#she gets pissy so easy and i love that

[humanblt]

day 12: hissy kitty ishy bc i’ve been seeing more and more art of her as a cat

[taurasiluvr]

BABY IT AIN'T REALLY CHEATING IF HE DON'T SEE ── BUECKERS⁵

how you can help palestine prequel part three

★ based on dope love by gucci mane. you have an annoying boyfriend who always seems to be jealous of paige. and you've never even given him a reason to not trust you . . . of course not!

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. smut with a little plot, cheating (on irrelevant bf), asshole!paige, fingering, exhibitionism (sorta if that's what you can even call it).

 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 3.6k

 ⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p

"you're embarrassing me," the words came out of your mouth, your tone annoyed as you glared up at your boyfriend. you couldn't believe that he asked paige for a 1v1 – and on top of that, he lost.

now he was acting all pissy, pacing back and forth on the court with his hands on his hips. paige, your best friend since forever, stood a few feet away, trying to hide her smirk. obviously, she shouldn't be intimidated by your boyfriend, who was supposed to be confident and supportive, not a sore loser.

"maybe if you hadn't underestimated her," you continued, your voice cutting through his grumbling. "you know how good she is, she's literally d1."

paige smirked slightly as she shrugged, taking a sip out of the red solo cup. "it's just a game, guys. it's not a big deal,"

your boyfriend shot her a glare, then turned to you. "why are you taking her side?"

"cus you're acting like a damn child," you snapped back. "it's not her fault you lost."

your boyfriend’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red. he stopped pacing and turned to face you, his hands still on his hips. the music and laughter from the party around you seemed to fade into the background as his eyes searched yours for any sort of validation.

"i just... didn't think she'd take it so seriously," he mumbled, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. "i didn't take it seriously, man. it's just a game," she repeated, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement as she glanced at you, licking her lips slightly.

"just a game?" he repeated as he glared at the blonde. "i just got beat by a girl! i'm gonna get absolutely flamed in the groupchat,"

"hey, she's also d1! you don't even play basketball," you retorted, feeling your frustration rise. "it's not like you lost to someone off the street. paige is amazing at this."

"whatever," he muttered, looking away and crossing his arms. "still feels like shit, specially cause you're my girl and shit,"

paige raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the interaction more than she should. "dude, it's just a game. and besides, who cares what your friends think? they'll get over it."

"easy for you to say," he snapped back, his voice growing louder as he began walking toward her. "you didn't just embarrass yourself."

you stepped between them, your patience wearing thin. "enough. you're acting like a sore loser and it's not a good look."

he glared at you, the hurt evident in his eyes. "why are you always defending her? it's like you take her side over mine every fuckin' time."

"because you're acting ridiculous!" you shot back. "paige is my best friend, and you're being unfair to her and to me. this has nothing to do with sides and more to do with you and your weird competition with her."

he clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and paige. "weird competition? baby, it's obvious she has a thing for you, i mean jesus-"

you immediately let out a groan. "are we really gonna talk about this now, again? i told you-"

"i don't care, she obviously does!" he finally snapped. you grabbed his arm as he continued shouting about whatever he thinks is going on between you the blonde.

paige watched as you dragged your boyfriend to the side, letting out an amused laugh as she shook her head. she went back inside to get a refill, finding aubrey and nika.

"you gotta stop playing with him," nika stifled a laugh as she glanced outside, watching you and your boyfriend laughing. "i feel bad. we all watched him get absolutely obliterated by you."

aubrey laughed, nodding. "that was so fucking embarrassing, my god. i got an ick and i don't even like him."

paige shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips. "can't help that i'm good at basketball. and it's not like i'm doing it on purpose. he's the one who keeps trying to prove himself."

nika shook her head, still grinning. "well, he's definitely not doing himself any favors."

aubrey took a sip from her cup, raising an eyebrow. "you think she's actually gonna stay with him much longer? i mean, look at them."

they all glanced outside where you were still talking animatedly with your boyfriend. his face was red with frustration, while yours was a mix of exasperation and annoyance.

paige sighed, her expression softening a bit. "nah, probably. she deserves someone who doesn't get all insecure and jealous over nothing."

aubrey and nika exchanged looks, their faces entertained. nika spoke up, "paige we're not dumb, we know you've fucked before."

paige shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "yeah well... they were on break," she look a sip of her drink as she glanced up at her friends, their expressions unconvinced.

nika raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "on a break, huh? and does he know about this?"

paige hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "nah, he doesn't."

nika let out a low whistle. "that's risky, paige. he looks like the type to not mind... you know, beating your ass."

paige laughed as she shrugged. "yeah and he's also like, 5'8."

"if he tried, he'd get humbled," aubrey glanced toward her blonde friend, a smirk playing on her lips. "again," she added.

paige chuckled, her confidence unwavering. "exactly. i'm not too worried about him. besides, it's not like it was a regular thing. it was a one-time thing."

nika leaned back, her expression thoughtful. "still, you should be careful. if he finds out, things could get messy."

paige nodded, acknowledging the risk. "yeah, but it's done, and i can't undo it, i just have to handle things as they come."

aubrey took a sip from her drink, her eyes glinting with mischief. "you know, if you play your cards right, you might not have to worry about him for much longer."

"yeah, i know," she smirked as she glanced at you, you were still arguing with your boyfriend. "i know,"

as they continued talking, you and your boyfriend reentered the house, your faces still showing signs of the recent argument. paige watched as you tried to shake off the tension, joining your friends and attempting to immerse yourself in the party's atmosphere.

nika leaned in, whispering to paige, "think she'll be okay?"

Paige nodded, her eyes following you as you made your way to the group. "she's a big girl, i don't think she cares as much she pretends to."

you approached, giving paige a grateful smile. "hey, guys. sorry about that."

aubrey waved it off, her demeanor light and carefree. "no worries. we're just glad you're back."

nika chimed in, "yeah, we missed you. come on, let's have some fun."

you felt a wave of relief wash over you as your friends welcomed you back with open arms. paige stayed close, her presence a steady comfort. the rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and camaraderie, the earlier tension fading into the background.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

"and he's so damn clingy, it gets on my nerves," you resisted an eyeroll as you spoke, doing your night time routine in the foggy mirror. paige stood behind you, her hands on your hips and her chin on your shoulder, watching you through the reflection.

"yeah?" she mumbled as you nodded. her hair was wet from the shower, her eyes were red from the exhaustion of the whole day but right now – she didn't feel a tinge of weariness.

you sighed, putting down your toothbrush and meeting paige's eyes in the mirror. "yeah, it’s like he always needs to know where i am, what i’m doing, who i’m with. It’s suffocating."

paige grip on your hips tightened slightly, her presence grounding you. "sounds exhausting," she murmured, her voice gentle. "you deserve to feel free, not like you’re constantly under surveillance."

you nodded, leaning back into her embrace. "exactly. and tonight... all that jealousy over a basketball game? it's just too much."

paige pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin. "you deserve better than that. someone who trusts you and supports you, not someone who’s always questioning you."

you turned to face her, her hands sliding around to rest on the small of your back. "i know. it’s just hard. we've been together for a while, and i don’t wanna hurt him. but i can’t keep going like this."

paige's eyes softened, her thumb brushing gently against your side as her hands slid down them. "you have to take care of yourself first. it’s not selfish to want to be happy."

you smiled as her eyes dilated, her tongue sticking out to wet her lips. "he needs to trust you, cause... you know, you are," paige's voice came out teasing.

you let out a playful scoff as you pushed her away, a smirk playing on your lips. "gonna bring that up again, p?"

"what?" she laughed as her hands made their way back to your hips. "really gonna tell that i didn't rock your world? you were crying and everything, my ego's never gonna that go."

"i know," you felt your cheeks heat up, a blush creeping up your neck. "don't need to remind me every chance you get."

paige's laughter was warm and genuine as she pulled you closer again, her forehead resting against yours. "just making sure you remember,"

you rolled your eyes, but your smile widened. "how could i forget? you never let me."

"and i never will," you turned back around, continuing your routine. "i still think about it, you know?"

paige's smirk widened as she saw the seriousness in your expression through the foggy reflection. "yeah?"

"yeah," you repeated as you met her eyes through the reflection. "all the time."

there was a moment of silence as you continued your routine, paige was lost in thought as she zoned out. "does he fuck you like i do?"

the question came out of nowhere and you almost choked on the mouthwash. you spit out and paige watched your expression carefully. the air in the bathroom seemed to thicken as you processed her words, unsure of how to respond.

paige's gaze held yours steadily, her expression unreadable yet intense. she seemed to be searching for something in your reaction, her smirk fading into a more serious demeanor.

"no, he doesn't."

paige's smirk immediately came back with the answer, her hands pulling you into her chest. "yeah, i knew that."

she didn't any more of an answer, her lips found your shoulder as she began kissing up to your neck. as her lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, your head spun with a whirlwind of emotions. the familiarity of her touch, coupled with the depth of your connection, ignited a fire within you that burned brighter than ever before.

paige's hands roamed gently over your back, her touch leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake.

her breath tickled your skin as she whispered against your ear, her voice husky with desire. "gonna do you so good, baby,"

as paige’s breath sent shivers down your spine, her words were a promise, igniting a flame of anticipation within you. you turned in her embrace, your eyes meeting hers with a mix of longing and uncertainty. paige's gaze softened, her fingers trailing lightly up your arms to cup your face.

“i’ve missed you,” she murmured, her thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek.

“i’ve missed you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

the tension between you was palpable, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging in the air. paige leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that sent a rush of warmth through your body. you melted into her, your hands finding their way to her damp hair, pulling her closer.

paige's kiss deepened, her hands sliding down your back to grip your hips, anchoring you to her. the taste of mint lingered on your lips from the mouthwash, mingling with the familiar flavor of her.

with a gentle push, paige guided you back against the sink, her lips never leaving yours. her hands explored your body with a familiarity that made your heart race, every touch a reminder of the history you shared. as her kisses trailed down your neck, you let out a soft moan, your fingers tangling in her hair.

“oh p,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and desperation.

she paused, lifting her head to meet your gaze, her eyes dark with desire. “tell me what you want, baby.”

“want you,” you confessed, your cheeks flushing with the raw honesty of your words.

paige's lips curved into a satisfied smile, her hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your waist. “you’re going to have me, princess.”

with a swift motion, she lifted you into her arms as she carried you to your bed. her mouth claimed yours again, the kiss hungry and demanding. your fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt, desperate to feel more of her as she dropped you on the bed.

paige broke the kiss long enough to pull her shirt over her head, her eyes never leaving yours. her bare chest pressed against yours as she kissed you again, her hands working to slide off your shorts. you arched into her touch, the sensation of her hands on you sending waves of pleasure through your body.

as your shorts hit the floor, paige's fingers found their way to your core, teasing you through the fabric of your underwear. you gasped, your hips bucking against her hand, craving more. paige's smirk returned, her thumb circling your clit with agonizing slowness.

she pushed you further up the bed, her body following closely as she settled between your legs. paige's eyes never left yours, her gaze intense and filled with desire. her fingers continued their slow, torturous teasing, making you writhe beneath her.

“paige, please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper.

her smirk softened into a sweet smile, and she leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “love hearing you beg,” she murmured against your mouth before trailing kisses down your neck, her hands slipping beneath your underwear to finally touch your bare skin.

with a gentle but firm touch, she slid your underwear down, her fingers finding their way to your wetness. you moaned, your head falling back as she began to pleasure you, her movements deliberate and skilled. paige knew exactly how to drive you insane, her fingers curling inside you in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge.

you let out a shuddering breath, your body arching into her touch. she set a steady rhythm, her thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts of her fingers. every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, each one more intense than the last.

your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as she kissed her way down your body. her lips left a trail of fire on your skin, each touch igniting a deeper desire within you. when she reached your breasts, her mouth closed over one nipple, sucking and nibbling gently.

the dual sensations of her mouth and her fingers had you spiraling quickly towards the edge. your breaths came in short gasps, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

then, your phone began buzzing next to you. you let out an annoyed huff – you already knew who it was. you chose to ignore it, but paige had other plans.

"answer it, princess," she mumbled as she sat up, meeting your gaze.

you stared at her, bewildered, your body still trembling from her touch. "paige," you whispered, a mix of frustration and disbelief in your voice.

paige's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "answer it," she repeated, her voice low and commanding. "want him to hear how good i make you feel."

your heart raced, both from the lingering pleasure and the audacity of her request. with trembling hands, you reached for the phone, your eyes never leaving paige's. she watched you intently, her fingers still moving slowly inside you, maintaining the agonizing pleasure.

you hit the answer button, bringing the phone to your ear. "hello?" you managed to say, your voice shaky.

your boyfriend's voice came through the line, filled with concern and irritation. "where are you? why haven't you answered my texts?"

paige's smirk widened, and she pressed a kiss to your shoulder, her fingers quickening their pace slightly. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, your head falling back against the pillow.

"'m... busy," you replied, your voice strained.

"busy? doin' what?" he demanded, suspicion lacing his words.

paige’s other hand moved to tease your nipple, her thumb flicking over it with expert precision. you let out a soft gasp, unable to hold it back. "just... with friends, we're at my..." you managed to say, your breath hitching. "apartment,"

there was a pause on the other end of the line, your boyfriend clearly picking up on the unusual tone in your voice. "you okay? you sound... different."

paige's lips curled into a wicked smile, her fingers curling inside you, hitting just the right spot. you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching into her touch. "oh fuck," you let out before you sighed, putting a hand over your mouth.

"i'm fine," you lied, your voice trembling. "just... having a good time."

Your boyfriend’s voice grew more insistent. "where are you? i want to see you."

paige leaned closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, "tell him you're with me."

you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the conversation despite the overwhelming sensations. "'m with paige," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"paige?" he repeated, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration. "what the hell is going on?"

"nothing!" you shouted, the frustration overtaking your senses. "my god, let me fucking breathe. we're just watching a movie and we're tired, can't get a second alone,"

paige's smirk grew as she listened to your conversation, her fingers still teasing you, maintaining a torturous pace that kept you on the edge. she nibbled gently on your neck, her breath warm against your skin, and you fought to keep your voice steady.

on the other end of the line, your boyfriend’s frustration was palpable. “why didn’t you just say that? you’ve been acting so weird lately.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to focus on the words and not the intense pleasure paige was giving you. “i’m not acting weird. just need some space sometimes.”

“space? is that what you call ignoring my calls and hanging out with paige all the time?” he snapped.

paige fingers quickened slightly, pushing you closer to the edge, beginning to completely finger-fuck you. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, your hips bucking involuntarily. “’m not ignoring you,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to sound convincing. “i think i just… need a break.”

“a break?” he echoed, his voice growing louder. “what kind of break?”

paige leaned in, her voice a whisper in your ear. “tell him you’re taking a break from him.”

you swallowed hard, the words sticking in your throat. “think we need a break,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“what?” he shouted, disbelief and anger mingling in his tone. “are you fucking serious?”

“yeah,” you said more firmly, finding your resolve.

he began shouting but you were too engulfed in her fingers, your breaths coming out in shudders. the phone fell out of your hand as you moaned, your back arching into her touch.

paige chose that moment to push you over the edge, her fingers and lips working in perfect harmony to send you spiraling into a powerful orgasm. you cried out, your body shaking with the force of it, the annoyed shouts still coming from the phone.

paige caught the phone, her eyes locking with yours as she brought it to her ear. "she busy right now," she said, her tone unapologetic and firm. "she'll call you in the morning,"

with that, she ended the call, tossing the phone aside as she gathered you in her arms. you were still trembling, your body buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. paige's touch was gentle now, soothing as she held you close.

"you gonna call him in the morning?" she teased as you laid on her chest. you stifled a laugh as you shook your head.

"probably, he's probably crying right now."

she shrugged, "i would too if i lost a bad bitch like you,"

you couldn't help but smile at her words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "you're ridiculous," you murmured, nuzzling closer into her embrace.

paige's fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, her touch comforting and tender. "yeah, but you love it," she replied, her voice soft.

you sighed contentedly, letting the calm after the storm wash over you. "yeah, i do."

you stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you, and your eyes grew heavy.

"get some sleep," paige murmured, her voice a gentle lullaby. "we'll figure everything out in the morning."

you nodded sleepily, feeling safe and secure in her arms. "goodnight, p."

"goodnight, beautiful," she whispered, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[notlongtolove]

in eternal lines

spencer’s mind—brilliant and boundless—was one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place. but when the deadlines are looming, it takes everything in you not to snap. because while you’re good at literature because you have to be, spencer's great at it because, well, he’s spencer. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst, comfort, fluff... i don't know anymore

content: student!reader gets kinda pissy and snappy but she has a 3000 word essay due and a fever so go easy on her. and spencer is spencer, so patient, so kind :'

word count: 5.2k

note: as a literature major this was extremely self-indulgent... i'm sorry. i love lit student reader and i hope you guys do too! also aptly titled after the one and only sonnet 18 because it was the first poem we were given read in uni <3 (reader is basing her essay on george macdonald's 'the princess and the goblin' and isaac watts' 'divine songs' if anyone is curious; but don't read too deeply into her lines about it because i submitted that essay weeks ago and it's been relinquished it from my mind oops)

a line: You’d decided then and there that if you couldn't break the glass ceiling, you'd make a comfortable home just beneath it. Always looking up, never quite breaking through.

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. - william shakespeare

You love your boyfriend. Truly, you do. After all, who else would sift through pages of Whitman’s dense poetry with you or debate whether Rossetti was really referencing Eve’s bite of the apple in Goblin Market? Nobody else ever cared enough to try. Spencer’s mind—brilliant and boundless—was one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place.

So yes, you love your boyfriend. But when deadlines are looming, and submission dates are bearing down on you, it takes everything in you not to snap. Because while Spencer can dissect poetry and prose with an ease that seems almost otherworldly, you sometimes feel the weight of comparison pressing on you. You’re good at it too—of course you are, you have to be. You’re pursuing a degree in it forgodsakes. But Spencer? He’s great at it because, well, he’s Spencer.

And while you can hold your own most days, a fair challenger when you come back from a particularly intriguing lecture too layered to dissect by yourself, there are times you feel like you’re running to keep up. Spencer will pull references from texts and obscure sources you haven’t even heard of, leaving you struggling to connect the dots. And that’s just literature. When he dives into his other passions—you don’t even bother to compete. Instead, you resign yourself to the couch, nodding and asking questions during the rare moments you can sort of follow the thread of his thoughts.

Having an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory does have its perks. Everyone knows that.

Your friends see it too. Like today when one of them stopped by between classes to return an essay you’d been stressing over for days.

“Well, don’t you look fantastic,” she teased, smirking. “Guessing those leftovers weren’t as ‘fine’ as you thought?”

​​“Don’t even start,” you mutter, weakly grabbing the paper from her hands as you lean on the doorframe. You flip through the pages marked in red ink quickly with the little strength you have, eyes scanning briefly through the comments before you’re on to the next page, next page, next page. They’re not what you’re looking for. 

And then you see it. There on the last page, a definite red circle around it: B+. 

You’d expected it of course. B+—your ever-reliable benchmark. It's a mark of consistency you've been forced to be contented with. It wasn’t horrendous. It wasn’t amazing. It was fine. But you’d worked hard on this one. You’d hoped, maybe, for something more. You’d expected it, and yet, you don’t know why you still feel a pinch of disappointment.

“How’d you do?” you ask grimly, fighting the nausea creeping up your throat.

“Same,” she replies nonchalantly, scrolling through her phone.

You nod, trying not to dwell on the fact that she’d seen your grade before you did.

“Oh, you know it’s always the same,” she adds with a wry smile. “Solidly subpar, as per tradition.” 

The phrase stung a little more now than it had when you’d coined it back in your first year. Back when, after a string of middle-of-the-road grades, you’d decided then and there that if you couldn't break the glass ceiling, you'd make a comfortable home just beneath it. Always looking up, never quite breaking through. 

“Whatever, it was only 20% anyway,” she shrugs.

“Yeah…” you reply weakly, though the disappointment still gnaws at you. You can’t quite shake it. Maybe it’s because deep down, you know you do care—no matter how often you tell yourself you’ve accepted the fate of being perpetually average. You still want, so quietly, so desperately, to be something more. You’ve always had a love for literature: the way words flow across a page, imbuing meaning into simple phrases, transforming them into art. You’ve always admired the beauty of it. But passion doesn’t translate to academic brilliance, and appreciation doesn’t equal A grades. It’s a hard truth you’ve come to learn.

“How was class?” you ask, trying to steer your mind away from its current spiral. “We still on Faerie Queene?”

“Mhmm,” she hums, rolling her eyes. “Kristoff’s still rambling on and on about virtue and chastity. Ha. Imagine me living in those times—at the rate I ghost men, I’d be a certified whore.”

“Well, actually, they’d probably get to you first,” Spencer interrupts as he steps out of the bedroom, his tone slipping into that familiar, matter-of-fact cadence. “Virtue and chastity were considered to be absolute truths in the 16th century. A woman’s value was intrinsically tied to her perceived purity, which of course, was a reflection of her family’s honor.” 

If you weren’t so ill, you would’ve laughed at her face—eyes wide, mouth slightly open in disbelief.

“And then there’s the public shaming,” he continues, leaning casually against the doorframe with his hands tucked into his pockets already miles deep into his thoughts. “In fact, the entire allegory of Book III revolves around chastity as a cornerstone of moral virtue. Witch trials in the late 16th and 17th centuries often targeted women who were thought as sexually deviant or independent, framing their ‘sins’ as some sort of evidence that they were consorting with the devil—”

He pauses, glancing between you and your friend. “So yeah… considering all that, if you’d ‘ghosted’ a few men back then, they probably would’ve gone straight to accusations of witchcraft or worse.”

Your friend stares at him, “...Right. Good to know,” she says, blinking slowly.

“But you know, Edmund Spenser intended The Faerie Queene to be a moral guide for young men,” he adds as an afterthought, realizing he’s just indirectly affirmed your friend’s self-deprecating joke. Spencer shifts awkwardly but can’t help himself by continuing, “It was meant to instil chivalric virtues to shape a model English gentleman. So technically, your interpretation is, um, modern at best.”

Her expression—equal parts baffled, impressed, maybe even a little scared—almost makes you forget how sick you feel.

“So…” she says after a pause, “I’m guessing you’re Spencer?”

“I am,” he replies simply.

“Well,” she says, drawing the word out, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” 

Spencer offers a smile, “Likewise.” 

“Anyway… I’m off.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, “Essay’s not gonna write itself. This one’s 30% by the way. God, I hate Kristoff but Burton’s a close second for sure.”

You wince at the reminder, the weight of your unfinished work pressing on you. The brief called for at least three secondary sources, and you’ve barely scratched the surface.

“Feel better soon, sweetie,” she says, offering you a sympathetic look. You manage a weak smile in return.

“Bye Spencer,” she says, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “Take care of her for me, will ya?”

“Will do,” he says curtly, giving a small wave as you close the door behind her.

A moment later, your phone buzzes. He’s cute, her text reads. Another follows immediately: And basically a walking Wikipedia.

You start typing a response, but another text pops up before you can send it: Don’t dog on us for using ChatGPT now. You huff and click your phone off instead, tossing it aside. 

Therein lies another source of stress. Spencer is always happy to help you untangle a difficult text or interpret a dense poem, but he draws the line when it comes to your academic work. He never interferes directly. You’ve seen it yourself—The first time you handed him your laptop to review an essay, he’d made his comments verbally, pointing at sections on the screen while explaining his critiques in detail, but never actually touching the keyboard. You’d brought it up during an argument once, after a particularly crushing grade. Your frustration had spilled over: You’re smarter. You type faster. Why can’t you just fix it? But Spencer had only responded with something about “academic integrity” and the importance of maintaining the “code of conduct.” The conversation ended there, and after that, you stopped asking. 

Even yesterday, when you managed to scrape together 300 words for a draft, you’d handed your laptop to him, and again, he was careful to keep his boundaries. Too drained to make edits in real-time, you’d expected—maybe hoped—that he might step in more directly. Instead, Spencer quietly switched the document to “suggesting” mode, marking up your draft with precise yet detached annotations, never infiltrating or overstepping your own words. Spencer Reid is and always will be a stickler for rules. You try to hold yourself to the same standard. You steer clear of AI, no matter how tempting it might be. You know better. Well, that and because Spencer would never let it slide. 

But now it’s late and the thought of letting some website churn out polished, perfectly phrased sentences for you in seconds has never felt more tempting. The nausea has faded, leaving behind a fever in its place. Spencer’s in the living room, reading. You’d banished him to the couch—even the faint sound of pages turning, not to mention the speed at which he reads, was enough to derail your already fragile train of thought. You’d felt bad of course; he’d made soup for you earlier, fed it to you and everything. But with this essay worth 30% of your grade and your 300 words barely scratching the surface of the 3,000-word requirement, you don’t have it in you to be oh-so-sweet and ever-so-grateful. Not right now. You’ve nailed down the introduction—a quick overview of historical context, a sweeping statement on the authors’ intents. But now, the real challenge looms: The thesis. And you’re utterly stuck.

This essay argues that…  that…

You groan in frustration, flopping back against the pillows. So much for children’s literature. You’d chosen this class thinking it’d be an easy ride—fairy tales and picture books, how hard could it be? Yet here you are, being tasked with dissecting the significance of form and language. Now, the simple language and pretty pictures are anything but your friend, doing nothing to help further your argument. Your head throbs, your mouth feels like sandpaper, and the brilliant points you’d thought of in last week’s class are nowhere to be found, lost in the haziness of your mind. With a defeated sigh, you peel back the sheets and shuffle out of the bedroom, laptop in hand, every joint aching in protest. Spencer looks up from his book as the rustle of sheets catches his attention. His heart aches slightly when he sees you in the doorway, clutching your laptop and looking every bit as pitiful as you feel. He sets his book to the side. 

“How’s it going, honey?” he asks sympathetically, even though he already knows the answer from the state of you. 

“It’s barely going,” you admit with a yawn, tears prickling at your eyes from the force of it. They only add to your overall air of defeat as you cross the room and crawl into his lap, laptop balanced precariously on the armrest. “Brain’s foggy, can’t think straight,” you murmur in incomplete sentences. 

“Finalized your thesis yet?” he asks again, his voice gentle but patient. You shake your head, sinking deeper into his chest—It’s a silent surrender, as if giving in to the exhaustion and frustration that’s been building up. Spencer notices, brushing your hair gently away from your face, his hand cool against your hot skin. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up, hon,” he says softly, voice full of concern. “Why don’t we get you to bed, take a break for tonight, hm? You can work on this tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The thought of putting everything off feels like both a relief and a burden. The idea of sleep has never seemed more appealing. But then, the thought of letting this drag on for another day—of pushing the finish line even further out of your reach fills you with dread. But you know you’re not in any state to be working on anything right now, let alone something worth 30% of your final grade. You know that you can’t focus, not when your body feels like it’s ready to give up and when your mind can barely hold onto a coherent thought. “Tomorrow, okay?” Spencer prompts again, calm and gentle. You know he’s right, so, despite the gnawing anxiety in the back of your mind, you nod. “Okay.” 

Spencer doesn’t push, just gives you a small, reassuring smile as he stands. Every movement feels like a chore as he guides you back to bed but the warmth of the blankets and the prospect of rest is more than enough motivation. He tucks you in, his touch comforting and steady. You feel like a weight has been lifted, albeit temporarily. Either way, it’s enough for now. You close your eyes, the thought of picking up where you left off tomorrow seeming almost bearable. 

You wake to the sunlight filtering through the curtains. It takes a moment for your brain to adjust to the new day, the stress of yesterday not entirely gone. But as you sit up, stretching slowly, mind less hazy and joints less achy, you feel a renewed determination, a flicker of focus that was nowhere to be found last night. Your mind is still whirling with fragments of ideas, half-formed arguments, and theoretical connections when Spencer strolls in with a cup of something warm for you.

“Tea.” he announces, handing it to you with a small, triumphant smile. “Decaffeinated.”

You frown, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “Need coffee.”

“Studies say caffeinated beverages stimulate the colon,” he counters matter-of-factly.

“Eww,” you groan, wrinkling your nose at him. “Why’d you have to say it like that?” 

“Exactly like that,” he replies without missing a beat, his tone precise and measured. “You’ve just recovered, and everyone knows caffeine is a gastrointestinal irritant.’

You huff, taking the mug from him. “Fine, but if I don’t finish this essay, it’s on you.” Spencer raises an eyebrow, completely unbothered by your protest. “Somehow, I think you’ll survive.”

You grumble under your breath but take a tentative sip of the tea anyway. It’s not what you wanted, but you can’t deny that he’s probably right—he usually is. The warmth seeps through the mug into your hands, grounding you just enough to pull your laptop over from the bedside table. Its practically empty screen blinks back up at you, as though it’s been waiting patiently all night. Hi again. Still here. Still empty. 

Spencer takes a peek at your screen and you can’t help but glare half-heartedly at the mug in his hands. Of course, it’s coffee. He’d get to enjoy caffeine while insisting you couldn’t. Typical.

“So, I was thinking…” you start, deciding to let the injustice slide for now as you scroll through your document.

“Hmm?” He looks up, his gaze meeting yours over the rim of his cup.

“What if I say that MacDonald’s pedagogy was more effective for children because Watts’s text was too directive. That works, right?” You look up, scanning his face for some form of agreement.

“That’s hardly arguable honey,” his words land softly, but you still feel your shoulders sag. “It’s an observation.”

"But—look at the words they use! It's so different. Here, look at the tone," you insist, nudging your laptop toward him. "There has to be something to be said about that, right?"

Spencer leans in, glancing at your screen before looking back at you. His expression is calm, composed, and maddeningly reasonable. "Watts’s text was meant to be read as a textbook. Of course it’s directive. You know that." 

Do you? You think you don't know much at this point. You don’t know what you know, and you don’t know what you don’t know. You groan, dragging your hands down your face as if you could physically scrape the frustration away. Darn you, Isaac Watts. Darn you, pedagogical learning. Darn you, whoever had the audacity to name this course a simple exploration into the history of children’s literature. 

Before you can wallow further, Spencer slides your laptop away. “How about we brush our teeth before crying over educational theories for children in the 18th century?” he suggests, his voice light. You sigh dramatically, dragging yourself to your feet like it’s some Herculean effort. When you shuffle back from the bathroom, hair slightly damp from washing your face, Spencer has taken over your spot on the bed, laptop resting on his legs as he scrolls through some article. He glances up when you flop down beside him with an exaggerated sigh.

"Feel better?" he asks, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips.

"Not at all," you grumble. You don’t let him know that the brief pause in frustration has given your head just enough space to try again. 

It’s been hours, but you’ve finally narrowed down your thesis. It’s not amazing—far from it—but it’s something. It’s arguable, at least. Spencer’s been relegated back to the living room, his presence a vague hum in the background as you attempt to focus. You’d claimed you worked better in bed, though Spencer’s tried (and failed) to prove with statistics and studies that it’s just a placebo effect, a lie your brain insists on believing.

But right now, none of that matters. You have a thesis and on that note, an essay to begin. Or, at least, the faintest glimmer of one. And that’s when you hit a wall. Again. You sit cross-legged, laptop perched on your knees as you stare at the cursor, blinking like it knows you’re stuck. You wish it would stop judging you. You drag yourself—and your laptop thats become an extension of your body at this point—into the living room like a child seeking comfort. Spencer barely looks up from his article when you slump into the couch next to him.

“What about this?” You straighten your back, determined to sound confident this time, even if you're not sure where you're going with it. “What if I say that MacDonald’s use of fantasy is critical because it creates like, an emotional bridge and that makes it more effective for moral teaching and—”

“Well, yes," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Spencer doesn’t even look up from his article. "But that’s kind of a subpoint, honey.”

You stiffen, irritation rising like bile in your throat. “It’s not a subpoint. It’s a point.”

He shifts in his seat, eyes flicking up, finally meeting yours. His tone isn’t dismissive, but it might as well be. “How is that significant? What does it build toward?”

You grit your teeth. “Ugh, you sound like Kristoff.” You mutter, more to yourself than to him. You know it’s not fair to snap, but your patience is paper thin. You can feel the fever creeping back into your skin, and you’re not sure if it's the heat or the mounting pressure, but suddenly everything feels like a little too much. 

“Fine,” you say, swallowing your frustration, trying again. “What if I say that MacDonald’s narrative style is more progressive because it like, engages the reader’s emotions directly? And that’s why Watts’ text feels scarier?”

Spencer pauses. For a moment, you think you’ve finally hit something solid, his eyes narrowing just enough to show he’s intrigued. “And how are you planning to argue that?”

“Well, um… um—I… I don’t know!” You exhale sharply, throwing your hands up in exasperation. You sink back against the cushions, frustration seeping into your bones. “Something about how MacDonald’s vibe is all nice and charming while Watts is all like, ‘learn this or else’. 

“Sure I guess…” Spencer acknowledges, nodding slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you’ll need more than vibes and a strong dislike of Watts to support it sweetheart.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say bitterly, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s too calm, too collected, and somehow that makes it worse. He’s not wrong, but you’re still pissed off. You take a breath, steeling yourself for the next round of dissection. “Okay, then what if I say that MacDonald lets kids think for themselves, and Watts... doesn’t. Because of his moral authority and intellectual agency and whatever.”

Spencer’s eyebrows rise, just a fraction, but it’s enough. You feel a flicker of something—relief, maybe? It’s hard to say. His voice has shifted, just slightly, less detached now, more engaged. “You can build on that.”

“Really?” you ask, suddenly more hopeful than you’d like to admit.

“Really,” he confirms, leaning back in his chair. But then he tilts his head and furrows his brows in a way that makes you want to throw your laptop at him. “But you’ll need to define those terms and back it up with examples. Otherwise, it’s just a claim.” Of course. 

“God, you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be!” you snap, the irritation rising in your throat. “I get it, okay? I need examples. But you’re not even letting me work out a point before you just, I don’t know, shit all over it.” Spencer’s eyes widen, and for a second, you almost feel bad for snapping at him. 

“I’m just trying to help,” he says gently, but there's something in the way he says it—just a little too patient—that makes you bristle. You hate how right he always is, how calm he always looks, how much care he always has in his eyes even when you’re acting out. 

“You’re trying to help?” you repeat incredulously, shaking your head. “You’re poking holes in everything!” Even in your feverish haze, you know you’re being cruel—but you just can’t help it. All you can think about is how everything is slipping away, how your thoughts won’t line up, how your head is starting to hurt again. You’re not even sure if you’re angry at him anymore, or just angry at everything else. 

Spencer doesn’t answer right away. He glances at your screen again, a mess of quotes and bulletpoints. “I just want to make sure it’s solid, honey,” he says finally, his tone softer.

You scoff. “Yeah, well, you tore apart whatever solid lead I thought I had after two hours of work in just about five minutes, so thanks for that,” words tumbling out before you can stop them. Spencer’s silence hangs heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you speak. “Just… just let me get through this.” 

Spencer sits there for a moment, just enough for you to feel the weight of the tension shift in the room. “I’m not saying you can’t get through it. I just want you to get through it right,” he says carefully, his voice quiet but insistent. “That’s all.” There’s no judgment in his voice, just care.

But the heat, the fever, it’s all swirling inside you, and you can’t hold it together much longer. “Of course you are…” you mutter bitterly, already regretting everything you’ve said. It feels like every step forward just leads you straight into another wall, and you’re just too tired to keep going. It’s not that you want to push him away or that you don’t appreciate his help. You’re just too irritable, too exhausted. You just want the whole damn essay to be done—and you wish you didn’t need his help to make it happen. You want to yell, to throw something, to demand that the world stop spinning long enough for you to catch your breath. But all that comes out is a hollow, defeated sigh. 

You feel like you're drowning and you don’t want to drag him under with you. “I’m just…” You stop yourself, swallowing hard, trying to gather whatever little strength you have left. “I’m just so tired.” 

Spencer looks at you, eyes full of concern, but it doesn’t help. You don’t want sympathy. You want to be better—to be able handle all of this. You want to be able to write this damn essay on goddamn children’s books without falling apart. And it doesn’t help that you’re falling apart in front of Spencer. The same Spencer who can recite verses from Paradise Lost at the drop of a hat. You’d almost burst into tears the last time he did it after it had taken you an entire week just to decipher and analyze a single chapter with any real confidence. You can’t help but feel that pang of inadequacy every time he breezes through something you’ve struggled with, even if he doesn’t mean to make it look so effortless. You hate yourself for it. You can’t find a way to shake the feeling that you’re not doing enough, not good enough. Not for yourself, not for him. You feel the sting of it, it’s pressing on your chest, suffocating.

“I just… just feel like I can’t keep up with any of it.” You don’t say it with any anger, just exhaustion. It’s not even directed at him anymore—it’s just the fact that you feel so stuck, so far behind where you should be, where you so badly want to be. “Like I can’t keep up with you.” 

Oh. Spencer feels his heart sink. He’s always prided himself on being able to read people. He should’ve known better. He’d been so focused on helping, so intent on pushing you to reach the level he knows you’re capable of, the level he knows you want to be at—even if you keep telling yourself you don’t. The fever, the deadlines, the constant pushing—he should’ve known that it was all too much. 

“You don’t have to keep up with me honey, I’m right here with you,” he says, trying to get you to look up at him. You can’t meet his gaze. You feel guilty for snapping, for letting the frustration slip out, but you’re not rational enough right now to pull yourself out from this spiral of self-pity. It’s easier to stay here, in the anger, the frustration, than to face the embarrassment of it all. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you.” Spencer takes your hand, cautiously, testing the waters. He knows you don’t exactly want to be touched right now. He knows it makes you feel coddled. He pauses, waiting for your reaction. When you don’t push him away, he gains the confidence to cradle your face gently. You don’t resist, your tired eyes meeting his, heavy with sadness and Spencer thinks he can actually feel his heart break.

“You’re doing just fine sweetheart. You’re not falling behind. You’re just stressed. And sick.” He knows you’re feeling fragile, like any comfort might smother you so he threads forward lightly. “This essay? You’ll get it done. I promise.” It sounds right, and yet it doesn’t really help. It doesn’t stop the doubt that’s eating at you, the sense that you’re just not measuring up to everything you want to be. You feel like you’re barely treading water, no matter how hard you swim, the shore never gets any closer.

But for now, Spencer’s words are enough to quiet the panic—a buoy in your sea of sadness threatening to pull you under. You cling to it, knowing you’ll have to start swimming again soon. But for this moment, you allow yourself to stop. A beat. A pause. A breath—Just for now.

It’s only the next day that you manage to get the words on the page, not in any smooth, brilliant way, but they’re there. The sentences form, sometimes haltingly, sometimes with more confidence, until the essay is painfully but finally done. Not perfect, but it’s done. Relief washes over you, even as exhaustion lingers. 

The moment you hear the front door open, you practically leap up, laptop in hand, meeting Spencer before he can even take his shoes off. He raises an eyebrow, setting his bag down as you both settle onto the couch. Without a word, you hand over the laptop, nerves bubbling beneath the surface. You wait with bated breath as he begins to scroll, your laborious effort displayed in black and white. The sound of the touchpad clicking feels louder than it should in the quiet room. He asks a few questions, here and there—clarifications, mostly. Questions you answer with ease, surprising even yourself with the confidence in your responses. He nods along, his expression thoughtful, but not critical. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Spencer looks up, eyes bright, a proud smile on his face. “It looks great, honey. You did a really good job.” 

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face at his praise. “Really?” Spencer leans in, cupping your cheek gently, and presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Really.” When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours for a moment, his hand still cradling your cheek. “You worked so hard on this,” he murmurs. “So proud of you.”

Your chest tightens, but in a good way, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring the comfort he always seems to bring. “Now," he pulls away just enough to smirk, "can I have my bedroom back, or should I just start setting up camp on the couch?” You laugh, rolling your eyes, but it’s full of affection. “Don’t even start.” Spencer chuckles, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you closer, the tension of yesterday long forgotten.

When you get your paper back, you flip through the pages, one after the other, looking for the feedback, waiting for the corrections, the marks that tell you where you inevitably went wrong.

Next page. Next page. Next page.

And then, there it is. On the last page, in a definitive red circle, unmistakable: A.

It’s an A. 

A goddamn A.

It doesn’t feel like a one-time fluke, not exactly, but you can’t shake the thought that this might be the only time you break through the glass ceiling you’ve spent so long looking up at. And who knows, maybe you’ll never push past it again. But for now, you allow yourself to relish in this singular moment of triumph. It’s enough. It’s more than enough. 

Because now you know that the other side is real, and that you can get there. But Spencer, the genius, the enigma, who’s always been a step ahead of everyone in everything academic, has always known.

And while everyone knows that an A in an essay that’s only a partial percentage of your overall grade isn’t anything compared to what he’s achieved, nothing compared to the academic milestones he’s already crossed—Still, he’s here, celebrating with you. You can see it in his eyes, even if he knows you’re not one to make a big deal of these kinds of things. His quiet joy is evident in the way he grins that little grin of his, the one that’s only for you. 

So, in summary, in essence, in all the words and ways you could possibly use to phrase a conclusion—You love your boyfriend. Truly, you do. After all, who else would read through your entire syllabus for the semester (frustratingly quickly), just because he knows you understand better when you can talk things out? Who else would patiently stick around, exiled to the couch in their own home, while you’re exhausted, irritable, and buried in deadlines? Nobody else ever cared enough to try. Spencer’s mind—though brilliant and boundless—isn’t the only reason why you fell for him. 

Because when the world feels too heavy, when the never ending lines of poetry and prose become too difficult to untangle by yourself, Spencer’s there reminding you—ever so gently, ever so steadily—that you can make it through, one word at a time.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[soleilapproves]

Boxer!Sukuna loves to show off his moves to his crush aka his best friend (feat. Boxer!Toji)

Notes: sukuna is a jealous little hoe, Toji finds reader attractive, Pre-relationship, fem!reader (she/her), depictions of fighting so read at your own discretion. Uraume is a nonchalant baddie. Not proofread, I’m sorry for torturing you all.

masterlist

Thump!

A gloved fist lands against Sukuna’s tattooed cheek as he stumbles back into the boxing ring’s roped borders.

He quickly flicks off the sweat dripping down from his nose to his upper lips and gets back into fighting stance. His opponent / friend, Toji Fushiguro, smirks at him as he bounces in his spot, bracing for what’s to come.

“You’re boring me here, Ryomen!” The raven haired man barked from the opposite end of the ring. “Quit fightin’ like a pissy little boy and hit me like a man!” He further taunted his opponent.

Sukuna leaped from his spot and swung his arm only for Toji to dodge him with a duck and attack his legs.

“Fuck!” Sukuna yelled out as he fell down. His body bounced against the ground, force acting against him.

“Time out!” Coach Yaga yelled out. Toji removed his gloves and took off his helmet, lending out a helping hand to Sukuna.

Sukuna stared at Toji’s calloused hands and back at him. His glare deepened with every heavy breath he took.

He could not stop thinking about the conversation he had with Toji in the gym locker room a few days ago.

“She your girl?” Toji asked as he applied another heat patch to his sore shoulder.

“Who?” Sukuna asked while he packed his gym bag.

“The girl you came in with today. You know, the one who wouldn’t stop talking.” Toji chuckled as he said that. Sukuna’s eyes momentarily flickered away from Toji has he remembered how you were going off on a tangent about your favorite show.

“Nah, why do you wanna know?”

“I wanna take her out.” Sukuna’s hand froze after hearing Toji’s answer.

It never occurred to Sukuna that other men wanted to talk to you. He always thought that he was the only man in your life even if there wasn’t anything romantic between you two.

But then again, Sukuna had made it his mission to drive away any man that even showed a shred of romantic attention towards you. It was easy for him since he was a well known boxer that could probably smash concrete with one punch if he tried.

It was his favorite thing about being so strong.

However, it wasn’t going to work in this case. Not when his opponent was on par with him.

“You don’t get it, man. She’s not that kinda girl. She’s the relationship type and you hate all that commitment stuff.”

“I wouldn’t ask to date your friend if I wanted to leave her high and dry. I’m ready to do all that redemption shit now. I wanna get serious.”

Sukuna’s blood boiled at the thought of Toji even looking in your direction. What made him think that you would even say yes? You had hardly ever said three sentences to the man (the sentences being “hi, Toji,” “bye, Toji,” and “where’s sukuna?”)

But he also knew what Toji was like in the ring. A relentless fighter that was always ready to improve where he lacked. And he also knew what you were like.

All he could do was hope that you’d reject Toji.

“Do whatever you want. Fuck do I care about?” Sukuna shoved in his shower gel in his bag and stomped out of the room.

He pushed Toji’s hand away and walked out the ring to hydrate himself. Toji mumbled a quick “asshole” before heading out towards his water bottle right outside the fight room.

“You were exceptionally bad today. I believe there must be something emotionally affecting you.” His manager (more like henchman), Uraume said as they handed him a bottle of sugar free Gatorade.

“Fuck off.” Sukuna tiredly said as his leaned back into the leather couch facing the ring. The spotlights above him burned his retinas but his mind kept him distracted with thoughts about you.

The way you laughed at his banter with Uraume, the way you’d comfort him after lost matches, the way you’d stare at him with your arms crossed when he’d forget to text you.

Like you were doing now.

“Some nerve of you to leave me on read last night.” You huffed out in anger. Sukuna immediately sat up, rubbing his eyes. You were definitely real and standing in front of him.

You looked positively adorable with a pout on your face and your foot tapping angrily on the ground. If Sukuna didn’t have any self control, his lips would’ve been planted on yours right now.

“You said you’d bring me to the gym to watch your practice match and then forgot to tell me when your match was!”

You were lucky to have Uraume’s number and contacted them to get to the gym yourself.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll make it up-“

“Hey, nice to see you.” Toji sauntered around you, interrupting Sukuna. “This creep giving you any trouble?” Toji sneered with his hands on his hips.

“Yes, in fact, he promised that I could watch today’s match but didn’t even bother picking me up.” You complained to Toji, who was towering above you.

Sukuna could practically see Toji’s blood rush to his ears. The man was smitten and it irritated him to see that.

“Toji, get the fuck out of here. We’re having a private conversation.”

“She literally aired your dirty laundry in front of me, man. There was no privacy to begin with.” You let out a small laugh at Toji’s response and he proudly beamed in your direction.

Sukuna was going to further defend himself, stating that it was a conversation between best friends but Coach Yaga was quick to swoop in with smacks to both the boxers’ heads to resume their match.

The men went towards the ring, ducking under the ropes as they entered. Sukuna needed your eyes on him no matter what. So he did what he thought was best- take his compression tank off.

His chest gleamed with sweat as he threw the piece of clothing out the ring. The tank accidentally landed on Uraume’s face and their body began to shudder in anger. You grimaced at the sight as you used your pointer finger and thumb to pluck off the sweaty garment from their head.

Sukuna’s face turned red out of embarrassment

“Sorry, dude.” Great, he was supposed to look sexy but he ended up making a fool of himself.

“You know what? keep fighting like a little kid. I wanna make sure I win in front of the pretty lady before I ask her out.” Toji whispered in Sukuna’s ear before he wore his mouth guard.

The tattooed man was seething. There were so many emotions affecting him at the same time- anger, jealousy, sadness, and insecurity.

But then all of that was erased when he saw you intently looking at him while you stood next to an irritated Uraume. Not to mention, you were still holding his sweaty compression tank like it wasn’t something that would disgust any other person.

Sukuna wasn’t feeling as defeated as anymore. In fact, there was a new surge of energy in him when he saw you standing outside the ring with hopeful eyes.

He had an advantage over Toji because right now, the one you were rooting for was him. Not his green eyed opponent.

You were here to see him win. You were here to see your man- okay, best friend who’s a man, win.

And he wasn’t going to disappoint you.

Coach Yaga blew his whistle and both men began walking in circles, eyes staring into one another’s to predict their opponent’s next move.

Sukuna remembered to always wait for the opponent to make the first blow so he could dodge them. This way, he’d be able to expend their energy and use their one second of being distracted to his advantage.

Toji did exactly as he predicted and he countered his punch with a hit to his chin. You gasped and Sukuna could see you smile in his peripheral view (maybe he was imagining it but whatever. To him, you were smiling while he punched Toji).

Toji growled as his body moved backwards but he got back into position quickly and charged at Sukuna with a punch but Sukuna crossed his arms to dodge the blow. He wanted to hit but needed an in somehow. He began to think long and hard as he dodged Toji’s incoming punches.

His eyes momentarily landed on you and he couldn’t help but think about Toji kissing you after your date, his non-tattooed, muscular arms wrapped around your waist. Your breasts pushed against his chest as you gasped for air.

He imagined Toji taking you home, sleeping in the same bed as you. Patting your head as you fall asleep.

Sukuna could not let that happen. As selfish as he was, he could not let his sparring mate take away the one thing that mattered most in his life- you.

He landed punch after punch to Toji’s ribs and you excitedly clapped at the sight. The sound of your hands only further fueled Sukuna’s fury as he continued to batter Toji.

The fight went on for a quite a while, neither fighter giving in to losing. But by now, Toji had been punched the most and was beginning to lose his balance.

Coach Yaga’s shrill whistle squeaked and the match stopped before Toji could be rendered immobile. You wanted to feel bad for the man when you saw all the bruises on his face and body but you could help but smile when you looked at Sukuna. He wasn’t smiling but the look on his face showed he was satisfied.

Sukuna turned to find you smiling and he mirrored your expression.

Yeah, there was no way he was going to let you go. He was going to win every fight against Toji whether if it was in ring or for your heart.

-•-

I’m just adding lore to Sukuna and Toji’s rivalry in both boxing and pursuing the reader.

[darnell-la]

can we get some nsfw of logan heavily infantilizing reader? i know he's a mean mean man and i want him to make us cry 🥺 just wanna be doted on but also fucked like a beast

note: Logan is a very nasty individual in this story. He’s degrading, calls the reader out of her name many times, fucks rough, is manipulative, possessive, and more…

having Logan Howlett claim you are one of the best-given things that could happen.

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

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“You’re so fuckin’ childish, y/n, do you know that!? So fuckin’ childish!” Logan shouted at the girl as he placed her into his passenger seat. The man slammed the door in her face before walking around to the car.

Y/m scoffed as she crossed her arms, knowing she was wrong for what she’d done tonight, but at least she had fun.

Logan treats y/n like she has no idea what the world is like. Wade speaks to him, telling him he should take it easy because is his friend. Not Logan’s.

“Well, if I’m gonna stay in an apartment with two kids, I expect them to have manners and respect. If not, then I’m out of here,” Logan threatened a few months ago when he first got here.

Y/n had come home drunk out of her mind at three in the morning after Logan and Wade had been worried all night.

Her phone had died. She explained that to them, and Wade understood, but when she came through that door smiling, laughing, and giggling with the friend who dropped her off, it triggered Logan.

“I know pay the bills, and the apartment is his, but I’ll kick you the fuck out, kid,” Logan threatened as he got into the car and started it up, ready to get home and rest without stressing about y/n.

“I’m a grown woman, Logan. If I wanna go out and get drunk with my friends, I can!” Y/n turned towards the man just to yell before turning back towards the door, looking out of the window.

“What kinda fun is that, y/n? You’re a college student, you’ve got classes in the afternoon, you need to study, but instead, you’re out almost every weekend, pissy drunk and begging for a man to touch you,”

“What!? I don’t even go out with men! I reject them all,” y/n said, confused about why he even cared about her getting with anyone.

“Sure you don’t. Every time I pick you up or you walk through that door, you’re dressed sluttier. Every fucking time!” Logan yelled, hands groping the wheel as he drove through the city to head home.

“At this point, you’re just stressing yourself out. Let me live my life like I let you, okay? Fuck!” Y/n complained.

“So slutting around is living life now? God, you kids are fucking dumb,” Logan shook his head. “I don’t slut around!” Y/n basically screamed at the man.

“Lower your fucking tone when you talk to me, young lady!” Logan looked her way. The anger in his voice made her back up, trying to keep a straight face, but it was hard.

“Always fuckin’ yellin'. Can you ever shut the fuck up for once? Just do better in life and shut the fuck up — Grow up! Because you’re a-fucking-nnoying,” the man got out.

Y/n looked out of the window in silence, holding back her tears as the man continued.

“Be a fuckin’ lady, and respect yourself for once. For once!” He hit the wheel, making the girl jump. “Respect me!” The man hit the wheel again, but harder.

Y/n wiped a tear from her cheek quickly so he wouldn’t notice, but he did. Once he did, the man laughed to himself. “Unbelievable,” the man shook his head, disappointed in her.

“You can yell at me, but when I start yellin’ and tellin’ you what you look like, you start carrying. Fucking pathetic. Seriously!”

Logan didn’t mean to hurt the girl's feelings. He was just angry. He hated seeing her out and doing things he didn’t want her to do. Why can’t she just listen to him? Why does she need other people to make her happy when she has Wade and him at home.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Y/n wouldn’t sniff here and there, but low so she wouldn’t start Logan up again. She was embarrassed and disappointed in herself.

Right as Logan parked the car, y/n pulled on the handle to get out, but he had locked the door before she could.

“Looks y/n-“ Logan went to say, but y/n cut him off. “Let me out,” y/n said with a stern voice. “Y/n, just hear me out-“ he tried to say again. “Let me out!” She yelled, not even looking at the man.

“Hey!” Logan reached for her arm and grabbed it tightly. Y/n tried yanking herself away, but he was stronger. “Let me go!” Y/n yelled, only angering the man further. He had become obvious to the strength he had.

“Ow, Logan!” Y/n shouted at the man, but all he did was grip harder. “Stay still, y/n!” Logan demanded. “You're hurting me!” She finally said as tears streamed from her eyes.

The way she looked at the man in pain, not just from his grip, but more so from his words. Looking into his eyes, he realized he had gone too far.

“Y/n,” Logan said low as she fought the man, slapping his hand, but he wouldn’t let go. He only loosened his grip. “Let me go!” She could barely yell, only cry.

Logan shifted his body and lifted his other hand to cup her cheek. When he did, she tried shaking her head to get him off, but it wouldn’t leave.

“Please!” She cried, but Logan didn’t let her leave. All he did was let her arm go, only to push her seat back and hover over her quickly, the other hand still on her cheek.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Logan said, but she couldn’t stop. She sobbed as she weakly slapped Logan’s body, telling him to leave her alone, but that was the last thing he was going to do.

“Baby, look at him — It’s okay, just look at me,” Logan said as he placed the other hand on her other cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m sorry, y/n, okay? I’m sorry,” Logan spoke. That was when y/n cried harder with no words. “Aw, baby,” Logan said, trying to wipe her tears away, but they kept rolling.

“All I wanted was for you to be safe, baby. That it. It’s dangerous out here. You can’t just be goin’ out every night, looking the way you do. You just can’t,” Logan said.

“If you wanna drink, we got it at the house. You know that. No more goin’ out, and you won’t look like this anymore,” he said, hoping to manipulate her into staying in the house, and in his sight.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Logan said and kept repeating until she ducked in her cries. It took her a while, but she managed.

“Please understand that I want you safe, y/n. Do you understand that?” Logan asked. Y/n slowly nodded her head with a sniff, making him smile slightly.

“That’s it, baby. All I want is for my baby to be safe — No more goin’ out after tonight. Maybe with me, but I have to be by your side. It’s too dangerous,” he said.

“B-But my friends,” y/n sniffed. “They’ll be fine, baby. They love you and will understand. You want me to trust you and not be stressed out, right? You want me to be? I’m gettin’ old, and ion needa be stressin’ about my girl,” Logan said.

Y/n nodded her head, halfway understanding what he wanted, but not fully. She didn’t ask though. She just knew by the way he always acted that he wanted her in sight and safe with no funny business.

“Good, baby, good,” Logan said, looking into the girl's eyes as she looked back up at him, eyes bloody and eyelashes batting.

“You’re too pretty to be seen without me, baby, and you know that, don’t you? Don’t you, baby?” Logan asked, making her nod again.

“That's right, and you're sorry for disobeying me, right?” He asked. The way he spoke to her, made her feel like she’s actually done something wrong.

“S-Sorry,” she said low. A groan slipped past the man’s lips at her words and voice. She was too sweet to believe she was real.

“Ah huh, and are you gonna show me just how sorry you are?” He asked. Y/n surprisingly nodded quickly, wanting him to know that she meant nothing personal by the way she lived.

“Good girl — Now turn around for me,” Logan said. Her mind wasn’t honking straight, but she did as told, apologizing for her body rubbing on his as she did so. “It’s okay, baby - You’re all good,”

“I’m just a little angry, and you understand that, right? It’s acceptable to why I am, right, baby?” He asked her, making her him with a nod.

“Ah huh, and you’re gonna help me relax, right, baby?” He asked and she repeated what she had done before, but more shaky. “That right,”

Logan began unbuckling his belt, watching the girl underneath him shiver from how drunk she was, the cold air coming through the cracked window, her crying session, and the confusion of this situation.

“Never listenin’ to me, baby. I don’t like that,” Logan said before giving y/n a hard slap on her ass that was covered in her tight thin dress. A whine had slipped from her mouth, only making the man groan.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna bring all this anger right out on and into you, baby,” Logan said as he pulled himself out. “And guess what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna lay here, and take it like the disrespectful little slut you are,”

Y/n whined at his words, feeling shitty for not being respectful towards the older man, but she’ll soon understand to listen.

“Every time I pick you up or watch you walk through those doors, you’re fuckin’ soaked. I just know you’re out and about, waiting for some random man to offer his cock,”

“I know you’re whore enough to take it too, now ain’t you?” Logan asked. “N-No,” y/n shook her head with a whine as he pulled her dress up, revealing her dark wet patch.

“Sure you’re not, baby. You know the drunk sluts always say that, right? Until they’re caught being stuffed and fucked in some bar bathroom,”

Y/n whined again at his comment about what he thought of her as his fingers hooked around her pants. The man pulled his fingers back, causing the panties to rip perfectly.

“You wanna be treated like some dirty slut at the bar?” Logan asked as he put his cock in his hand. “No,” y/n truly spoke, but he didn’t believe her.

The man grabbed a handful of her hair and then pushed her head into the seat. “Are you sure, baby? Because you’re gonna spreading in my passenger seat just like them club whores,”

Before y/n could say anything, the man laughed into her, forcing his huge length through her walls, knowing she would barely be able to take him.

“Logan!” Y/n cried out loud, voice crazy as she gripped and clawed at the seats. “Nah uh, you shut the fuck up!” Logan spat through his teeth as he leaned over and into the girl's ear.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, I know you want this. You always do. Comin’ back from the fuckin’ bar all soaked and full of attitude. I just know you rub that shit in my face,”

“I fuckin’ know you come through those doors wanting me to fuck your drunk ass through my mattress,” the man snapped his hips hard.

“Oh yeah? Can't take it?” Logan asked as the young girl cried in pain and pleasure. “S-Sorry, sorry,” she quickly whined as she back arched.

“No, you’re fucking not. You’re only sayin’ it now because I’m fucking this cunt dumb,” Logan growled in the girl's ear as he tugged on her hair.

“Slutty fuckin’ cunt - Grippin’ me like she ain’t been fucked in the club already,” Logan said, making the girl shake her head.

“N-No,” she managed to say. “Oh yeah? You’re tellin’ me no man has been in this cunt at the club? Fuckin’ you silly in the bathroom as you pass out from the liquor?” Logan asked.

He had already known the answer, but he was angry. He wanted to get everything out. If he could smell how wet she was every weekend, he could smell a man on her, and thankfully for her, he never has.

“N-No,” y/n whined as she came around him without warning. He hadn’t cared that she soaked his leather seats. All he cared about was how could he could fuck he’d. Maybe if he fucked he’d be good enough, she wouldn’t dare leave the apartment again.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. You don’t let another man touch you. Never!” He pounded, knowing the wind out of her with every thrust.

“I swear, if you do, baby, ima kill him. Ima fuckin’ kill him then lock your ass in my room,” Logan threatened, only making y/n moan.

“My fuckin’ cunt — Mine! All fuckin’ mine and you know it. You’ve been known it, Bub, and because you wanted to play games, I’m gonna teach you what the fuck happens when you do,”

Logan took the seatbelt to the car and tied it around her wrist after pulling them man. The man soon continued his anger by slamming into her until she cried, begging him to stop.

He was rough, but y/n knew deep down that she deserved it. She was disrespectful and didn’t listen to him. He should get what he wants.

“You're mine, right, baby? All mine to use like those I want at the bar and club?” Logan asked as y/n could barely keep herself conscious. “Y-Yes,” was all she could get out.

“That’s my girl,”

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 30 - Apology Sex]

Pairing: service switch!Yoongi x switch f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Vampires!AU, Magic!AU

Kinks: he kneels for her & crawls to her, foot & leg worship, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m.receiving), strength kink, sex on a piano, vaginal fingering, he wants to kiss her but gets denied so harddd, Kook makes a non-sexual appearance bahahah, healthy communication, loving aftercare

Wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: you really said "what if OC gets jealous because of Fringella?" and to that i say"what then?" 🤪

You don’t know why exactly you are at his wing after what he did, but here you are. The chandelier illuminates the music room while the rest of his wing is dark. The curtains behind you are pulled closed, deforming the melodies you are playing. 

They come easy to you tonight, leaving your fingers angrily because this is exactly how you were feeling. 

Angry.

Angry at the music, angry at this room and angry at Yoongi. You and he were supposed to go out tonight, but he cancelled last minute to meet Fringella instead. Bear in mind, the meeting is strictly business according to him, but it still pisses you off. Out of all the people on this earth, he stands you up for Fringella, the biggest Bitch in the universe. And that says a lot because you normally refrain from calling other women this word. It fits her however. If you could, you would change the word “bitch” to her name and it would practically be the same thing. Not only is she heartless, mean and rude, she is also one of his old lovers. Granted, it was a long time ago and he was a different person back then, but Fringella still likes to rub it in whenever she sees you that Yoongi was able to be entirely himself with her, vampire gluttony and all. And that he will always have to hold back with you.

Oh lord, how you hate this bitch. 

Your fingers slam down on the keys, the candles on the piano flicker angrily as you let the emotion flow through you. 

The longer you think about it, the angrier you get, forcing the music to cut the air in fury. 

You like to consider yourself not a jealous lover. Of course you have your moments, like any person has, but generally you aren’t a jealous lover. When it comes to Yoongi and Fringella, however, you are the most jealous person to ever exist. In your imagination, they are currently having the most intense vampire sex ever. In your imagination, he tells her how she “really gets him”. In your imagination, he kisses her afterwards and calls her beautiful. 

“Urgh, this is stupid”, you growl, hitting the keys with your hand. 

The piano complains in shrill, loud sounds. 

“What did the poor piano do to you?”

You lift your eyes to the person standing in the doorway. 

Yoongi, still dressed in his leather jacket and jeans, is leaning against it with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You changed out of your dress.”

“Don’t talk to me”, you hiss, looking away. You begin playing again, doing so loudly and with anger. 

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat.

“Geez, sorry. I didn’t know that I was on the naughty list too.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You’re the one in my wing. You can always leave.” 

His pissy tone hurts. Granted, you were the one who started it but he was supposed to be asking questions not throw the anger back at you. The jealousy and insecurity you were feeling all night is suddenly unbearable. 

You end the song abruptly, meeting his eyes. He furrows his brows at the sight of your tears. You stand up and stomp to him, only to swerve right past him.

“Hey”, he says, voice soft and worried. He grabs your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day and I let it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies”, you spit and slip out of his hold to leave his wing. 

Yoongi flinches as you slam the door closed, listening to your angry stomps become quieter and quieter. Another door slams closed and then he decides not to listen in any longer. 

“What the fuck just happened?” he murmurs to himself, feeling completely and utterly lost. 

Yoongi spends the next hour coming up with what could have pissed you off to such levels. Once he thinks that he figured it out, he instantly runs to where he can hear you. 

The piano in the main sitting room. The one where you and he had this very intense moment years ago before he told you his life story and realised that he was in love with you. 

Jungkook is in the room with you when Yoongi enters. He is drawing, lifting his head at the smell of him. He gives him a sweet eye smile.

“Hey, hyungie.” 

You mess up for a second but catch yourself quickly. You aren’t looking at Yoongi, which he knows that you are doing on purpose.

“Bub, can you leave the room for a second?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. 

“Uh…”

“No. He stays”, you grumble.

Jungkook blinks in confusion, looking between you and Yoongi. He can smell the anger and tension between you and him, wondering what the hell is happening.

“Leave, please bub.”

“No. Stay.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he is a cheater.”

Yoongi furrows his brows. You frown.

“You know what? I think I just heard, uhm, Tae call for me. Uh. I’m coming, mon cher!” Jungkook says and flees the scene quickly. 

The door closes. It is just you and Yoongi. 

“So I’m a cheater now?”

“How else would you call someone who stands up his girlfriend to meet with his psycho ex instead?” 

“Let me think about it for a second. Oh yeah, innocent. I had no choice.”

“Yeah sure. You just wanted to see her. Be honest.”

“I would take an hour of someone repeatedly scooping out my eyeballs over willingly seeing Fringella. Trust me, ___.”

“It still hurts me, Yoongi.” 

“I can see that.”

“Good. You’re supposed to see it.”

Yoongi tongues his cheek.

“Where did you leave her, mhm?” You challenged him. “After you fu-”

“Don’t finish this sentence.” He interrupts you, darkening his eyes.

You scowl at him. Yoongi frowns at you. 

In the end, you are the one to break eye contact. You lower them to the piano, beginning to play again. Yoongi takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Look. I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight. I really wanted to go on this date with you. I wouldn’t have cancelled it if her issue wasn’t important”, he says in a normal voice.

“Fringella’s stuff should never be important enough for you to cancel on me.”

“Agreed. Except this was vampire stuff, not Fringella stuff. Someone is illegally turning people in Geneva. Stuff like that endangers our existence and puts humans at risk. And given how I’m the only Creator alive, taking care of shit like that falls back on me.” 

You give up with a sigh. The play stops again. You meet his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I know it was important. I just hate that it had to be Fringella.”

“Guess who does too?” he says and scoffs.

You meet his eyes. He softens his gaze.

“Look, princess. I’m here now and I only want you”, he says, walking to you.

“Prove it.”

He stops and stares.

“What?” 

“Prove it. I don’t believe you.”

Yoongi sees the sparkle of excitement in your eyes. He knows what that means. He wants to make it happen for you. 

He falls to his knees right where he stands just so he could crawl to you on all fours. 

You watch it happen with an increasing pulse. Yoongi crawls under the piano to get to you, looking up at you once he does. 

“I knew I was in love with you in this room”, he whispers and lowers his head to your feet to kiss them.

“Wait. Really?” you gasp. This is news to you, making you weak both emotionally and physically. 

“Yes. I knew I loved you.” He kisses your instep. “Knew I would do anything for you.” He kisses your ankles. “Knew that I would set the whole world on fire for you.” He kisses your calves. “You made me feel again, my love.” He kisses your knees, fingers pushing up the sleeping gown you are currently wearing. “Three thousand years of not giving a shit and you made me wanna fucking feel again.” 

He kisses your inner thighs, sucking tender spots of his adoration where you are the most sensitive. You smell like home between your legs. Sitting by the piano and wearing a long dress really warmed you up tonight. Yoongi feels droop,  trapped under your dress and with your soft thighs under his lips. 

“You made me wanna be myself again, princess beloved”, he whispers and connects his mouth with your heat. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi”, you gasp, curling into yourself and grabbing his head over the dress.

He flicks his tongue. 

You tremble, resting your stomach on his head at the sudden pleasure he makes you feel. It forces your pussy to slip back on the chair and therefore make it impossible for him to taste you.

Yoongi slips his head from your dress, not daring to lick his wet lips in case it would remove your sweetness from them. Now that he got a taste of you, he can’t get enough. Having you on his lips is the only way to have heaven and Yoongi would be damned to take this away. 

“Do you not want me to serve you, my princess?” he asks and right now this nickname carries a different meaning to it. When he whispers it in such a way, it feels as if he was your humble servant and you were his royal highness. His eyes show his religious and submissive devotion as well, gazing at you. 

“I, I don’t know. I didn’t expect this”, you stutter. “You, you just told me the moment you realised you love me.”

“I should have done it sooner. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I”, you cup his face, “fuck Yoongi, now I really want you to eat me out.” 

“Me too. Please.”

You nod your head, scooting to the edge of the chair. Yoongi helps you with the last inches, pulling you against his tongue by your hips. 

He groans deliciously, pressing the flat of his hands against your lower back. 

“So good, holy fuck”, his voice tickles you, his tongue replaces it instantly. 

“This is. So nice, actually. Wow”, you get out, following it up with a moan. You put your hand on his hidden head, petting it as best as your strength allows you. 

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. There aren’t many things which feel as good as Yoongi does. Especially right now, after he confessed such a romantic thing to you.

You think back to That night. It was storming and it was icy outside. You and he fought at first until you kissed his cheek and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He kneeled for you as well back then, eating your pussy while your back was pressed against the window. He was so gluttonous back then, deeply obsessed with your taste. Thinking that it was because he realised that he loved you, makes this memory so much sweeter. 

Yoongi isn’t as gluttonous tonight. He is more calculated, knowing which spots to pay attention to because he knows you these days. He knows how to get you to sigh, how to get you to gasp and how to get you to moan. He knows the spots which don’t really do it for you and the spots which instantly get you wetter. He knows all these things because he loves you. Only you. It will always be you. 

“It’s you, my love.” He kisses your petals and swollen clit. “There’s no one else for me.” He shows you his honesty by wiggling his tongue through your folds only to end it by sucking on your clit gently. Not for long, you should feel a quick bold of electricity, nothing more. 

When you gasp and tense, he lets go of your clit again to repeat the paths of his tongue. Down through your petals and to your entrance. He tilts your hips for it, lowering himself so he is looking up at you.

Like this, he buries his tongue inside you. He moans louder than you, drooling down his chin. Your pussy makes him salivate, it always will. He didn’t know what true pleasure tastes like until he got That first taste of you. 

You are heaven. A heaven he eagerly explores with his long tongue. You moan loudly, rolling your head back. Your toes curl on the carpet, back arching sensually. His tongue is so thick, so long and wet. Because of his nature as a Gluttonous Ripper, it can grow. You can feel him in the deepest parts of you, loving and adoring you. 

“I love this so much”, you choke out, pushing him closer. 

Yoongi lets you gladly, growling deeply when his nose brushes against your clit. He inhales like an addict, feeling his head pound. His black veins grow down his face, behind his closed lids his eyes become demonic. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry”, he breaks away. 

“No. Whyyyy?” you mewl. You roll your head to the front groggily, meeting his eyes. “Yoongi, your eyes.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m selfish, it felt like feeding and, and I didn’t I-”

You silence him by grabbing his chin, bending down so he can taste your words.

“So you’re telling me that you would rather stop this than show me that you’re mine?” 

“No. Sorry”, he whispers, gazing up at you. When he is looking at you like that, you wouldn’t even think that his eyes are currently red and black like those of a monster. He looks like a devoted little puppy so ready to obey its owner. 

“Then get back between my legs and feast on me.” 

“Can I do it better?”

“Whatever helps your case.” 

“I love you, ___. It will never change.” 

You brush your thumb over his black veins, whispering your words.

“I know, Min Yoongi. I love you too.” 

He leans in for a kiss, but you deny him. He mewls softly, gazing longingly. You, however, never grant him his wish, straightening your back. 

You part your legs.

“Go ahead.” 

Yoongi gets to his feet and picks you up. 

“Oh? What are you doing?” 

“Making it better for you”, he says and tries to kiss you again.

You however stop him with a finger against his lips. It moves them around a little, giving you glimpses of his fangs. They look so cute to you right now. 

“Fuck, this is the worst thing you can do to me”, he presses out.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it”, you tease, scrunching your nose. 

“I already said I’m sorry.”

“I believe you. But you promised me proof.” You move closer. 

Yoongi moans softly, chasing your kiss. 

“This is your proof”, you whisper, moving back before your lips can touch.

“Fuck, this is driving me mad.” 

“Good.” You snicker and ruffle his hair at the nape of his neck. “You were trying to give me an orgasm.”

“Right. Fuck, princess. I’m going insane because of you.” 

He lifts you atop the piano and lies you down carefully. Your legs naturally open for him. You pull your dress up and over your butt so you are completely exposed to him. The piano feels cold against your butt and it’s a nice feeling to experience.

“My goddess”, Yoongi whispers, caressing your inner thighs gently. Yoongi doesn’t believe in gods or higher beings, so this nickname means a lot coming from him.

“I feel so empty, Yoongi. Hurry up”, you try not to beg, but it’s difficult not to. He makes you crave his touch.

Yoongi listens well and claims the emptiness between your legs by burying two of his long fingers in your warmth. His hand is turned to the side in this position, allowing the pads of his fingers to rub against the side of your walls. With fingers like his’, the way they enter you doesn’t matter a lot. They are long and thick enough to completely fill you, no matter the angle. 

Tonight it makes you arch your back and moan his name. 

“Do you like this?” he asks, watching his fingers pump into you. You make them so wet. He drools because of it, feeling his head pound. He craves you. How he does.

“I love it. Ahmmm”, you encourage him, writhing sensually. 

Yoongi remembers when he built this piano. It was a difficult year for him, lonely and full of guilt, and building the piano was the only joy he felt. To think that one day he will have the love of his eternal life writhing on it because he pleasures her just right, feels like an acid trip to him. 

“You’re a dream. This is a dream. Holy fuck, my love”, he gets out and kisses your warmth. You might deny him the taste of your lips, but he won’t be denied this taste. He kisses you with a dizzy head, licking his fingers each time he pulls out. 

You can feel whenever he licks his fingers clean. His tongue grinds against your clit when he does and it feels so good. 

“Don’t stop.” 

“Never. I couldn’t. Mhhhm princess…”

He connects his tongue with your clit completely, grinding the flat of it against you. He purrs into you, picking up a quick and deep rhythm with his fingers. 

“Oh! Wow! Ah!” you yelp up, body trembling in blissed shock. A groan of his name and an arch of your back follows. 

Yoongi moans with you, furrowing his brows in pleasure. This is it. You are currently existing for nothing but the bliss he makes you feel. He feels high from pride. He doesn’t need his cock to drive you wild. He knows exactly what he has to do with his hands to fulfill your every need. 

“Holy moly, this feels so good. What the fuck”, you croak out, reaching down to hold whatever you can grab first. 

It is his other hand, once dug deep into your thigh possessively, you manage to pull it away from you. He intertwines his fingers with you, giving you a loving squeeze as his other hand makes passionate love to your dripping pussy. 

“Yoongi. Yoongi, oh god, Yoongi”, you moan, allowing your legs to shake against your will. It is the only right way to handle how he fingers you. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve a hymn of their own. If somebody would dare you to describe what his hands meant to you, they would regret it because you would not be able to shut up. Not only are they beautiful and sexy, they are also makers of so many of your favourite memories. Holding hands, intertwining fingers when dancing, feeling his loving touch when you’re half asleep, feeling his grip when you are lost in shared pleasure are just a few of the things they are so good at. Cooking for you, creating for you, making music, nourishing your plants and using them to fight for good are just a few of the other things. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve their own hymn, for everything they do and especially for the way they finger you.

“Feels so good. Yoongi, your fingers, ah!”

Yoongi buries them deeper, twisting his hand in circular motions to give you a taste of them. You writhe and shake on the piano, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

You like it. Yoongi growls because of it, drooling all over you which is perfect because it means that his fingers slip so much easier. 

“Yoongi, oh god.”

“I fucking love how you say my name”, he lulls, giving you electric pleasure one deep thrust at a time. “and gotta love your pussy too, princess. Such a sweet, warm pussy. Makes me drunk on you, princess love…”

Any kind of insecurity, jealousy or anxiety you felt tonight is gone from your system. As is your anger. Yoongi’s good like that, he fucks you well like that, know you best like that. The proof of his devotion is at the tip of his long fingers, the proof of his love sits on his warm tongue. And right now he is loving you mighty well, fucking wet pleasure out of you and slurping it up hungrily.

“Yoongi-i-i”, you sob, grabbing his hair to twist it, “I’m really close, o-oh god.”

“Whenever you need to, princess.” 

You grab his hair and push him closer, rolling your hips against his face. 

Yoongi lets you, moaning blissfully. There is nothing better to him than you using his face to make yourself orgasm. He might need to write a song about it, call it something nasty because it would make you wet. He loves when you’re wet, especially when you’re wet on his face. 

“Ah, Yoongi. Oh god”, you moan and pant, smothering him in your warmth. The fingers in his hair hurt. He likes it, squeezing your other hand softly. He keeps his fingers deep inside you, letting you use them as your beloved dildo. You deserve it. You’re so perfect when you ride his fingers like that.

“Shit. It’s- now!” 

You begin throbbing around him, pushing his mouth against your pulsing clit. You mewl and keen. Yoongi picks up the rhythm you lost as your body tenses up, fingering your convulsing walls quickly all while his dripping tongue flicks against your clit in a fast rhythm. 

The consequences are inescapable. You squirt on his face, wailing his name because it feels so good when he makes you squirt. Like, so good.

He makes you feel so good in fact that you need to pull him away after your orgasm. You can’t take another one. Not for a while. 

Yoongi mewls and purrs softly, stilling his hunger for more by kissing and licking your thighs. He gets you so messy, making you sigh as you recover. 

You sit up once you feel ready, denying him of your thighs. Yoongi however is delirious, stilling his gluttony by kissing and licking your neck instead. He has to get on his tiptoes for it because you are taller than him on the piano. His strong arms are around your waist as tightly as possible, his hands are holding you possessively, his chest is pressed against yours. 

“Please don’t doubt my love for you, please. I love you so much”, he chokes out the words, sniffling against your neck.

“I love you too”, you hug him against your chest. Fingers deep in his hair. “I’m not doubting your love for me. I hope you know that.”

Yoongi sinks into your chest with a deep sigh. The kind which releases him of his long day. He mewls quietly, nuzzling like a kitten needy for love.

“Are you alright, my love? Honest answer. I know the F word is kinda a lot to handle.” 

“I’m alright now. Just glad to be with you.” 

“I’m glad to be with you too, Boongie.” 

He lifts his head, resting his chin in your boobs. He flutters his lashes at you and pouts.

“Can I please have that kiss now?” he pleads, making cute puppy eyes at you.

“Do you think you deserve it?” you tease, booping his cute nose adoringly. 

“I made you squirt?” he almost asks his argument for why he deserves it, fluttering his lashes again.

You laugh, “fine. You won me over. Come and kiss me like you missed me.”

“Oh, I did. I missed you”, Yoongi says and picks you off the piano to pull you into his beloved kiss. 

[temporarywelcome]

Turkey - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2k

Summary: JJ's son, Henry, loves his Uncle Spencer and Spencer's girlfriend, so JJ invites the two over for some holiday crafts.

WARNINGS: some swearing? mostly just fluffyness

A/N: technically a continuation of my little "Smooth Criminal" series though this can 100% be read standalone. If you want to know why Girls' Generation is mentioned, perhaps read "Babysitting", tho you really don't need to

____

Look, she didn’t hate kids.

She just didn’t like them.

Y/N didn’t hate Henry, but she wasn’t exactly a fan either.

Spencer adored the kid to bits, being his godfather, and as Spencer’s girlfriend, Y/N saw Henry quite often. She had won JJ over, another member of the BAU that was able to look past her sketchy past as a kleptomaniac. All that was left was Rossi. 

Winning JJ over wasn’t as easy as Garcia, Morgan, or Prentiss. Hell, Y/N found getting on Hotch’s good side to be easier. She helped with a few cases using her knowledge from her life of thievery, helping them catch a few unsubs. Hotch didn’t mind her.

But with JJ? It took multiple days of babysitting. 

And Y/N didn’t like kids.

But it paid off in the end, she could assume. 

November had just arrived, and Spencer being the holiday fanatic he was, had their shared apartment decked for the season.

This was the most orange she had seen in a while. 

This was their first November living together, so she let him have his fun, just like for October. Being the sucker she was, anything he wanted, she let happen.

But this time it was JJ who had a request for her. Well, both her and Spencer.

Like most days Spencer wasn't out on a case, Y/N had driven off to the FBI building's parking garage, sitting in her usual parking space to pick him up. She was exhausted from her own responsibilities at the theatre, busy at rehearsal for hours. 

She was reviewing her lines, because she always took work home with her, tired and cranky as hell. She already knew Spencer was probably going to be equally tired and cranky as hell, and he was always annoying as fuck when he was, well, tired and cranky as hell. 

Noticing Spencer approaching from the rearview mirror, Y/N grinned. She was already excited to just go home and cuddle in bed with her man. Her smile faded when she saw JJ walking next to him. Not like she had a thing against JJ, she just wanted to be in bed already. 

Spencer slid into his designated seat in the front, but he didn’t close the door, “JJ has a proposition for us,” 

“Does it involve a bubble bath and wine and then my nice warm bed?” Y/N deadpanned. 

JJ, who was standing to the left of Spencer, answered, “Unfortunately no. However, Henry really wanted to do some holiday crafts with his Uncle Spencer this weekend but also wanted you to be there too, Y/N,”

She paused, shocked, “Me? Henry wants to do some holiday crafts with me?”

“Yes, he really likes you,” JJ replied, “And it would mean a lot to Henry and Will and I if you came.” 

“Er,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, “I don’t see why not,”

Spencer’s eyes brightened, “Really?” he expected her to make up some lame excuse not to go, pleasantly surprised now. “Great! I-”

“Alright, g’bye, JJ,” Y/N grumbled, reaching over Spencer and closing his door, “Sorry, I’m exhausted and ready to bite someone’s head off,”

“That someone is going to be me,” Spencer sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Oh, please, you’re always getting pissy with me when you’re tired-”

“Okay but you get pissy even when you’re not tired-”

“So we’re lying now? Okay, fine-”

“You two have fun,” JJ muttered, leaving them to their bickering. 

It was like that for the whole car ride, which led to Y/N and Spencer grumbling to themselves and dramatically stalking off to separate rooms. Within minutes, they both felt like shit. And so Spencer scurried to run her a bath with those bubbles she wanted, and when he went to get her a glass of wine, he found her in the kitchen, making him a late-night snack. 

They made eye contact, very well aware of what the other was doing. Y/N spoke first.

“You’re so fucking annoying when you’re tired, y’know?”

“So are you.” he shot back with a huff. 

“Yeah, but you let all your crankiness pile up until you’re in my vicinity to let it all out on me,” she explained, still chopping up some fruits as she spoke, “At least I take out all my anger equally onto everyone,” 

“How nice,” he rolled his eyes, “...I ran you a bath,”

“I made you a snack,” she held up a bowl of freshly cut fruits, his favorite kinds. He slowly took it.

“...I love you.”

“Love you too, fucking pain,” she said dryly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before walking off for her bath, smirking slightly. That was usually how their arguments went. 

___

On Saturday, Y/N and Spencer arrived at JJ’s place at around noon. JJ was the one who answered the door, but before she could even greet them, Henry pushed past her.

“Y/N! Uncle Spencer!” He exclaimed. He was known for being extremely… loud. “You're here!”

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer grins, hugging back as Henry ran at him, “Of course we’re here,”

Once Henry was tired of Spencer’s hug he jumped on Y/N next. She choked, eyes widening before awkwardly patting the kid’s back. It was funny. She was usually the affectionate one and Spencer shied away from physical touch. But with kids, Spencer was always giving them love while Y/N was ready to jump out a window to get away. 

“Guess what, Y/N?!” Henry said in his usual annoyingly loud tone, “I’m going to be in a Thanksgiving play at my school!” 

When Spencer and Y/N had babysat Henry for the first time, Henry was a monster, and Spencer got overstimulated within the first hour. So Y/N had kept Henry distracted with her usual fix of Girls’ Generation and then put him on MTV for a while. Y/N had a career in the arts, and from what JJ has said, it seemed like Henry was becoming interested in it too. 

“Oh, really?” she asked, ruffling his hair, “I did a few when I was in elementary school,”

Henry’s eyes lit up, “REALLY?! I’m just like you!” he then skipped off inside of JJ’s home. Y/N debated running off into the street. 

“He really looks up to you,” JJ grumbled, clearly in a Don’t Mess This Up way. 

“Me? B-But I’ve only seen him a few times,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck, suddenly feeling this responsibility (that she did not even want). 

“Well, you made an impression on him,” JJ replied, “Now come on in. Will just made some lunch,”  At the word lunch, Y/N was off inside the house and Spencer went to follow, JJ stopping him, “Did you two have the talk yet?”

His brows furrowed, “Like sexual education-?”

“No,” she couldn’t help but laugh, “The whole kids thing…”

Oh. That. 

During that one babysitting adventure, Spencer had admitted to his girlfriend he had wanted kids, but didn’t think he would be a good dad. She had assured him, saying she was sure he would be a great dad and even said as a mom she would definitely pull as much of the weight as she could. 

But she doesn’t even want to be a mom.

She only said those things to calm him down.

They had agreed to discuss the whole kids thing after, something they probably should have done before they got serious with each other. But never did. He was terrified, and he was sure she was too. 

So they never did. 

“No,” he looked down, fiddling with his fingers, “We have not,” 

JJ sighed, “Reid.” Here we go. “You two have to talk about this.” 

“I know,”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“I just…” he shrugged, still not making eye contact, “I don’t want to lose her,”

“Spencer, if you guys have different wants, no matter what happens, you’re going to end up resenting each other,” 

She was right, and he knew that. He knew that if they didn’t have any kids he would probably start to resent Y/N, and if they did have kids, Y/N would probably start to resent him and the children, which he wouldn’t be able to bear. 

But he won’t be able to bear losing her either. 

“I know, I know… I’ll talk to her about it, promise,” 

“No you won’t,” JJ shook her head with a sigh, and with that, she let him in.

____

“I can feel you lookin’ at me, I know what you see. Any closer and you feel the heat,” Y/N and Henry were singing obnoxiously as they cut up little turkey body parts for a little arts and crafts project, sitting together at the kid's table.  

Spencer, JJ, and Will were seated at the “adult” table, occasionally giving each other glances as they watched the scene unfold before them. The way both Y/N and Henry looked equally concentrated on their turkeys as they cut the paper, brows furrowed with tongues sticking out in determination. 

“For someone who doesn’t like kids,” JJ mused, “She’s good with them,”

“Yeah, because she’s like one,” Spencer scoffed, sipping at his coffee, “That’s like her third turkey,” 

“He still hasn’t had the ‘kids’ talk with her yet,” JJ told Will, who tutted in disappointment. 

“Do you gossip about me?” Spencer’s mouth dropped. 

“A bit,” 

“Wow,” 

“To be fair, it was Garcia who told him about it,”

Spencer rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle, “Of course it was her. She blows up everything in my relationship,”

“She does it with love,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

“GIRLS GENERATION MAKE YOU FEEL THE HEAT-”

“-I hope it works out,” Will said, always the earnest one (also ignoring the practical karaoke in the living room), “I feel she’s good for you-”

“-AND WE’RE DOIN’ IT, WE CAN’T BE BEAT-”

“-Yeah, you need some fun in your life-,” JJ agreed with a grin. 

“-B-BRING THE BOYS OUT-”

“-Sometimes it makes me want to scoop my brain out of my skull via my nostrils,” Spencer grumbled, wincing at the loud yell-singing, “I have to deal with this pretty much every day-”

“-WE’RE BORN TO WIN, BETTER TELL ALL-” The singing suddenly stopped, and a child plus an overgrown child scampered on over, showing off their turkeys. 

“Look, Mommy!” Henry shoved one into JJ’s face, “It’s you!”

JJ surveyed the turkey with the colored in blonde hair with a smile, “Aw, it’s beautiful-” she paused, “...why does it look angry?”

“You get angry a lot,”

Will immediately covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. 

“And I did you too, Daddy!” Henry handed Will his turkey.

“Why is his smiling?” JJ grumbled before laughing softly, petting her son’s hair. 

“Because he smiles a lot,” Ah, kids with their zero filter. 

“Look,” Y/N slapped down her turkey onto the table in front of Spencer, eyes bright like the overgrown child she was. 

Spencer looked down at the turkey and grinned, already knowing exactly who it was.

“It’s you, pretty boy,” she said proudly, doing jazz hands like the theatre freak she was. 

The turkey was definitely him, with a silly hairstyle colored in and some glasses, accompanied by a sweater vest. 

“Why does my turkey have no pants on?” he asked like some art critic.

“Because it’s a turkey, I bet pants would be uncomfortable.”

“But glasses wouldn’t be?”

“The turkey won’t be able to see without glasses!” 

He laughed, looking down at the turkey again. He complained a lot, he was well aware of it, however, there was nothing in this world that could make him dislike the woman in front of him. 

And so he pulled her down, not bothering to stand, planting a kiss to her lips. 

“EWWWWW!” Henry gasped, covering his eyes, “What are you DOING?!”

When Spencer pulled his lips away, Y/N smirked, “You should totally make a turkey of me now,”

___

song is "The Boys" by Girls' Generation

[fourmoony]

Just thinking about Sirius trusting reader enough to do his hair :,) or maybe she experiments with putting his hair in curlers/curling it. I could even imagine Sirius owning a Dyson airwrap to have the best blowouts 😭💀

Sirius would 100000% own the dyson air wrap!!! Thanks for requesting, babe!

cw: none

750 words, modern au

You're not sure where Sirius learned his money managing skills from (or if he even has any), but the pleased smile and child-like excitement over his brand new hair dryer is something you refuse to admonish. Though, you're sure even if you tried, you'd fail.

Your boyfriend bounces happily on the balls of his feet, hair sopping wet and plastered to his face. Water droplets seep into his grey shirt but Sirius doesn't seem to care. Not when he's too busy making bedroom eyes at the unopened box on the bathroom counter. He'd been so happy when John Lewis finally had the Dyson Air Wrap back in stock, had dragged you out of bed this morning to drop an easy five hundred quid on it. Your head had spun with the realisation of just how rich your boyfriend actually is.

He's not flashy with his money. Irresponsible, yes. But being there to witness a classic Sirius-Black-Irresponsible-Purchase had really solidified the knowledge that your boyfriend is filthy rich.

"Okay, I'll grab a stool and you set it up." He says, turning to make for the stool that sits under your dressing table.

"Wait, you want me to do it?" You yell after him.

Sirius makes noise everywhere he goes. He's loud and abrasive, jagged around the edges. He loves so loud that it only makes sense his entire personality is the same. There's thumps and grumbles as he bumps into things all the way along the hall, the tell tale sounds of the stool scraping along your freshly painted hallway. "Well who else would do it?" Sirius rounds the corner, flashes his teeth in a wide grin that he knows will make you fold.

"What makes you think I'm qualified?"

Sirius shrugs, "The fact that I'm one hundred percent not. You're good at everything, sweetness."

He knows flattery works like a charm, especially when he pairs it with his best flirty eyes. You sigh, reaching for the box and unravelling all of the corresponding pieces. It's high tech, incredibly high tech. Sirius fidgets on the stool as you watch a video on your phone, lips curled between your teeth in concentration.

It takes a while to get the hang of, and you're sure you'll get better in time. Sirius softens and relaxes as much as he ever allows himself to as your fingers work through his hair, as you brush and comb and dry it. He hums and sighs and even closes his eyes. It's peaceful and intimate and it allows you to come to a startling realisation that Sirius has never asked you to do his hair for him before.

He's not prissy about his hair. He'll let anyone touch it. He actually begs for people to play with his hair. But he's never outright asked you to fix it up for him, prefers to get it sitting perfect by himself because he believes it to be his best asset. You'd have to disagree with him on that. His eyes never fail to amaze you, nor his smile.

"All done." Your voice seems to pull him out of a daydream.

His eyes open and he smiles wide, turning in the stool in an instant until he can take your hands in his. "Bad news, sweetheart, you're going to have to do this every day." He informs you, standing until his hands can reach your hips.

He pulls you into him, a little roughly, but catches you with his own body, lips ducking down to press to your forehead. You resist the urge to tell him you'd be happy to do his hair every day, if only to feel the intimacy and pride of being the one person he trusts to style his hair.

"Such a travesty." You feign indifference, lips pressed to his collar bone where it peeks out of his shirt.

Sirius shivers at the contact. "Easy, sweetness. I know my hair is super hot and stuff, but we have dinner reservations with James and Remus. They'll get pissy if we cancel to have sex."

"Again." He adds after a second.

You scoff, pushing your boyfriend away whilst he barks with laughter. Heat creeps up your neck as you exit the bathroom, ignoring Sirius' shouts down the hallway that he could make an exception for a quickie.

"Thanks, baby!" He calls a moment later.

You can't fight the smile that toys at your lips as you pick out an outfit for dinner.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

I’m sorry but can you write more stuff about Vox being a gaslighter? I’m actually obsessed with your analysis

Thaaanks I'm obsessed about them too~ 🩵❤️

So, Vox is like the ultimate gaslighter. Manipulation and brainwashing? That's his whole freaking business plan. I mean, come on, the Voxtek slogan is "Trust Us," and somehow, people actually do.

Oh, let's talk about Voxtek - he's the worst, most manipulative boss ever. He's always pulling stuff like withholding essential information for a task someone's supposed to do, then publicly blaming them for screwing up. And he's sneaky about it too, acting all concerned and disappointed instead of just yelling. It makes people feel useless and insecure, so they bust their butts trying to please him and win back their colleagues' respect, never daring to stand up for themselves. Plus, he's a pro at keeping relationships between higher-up managers tense and distrustful by spreading rumors and creating a competitive vibe. And don't get me started on how he's a total hypocrite - Voxtek, like every other company, preaches its values and missions to create this fake sense of safety and purpose, but then he goes and acts against them or lets someone else do so. It leaves people feeling confused and helpless because they can't play the game when the rules keep changing. Let me tell you, Satan might work hard, but Voxtek's HR department works even harder.

And manipulating people on a personal level? Way too easy for him. People who don't know him well enough think he's some kind of genius (bless their hearts), so they give him way too much credibility. It's crucial for him to be seen as competent because that's how he stays in control. That's why he loves to question the competence of his business partners (Not to be that guy, but those numbers don't look great. Are you sure you can handle this? I don't want to waste my money.) or Valentino (Babe, I've got this. We both know you're not great with financial planning.). Thought hardly ever works on Velvette because she's got zero bullshit tolerance.

Now, when it comes to Valentino, Vox has zero remorse about gaslighting him. To him, gaslighting isn't even violence; it's just a way of handling things, all neat and effective. Why bother yelling and arguing when he can just manipulate Val into agreeing with him? It's like what we saw in episode 2. And even when Val has every right to be angry because Vox acted like a jerk, Vox tends to devaluate his emotions (I don't have time to deal with another temper tantrum, Val; You're always so pissy, why can't you just chill?) or tries to make him doubt his own reality (Maybe you'd remember it better if you weren't high all the time.). He hates arguing with Val, but also is unable to admit that he's wrong, so in his mind, undermining Val's ability to call him out on his bad behavior is a way of keeping their relationship healthy. But it's risky because sometimes Val sees through his manipulations, especially when they're about his feelings, and then things get even messier.

I like to think they trust each other when it comes to serious stuff, like protecting each other from outside dangers, but at the same time, it's like Mr. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss is married to Mr. Manipulate Mansplain Manwhore - you never know if he's being genuinely nice or if he's trying to get you to do something.

[machveil]

i dont even LIKE cod and youve got me hooked on konig. god. the hcs with him and his siblings/family are SO GOOD its got my cuteness aggression acting up, i need to headbutt him so gently/sweetly about it. ngl im an older sibling so i would 110% enable his siblings on silly shit like baby pictures, no hard feelings to him but like, lsiten, im honor bound. its bro code but for older siblings or whatever (silly). just watching him wrassle with his sister or get into a cartoon dust cloud with the lot of his siblings and sighing so dreamily about it. my big strong goofy goober 💞💞

love to hear it, I’ve had, like, five people tell me I changed them with König and isn’t that the dream? haha

König is so embarrassed over his baby photos, honestly, you’d get secondhand embarrassment watching him get pissy over it. he will wrestle baby photos away from his siblings - if it weren’t for his mother being sentimental he’d burn them, no joke. there are photos of him eating grass in there, him in the sink for a makeshift bath, oh god, just stuff he wished would go away

I briefly talked about it in this post, but König definitely had an emo/metal phase - it was so bad (to him) he did get rid of a majority of the photos (mama König somehow has a couple stashed away - he always thinks he’s destroyed them all but then she whips out another one). his older sister, the usual suspect, is such an ass about bringing it up. if she really wants to piss König off she’ll play a song from when he was a teen, it always sends him into a frenzy. his older brothers usually don’t pick on him, that said, if his sister brings up his emo phase his eldest brother will also mouth off about it

to his credit, König’s second eldest brother is close to a saint, keeps to himself, is considerate and friendly. König’s second eldest brother is usually hanging around König when he’s home - both of them idly lounging in silence doing their own thing. they’re both mama’s boys, everyone knows, immediate family, neighbors, colleagues, it’s blatantly obvious. and, their sweet mama who could do no wrong, sort of takes advantage of that. they’re both big boys, her darling, strong sons who come running when she calls… yeah, when they’re both home she has them help her around the house - they’d never complain, they’re more than happy to help their mama fix appliances and cook meals

and then there’s their dad. yeah, generally fathers command respect, but papa König? he clears his throat and all his kids freeze - it doesn’t matter if they were laughing, fighting, or just sitting, suddenly they’re at attention. he’s not a bad parent, he just has… a general aura that says ‘large and in charge’, strikes the fear of god into people when he stands up straight and glares at you. he’s larger than life, his father isn’t the tallest in the family, the eldest son is, but König’s dad is still 6’11”/~210cm. he looks like a hardass, and he sort of is, but generally he’s easy going! papa König just has some major resting bitch face, rugged with prominent crow’s feet (mama König is absolutely smitten with him, he’s her big strong bear)

[brunetttebaby]

ellie being a cutesy lil sub🎀

after a looonng day of patrol, all she wants to do is decompress. thankfully, you’re there for her. you lay between her legs, lapping at her sopping cunt while your fingers move in and out of her.

“fuuuckkk. i needed this. was thinking about it all damn day.” she’d moan out, her head falling back.

she was a sight to behold. her hair disheveled, clothes that were lazily discarded of around her. a hand gripping the sheets, the other playing with her nipple.

you loved to watch her unravel:(( it was so cute!

“fuck, baby. i’m gonna come…” she exclaimed, feeling your fingers slow. “wha- what are you doing?” she’d look down at you, a mischievous look on your face.

“not gonna be that easy, els. you know that by now.” so cruel of you!:(

hours of teasing and she was getting pouty, wanting release. “cmon els, you can wait a little longer. love seeing you all pissy like this.” you’d tease, your tongue moving in and out of her exhausted hole, so tired of your relentless teasing.

“ughh, i need it baby. pleasepleaseplease!!” she’d whine as you began to move your fingers faster.

“aw, okay. since you asked soo nicely. come for me.” you said with a eye roll, curling your fingers perfectly, feeling her clench around you.

“that’s itttt, baby. surely you can give me a few more, hm?”

[qu0rky]

The day people on Tiktok learn about media literacy is the day i can finally rest, but alas they have not, guess what bullshit they’re on about today!

I saw an edit of the I.M.P. customer from Sinsmas, so far so good, then i open the comment section, and am suddenly reminded that people are stupid.

“She kinda had a point” no tf she didn’t😭😭 What are you on about, genuinely?? You can enjoy a villainous character who’s clearly a bad person without having to make up excuses for their shitty behavior.

The woman is violently homophobic, she made plenty of jabs about gay people in that short conversation, and claimed her husband “probably cheated” but it was so clear to me that she got pissy because he divorced her and then got with a man, and she already had preconceived notions about homosexuals.

I’m convinced they watched the episode with their eyes closed, because a person legit said “oh but she said nothing about hating gay people”. Maybe if you’re straight, it might’ve gone over your head, but she said, verbatim, “He doesn’t deserve to live this heinous lifestyle and poison my daughters with it” clearly referring to him being gay😭

Her husband did not cheat, she just hates gay people, but Stolas is still in that self-hatred mode which is just heightened by the lack of medication for god knows how long, which is why he took it to heart. And people on Tiktok love the narrative that they (as in Stolitz) cheated and somehow that’s the worst moral thing they’ve done in the show, must i remind you that they kill people??

For the last fucking time, whether or not what Stolas did counts as cheating, Stella did not give a shit. Had he done it with a (female) Goetia, she would’ve probably only cared about taking a slight hit on her reputation, but since not only did he do it with a man, but with an IMP at that, she felt embarrassed because she only cares about her social status. Easy as that. She said it herself.

They were never in love, Stolas was never straight, and never pretended to be. Do y’all not remember EP1S2 which legit establishes the fact that they were arranged?? And that Stella is an abusive piece of shit? So regardless, she gets no sympathy from me for being “cheated on”, since the cruelty started way before Stolas and Blitz met again.

No, they couldn’t have divorced earlier, Stolas only gained enough confidence to go through with it and finally stand up for himself AFTER and BECAUSE of Blitz. Also he most likely wanted Via to reach 18, but as we all saw he couldn’t sustain these lies anymore at the end of that episode. And while the divorce made him free, there’s still consequences, especially with the custody, so tell me a way he could’ve escaped this nightmare without being “morally incorrect”. Perhaps death. Would you have preferred that? After all, the only perfect victim is a dead one.

[ohbo-ohno]

If I chant noncon puppy play enough times will you grace us with more ghoap x reader noncon puppy play?

I would really love to see what you could do with Ghost coming across Soap and reader who are in a relationship but it’s rapidly becoming toxic with Soap becoming pervy and flirty with other people and reader being frustrated with it and the unsatisfying sex she’s having now because of it. And Ghost just takes one look and goes “yeah, I can make them happier” and then puts them in crates.

I like to think he’d put them in separate crates so they can’t actually touch each other but he’d make sure they were tied together so they couldn’t escape each other -💙

if you THINK noncon puppy play hard enough i'll probably feel it through the force and try to write it

also i fucking LOVE this ask and concept i love you for sending it in. this post is kinda scatterbrained though because i didn't want to write an actual drabble lol

im not a big fan of cheating in fics so im gonna exclude the idea of soap flirting with other people, but!!! i really really enjoy the idea of soap and reader being wrapped up in a toxic relationship and ghost going "let me get in on that". peak humor tbh.

i think this version of ghost would be sort of like howling and barking ghost - way more... subtle? puppy play. he's not taking you two home and shoving you in cages, he's getting you two conditioned to certain tones of voice and his whistles.

this is kinda difficult to come up for something with, because im trying to think of ways for ghost to slide himself into your relationship that even feel a tiny bit natural

my fave one (off the top of my head) is maybe you and johnny have been trying to pick up a third like every weekend to spice up your sex lives (you end up having near violent sex and arguing through the third person, and they're usually not down to hook up again) and one weekend you just so happen to ask ghost. he'd usually never take up an offer like that, but he sees the little fissures in your relationship pretty immediately and figures "what the hell?" might as well wreak a little havoc. unfortunately for him he gets far too attached as soon as he gets his hands on you two

i like to think he sort of just... becomes your third. at first it's just hookups (regularly, because you and johnny are fighting a lot recently and you love to do it with a third there instead of alone in your apartment and ghost never says no a threesome) but he pretty quickly establishes himself in your lives

from there, the training is easy. you and johnny are both fighting for power in your relationship, and you're too focused on your little game of tug-of-war to realize that ghost is swooping in and taking control of both of you instead. you're too busy working against each other to realize what he's doing to you

to be fair, he actually is helping you and johnny out quite a bit. you two are both hotheads with a lot of energy, fights happen very quickly and get very heated. ghost is there to step in, to knock the two of you on your asses and make you talk. you would not believe how often he sticks you in time-out, otherwise you two would say things you don't mean and end up pissy

he kinda literally talks to you two like you're dogs. a sharp "hey!" for bad behavior, scruffing one of you by the neck to hold you back, whistling to get your attention instead of saying your name, one word commands like "sit", "stay", and "come" instead of "wait a minute" or "come over here". pups need simple commands they can actually understand

he works on fixing your manners too :/

first step is to get you two waiting for permission to start dinner. sits down at the table and glares when either one of you eats before him, clears his throat all obnoxiously, does that horrible "thank you" when you drop your utensil. it's too awkward to push back against him (especially when you know how quickly he could stomp you down) and it's easier to just... listen. you get a pleased hum and a solid pet over your hair, a "good boy/girl" and the trade-off of waiting for permission to eat is worth it

(ghost places both yours and johnny's plate in front of you, smirks when he walks away and neither of you move to eat. fixes himself a plate, sits down, takes a few bites. neither of you move, you both get a little squirmy, huff a bit. he gives you the command word, and praises you both so good in bed that night. neither of you even notice that he's the only one at the table with utensils)

he sleeps between the two of you in bed because you both get jealous and possessive :/ wakes up to johnny snarling over his chest at you, grabs him by the jaw and hisses don't make me fuckin' muzzle you, rumbles all satisfied when johnny settles a bit

anyways you and johnny genuinely are happier with ghost <3 you're also more well-mannered and understanding of your positions!!! you're just a pup, pups shouldn't have an attitude, and they wait to eat until they're told, and sometimes they have to sleep in a crate when they've been bad :/

(when he crates one of you he has to crate the other. if he locks johnny up you spend the whole time trying to taunt him, and vice versa. also you two are more well-behaved when you know you both get in trouble for your misbehavior)

it took a bit of work to get you two used to the crates. really ghost fights you with the pure power of nonchalance. you're both already Attached, and he's in control of so much of your lives (more than either of you really know), and he treats the crates like they're normal. Expected. he's not someone who changes his mind, and both you and johnny know that. you can pitch as much of a fit as you want, but you're going in that crate no matter what. there's just... a sort of inevitability around ghost

[darnell-la]

hi, omfg you’re writing is AMAZING, i’m loving all your logan fics, you’re really talented, the depraved side of me wouldn’t rest if i didn’t ask - can we please get more of a “forced creampie” breeding kink?

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘'𝗦 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥

note: Logan is very dark and pervy in this story. passiveness always gets the best of him when it comes to y/n and other boys he knows aren’t good for her.

———

“I don’t understand you, kid,” Logan spoke as soon as y/n slipped her shoes off. The young girl jumped at his presence, thinking he would be knocked out like he usually is at this hour.

“Logan,” y/n said low, eyes widened and heart pumping. She told Wade she wouldn’t sneak out tonight, but she did. She thought it would be easy since he was sleeping over Vanessa’s house tonight, but apparently, it wasn’t.

“Been waitin’ here for hours. You promised you’d stay in, and look at you. Dressed like that and pissy drunk,” the man said as he pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning on.

“You’re unbelievable, y/n,” the man seemed more upset than she thought he would be if he were to catch her. “I-I’m sorry — I was just out with a few friends, that’s all. Nothing bad happened tonight,” she assured the man, but he didn’t care.

“Nothin’ bad, huh? Then why do I smell him on you?” Logan asked, confusing y/n. Who was him? “Excuse me?” She asked, trying to be as polite as she could, but that all went over Logan’s head.

“Whoever you were all on tonight. I can smell him. Did he fuck you? Kiss you? Touch you?” Logan continued to ask as he got closer to Y/n’s frozen figure. She had almost forgotten about his enhanced smell.

“H-He’s just a friend, and we didn’t have sex. We only made out. M-Maybe he, uh, he touched me, but that’s all,” y/n knew she didn’t have to tell Logan or Wade anything about her life, but she was living here for free.

“And that’s why you’re all worked up now, huh? Couldn’t get you to finish?” The man asked now inches in front of her. The way his dark eyes looked down at her soft ones, send shifters d through her body.

“I-I really don’t want to talk to you about this, Logan. It’s inappropriate,” Y/n said as she moved to walk past him, but he moved in her way to stop her.

“You think you can sneak out without consequences, princess?” The tall man asked as his hands softly gripped her waist. “You think it’s fine to be all on another man, then come back to a man’s house? You think that’s respectful?”

“L-Logan, I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to have a little bit of fun tonight,” y/n said as her hands touched both of his wrists, trying to pull him away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Could’ve just asked me for some fun, Bub, and you know that,” the man had tightened his grip on the girl, telling her to stop her attempt to push him away, because it wasn’t happening. Especially after what she's done.

“Logan, I think I should go to bed,” y/n, the one whose mind shouldn’t be functioning right because of how much liquor she had, said.

Logan’s behavior was something she never expected. He didn’t either, but thinking about how another boy touched her, made him realize he needed to act fast.

He wanted to start off slow, maybe take her on dates and buy her gifts, but tonight was unexpected. He wasn’t going to let it go.

The strong man picked y/n off of her feet and made his way to the nearest couch. “What are you going?” Y/n asked, confused about how Logan was reacting to her sneaking out.

“Gonna make this quick and easy so you’ll understand,” Logan’s voice sounded deep to y/n as he roamed her body. She didn’t get what was happening at first until he lifted her tight dress over her ass.

“Hey!” Y/n tried to speak out, but her voice sounded low and whiny. The alcohol hadn’t kicked hard until now. Now she felt like she couldn’t speak or move.

“Can’t get all whiny when you caused this, Bub. Ain’t a good look on ya,” Logan told her as the room filled with the sound of his belt coming off and his jeans unzipping.

“L-Logan, what are you doing?” Y/n asked, upset that she was acting this way. She could scream at him, or fight to get from under him, but she chose not to. She chose to be good, and let the man do what he needed to do.

“I think you know, princess,” the man’s voice rang throughout her head as he pulled himself out, cock dropping at how heavy and painfully hard he was. He always is around her, but tonight was different. Tonight, he needed to feed it.

“C’mon, Bub, stop the whining. Seriously. Gonna get me all riled up. I’d like to last at least a few minutes,” Logan complained as he pulled y/n’s soaked panties to the side.

“Now that’s a fucking pretty site. Fuck, kid,” Logan wiped two fingers in between her folds to get a feel of the juice she had been hiding from him for so long.

“Hey you’re sweet,” the man said, and before you/n could say anything, she heard the noises of him sucking on his own fingers with a groan. “Fuckin’ is,” he confirmed before grabbing a hand full of his cock.

“L-Lo,” y/n didn’t know what to say but felt uncomfortable not saying anything. She’s basically inviting the man to use her. She didn’t know what came over her tonight, but the alcohol helped her understand how much her body wanted and needed this.

“Ssh, Bub — Gonna fill you up, then we can go to bed, mkay? I won’t even tell Wade about your silly acts,” Logan said before he pushed at her entrance, causing her hole to instantly tighten.

“C’mon, y/n — Don’t give me a hard time,” the man said as he continued pushing until he got past and through her folds. A shaky moan fell from y/n’s lips as she felt her lower stomach ache.

“So goddamn right,” Logan grunted as he pushed further to get himself all the way in her. “T-Too much — Too much!” Y/n cried out, but he kept pushing until he was fully inside of her.

Y/n could barely breathe, scared that she would hurt herself, but the way he pulled back just to slam back in, forced the breath out of her body.

“Fuck,” Logan’s hands gripped the side of her ass as he used that to move her into his rhythm. The sight of her juice coating his cock every time he slipped back into her, made his cock twitch. She was driving him crazy and had barely done anything.

“You’ve gotta stay away from those boys, baby. I don’t like you around them,” Logan spoke to the young lady like he was her father. “Don’t want me to go crazy, right? You wanna keep me calm, right?”

Logan forced Y/n’s legs a bit wider so he could push her further. Y/n reacted by lifting her upper body to endure the slight pain, but he forced her face back down onto the long part of the couch that stood up.

“Stop the fighting, Bub, this has to be done. It has too. I can’t have you out there anymore. Even Wade is worried for you. We need you safe,” Logan's pace sped up, making y/n choke on her moans.

“Too much,” y/n cried as her walls clenched around him. “Oh, but it’s not, baby. It’s just enough, and you’re gonna take more of me. So much more. You’re gonna be full,”

Those words triggered y/n’s head, slightly scaring her at the fact he could cum in her. He didn’t put a condom on. She’s just now realizing he never planned to in the first place.

“L-Logan, no — Pull out,” y/n begged the man as she tried pushing her body up and moving away from him, but he was too strong. The man pushed her face further into the couch as his other hand stayed on her ass, tightening his grip.

“P-Please, Logan,” y/n cried, hoping he’d listen, but that small part of her liked how dark he could get. He was constantly angry, and sometimes, she liked when he’d lash out at her. This was a different kind of lash-out, but that small present in her made her closer to her own orgasm.

“Nah uh — You’re gonna take it,” Logan threatened through his teeth as he pounded her. “Can’t go out half naked and come back to me, thinkin’ I’d let it slide. I’ll show you how I let things slide, kid,”

Logan lifted his right leg and planted his foot right neck to her knee that was on the seat of the couch. “Gonna show you exactly how I treat little brat like you,” a hand came down onto y/n’s ass before he began slamming down into her.

Y/n cried out, moaning loud and cranky as she finally released around him. Holding herself back was impossible in this new position and the new pace he had going on for her.

“Mhm hm — That’s it — Just like that,” Logan growled through his teeth as he spread one of her ass cheeks to get a better view of his cock violating her cunt. The juice splashing everywhere could make him go insane, but he wanted to take it easy on her tonight.

“Gonna keep sneaking out? Gonna keep kissin’ on your friends and being a whore!?” Logan slightly tugged on her hair as he leaned down to breathe heavily into her ear. “Are you!?” The shouted.

“No! No!” She cried, making him chuckle as he leaned back. “That's what I thought,” the man felt cocky, knowing she stood no chance when it came to pissing him off. Wade would’ve definitely let this slide. That’s why Logan’s here though — To put her in her place.

“Gonna cum, baby,” the man spoke, making the going lady sob, but she had no idea why. Maybe the feeling of being dominated made her feel pathetic, but deep down she liked the claim.

“Oh, yeah,” Logan growled, thrust stuttering as he spread her ass cheeks even further so he could get all of him in. “Ah huh- Fuck!” Logan groaned one last time before he began spilling inside of the weak girl.

Y/n whined at the feeling of his seed coating and filling her walls. He leaks beyond more than a regular human, and she realized that as plenty leaked out of her cunt and down her legs.

“That’s my good girl,” Logan kept his hands on her head, pushing her down as the other rubbed her ass, slapping slightly to see a little jiggle.

“Gonna keep this good girl filled so she won’t have to touch on little boys anymore,”

[itsallmouthwashing]

Band AU bullet points / slight timeline of events

This IS an AU, and they’re MY barbies I can make them kiss when I WANT /silly

Here are general bullet points for the Band AU with a slight timeline of events. Reblogs are so appreciated :)

If I write out a scene that's here I'll link the post and reblog this post as a sort of master list? Maybe? I'll figure it out. Also here's the playlist for the AU :)

Cw: mentions of parent death, implied neglect, drug abuse, assault, ooc characters

A little context---

Band Name: Tulpar

Record Label: Pony Express Records

Genre: Rock and Metal 

Canon divergence note: Anya does get assaulted, but by her boyfriend instead of Jimmy. I don’t really have a character set up for the boyfriend yet, but I wanted to keep that as an element of her story 

Curly on guitar and vocals, Jimmy on guitar and scream vocals, Anya on bass and fills for drums, Daisuke on drums and synth/keyboard, fills for bass sometimes when he’s feeling confident and Anya wants to switch it up

Swansea is their manager right before they go pro and remains their manager when they sign with P.E Records! He is the one the band has to impress with their new songs. If he doesn’t like it, it doesn't get used 

Curly and Jimmy formed Tulpar in their junior year of high school. Originally it was going to remain the two of them(Curly was learning drums), but the two clicked with Anya and Daisuke almost immediately during senior year (they were both transfer students). 

It for sure took convincing for Jimmy to let them join the band. He made them ‘prove’ they were ‘worthy of finding a place in their art’

They totally fucking blew him away (Curly was a little smug about it after Jimmy conceded.)

Jimmy does bond with Dai and Anya over the years

Dai is the one to propose they go pro. His parents have lots of connections in Hollywood and production, so it’d be easy to find someone willing to listen to them and give them a chance on the billboards

Jimmy gets a little pissy about this (he’s huge into actually working for things in life and hates the idea of using connections to get his success) and storms off without saying anything (normally he’d be dragged out of the room screaming. He’s been working on his temper since senior year. Curly literally slapped it into him that the world isn't highschool and he needs to change the way he acts around people if he wants to retain friendships)

But Jimmy’s mom dies. His dad can't take the grief and follows her into the afterlife. Jimmy breaks down and he’s lashing out at every turn

The rest of the crew take it for months and months, with Curly explaining that Jimmy's really going through a lot and should be patient. He would talk to him later if he hasn't calmed down in a few days

But it just gets worse over the days 

Jimmy is constantly putting down the rest of his bandmates but mostly targets Anya as she is the most insecure of the group and finds it easier to spit poison at

One day she visits Curly to discuss this (Salt and Mouthwash scene here)

Jimmy ends up apologizing but it takes time for things to return to normal for all of them

Dai brings in Swansea, a music critic for them to workshop songs with

He goes full manager mode, disapproving of songs the crew thought for sure he’d love and approving ones they were really on the fence about

Insert training montage here

Swansea eventually brings them in front of P.E Records execs

After a brutal five week waiting period, Tulpar officially signs with Pony Express records

To celebrate, the crew goes out clubbing. Anya hooks up with a girl for the first time. Lesbain shenanigans ensue in the bathroom. Jimmy and Curly get a little too drunk. Daisuke pukes outside of the car (and tries really hard to not puke inside the car. He fails.) 

Sleepover at Curly’s house (they all forgot they had exams in the morning and Curly’s house is right next to the campus.) Jimmy gets flirty and lonely when he’s drunk and through the heightened emotional states of it all, he goes in for a kiss

Daisuke stumbles into Curly’s room thinking it’s the bathroom. Almost pukes on the carpet like an ill cat. 

They startle apart and when Curly comes back from leading Dai to the bathroom Jimmy is already asleep (he’s a little faker- he’s just embarrassed)

Exams go like shit the next morning and everyone is too stressed to go back out and get their cars so it’s a week-long study session at Curly’s while everyone crams

Song writing breaks that become too frequent. Swansea suddenly appears to oversee the studying (Dai’s parents sent him over to check on him, but he finds a reason to stay and supervise. Writing breaks become nonexistent) and he actually helps everyone with studying. He’s the one to propose flash cards and Anya hs to scream into a pillow because why didn't she think of that sooner? Then again when she realizes She did, but her flashcards were in her car. Which was at the bar. Which was an hour away because they’re all idiots. 

Swansea and Curly get her car for her and convince her to take a break from her own material while they’re out (Dai just asks her to help him with studying.)

Jimmy like a fucking DOG keeps himself from begging to go with them, but Swansea says “I’ve known how to drive longer than your daddy’s been shooting into socks. Anya’s car will be safe with me, kiddo,” and pushes Curly out the door lmao

On the way, Swans and Curly have a little heart-to-heart and Swans reveals he’s been family friends with Dai’s parents for years and they’re actually large shareholders of the record company. 

Curly doesn't care, not really, but he feels his stomach drop and his heart drown in fire. Jimmy could never find out about this. He can hardly keep the radio on during his solo drive back

When they arrive back at Curly’s, Dai and Anya are passed out on the couch while Jimmy sits wide awake at the dining-room table. Swansea sees no reason to stick around (“I went to the club for the first time in twenty years, Grant. I need to get home and sleep it off.”) and dips. 

Exams go a little better, but on the last day Anya gets pulled over on her shame-stop to Burger King. She has a panic attack during the stop and it gives her the idea to write HAMMS IN A GLASS. She’s caught humming it and tapping on the coffee table one day while Swansea is over discussing logistics or whatever with Curly. He full stops their conversation, tells Anya to polish it and have it to him by the end of the week (“Motherfucker I might not have a degree if I think about anything other than my tests and where the fucking rotator cuffs are, PLEASE”), and then LEAVES (“Guess I’ll find what our budget will be after you’re finished…”)

She tries to workshop it with Dai between classes (he’s in an engineering course, but their buildings are pretty close together)(Ive only taken online college classes please) but Dai is becoming increasingly unavailable. She turns to her boyfriend. The night they work on it, he gives her a drink to help her relax from all the stress she’s been under

But he takes advantage of her that night. When she realizes what he’s done she flees to Curly’s house. Her boyfriend follows her, accusing her of cheating when she gets to the door and Curly is there to catch her. 

Curly tries hard to deescalate the situation, but when Jimmy catches wind of what’s happening at the door he makes his appearance (anya had no idea why he was there (gay reasons) but grateful for the surprise help). Jimmy punches his FUCKING lights out (“I didnt do it for you, Anya. That guy was pissing me off. So I took care of it… Now he won’t mess with either of us, alright?”). Everyone thinks it’s a little hot, even the guy getting punched (hey, everyones having a gay awakening this evening, huh?)

Anya stays the night, thwarting Jimmy’s plans to dick Curly down sexual style at last. 

[saintone]

Lately, I've been thinking a fic idea, but I don't think I'll carry it to life cause I don't have the time. But here it is.

Warning: it's sad. And it's Bingjiu.

What if, by some chance, Shen Jiu fell in the Abyss while he was Wu Yanzi's disciple. And, in thid Au, Shen Yuan also exists. So Luo Binghe falls into the abyss, and runs into his Shizun's look-alike, only considerably jumpy and much mire bitchy. And Shen Jiu runs into the first human-like creature in years. So, they decide to get together and try and leave the hell hole.

Luo Binghe is not as cruel as Bingge, but he just got betrayed by Shen Yuan, his dear Shizun, and he feels he can no longer trust cultivator sects and their righterous path. Shen Jiu is Shen Jiu, so he was never much righterous to begin with. Cue to Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe, both betrayed by the ones they loved and deeply flawed, grow close.

Even before finding Xin Mo, he's often doing, well, Luo Binghe shit and satiatying his need with demonesses. Shen Jiu blatantly refuses every advance: he'll only sleep with the man he marries. An issue arises, though, when Lbg gets cursed with a sex pollen like plant. Shen Jiu saves his life, only after forcing Lbg to promise him that he'll never leave his side. And Lbg, who's grown increadibly fond with this man who's as beautiful as his Shizun, but as wretched as he himself is, accepts.

Lbg and Shen Jiu escape the Abyss, and Binghe becomes demon emperor, making Shen Jiu his wife.

Once they leave the abyss, Lbg gets Shen Jiu to a hostel room, and sets him in a bed. Then, he places a pair of shoes in his battered up feet. Shen Jiu, orphan, then slave, then rogue demon cultivator, had never in his life worn shoes before.

Shen Jiu never cultivated in this life, so he's extreamely weak, almost human like, and his nasty actitude makes it easy for others to hate him. This was never an issue for them-until Lbg has a court, and an empire tu rule, and a pissy empress to protect.

Shit hits the fan when the sects hear about the new emperor, and invite him for a meeting. Luo Binghe is wierdly eager, Shen Jiu notices.

He is, of course, eager to see his Shizun. But he also wishes for Shen Jiu to reunite with, who probably is, his only lasting family member, maybe a long lost brother.

However an unexpected party appears at the meeting, ans that is Qiu Haitang. The woman accuses the Demon Empress for having murdered her entire family. And Shen Jiu, poor street kid with no education, doesn't react properly.

And if that were not enough, Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan was no other than his long lost childhood best friend.

Meanwhile, Luo Binghe seems distracted and distant, much more focused on the relationship with the sects than if what's happening inside his court.

The one who doesn't miss the chance if visiting, though, is Yue Qingyuan. It is from him that Sj learns about Shen Yuan, his he's probably his brother, and that he was Lbg's máster. Yqy tries to convide Xiao Jiu that Lbg isn't a good guy, that he wasn't good while he was in rhe sect, and that he has an eerie obsession with his máster, Shen Yuan.

However, Shen Jiu isn't willing to listen.

The sects demand that only giving Qiu Haitang her family back will serve as compensation, and that Lbg must take her as concubine. This is a plot from Hua Huan Palace to gain power. Qiu Haitang enters the palace, even if she isn't married yet.

Shen Jiu doesn't like it one bit. With the help of Ling Guan Jun, he plotes the murder of Qiu Haitang. The attempt fails, though, and Luo Binghe is furious: all his efforts in protecting Sj go down the drain.

He places Sj in house arrest, as he tries to appase the cultivation world. Sj is furious.

Why is Lbg treating him as if he was in the wrong? Why was what he had been doing all the time they were in the Abyss suddenly useless?

It is then that Shen Yuan comes to visit. Lbg allowed him to enter, and his former Shizun takes the ocassion for finally talking with his long lost brother. Sj won't deny he's curious.

But, as he makes tea, Shen Yuan falls immediately after drinking it. And Luo Binghe enters, just to find his Shizun convulsing due to poison in front of his wife.

Luo Binghe takes Sy, and orders guards to trap Sj, and not let anyone in.

He couldn't let his Shizun die, bc he gave him so much, but also bc he was Shen Jiu's only family.

Shen Jiu didn't know better, but he would. He would stop his sketchy ways one day, and become a better person. Luo Binghe was sure of that. But for it to happen, Shen Yuan needed to be there, too. He knew Sj, and he knew that, once the rage subsided, he'd never get over having poisoned his own brother. Bc Sj was much more sensible than he showed.

So he uses his blood parasites to cure Sy, even if he ends uo having to use too many.

The poison was increadibly strong, and leaves him almost unable to sence his mites.

That's he doesn't realize that Shen Jiu had drunk the poison, too.

It had been placed in his favorite tea, Shen Jiu realices, and his error had been deciding to share something precious to him with his long lost brother.

Shen Jiu would never harm his own brother, even if he envied him. Ever since they'd come to the castle, it seemed that Shen Jiu only commited mistakes. Shen Yuan wasn't like thag. He walked with pose and elegant, and smiled freely to others while Shen Jiu only knew how to throw nasty words. Maybe that's why Luo Binghe loved him.

After all, Shen Jiu was only a nasty slave that had tricked him into marrying him. Luo Binghe had never taken him seriously until his life had been in danger, and after that he'd never touched him again.

Maybe it was true what everyone said, that the Emperor's crazy wife made his the Demon's life miserable. Maybe it was truth what Yue Qingyuan implied, that he was only a Shen Yuan look alike Luo Binghe had recurred to when he believed he'd never leave the Abyss alive.

So Shen Jiu served himself a cup of tea, and drank it as he reminisced the day Luo Binghe bought him his first pair of shoes.

And he hoped that, from now on, Luo Binghe could be happy without a slave kid dragging him down.