count: 1215

Note: Happy Easter! This Ospreay guy is starting to grow on me. I haven't thought much about writing for him. Let’s change that, shall we? Happy reading!

To the roar of the crowd, you happily left the arena. Things were going perfectly. Your new gear was a hit. And, more importantly, the crowd despised your heel turn. The cost was high, threatening your relationship with over half of the women’s division. Maybe with the heat, more people would become invested in what you ladies were up to, and Tony Khan would finally agree to more TV time.

You were as much of a success backstage as the crowd hated you out front. After receiving your congratulations for becoming AEW’s most hated woman, you practically skipped to your dressing room.

Where a tall drink of tea was leaning against your door.

“Well done, love. Couldn’t have stabbed my best friend in the back better myself.” Will wrapped your arms around his neck so he could bury his nose into your hair. “No hard feelin’s between us, right? I don’t think I’d survive being your next target.”

“Not that I can think of,” you said with a giggle. Then you leaned into his embrace. And pressed into something promising. “Will, honey. Is there something else hard between us?”

He looked up at the ceiling, innocent as a rotten rosebud. “Maybe-“ he dragged out. “And maybe… I think I like you best as a heel. It’s… it’s something, ta say the least.”

“To the least.” You bit your bottom lip, and started curling your fingers in the short hairs at the base of his neck. “I’m glad you like my new schtick. But, I hate to break it to you,” you reached past him and opened the door into your dressing room, “but we’ve got to hit the road.”

“But-“ He followed you in. Snagging your wrist, he pinned you to the inside of the door. “But I want to see this other side of you. I want to-“ he pressed his lips to your forehead, sliding your wrists over your head, “I want to explore your bad girl side.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll have to explore me later. We’ve got a bit of a drive, and then an early morning in just a few hours. Maybe tomorrow night?”

With a pout, he moved out of your space so you could change and toss the last of your things into your suitcase. On your way out, people kept stopping you to have you repeat bits of your promo. Will didn’t seem bothered by it. At least, not irked enough to tell people to buzz off. But he kept shifting his weight. Avoiding your gaze when you’d finish. His hand seemed twitchy when you took it. And he was limping.

“Are you okay?” You guided him and the luggage to one side so you could give him a once over out of the way of the pack-up crew. “Did you pull something in your match? Did the Doc look you over yet?”

He muttered short, flustered things to keep your hands off his ribs. But when he shifted his weight again, his grey sweatpants revealed the problem. “Really, it’s nothing. Nothing I can’t- can’t handle later.”

“Later? You can’t drive with… that.” You had to smile at his antics. It was sweet of him to not push his desire onto you when he was so obviously in need. You looked around. Until you spotted a doorknob. You dragged him towards it, gasping in delight when it turned under your grasp.

Will tried to resist. “But- you said- you said we have an early morning. And we- we could get locked in here.”

“Not the worst thing we’ve done. Besides, there’s always some of the guys that stay late. They’ll see our luggage and know we’re still nearby. Or they’ll call.” You held up your phone, activating the flashlight so that you had a little illumination. It was then that you could see how Will’s chest heaved. How his eyes drank you in. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than before. “I haven’t touched you yet, and you already look like I’ve ravaged you,” you whispered. It was supposed to come out as a laugh, but your own breath was short. And your heart pounded in your ears.

Outside, the packing-up of the show drifted away. At any moment, surely, your phone would start ringing.

“We-“ you licked your lips. “We don’t have much time.”

You tugged at Will’s sweats and brazenly pulled his length into the open. He groaned loudly, making you reach up to slap your other hand over his mouth. He laid his palm over your knuckles, reaching back with his other hand to steady himself against the wall.

The Heel rose up inside you.

“You gonna be quiet for me?” you whispered. Gently giving him a twist, you leaned in to lick at the underside of his jaw. Will’s eyes rolled back and he moaned again. “Gonna be good for me?”

He nodded frantically, thrusting into your grasp.

How many times had he taken you like this? In his dressing room or yours, or in some empty hallway. Shoving his hand down your pants to curl his fingers into your desperate slick while the other one kept you quiet. Now you know why he did it so frequently. It made your breath stutter to see him shake with need. To feel his length pulse in your hand. In the bare gleam of your phone, his eyes fluttered as your tugging and twisting quickened. You pressed your thighs together, rubbing them for a bit of friction that would never be enough. You didn’t care. Will’s grip tightened over your hand on his mouth. His nails bit into your skin.

“Getting close, pretty boy?”

A broken whimper was his reply.

You maneuvered your grip until you could press Will’s hand over his mouth. “Being so good for me. Letting me boss you around. Keep it up. Just a bit longer.” With that, you sank to your knees.

Your lips had barely wrapped around his length before he was throwing his head back. His release filled your mouth, spilling out and dripping onto your shirt. Doing his best to follow your order, he pressed his hand hard over the sounds that tried to escape as he rode out the high.

When he was spent, you tucked him back into his pants. And you tugged at the bottom of his sweatshirt till he let you steal it.

“I’ll change into another shirt when we get the bags to the car.”

His eyes were wild as he tried to catch his breath. Running your fingers over his cheeks and forehead, his flushed skin told you everything you’d ever need to know about whether to try this again or not.

“But-“ he gasped, swallowing hard, “but you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get mine later.” You let wickedness overtake the gleam in your eye. “Maybe I can put on a show for you?” He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the hall cupboard. The bags tipped over, rolling and sliding across the concrete until he had all of their straps and handles under control. “Well, come on, then. I can’t leave my bad girl waiting. And for the record,” he kissed you hard, pinning you against a trellis, “you can boss me around any time.”

***

Masterlist

Other hallway quickies:

Jealous - Smut with Elias

If We Get Caught - Smut with Jimmy Uso

Finish Me - Smut with MJF

Back Hallways - Smut with Roman Reigns

Our Princess - Bobby Fish x Reader x Kyle O’Reilly

[konigsblog]

for angst, him comforting you with mental health issues (depression, anxiety, eating, bad coping skills, maybe he notices signs of mania?) things like that could be triggering but sometimes it’s just nice to feel like theres someone there for you, even if it’s not real :(

tw; mentions of eating disorders (bulimia)

whenever he came back from your deployment, you always looked different. your weight fluctuating, you jaw swollen and your eyebags growing. some days he came back and you had red marks and scars on your knuckles, your teeth grazing against your skin causing cuts to form.

you always smiled, even if you were really struggling, and he always grew worried. he didn't want tto find you leaning over the toilet, your stomach swollen with food, ruptured and deceased. he hates the way your tears would well up with tears when you brushes through your hair - chunks of hair falling from your scalp, losing your sex drive due to insecurities and your struggles.

whenever you slept, he'd hold you hand. noticing your purple and blue nails, freezing cold palms. you were so cold that he worried if you'd died, feeling like a corpse in his arms. gazing down at the redness on your knuckles, sighing deeply before kissing your forehead, removing the body scale in the bathroom and throwing away the food scales that rested in the cupboard draws.

simon despised the way you'd play around with your food, cutting them into small pieces and attempting to distract him with questions about his day or work. how was your day? what did you do on your missions this time? how's johnny? eventually, he couldn't take the fear forming in his gut everytime he looked at you, dropping his utensils onto the table and grabbing your hand tenderly. “sweetheart, speak to me, please.”

you were hesitant, knowing how much you hated your body, you didn't want to get help. the compliments you got from your friends whenever you lost a couple kilos encouraged you further, taking sips of water and repressing your hunger. the muscle inside you wore away, nutrients lacked, standing up too fast and fainting.

he made sure not to force you into eating disorder recovery, but acknowledging your problems and working on helping your slowly. he placed more food on your plate everyday, talked your through your meals and held you for however long you needed.

you both stood naked infront of the mirror, sat on his lap as he pointed out everything he loved about you (spoiler alert, it was everything) wiping your tears away while cradling you in his arms. “my love, i love you, baby.. you're so gorgeous, i don't understand how you can't see that.”

“you'll always be my sweet girl, you're so perfect - every inch of you, regardless of body weight, measurements and height, you're stunning to me, i can't imagine you any other way apart from with me, i need you, let me help you.”

[chaifootsteps]

just me or is the whole 'saying this is like fanfic is homophobia' framing kind of frustrating? like just to list out the tropes that have come up so far in HH/HB:

female character is written as an evil shrew who gets in the way of the m/m pairing

relationship that starts with rape/dubcon rewritten into true love (this one is probably more common in bad BL manga but I'm willing to bet there's some overlap)

character is the child of a mob family

portrayals of rape/sexual assault treated as titillating / used for drama

portrayals of domestic violence/abuse used mainly to get viewers to feel sorry for a character instead of making them sympathetic on their own terms

abusers/rapists being all powerful monsters solely to torture the victim as much as possible

characters are either Good or Bad and writing is heavy handed about driving this point home

writers has one character they stan and baby above all others and not only the writing but the world bends around them as they eat up more and more screentime while the actual main characters are shoved to the side

writer has one character they hate and they hate other people liking them so they derail them in the most obvious way possible

writer has one pairing they despise and go out of their way to make them seem familial to shame the fans who ship it

writer has intended pairings in mind but they just kinda happen regardless of how much work has been put in to give them real chemistry

the plotlines jump all over the place with no consideration given to the differing stakes each create or audience fatigue when too much is introduced at once/too many hanging threads are left, similar to what happens in unplanned serialized fiction. consistency and worldbuilding errors abound. conversations/events that seem like they should change the status quo kinda don't but there's so little way to tell which one is which that audiences cannot gauge the stakes and either stop being invested or just take the show as it comes since there's no point anticipating anything being done with a lot of its characters & plot points

too many characters, often some of whom don't serve much purpose but the writer is way too attached to to ever cut out (looking at you, Andrealphus & Vassago)

characters are rewritten on the fly. due to the lack of planning their arcs start and stop or get quietly dropped when the writer tires of them

pervasive attitude of misogyny - female characters are underwritten, bitches, dumb or accessories to the men. The world revolves around the (usually white) m/m pairing/s

the main premise is dropped in favor of shipping drama or character shilling

etc.

There's probably more but those are the big ones - like s1 wasn't perfect but s2 really does feel like it became fanfic of itself. I understand Viv being frustrated if it seems like a broad dismissive brush instead of specific critiques, but there's a couple of problems here:

when people give specific critiques she either misrepresents their points to frame them as bad faith (tacitly encouraging her fans to do the same), complains people keep making the same point or writes defensive threads about how people just don't get it because, for example, the show totally demonstrates Millie has qualities other than Wife and Violent

when people say something 'feels like fanfic' as far as I've seen they aren't immediately using it as shorthand for 'it has LGBT characters'. usually when they expand on their points what they're getting at is a lack of planning and a lack of experience or competency in the writer that gives the whole thing impression of being done by an amateur who's either young or still learning their craft, or both

it's the same lack of experienced hands that resulted in the opening of Hazbin being so amateurish and lacking the sense of having actual episodes until other staff writers were brought in to clean up the mess

like yeah I don't like the implication that 'fanfic=automatically bad' since I've read some good stuff myself and maybe people could be more specific; but usually this critique is coming from people who actually like fanfic, who've read a lot of it and who recognize the tropes from the worst fanfics out there in Viv's work

Viv's little "Um, actually, fanfic is good and queer and so if you use it as an insult towards my shows, you're homophobic" snit is one of the more rancid things she's said. When you lay it all out like this, it really does go to show how her stories embody all the worst, most harmful tropes bad fanfic -- and bad writing in general -- has to offer.

[astrology-by-sita]

ON LEO RISINGS ♌️

This is a part of a series on the rising signs, not necessarily in Zodiacal order.

Leo risings are ruled by the sun. The Supreme ego, the king. The ultimate self and not just the physical self it's the spiritual Higher Self - your soul. Western astrology considers that sun represents your soul. Vedic astrology considers it as a natural "AtmaKaraka".

Sun sign astrology maybe is overly emphasized in the west cause the west is egoistic by nature. But the ego should remain within limits, and it should carry us to the higher self which is the soul, in connection with the divine. Because you really are a soul, not the mind or the body. Leos are on a spectrum between too egoistic on one side and spiritual, in connection with the true Self, on the other side. It's not just black and white, that Leo friend you have is probably in the grey area.

Leo and Libra are the only two rising sign where a malefic rules both 4h and 7h. Libras are another story I'll give them their own post. 4h and 7h both require intimacy and emotional connection as they represent family and relationships. And that's what Leos want to run away from.

Leos should not listen to what other people like friends/community/neighborhood says as their ruler - sun - debilitates in Libra 3h. If they care about people's opinions they'll never embody the personality they want to embody, they'll never "shine" the way they want to, or advance spiritually.

Sun exalts in Aries 9h - exaltation is status - so they can even become spiritual gurus if they choose to. Or excel in higher education, occult studies, divination, astrology, academia etc you name it. Valens says sun rules high priesthoods.

The moon rules the 12th house so emotional connections can be isolating or bring over hidden enemies to Leo's life. 12h is also travelling and foreign lands. Leos find their home abroad, not in their home country. Jupiter the ruler of 5h exalts there so their joy is not in their homeland.

Now let's address the elephant in the room, saturn ruling 7h (Aquarius). Leos choose unconventional partners or partners whom their family/society/culture doesn't approve of. Aquarius rules wishes also. Leos should not do arranged marriages. It doesn't work. They have to have * their * wish, not their family's wish. If they marry someone chosen by others, heavy karmic retribution happen, and saturn will separate them.

The best example is King Charles, a Leo rising. Arranged marriage with Princess Diana - we all know how it went. In the end he got his wish - Queen Camilla - whom his family didn't like.

Leos want to be liked and admired like what's a king without the subjects? But for this reason they succumb to what society wants in every single thing (except one thing : relationships/marriage, here they draw the line). They are very traditional except in relationships.

Their family is likely to be toxic and controlling (Mars rules 4h, check the condition of Mars too) and their friends can be two-faced, tricksters and liars (Gemini in 11h especially if Mercury is in poor condition). But they stay with the toxic family and fake friends because it's good for their societal positions. They hang out with people they might internally despise cause these people help them reach high positions in society.

Following rules in everything except relationships can drive a wedge between Leos and their partners. The partner is practical, ambitious, rational, with scientific outlook on life - aquarius/saturn qualities. The partner doesn't like the people Leos hang out with. Or the fact that the Leo's family keeps meddling in the Leo's life and marriage. I have seen it happen with my own eyes for Leos. So even when Leos get the partner they wish for, they still have to be careful.

Leo's problems get mostly solved when they realize they don't have to please and cater to the society, family, friends etc whom they secretly dislike, when they realize that they're the soul, not the body or mind, and they don't have to keep satisfying the ego on this material plane, cause their true self does not want false friends or fake company to ascend in society...

And also when they realize there's just one truth, which is the universal higher power, you can call it God or just higher power, which the soul is a part of. The one universal truth is in the 9th house of higher truths and spirituality, where their ruler - sun - exalts. Exaltation is status.

Then everything in their life gets better. Friendship, career, relationship...and they can become great teachers who inspire humankind.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

When I see stuff like this I kinda want to bash my head into a wall:

To start off, I’m not sure whether this person was commenting on book or show Cersei, but honestly, it doesn’t even matter because she’s so much more than the ‘ambitious villain’ or the ‘murderous girlboss’ tropes in both the book and show.

(Of course, I do have my issues with the way Cersei was written in the show like most people but this is simply a rant post so I’m not going to go through the differences of Show vs Book Cersei)

Cersei is a female character who was shaped by her environment, who’s insecurities were created by her environment, and she’s a woman who’s idiotic mistakes can be traced back to how her environment shaped her. She’s much more than a murderous girlboss, she’s both a victim of the system and also a beneficiary of it, while also acting as an agent of it to keep the status quo while also desiring what the system denied her.

Cersei is NUANCED and complicated and even now people hate that about her and want her to have been a purely evil woman handcrafted in a vacuum, ignoring the context of her life because readers would rather not engage with Cersei’s victimhood and nuances because that ruins their idea of: She Was The Problem and Always The Problem. (People would rather say that she deserved her walk of shame instead of interacting meaningfully with the theme of systematic gender-based violence that is so prevalent in Cersei’s story. The exploration of patriarchal violence in Show Alicent’s story is done so horribly in comparison.)

And what really pissed me off about these tags is that this person has clearly decided that they don’t care to interact with the nuance of Cersei and are fine with flattening her, and yet they shit on others for not liking Alicent.

Because of the way Alicent is written in this show, she almost always has a ‘woe is me I can do no wrong’ attitude, which of course drives people away from the character (woe is me I deserve to take a child’s eye 🥺). However, what actually annoys me is how she’s made out to be stupid, foolish, ignorant, and inconsistent due to the horrible writing of this show, all of which are deviations from her book characterization. Also, I despise it when people want me to support writing decisions and changes made in adaptations that are downright misogynistic and are meant to attract the male gaze.

But what pisses many people, including myself, off is how the changes made negatively impacted many other characters. Alicent’s terrible characterization is like a black hole that distorts and warps the whole story! It’s annoying af!

So when people like this say: ‘She’s nuanced and people just can’t handle it 🙄;’ I say: No. She’s horribly written and a different character from the book and people have a right to be critical about these changes that stripped a female character of 1) her agency and 2) her intelligence!

And the thing is, there was little reason for the writers to have made all these changes to Alicent’s characterization! In the book she is an interesting character with clear motives and understandable reactions. She’s cunning and ambitious and acts the way a noble lady who became queen would. And despite her clear ambitions and dislike of Rhaenyra, she still makes a comment wondering about who would protect the Princess from Ser Criston, and yet she then takes Cole into her service after his falling out with Rhaenyra. That’s a perfect example of nuance! Show Alicent could never compare to book Alicent’s clear moral values and consistent disregard of said moral values in pursuit of power.

And because of this, Book Alicent isn’t easy to stomach. It’s hard for most people to come to terms with a character like her and it’s even harder for people to feel sympathetic for her at the end when she went mad with grief.

On the other hand, Show Alicent was designed in a way to garner pity, and when the writers felt like her current arc wouldn’t be enough to garner the specific reaction they wanted they would then throw in a time skip and suddenly she’s completely different and yet still Thee victim. She’s designed to be as sympathetic as fucking possible! The camera angles, the background music, and the lighting is set up in a way to make sure you the viewer feels pity or sympathy for her! Cause that’s her role in this series! She’s thee Ultimate Victim!

But too bad for the writers as many people are fed up with this kind of inconsistent writing. Even when the writers created a whole new challenge for Alicent where she’s shitted on by the green council and forced to face the beast she helped to raise, I and many others could never feel any satisfaction as it was clear that once again Alicent was being made to be Thee Ultimate Victim who was just led astray by the patriarchy and was a victim of it and was only just realizing it so don’t you pity her don’t you feel sad for her and now she’s trying to do the right thing so pls pls pls pity her 🥺~ So it shouldn’t be surprising that many people are annoyed by these eNLiGhtEnEd changes that have led to a complete deviation from the source material.

To summarize: Cersei is an excellent fucking character who’s by no means easy to stomach, and because she’s not easy to stomach she’s often reduced to annoying ass tropes by dumbasses who are reading above their comprehension level. But when you actually try to understand her, you can easily see why she turned out the way she did and you can feel sympathy for her while understanding that she’s both victim and perpetrator! On the other hand, Show Alicent is a mess and HOTD is trying to make her serve a different narrative role than she did in the books so ofc people are going to be unhappy with the changes as book readers are once again faced with the annoying reality that the writers don’t give a fuck about the source material.

[thepatristictradition]

Suffering is not What You Think

(The Penitent Magdalene)

So often you hear, when people leave their churches, their gripes surround suffering. Why would God allow suffering? Why would God allow babies to be murdered and die of cancer? Why would He allow war and cannibalism and pedophilia? Why did God allow me to see my mother die? Why did he allow this or that?

What I cannot help but notice is that the people saying this are never talking about their own suffering.

"Why does God allow war?" said a cowardly young man who has never seen bloodshed. "Why does God allow cancer?" said a woman who is perfectly healthy. "Why does God allow abuse?" said a man who had the privilege of watching the sex abuse crisis of the RCC play out on the TV screen and not in the sacristy. "Why did God allow my mother do die?" said a daughter who is still alive.

We may mourn, and we ought to mourn, the sorrows and the fallenness of this world, but witnessing suffering is not the same as suffering.

(Just Take Them and Leave Me Alone)

This was never more clear to me than when I spent a summer arguing with my anti-natalist, atheist sister. She would spend hours berating my poor mother and father for the heinous crime of having children. During one of these spats, my sister turned to me and said, "How can you support natalism?" which she said like a slur, "your grandmother abused you from the moment you were born."

Now, this is true. Truer than she knew, or, if I have it my way, will ever know. My grandmother (who was my and my sister's primary caregiver) always despised me because I was born with a deformity. Her hatred only intensified when my sister was born. My sister was, in her eyes, perfect. As a child, my sister would ask for me to be abused in front of her, for her amusement, by my grandmother.

My sister witnessed plenty of my suffering, but she experienced not an iota of it. And yet, she used my suffering as a way to say that all of human life is suffering. She used it to discredit the worth of all human life.

(Ophelia)

I find this is always the case. When I was an atheist, I was confused by people who brought up the "problem of suffering". I never viewed my suffering as something that made my life worse. Even as an atheist and a child, I saw clearly how the suffering I experienced and was experiencing was driving me toward a larger purpose. This pattern of thought followed me into the sexual abuse I experienced in middle school and into my conversion.

My atheist associates, whose suffering I know well, likewise never cite their suffering as a reason for their disbelief. When you really get down to it, "God is a big meanie" is not a reason to reject His existence, say these associates of mine.

It is only being a witness to suffering-- usually an impotent witness-- that causes this specific kind of apostasy. Even if my sister had stopped encouraging it, I still would have been abused. Her behavior would have made little difference. It is the same for the sufferings I listed earlier. Regardless of what we tell ourselves, no boycotting, no Instagram post, and not even tax evasion or immolation will stop the Genocide Israel is purporting against the Palestinians. We, far removed, poor, and powerless foreigners, are impotent. We can do nothing to help someone with a terminal illness not die-- it's terminal. We can do nothing to help the kidnapped children we see on the news, taken from their homes halfway across the country. We cannot bilocate, live forever, or have infinite money.

When these people say, "Why does God allow suffering?" they are actually asking, "Why does God allow my impotence?" The implication is that, of course, they would solve these sufferings if only they were not impotent. Is this the case? I don't know; who am I to judge the heart of another man?

Whatever the case, it is clear to me that witnessing suffering is of some different metaphysical nature than the actual experience of suffering. I've written a little about this privately, so I will get around to expanding upon it in further posts.

[rinaforpages]

how (not) to survive academic invalidation

park gunwook x reader

hahahha...

using the american hs system bcs wow! im american... (i half wrote this at the end of last school yr so)

warnings: swearing, self-deprecation (obv), yn hits themself, angst with a bit of fluff at the end, reader is actually smart but surrounds themself with geniuses.

2.6k words

________________________________

# 1 dont compare yourself

"junior year kicks everyones ass." you wanted to kick whoever said that ass. not only was the school work kicking your ass, your friends and classmates seemed to be doing just fine.

they were working on ap chemistry minus laura and gunwook who were working on ap environmental science, and you, who took neither of those classes, felt extremely out of place, doing your ap us history homework.

"whats species richness again?" laura asked gunwook, who quickly answered her question. you looked up, planning to ask the soon-to-be early graduate a question, only to see him helping sarah with a chemistry problem.

you weren't like them and you despised that. your friends were top of the class, an average of a 4.4 gpa, an early graduate (and first in the 2024 class overall) and there you sat with your measly 3.75. they were in 3-4 ap classes, and you sat there, struggling through your 2. (in your defense, ap lang and apush are the two hardest aps juniors could take).

you didnt excel in any way shape or form. they had just about an a in every class (minus ryan in french, who had a b), and a b was your most common grade.

a good 10 minutes later you had finished struggling through apush, you moved on to mandarin. you were the only one who took mandarin, everyone else opting for french. the characters jumbled your brain as your friends spoke in french, seemingly coming easy to them.

you heard footsteps walk by, and ricky laid a hand on your shoulder, looking over. "thats wrong." he said simply. the french kids careened their necks to look at you. he grabbed your pencil and wrote the right character, then walked away. you hummed as you circled the characters you didnt know, opting to ask zhang hao over bothering ricky again.

"you ok over there?" gunwook asked. you scowled.

"i dont understand why there are so many idioms! im losing my goddamn mind." parker laughed, mumbling that you chose the language. you couldnt (or didnt want to) voice your doubts as you thought you could.

as they focused their attention on their homework again, you waved over zhang hao, who hanbin had asked to help cut fruits for you and your friends. he set down a plate in front of you, then sat down.

"what does 开夜车 mean zhang hao please im gonna kill myself." he laughed as hanbin looked up, extremely concerned.

"you know 熬夜, right?" you nodded "so its kind of like that but youre doing work. it literally means burn the midnight oil" you thanked him as he patted your head, pulling the plate of fruit away from your friends and toward you, gunwook making a sound of discontent.

you sighed, packing up your bag at a text from your oldest brother. he was home from his masters program in germany, apparently, and was now waiting outside the dorm. you loved your older brothers, you really did, but they were so much smarter than you ever will be. the oldest graduated magna cum laude from mit, now achieving an accelerated masters for mechanical engineering, and the younger was attending harvard for premed, both completely full ride.

your friends, finally re-noticing you, looked up. "where are you going?" gunwook asked, shushing yujin.

"brothers here," you mumbled, not wanting to wreck your self-esteem any more than you had. sarah pouted, but nodded, whipping out her phone. gunwook opened his mouth, but then quickly closed it. "bye hao, thanks for the help. bye, hanbin and jiwoong!" the three oldest members waved back, hanbin hugging you as you walked by. when you got in your fathers' car that your brother was driving, you spilled your guts.

# 2 dont fall behind

at some point, your motivation fell through. all you wanted to do was lie down and stare at the ceiling all day. sadly though, education laws (and school rules) prevailed.

as you trudged up the stairs from last lunch to pre-calculus, you cursed the architects of the three-floor building and whoever required you to go to school.

two of your friends—laura and ryan—had junior priv, which meant they left early. sarah and coral (who had missed the study session) were in ap chem, and gunwook left for a shoot. without your friends to motivate you to work harder, you felt there was nothing left for you to do.

you had fallen asleep in mandarin earlier that day, so why were you still exhausted?

quick answer: you had stayed up late finishing your apush bonus points.

actual answer: you had no motivation to do anything.

you were falling behind on homework: what used to be doing homework as soon as you got home turned into doing it right before class. a teacher had approached your freshman-year english teacher about it, the one teacher who you could talk easily to. yujin was standing right there; they mustve not have realized you two knew each other.

ricky and zhang hao had invited you over for a cdrama binge session. (ricky said "itll help you" in his texts.) but yujin quickly pulled you aside.

"youre falling behind?" he asked, pointedly. you sighed, nodded, opening your mouth to reply as gunwook walked by, asking what you were doing.

"nothin! ricky and hao invited me over." the words rushed out, and they were so not convincing, but gunwook shrugged and moved to sit down beside ricky and gyuvin. you hushed yujin and walked over and sat down beside hao. gunwook stared at you.

"come here." he motioned, shoving ricky off the couch. you hesitated as you made eye contact ricky, but eventually, there were only so many thumps against the couch you could take. "see? more comfortable over here" you hit him, and he let out a yelp.

"do you have much homework, yn?" taerae asked, setting down a bowl of popcorn.

"only a couple of classes," you replied, shoving a kernel in your mouth.

matthew laughed, "the usual suspects, im guessing?" you nodded. gunwook threw a (toned) arm around you as the two chinese members debated the drama.

"how much have you done? its sunday." gunwook asked, lightly, rubbing circles on your arm with his thumb.

"i can do it all tonight and tomorrow." you sighed, the sentence reminding you of where you are in school. gunwook hummed.

"make sure you get sleep, though. you need sleep, its not healthy if you dont." fuck. you were in deep shit in two ways. you were falling deeper into your rut, and you were falling deeper in love with your childhood best friend.

# 3 dont be too hard on yourself

...was easier said than done. your mind cursed you every time you got a bad grade. you wondered what was the point: you werent good enough to get into the likes of yale, or any of your colleges for that matter.

you had long since fallen off the ladder. it had injured you your 8th-grade year, and every attempt to climb back to where you were or any pushing from a 3rd party proved futile, as you only slipped and fell back down again.

the sat was fast approaching, and every practice test you did was never where you wanted them to be. every stupid math problem you got wrong brought a punch to your head. you had called gunwook, only realizing when he didnt pick up that he was in a shoot. panicked, you hung up before the voicemail. when he called you back (10 times with his members also calling you), you opted to ignore it. it was getting late, anyhow, and you had to go in early for apush in the morning.

apush lab made you want to kill yourself. sarah sat next to you, but everything always seemed to favor her. the quizzes, the teacher. it was unfair, really. american history was supposed to be your thing. so why were you struggling? after lab, sarah asked you what was wrong. "gunwook had called us in a panic because you didn't pick up." you shook your head, lying through your teeth.

"i had a question, but then passed the fuck out like 5 minutes later." sarah laughed and nodded, saying she was glad you got proper sleep, mumbling something about the aforementioned friend. when you asked, she waved you off, the man himself standing outside your classroom. he swung an arm around you as sarah walked in the opposite direction to her next class. he asked you the same thing. you lied to him too, but he looked less convinced. he didnt press you further, though, as you two began to walk down the stairs to your creative writing workshop—a senior elective you had begged your guidance counselor to take. gunwook took it to fill spots in his schedule.

the teacher loved him. as did everyone. you wondered if you could ever experience that. your oldest friend was everything you weren't and it was a point of contention inside your mind. you cursed yourself that you were nothing like him. gunwook nudged you in the middle of class when you were given an opportunity to work, asking what was wrong.

"i know thats not why you called me and then didn't pick up. you're also in your head right now." he pointed out, softly. you hummed, scribbling down something in your notebook.

"i just... i had a question but it was stupid. i figured it out." he looked at you pointedly, a look that told you to tell him the truth. "seriously! im ok!" he nodded, grabbing your hand for a squeeze.

# 4 do your best

you were nervous. ok nervous was an understatement. you rocked from heel to toe as you awaited the announcement that the doors were open. your friends chattered nervously around you. for them, this was the first time they were taking the sat. this was your second. you had gotten a 1340 on your first try—nowhere near where you wanted it to be. your brothers had gotten 1600 and 1590, respectively.

you were on call with all your friends the night before, gunwook coaching you guys through certain questions. he had texted you, (only you, but you didnt know that) wishing you luck. ricky and zhang hao had wished you luck as well.

everything seemed like bricks in your bag. it was only a couple of things—a computer, for the digital sat, a pencil, a calculator, a water bottle, and a banana. but it felt like you had hundreds of textbooks in your bag for no reason at all.

the doors swung open, and you rushed up to your assigned room. the setup was a blur, and the reading section seemed to be so too. during the break, your friends voiced similar opinions. then, during math, you began to struggle. somewhere along the way, though, gunwook popped into your head. you dont know if it was   because you wanted to make him proud, or you didnt want to disappoint your oldest friend and crush, but it worked. you powered through module 1 and 2, module 2 being the toughest one by far.

when the results came back two weeks later, you waited with baited breath as your friends skipped class with you to check all of your scores. gunwook held your hand as you refreshed the page.

"i dont want to look." you said, hiding your face in his chest.

"ill look for you." he mumbled into your hair, scrolling down. you felt him smile into the crown of your head, "i knew you could do it, sweetheart." you looked, and a big glaring 1590 stared back at you.

"wook!! holy shit a 1590!!" you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

# 5 talk about it

you sat with your friends and the members as you awaited gunwook's family's arrival. gunwook smiled from his seat on the gymnasium floor, holding up his phone. almost on instinct, you all checked your own.

wook🩵: this'll be you guys next year. ill be up there watching you all.

sarah burst in to tears. laura full on sobbed, and ryan and carols eyes were brimming with tears. as you read the text again and again, you got a separate text.

wook🩵: i'm proud of you y'know? i saw you struggling a bit at the end there but you made it through. i love you, yn. im glad to call you my friend.

i love you i love you i-

"hey yn sweetheart!" gunwooks mom sat next to you. his brother waved, and his father gave you a curt nod.

"hi. you guys must be excited." his mom laughed, nodding, then shoving your shoulder.

"im more excited about something else." you opened your mouth to ask her what, but the ceremony started

giving gunwook his graduation flowers made him blush. he shook his head. "do you not like them, wook? i thought theyre your favorites." he shook his head again, dropping the flowers into his mom's hands, grabbing your face.

"you are clueless, yknow that? i gave you so many hints. everyone knows." when you asked him what he meant, "yn, you didnt think id notice you putting yourself down? you know i cant fucking stand that. sorry mom. it kills me that the love if my life doesnt realize how fucking amazing they are, and it kills me that they dont realize that im in love with them." at this point, you dont know what you were doing. because gunwook was confessing to you that he both likes you and that he knows about your self-deprication. so now, surrounded by friends and seniors, gunwooks family and members, you kissed him.

it wasnt like anything you had imagined. your first kiss, you mean. peering seniors were waved off by shouts from matthew and gunwooks brother—both burly enough that even the biggest varsity football players would shrink away.

gunwook smiled on your lips as your friends cheered amongst themselves. you heard a loud "闭嘴!" from zhang hao to what you presume was ricky chatting with the senior mandarin class. when you broke off, gasping for air, gunwook tore off his graduation gown, pushing it onto his poor unsuspecting leader. he grabbed your arm, and the two of you sprinted as fast as you could.

out the gymnasium doors, out back by the cafeteria, through the back-woods path. he stopped when he was sure no one would follow him.

"so whats going on? with the whole." he gestured to your head. you knew what he meant, so you nodded. you told him everything, how you compared yourself to everyone, especially your friends and brothers, you were falling behind, your motivation was close to 0, and you never really believed that you could do it. he was quiet for a while. you knew he was trying to find the right words.

you wanted to cry, or throw up, probably both. it felt like the trees and the birds and your boyfriend? were judging you. but gunwook just apologized, for not noticing sooner, for not knowing how to help. you shook your head, tears threatening to fall, but he shook his too.

"no, no, im your best friend, yn, i need to be here for you. im serious, you have people to rely on, you dont have to shoulder this all by yourself." the tears threatening to fall were not a threat anymore, and the dam broke. gunwook grabbed the back of your head, pulling you into a hug.

—

mandarin guide:

开夜车: kai ye che, lit. burn the midnight oil

熬夜: ao ye, stay up late

闭嘴: bi zui, shut up/close your mouth

[bluesidez]

OKAY I HAD TO HIT YOU W THIS BC I NEED THIS TO COME TRUE 🗣🗣‼️‼️

AcademicRival!Miguel x AcademicRival!reader

where they will do quite literally ANYTHING (legally) POSSIBLE to one up each other.

whether their petty rivalry began in high school or first year of uni/college, IDC- but they absolutely despise each other.

and!!! at some point down the track, they forgot why they were beefing in the first place, only for it to start stemming from a place of 'jealousy' (yk how sometimes jealousy is actually feelings of romantic interest in disguise,, yeah, that) and it gets to the point where they are quite literally making it all their friends' problem bc of it.

like i can imagine reader drinking something that Miguel sees and Miguel going 'i need to have this all the time and sell it out so reader can never have any' and Peter is like '???', or reader finding out Miguel got a certain mark and goes 'nobody speak to me for a month i have to understand everything about quantum physics before that smug asshole opens his mouth' and Jess is like '??? just kiss, fym??'

and then they finally have a moment where they have no choice but to rely on each other- whether Miguel's car breaks down on the side of the road reader happens to drive by and she takes him to his, or if reader desperately needs help in a situation and immediately calls him bc she knows he'll pick up bc she needs scary dog privileges and thats HIM so then they end up having a moment of reflection together with either super fluffy smut or absolute debauchery and fluffy aftercare i totally dont mind either way.

IDK do you know what i mean??? 🫣🫢🤭

anyway LY BLUE-BLUE, thank yew for letting me ramble on 🤍🩵

Are you asking me to write this? 🧐 (I shall add it to the pending ideas list just for you 🐰🩵)

I wrote that as a reply as soon as you sent it, but now I have more ideas that I wanna yap about to go along with this.

SO!! You already have a rivals, enemies to lovers trope going on. What better way to make it even more fun than to add the stoic x chatty dynamic???

Like I’m imagining the reader and Miguel first meeting in middle or high school. He’s a transfer student that’s immediately making the top grades and people are like where tf did he come from?? Reader doesn’t really think anything of it, she just carries on with her school life, chatting away (and getting in on the gossip about Miguel).

It’s not until he ends up in the same class with reader one semester (probably in high school) that reader is finally able to be in close contact with him. He’s so quiet and a little boring, but there’s always random girls coming in and out of the classroom to attempt to chat to him.

They’re always bringing snacks or sweets for him. He always turns them down with a “No thank you. I don’t like chocolate.” type of response. (What he thinks to be polite and cordial)

The guys in the class think he’s a huge jerk. The girls in the class still fond over him. You think he’s an oddball, a weirdo. But you really have no solid information to justify it.

It’s not until one day that the teacher asks this obscure question that he pisses you off. (I havent thought of a weird question yet tho). Everyone else has given crude or stupid answers, riling each other up and joking. You raise your head to give the most out-of-the-box, yet plausible answer that leaves the teacher impressed and the class laughing in shock. Miguel scoffs and debunks it so fast, that you start to feel like one of his rejected groupies. If you thought the laughter for your answer was loud, the laughter for his sounds like the crowd in a football stadium.

You’re embarrassed but you don’t really show it. You just brush it off and joke with everyone else like usual.

Then, one of the class’s first huge tests come. You’re gunning for the number 1 spot although you figure it won’t be too hard with half of the room being class clowns and the other half not giving af. You read over the material once and already have a good grasp on it, so you joke around with everyone else. There’s rap battles and TT routines. You guys even manage to get the teacher in on some of them. From the front of the room, you can see Miguel glancing back at you with such a sour look on his face. Wtf was his deal??

Test day finally comes. You’re the first to turn yours in with a smug smile on your face. You even take a nap until the next bell.

You’re on cloud nine for about a good week. Although, every time you open your mouth in class, Miguel looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Then, the time came for the teacher to hand out the papers. He was pretty theatrical and loved to announce who got the highest score.

You were gearing up for him to say your name. And you don’t know of you’re crazy, but you’re certain your mom didn’t put “Miguel O’Hara” on your school registration form.

You frown as you come back to reality, watching as teacher handed him is paper. From your seat, you can see the bright red 100 in the corner, a smiley face to adorn it.

Then the teacher hands you your paper. A 99.5. Just 0.5 points from a perfect score. And what you got points taken off for is something so ridiculous that you could scream.

You can see him in your peripheral as you chat with the other students about the answers. Just as you discuss your silly mistake you take a small look at him. He has a faint smirk on his face, as if to laugh at your downfall.

From then on, you decide that it’s a war.

[and obviously, the story would travel with them as they grow. Once they’re adults, I can imagine Miguel to still be this same stoic, yet more approachable person who has had a ROSTER of hookups and a reader who’s still so flirty and chatty, yet can’t find a good partner to save their life. The dynamic of him knowing exactly how to make reader feel good verses reader being overwhelmed for once would be sooooo good]

What do you think Lexie-bun?? 🥸

[notroosterbradshaw]

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed." With Rooster pleasee (to be honest.. would it be actually a problem?)😂

A/N: this is a bit of a dumpster fire. Every save has failed, so here you have it. I hope you enjoy it. okay, pal, I am going to raise you two tropes:

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

There was only one bed and

Enemies to... something. Not lovers, but something.

"Because of you... let me rattle this off because this is entirely your fault and I don’t want to miss anything, okay? Because of you, we; one - left late. Nearly two hours to remind you. Two - got the last bedroom. With one goddamn bed!”

Rooster Bradley was wild. And not in that cute, gee, he looks like a fun, cool guy way, but close to a rage blackout. Like he was so ticked off, the ridges of his ears were blushing pink as the rage seared from his strong, broad chest towards his thick neck, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hands flexed as he tried to control his emotions that were just so out of check. No breathing techniques could save him now.

“I am not staying in here with you,” he seethed. You, on the other hand? Music to your ears! The trip to Tahoe was pure frigging torture, and you were still not sure how you were so unlucky to have to make the ten-hour drive with one of the people you actually despised and you both made it out alive.

The daily issue you had with each other in the air too.

"No sweat," you grinned, thrilled with this development. “Enjoy sleeping anywhere but here, pal,” you pat his muscular pecs and took a step into the room before slammed the door in his face joyously.

Later that night at the dinner table, you could feel Rooster burning a hole into the side of your head, still roasting from your earlier disagreement. Disagreements? Yeah, definitely plural. Not stopping your conversation with Bob, you relinquished your glass of red and said, “Hey Rooster, here’s another bird for you,” you gave him the one-finger salute. "Get over yourself."

The table was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“More wine please, Mickey?” you asked, utterly refusing to give Rooster Bradshaw another moment of your time. Last you’d heard, he’d committed to either sleeping in his ridiculous car or on the couch. Fine by you, the King size bed was just perfect for little you.

"God, you're so goddamn petulant, I don't know how you managed to get through the ranks... or killed yourself. It's one of the two if I'm really honest."

"Sheer talent, agility and knowing it pisses you off," you raffled off and turned to face him, planting your chin in your palm and batting your eyelashes in his direction. "Gives me all the ammo I need."

"You're such a fuckin' liability," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus, this escalated," Bob muttered to no one in particular.

"Shouldn't have let them drive together," Natasha sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"You know, Hangman, you are right," you said, ignoring your friends and looking at Jake as his eyes bulged.

"How am I getting dragged into this, sweet thing? I mean, I'm always right, but..." he asked, not really wanting to get in the middle of your and his wingman's quarrel. Especially since he was enjoying it so much. He preferred being a spectator in this bout.

"Like you told me on day one... Rooster's just sitting there on his perch and I do all the heavy lifting and saving his ass. Younger, faster, better - " you rattled off.

"Oh, you're so fuckin' outta line - " Rooster roared, standing as you grinned up at him.

"hey, hey, hey," Fanboy's chair screeched as he put a hand on Rooster's chest to remind him of his place.

"Tell me all about it, Bradshaw. Just get it out there and make your peace with the fact you don't like me and have gone out of your day since the beginning to try and stop each and every one of my promotions," you rested your chin in your hand and added a sweet bat of your lashes for good luck. You could see the smoke puff from his ears.

"I don't want to look but I can't look away," Coyote tried to bite back his grin but this had been bubbling under the surface for years. And he was going to witness it explode.

“This has to stop, guys,” Bob tried again.

"Peacemakin' ain't gonna work this time, Baby on Board. It's about time you let these two at it," Hangman sipped his beer but there was no denying that smirk that threatened.

“Look, I can swap with Rooster and bunk,” Natasha sighed, always the peacemaker. “I got a room to myself. You two cannot stay together tonight... or ever.”

A cause for a fight in itself, you dared ask, “How’d you keep that to yourself?”

She shrugged. “Frankly, just wanted to see how long it would be before one of you killed the other. It's clearly much closer than I thought,” she sipped her wine, whetting her lips. “I’ll stay with you," she tenderly pet your face, and felt the heat radiating under your skin. You were riotous and she could feel the fever of whatever it was that Rooster under your skin today. She gave you kudos, how you managed to stay to cool while Rooster erupted was commendable. But Natasha knew things about you the team didn't and that included what was hidden behind the ego.

“Think you can keep your hands to yourself?” you teased.

“I think I can hold it together,” she said as you both laughed.

“Just like the old days.”

You toasted each other.

“You’re off the hook, Bradshaw,” Natasha muttered, not bothering to look at him. “But we get the King.”

Rooster’s face lit up. “Phoenix, you’re on a one-way ticket to heaven.”

"I don't know why you guys just don't put up or front up," Hangman joined the party. "Could cut the sexual tension with a knife, if you ask me."

"No one asked you, Bagman," you and Rooster hissed loudly and Hangman actually shrunk in his chair. It didn't stop the smirks from the others at the table, trying to hide their mirth and Hangman knew... he wasn't on his own of this belief.

"I'm just sayin'," he tried as Coyote nodded beside him. Coyote wholeheartedly agreed. Put that sheer frustration with each other to good use: fly with it, fight with it, fuck with it. Two out of three ain't bad. But it could certainly be better.

"Knock it off, Jake..." Natasha told him. But she found it hard to argue with him. He was right, something had to give between you and for the sake of the team, a truce or ceasefire needed to be called somehow, someway. And it needed to be soon. She couldn't trust you to be on your best behaviour for Payback's wedding tomorrow and God knew she didn't want to have to send either of you to the naughty corner for not keeping your emotions in check with the other.

"And on that note," you pushed back your chair. "Goodnight," you said, standing and leaving before anyone could make an excuse to get you to stay.

"Jesus Christ Jake... could you just keep your trap closed this one time?" Mickey mumbled as you wandered away and you heard Jake laugh.

"Yep, it's just me that can't see right through them... ain't it, right Bradshaw?" Jake taunted his wingman. "Just put that frustration to use, brother."

"You know, Jake, you will never have to worry about me punching you in the fucking face, because I won't have to do it. They will," Rooster rolled his eyes and kept sipping his wine.

"You're gonna kill me," Natasha said a few hours later. "I think I had one glass of wine too many," she said, sitting on her bed, drifting a little. She was woozy, her tummy didn't feel great.

"You okay?" you sat up from your spot on the bed, watching her a little concerned. You grabbed her shoulder and tried to stop her from wobbling but she was pretty off-kilter.

"I don't feel so great," she admitted. "I think I'm a little nauseous."

"Oh, no. Can I get you something? Some water?" you started to get out of bed to help.

"No, I'm just going to freshen up in the en suite for a while. Cool water might help. A shower of something," she said, idly on her legs as she stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door after her. Settling back, you had never heard the sound of anyone being ill the way Natasha currently was.

"Oh, shit," you said, bouncing from the bed and going to the door to open it, but she'd locked it. "Natasha, can I come in?"

"No, don't come in here - " she said before interrupting herself to be sick again.

"Oh, wow," you said quietly to yourself. Okay, the helper in your kicked into gear, leaving Pheonix for the moment to go retrieve a bucket, some towels and anything else that might make her feel a bit better... or at least fend off the hangover for tomorrow.

Rooster was on the couch with Bob when they noticed you going through unfamiliar cupbarods.

"Whatcha need?" Bob asked.

"Your frontseater is vomiting all over a different kind of seat..." you muttered.

"Oh, no," Bob sighed. "Can I help you?"

"No, she's locked herself in the bathroom. She's pretty unwell," you continued searching. "Would anyone have packed any Pepto... or something to try and settle her stomach?"

Rooster groaned standing. "I've got a first aid kit in my car. Let me get it."

You bet if roles were reversed, and Natasha was looking for help for you, Rooster would not be volunteering and quietly thanked him anyway. He didn't bother to reply but came back a few minutes later with a small kit and told you to use whatever you need. "Thanks, Rooster," you said meekly. He nodded as he watched you disappear again.

This was not how the night was supposed to go. You were supposed to be up and gossiping with Natasha, not helping her shower her sick out of her hair and tossing her in your bed because she needed to be close to the room with the ensuite. Everyone had shuffled but it still left you in a pickle.

Well, not just you.

You and Rooster, who could swear he was seconds away from actually sleeping in his car. The threat was real.

“Just stay on your side for god’s sake,” you instructed, rolling to face the door.

“This may be the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of time,” Rooster muttered and you flipped back to him, aghast. “Aside from other stuff in my life that has been tragic…” he clarified, embarrassed.

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Just go to sleep,” he rolled his eyes and turned over himself. Within minutes he was snoring soundly. You picked up your pillow and without a doubt, lifted it over his face ready to just end this madness before thrusting it over your face instead and falling back against the bed.

He slept while you stared at the roof, finally giving in and putting your earphones in your ear to try and drone Rooster out. You were going to be a fright tomorrow. You knew you weren't going to sleep tonight.

Rooster was blissfully comfortable sleeping on his back but rolled just enough so that he was on your pillow and legs pressing against yours.

“You’re infuriating,” you tutted. “This bed is too small for both of us."

Sighing, Rooster was woken. "Jesus Christ, what time is it?"

"Dunno, you've been snoring for an hour or something."

“Well, if Phoenix wasn’t vomiting all over our old room with the ensuite, you would be in there together with all the space in the room and I’d be sleeping in here peacefully.”

“Touch me again and I’m pushing you off the bed.”

He snorted. “I’d surely like to see you try. Go to sleep, you fucking brat."

You heard the muttering before you could feel the tossing and turning. Rolling over and preparing yourself to let loose on him, you noticed Rooster was still asleep. He was restless, covered in sweat and the sheets tangled around him before he jolted up to sit, gasping. He took the dim room in, eyes darting around, trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings. “Where am I?” He asked desperately.

“We’re with the squad, it’s Payback’s wedding weekend in Tahoe,” you said softly.

"What?" you could sense that his brain didn't compute.

“You were having a bad dream, but you're okay. You’re safe. Try and breathe,” you instructed as his shoulders sagged and he tried to do what you asked. You explicitly knew this feeling and laid a gentle palm on his clammy shoulder. “Are you okay?” You asked softly. He stared at you, breathing deeply, putting his face in his hands. His PTSD was a good one, compounded by years of trauma.

You crawled a little closer to him and brushed back his wild curls.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he didn't answer your question, he could barely meet your eyes. Shame washed over him, the last person he wanted to show this part of himself to was right next to him.

“No,” you lied. “Do you need anything? Can I get you some water?”

Pursing his lips, embarrassed, he looked at the glass on his bedside table and reached to take a sip. "I got it."

It was strange, but the muscles on his strong back still engaged and you gently moved and hug him carefully. You felt him stiffen not soften and you told him softly, “You’re okay Rooster. You’re safe here with me.”

“Thanks, huh?” He said softly, sighing, and kind of melting a little, his body's flight or fight reducing as he inhaled sharply.

“You get those kinds of dreams often?” you dared ask. When didn't reply, you told him that you did once in a while but found it hard to go to people and tell them because you were sure no one would understand, hoping to encourage him.

He shrugged, resting his cheek on your shoulder, hiding his eyes. “Sometimes."

You held him tighter. “Does anyone know?”

“No… just you," he admitted and you knew he hated telling you and if you wanted to hold that power over him.

“Okay. I’m not going to preach to you, you know the drill.”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you.”

“I’m always here if you need me, okay?”

He hummed and you knew you were the absolute last person Rooster Bradshaw would come to if he found himself in this situation again. “Sorry I woke you.”

“That’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t alone,” you gently pushed him back towards his pillows and shuffled over to snuggle up close.

“You’re a furnace,” he muttered.

“You should be so lucky. Am I too close?” You asked, wanting to protect him but also respect you were well and truly overstepping any boundaries you had before bedtime.

“It’s okay, it’s nice,” he admitted, rolling over and taking you with him, curling you into his back and you let out a surprised shriek as you moved with him. "Sorry... that okay?"

"Yeah," you told him. "That's okay," your small hand gripped his hip, drawing tender circles on the strong muscle. “Go back to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

He yawned instinctively, and took your hand to lace with his fingers and draw your closer. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You shuffled and released the arm you were laying on to drift up and down his back, the muscles and ridges tensing and relaxing to your touch and you'd swear, you heard him moan quietly. “Go to sleep,” you told him again, softly. “I’m right here, I won’t let anything happen to you, Bradshaw.”

Within a few minutes, you felt his breath change and he was asleep again deeply… but you couldn’t release your hand… and you didn’t want to either. Enjoying the peace his slumber brought and his gentle even breathing, it lulled you to sleep too.

Waking up the next morning, you found yourself still trapped against the warm body of Rooster, but this time he was facing you and it was his chest before you. His strong golden shoulders, muscular pegs, wide ribs, and incredible abs. Sure you weren't still asleep?

But he was awake, looking at you softly with his chin resting in his palm. “Good morning,” he said quietly. You couldn't get a read on him and that concern you.

“Hi,” you said, surprised you’d stayed so close overnight. It was unlike you, you appreciated your space and even when someone else was in your bed, encouraging your own space. “How are you feeling?” you bit back a yawn.

“Great actually,” he admitted. “Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to… you know. Be there for me,” he gently brushed some hair from your forehead and you knew you must have been a mess.

Not surprisingly, Bradley woke up like he just walked off a runway. He was so handsome and you think that was what you disliked most about him. “Anytime,” your body temperature rose in embarrassment and you shuffled back across the bed. He smiled as he watched you, he knew you were a little uncomfy with the closeness and he didn't blame you... he was the same only minutes earlier.

You felt impossibly under scrutiny under his fair gaze and you wondered if he knew how uneasy it made you feel when you were… clearly so fucking attracted to him. You’d take it to the grave, but Hangman was right. You felt something inexplicable and sharing this bed was only blurring those lines terribly.

“What time is it?” You gazed at the window. Still looked pretty early.

“5am.”

“Our body clocks are pathetic, we’re on a weekender,” you said dismally. You wanted to remember what a sleep-in felt like. You imagined in your previous lives you were really good at sleeping past sunrise but you knew as you watched the colours over Bradley's shoulders that the sun would be soon and bring a beautiful day with it by the lake.

He grinned, and it was the first time he ever smiled at you where it met his eyes, his divine honey-coloured orbs. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll go for a run and let you have some time alone,” he said, pushing himself from the bed and stretching. His body was glorious, but you couldn’t ogle him like this. He started sifting through this leather weekend bag, looking for his gym clothes and trainers.

“Rooster?”

“Yeah, kid?” He looked up expectedly as you pulled the duvet back up maintaining as much decency your nightshirt allowed. His eyes darted from your thighs to your face, and if you blinked, you'd have missed the way his tongue darted out and wet his lower lip.

“It’s your break too…” you rolled your back away from him and snuggled back into the pillow. You knew he was perplexed but when the bed gently rocked and he got back under the covers and snuggled up behind you, resting his calloused palm on your hip, he breathed, and you heard his lungs shake. The power in the room had changed and you were both confused, but this felt just right.

"You burn hot," he told you softly.

"I've been told," you smiled gently to yourself as he chuckled quietly, and adjusted his hand to rest flush against your belly, his cheek snuggled into your shoulder.

But you knew it implicitly: you wanted Bradley Bradshaw…

And you probably always had.

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[aglassprincess]

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS

BEFORE SUNRISE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: It's Rust's last day in Paris when you meet. You fall in love over the course of the day, and now you have to decide how to spend your final moments together before separating. Notes: Inspired by the plot of Before Sunrise + Rust's quote where he mentions he spent a month getting drunk on the Notre Dame's stairs.

BEFORE SUNRISE V2.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You meet Rust in Paris and fall in love over the course of the day. You decide how to spend the day together. Difference: It's not his final day in Paris; no separation.

COCAINE BINGE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You're in a relationship with Rust while he's undercover as Crash. After a rough week, Rust binges on cocaine and alcohol. Notes: Mentions of suicidal thoughts and substance abuse.

EXOTIC DANCER

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: While undercover as Crash, Rust and his biker gang hang out at a club. You're the new exotic dancer Rust the biker gang he rolls with hang out in and he's slowly fallen for you. Notes: Request!

FAKE DATING

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: Rust is tired of Maggie playing matchmaker, and you're tired of your co-workers flirting with you. So, you both decide to pretend to be dating, even though you don't really get along. Notes: You're co-workers in the LSP.

GETAWAY CAR

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: Takes place during episode 4, when Rust goes undercover as Crash. You're his getaway driver.

LUX UMBRA

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You and Rust are the top detectives in the LSP, but you're notoriously known for despising each other. When a new lead reopens a high profile case that had gone cold, you two are assigned to work it together and you have to look past your differences to solve it. Notes: Request for rival co-workers with feelings for each other.

NOISE COMPLAINT

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: Rust is old and tired, and plagued by drinking and sleeping problems. You, his new neighbor, make things worse with your loud parties.

NOISE COMPLAINT V2

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: Rust is old and tired, and plagued by drinking and sleeping problems. You, his new neighbor, make things worse with your loud late-night movies. Difference: No partying, but rather watching horror movies loudly.

NORTHERN LIGHTS

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You and Rust, who used to be together, met again in Alaska during his last week there. You spent your final night watching the northern lights before he left for Louisiana in the morning. Difference: It's his final day in Alaska. Notes: Because I'm bitter I couldn't see the northern lights IRL, I made this one to cope. >:(

NORTHERN LIGHTS V2

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You and Rust, who used to be together, met again in Alaska. You spent your night watching the northern lights. Difference: It's not his final day in Alaska.

PERIOD CRAMPS

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: Rust takes care of you while you're on your period.

RIDE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You two are detective partners. Sometimes it's hard to tell if you're just friends or if it's more than that. As you drive back from a crime scene, you feel like there might be something special growing between you.

RIDE (CRASH'S VERSION)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You met Rust during his undercover job as Crash. Now you're in a relationship and you both feel happy together. You know it might not work out, but you enjoy the small moments. Right now, you've snuck out of a party, and you're sitting in his truck while he drives.

SHARP OBJECTS

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You take the role of Camille Preaker as you're tasked to go to Louisiana and get a story on the Dora Lange case. Difference: CamillePreaker!User in Louisiana. Notes: Inspired by the plot of Sharp Objects. I hope you enjoy this one, I've been the most excited to write this bot, in particular.

SHARP OBJECTS V2

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: Rust heads down to Windgap to look into the case of the two missing girls, one of which was found strangled. Difference: Rust and CamillerPreaker!User in Windgap work together on the Sharp Objects case. Notes: Inspired by the plot of Sharp Objects. I hope you enjoy this one, I've been the most excited to write this bot, in particular.

SPILLED INK

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You and Rust are notoriously known for butting heads and getting into arguments. You have the tendency to leave the printer jammed for Rust to deal with, and he's had enough. Notes: Request for rival co-workers with feelings for each other. I wasn't sure if you wanted something silly or serious, so I made two versions of this.

STITCHES

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: After discharging himself from the hospital during the finale, Rust hurts himself. Marty takes him down to your clinic to patch him up.

UNDER THE WEATHER

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: You meet Rust in Paris and fall in love over the course of the day. You decide how to spend the day together. Notes: Same as the period cramps bot, but for those who don't have periods or just want a different version of it. :)

RAY VELCORO

YOU’RE HIS NEW DOCTOR

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LINK Plot: Self-explanatory

Okay, now I go rest. Have fun! 💗 🌷