#Drawing at Packaging class

[intertexts]

Three Days into the semester and i can already feel the ambient stress accumulating.

[yessirplease69]

❝Above The Clouds & Among The Stars❞

Synopsis: Moments belonging to the relationship between you and your childhood friend, which has evolved over time. Caleb still believes that hiding his feelings from you is the most suitable choice.

✈ Content: caleb x fem reader, caleb headcanons, nsfw, explict sexual content, suggestive (mature content), drama, angst, fluff, reader being slow for not realizing how caleb is in love with her, caleb being so loving, caleb being possessive, reader is a virgin, the final part maybe happens just before the explosion?, there are many references that are found in the history of the game.

✈ Word Count: 4K

♫ Caleb playlist on Spotify: here.

a\n: ✎─ It's been so long since I posted here, finally college gave me a break. I wrote this while listening to ♫ Tinashe - Cold Sweat ♫ 50 Cent - Just a Lil Bit ♫ so you guys could say these songs were playing on the radio in the garage (spoiler lol). I feel like he would listen to songs like 50 Cent's, it really fits his style... Hope u enjoy it!

Caleb, during his high school years, is part of one of the senior classes and he has been assigned the role of class monitor for Physical Education. Although he is not in the same section as you, his role is incorporated into your core subjects, which means you encounter him more frequently in the gymnasium or in other sports areas. Occasionally, you bump into each other in the hallways, despite both of your schedules being different.

Caleb, who is popular and has many admirers, is not interested in any of them, although receiving numerous love letters and gifts. This prodigy boy frequently finds himself being questioned by friends and older acquaintances about the mysterious girl who has captured his attention and heart. Caleb endures the teasing about this while rolling his eyes and sporting a slight smile on his lips. It seems that no one has yet realized that it is you and your magic behind it all.

Caleb, who is always looking after you, ensures that you have all the necessary items for school, helping you choose the appropriate gym clothes for physical exercises and new supplies. This includes preparing breakfast for you and his Gran, washing an apple, and packaging it perfectly for you to take for a snack. He always wears a radiant smile on his face as he takes the strap of your bag to secure it on his left shoulder, since his right shoulder is occupied by his backpack. Caleb never allows you to take it back, as it is difficult to go against the strength of this man, who stands at 6 feet 3 inches tall, and you simply have to accept this, even if you grumble from the passenger seat of his car all the way to the school entrance.

Caleb, who has always been so affectionate only with you, is constantly touching your arms, back, cheeks, waist, and tenderly kissing your hands, even making random drawings on their palms while he is captivated by you as you excitedly share about your day. He is the type who loves physical touch and believes it creates a connection between souls because he loves you so deeply that it hurts, and this man feels that pain when he touches you. Most of the time, it is an innocent affection, and he just wants to have you close, as it is not possible to have more than that.

Caleb, who sees you growing physically and mentally with each passing day, becomes possessive and jealous of anyone who looks at you in a way that only he is allowed to. Every night before going to bed, you have conversations about boys, hoping to hear the same response come from his lips: "Don't trust those guys, pip-squeak. You still don't get how they can be mean and shady." However, with all the strength he has left, he tries to ignore it all and pretend that it does not affect him, especially since it should not interfere with your romantic or sexual life... Oh, in a rather convenient way, he will interfere with that.

Caleb, who has a toned and defined body since he exercises a lot to maintain it and prepare for when he becomes a fighter pilot in Deepspace Aviation. This boy is huge (in every sense), looks like a fridge with a chest and back as solid as iron, and he always fears breaking you when you are in his arms of pure muscle. It is inevitable not to notice teenage girls from different grades drooling when he is exposing his defined torso while walking out of the boy's locker room with the other guys. Your friends often ask you for his number, and you do not understand why you are making a sour face at them while a strange feeling hits you.

Caleb, who is naturally very skilled at winning plush toys from the claw machine. He has left his entire collection for you, however, it is still likely to find a single cute and fuzzy stuffed animal in his room, comfortably sitting on the dresser next to his bed. He always thinks of you whenever he looks at it.

Caleb, who is fucking other girls while thinking of you. It is obvious, he is an 18-year-old teenager in the process of development, and it is not possible to confront testosterone because he needs to satisfy the urges that puberty presented to him. However, he cannot remove you, your scent, or your beautiful body from his mind, and even less can he touch you as he desires because he is afraid of breaking the bond you both formed in childhood. Thus, releasing this carnal desire while he is burying his cock in some pussy out there is all he can do or imagine.

Caleb, who never walks around the house without a shirt on because he would not want to make you uncomfortable, and It is not necessary for Grandma to correct him for such a lack of manners, since his well-being is what matters most to him. But, on a weekend morning when the ladies of the house were still in bed, Caleb did not mind having to dress completely after he took a shower. Coincidentally, you had woken up quite early and caught him nearly naked in the kitchen preparing your favorite meal, with the poor boy displaying a surprised expression when you harshly told him to cover the visible marks left by feminine nails on his back. He never imagined that you had cultivated a feeling like jealousy before beginning to act roughly with him for the rest of the week.

Caleb, who splashes water on you while you are washing the dishes, and it is hard to explain at what moment the scenario turned into a war. The scene repeats when you are enjoying the summer by the pool, and the atmosphere shifts when Caleb ceases to laugh and gazes at you with a different intention in his eyes. You observe the dark-haired boy approaching, unaware that he is gripping the edge of the pool to contain the desire to kiss you.

Caleb, who maintains a very healthy routine at home and school, where you can always find him doing push-ups on the floor or running on the grass of the football field. You are seated in the bleachers with the girls when he notices your presence from miles away, and the way he flashes the purest smile while waving in your direction leaves you feeling confusingly irritated at the moment you see your friends fanning themselves and sighing loudly in unison like bitches in heat. You will blame him for making you feel this way or create reasons for it, using your anger to write unflattering things about him in your facade account book. This silly guy is completely oblivious to these details, you are ignoring him so that he follows you down the hallway, questioning what might have happened. Heaven, he is playing your game and blaming himself too, until you relent upon noticing his face marked by puppy-dog eyes.

Caleb, who tries not to look when you are doing a squat exercise in front of him at the gymnasium, feels his cheeks flush pink every time your knees bend, presenting an indecent view of you. Fortunately, this man is very composed and will act as if nothing has happened, hence, you will see Caleb turning his head to another corner while he coughs awkwardly. He condemns himself for having such thoughts about you, and motivated by this fact, he feels the need to avoid you, using this justification in his mind to hang out with his friends instead, for example. He needs a distraction. Yet there you are, calling him with a sweet and pleading voice, hoping to get help with your homework or to fix the bathroom socket so you can use it. How can he say no?

Caleb, who is such a respectful boy, walking down the hallway and noticing that you had forgotten to close the bathroom door while you are showering. He is simply closing it slowly, intending to prevent you from being startled or thinking that he is a pervert. Not that he is not.

Caleb, who begins his training as a pilot at Skyhaven, makes a promise to take you to the clouds as soon as he returned home during his military leave. It was a spring afternoon when he wrapped his pinky finger around yours, and the casual conversation about the planes he mastered made you sigh with shining eyes. After all, who could be better than him to make you fly in the sky? Besides his incredible piloting skills and placing your safety first, this man has the power to manipulate gravity. If you were ever flying over Linkon City and were about to fall to the ground, he would use his abilities to maintain control and balance until landing. This man would never let you fall in life.

Caleb, who is automatically attracted to you and it does not require much effort on your part unlike other women. It seems that he becomes more enchanted when you compliment the delicious flavor of the meals he prepares. It is always a new achievement when you are humming and squinting your eyes with his food in your mouth. It means he is feeding you well, a task of the day completed.

Caleb, who allows you to sleep in his bed, with him, on rainy days with intense thunderstorms. You fall asleep together, your head resting on his chest as he holds you tightly while raindrops patter against the window. If he has an obligation the next morning, you will find breakfast laid out on the sheets along with a note that has a good morning message filled with childish and silly drawings. But if he does not have any other engagements, you will wake up to a kiss on your forehead or a teasing pinch on your cheek. Even when Caleb is away, he will leave the door to his room open just so you can rest there whenever you wish. You would not mention it, but you often spend more time in his room than in your own. His scent is everywhere, and when your nose detects it, only then do you feel comfortable enough to be lulled into sleep.

Caleb, who practices combat moves with you whenever he is home after being away for an extended period. Despite having become a Hunter, your fighting skills still need further refinement. And seriously, he is an excellent teacher, it is no surprise that he received praise during his time as a class monitor in high school. This man is calm and highly experienced, he will teach you each movement correctly, and as a diligent tutor, he will explain countless times, regardless of how many times you stumble and fall onto him until you successfully land a hit. You can feel the tension in his triceps as they constrict around your neck in a rear naked choke. "One wrong move and your enemy could end your life just like that." His breath caresses your neck and he remains in that position for a few seconds as he analyzes how your body is reacting pressed against his. The grip becomes weaker, your blood circulation stabilizing and there is an indication in your reaction that your oxygen has been lost, even though he did not apply much pressure to your neck. It is as if he suddenly perceives the atmosphere becoming more intense, prompting him to exert effort to soften the situation when you hear his sweet voice: "Someone here needs to step it up, or else they're not getting any of Caleb's decorated cookies!"

Caleb, who has no idea how he has made you feel attracted to him, your childhood friend, as you have labeled him. He has not even noticed how you hold your gaze on his violet eyes for a bit longer, the way your chest rises when your breathing becomes frantic, how your voice suddenly trembles, or how your body responds when he is too close. However, you will witness Caleb feeling confused and concerned about some of these behaviors as he innocently asks you if you are unwell. He will even place his hand on your forehead to check it. This charming individual is putting you in the palm of his hand; he does not tire of teasing you by pressing you against the refrigerator when he finds you wandering the kitchen late at night, solitary and restless, nibbling on something. Sometimes, it is not even intentional, you know, it is simply the seductive nature that Caleb possesses.

✈ ✈ ✈

The smell of gasoline mixed with grease is overwhelming and nearly clogs your nose as soon as you set foot in the large garage at home, the reason for the odor justified upon finding Caleb sitting in one of the old armchairs, deeply focused on fixing what appeared to be a car part. The radio is active on the Linkon City FM station, the device accompanying several tools scattered on the table. This place has been transformed into the man's personal space, as more airplane and car-related items are found on the shelves. Grandma and you now refer to it as Caleb's garage.

"Aren't you going to join us at the table for lunch?" Your voice is demanding as you lean half of your body against the doorframe, arms crossed while questioning the man, who does not look at you. His car is parked on the other side of the area, and you notice that the hood is open.

"Just give me a few more minutes and I'll finish up here." He finally responds to you, still immersed in the work that his hands are performing. The old white tank top that clings to his torso bears dark stains that reveal the product used, and your eyes complete their inspection of the mess displayed on Caleb's pants and across the skin of his arms.

"Busy playing with your toys, huh?" Feeling curious, you approach the Lamborghini to see what is demanding so much of the man's attention. A smile adorns his lips, and you hear a low laugh resonating in the Caleb's throat. He leans forward, rifling through the box on the floor filled with equipment. 

"Aaand... clean girls can’t come in here." Caleb studies you from head to toe for a moment, the tease playing on his lips with a smile, which broadens when he sees you roll your eyes.

"Before I leave, I'm telling you not to touch me with that dirty hand, Caleb." Your teasing retorts against him. "Go take a shower before sitting at the table, 'kay?"

"C'mon. My hand isn't even dirty, bossy brat." The tip of his boot hits the floor, driven by the beat of the music that starts playing from the device. He is moving the toolbox aside after grabbing what he wanted. "I'm gonna do a test and jump on your bed to stain your pretty white sheets."

"Pfft! You." One of your fingers is pointing towards his serene smile, which conceals all the little mischiefs. You watch him twirl a heavy object between his fingers, disregarding how you have placed your hands on your hips while gazing deeply at him.

"Stay away from the sharp tools, I'm telling you too for the twentieth time this week." He makes it very clear to you, despite not giving a firm look to affirm his words. Caleb do not want to witness the scene of you slipping in the puddle of gasoline that had formed on the floor and hitting your head against one of the saws and axes attached to the wall.

And, oh, you are doing everything except listening to him. That is why he feels you are about to do something reckless as your hand approaches the sharp edge of the object. Before the tip of your finger fully touched it, an unnatural force exerted itself upon your palm, pushing it away. You shot a piercing glance at the man seated, intending for it to penetrate him like the blade you were willing to touch.

"You're so stubborn." Caleb is staring at you, remarkably calm, the fringe of his hair falling over his eyes like a waterfall. His lips are curved in frustration as he moves the fingers in the air. His Evol is still controlling you, the vibration of that power surrounding your skin due to gravity.

"Why are you like this?! I can totally resonate with that!"

"Your powers aren't strong enough for that yet, pip-squeak." You can hear the sound of his sigh, and he is prepared to dismiss any complaints you may have. "I'm just protecting you from your own innocence. It's for your own good."

"I don't need your protection." The conviction carries your voice like a powerful weapon. And you are aiming it at him, more than ever as that manipulative pressure finally releases from your hand. Caleb was gentle in using just a little strength, with no intention of hurting you.

"You don't need it?" The way Caleb has spoken so sarcastically yet with a certain conviction has left you immobilized in place, and he was no longer using his power over you. There is a feeling of rage consuming you as you clench your fists and grind your teeth at finding him so perplexed by your behavior.

"Yeah, I'm done." Your breath quickens as you take rapid, unexpected steps toward the man. He watches your movements intently until you push his shoulders, and his back is hitting the upholstery. Strands of hair on Caleb's forehead are ruffled by the impact, and his face bears a tightly clenched jaw as he stares, almost frozen, you climb onto the large armchair and rest your knees on either side of his thighs.

You need not check to know that your clothing has been ruined by a bit of grease. However, the thought quickly disappears when you are approached by Caleb's fixed gaze, the overhead perspective providing a perfect angle to see the top of his chest escaping from his tank top. The shiny necklace you gave him glistens in contrast to the light, and your attempt to divert your gaze from it proves futile.

"I don't need you treating me like a kid. Not anyone." Your mouth commands your attitude, and the dark-haired man follows each of its movements. You appear too serious, which influences his features as he raises his chin in a sign of dominance. "You idiot."

"Watch you mouth." He is reprimanding you, his tone of voice shifting to a deeper harmony. His occupied hand releases the metal piece into the air, and it makes a violent noise when it hits the ground. Suddenly, you notice his eyes darken as he closely scrutinizes your reaction, and now his fingers are pressing against your wrists. You cannot just sit on him like that, in that position, like it's no big deal. "Don't you know how to treat your elders right anymore, brat?"

"Stop!" You spit, attempting not to show your vulnerable side whenever you are around him. "Is that all I mean to you, yeah? Just a helpless brat. "For a moment, your heart aches with guilt for behaving insensitively while you find so much love in his warm gaze directed at you. This is further compounded by a small streak of black grease on his cheek, which makes him even more endearing.

"Hey silly girl, what are you talking about?" A laugh escapes his lips, and you are unsure if it was meant to sound innocent or somewhat foolish coming from him. However, as a habit, this man tries to lighten the mood of the situation, even when it leaves you feeling embarrased. Caleb is wondering why on earth you have been so rude to him lately. He understands this whole independence thing you are going through, but he is beginning to lose the patience that has remained intact for years. After all, he has always done everything for you, indulging you with good things and ensuring your protection, yet you repay him in this manner.

"You don’t know?!" The walls tremble as you laugh ironically, the closeness of your faces does not intimidate him. "I hate... how you still see me as your little girl, and not as a woman." You hiss when you realize that you spoke those words too loudly, and you are failing to remove his hands from your skin, which are beginning to burn your very being.

"What?!" He cannot help but shake his head, incredulous at your words. Your breathless breaths are intertwined in the space, which suddenly becomes suffocating.

You look so beautiful sitting on his lap, that he thinks he could get used to the view. Caleb is clenching his fist tightly against the seat, trying to prevent himself from touching the accessible and more sinful areas of your body on top of him.

"Do you want me to show you how I can see you as a woman?"

There is a silence enveloping you and him, but the beat of the music becomes increasingly captivating in the background. You are still recovering from the weight of the double entendre posed to you. A tension saturates the air in more palpable forms, Caleb's gaze appearing indecisive between your enticing lips and the way your beautiful tits move as your breathing grows irregular. The manner in which his violet eyes encompass your entire body is so alluring, and you find yourself questioning why you had not noticed this much earlier.

"Yes." The whisper slips from your lips almost like a secret, yet you show no fear of proving the consequences of your bold action. You are venturing into uncharted territory, tampering with danger. The boy growls sensually in response, a primal sound that reveals how much he desires you as a woman.

He is almost exposing how painful it is to hide all these feelings from you, and this man swears by his soul that if it were not for his self-control, he would throw you beneath him into this old armchair and position you to make love to him. He would not release your wrists while possessing you as his own, imagining how he would start to move his hips in a slow and tender way, just as a princess like you deserves, but then he would take you with such brutality, and you would accept him, his size, so perfectly inside you. The sounds of wet sex would be louder than the music playing in the area, and he would keep repeatedly going in and out even if Grandma upstairs was disturbed by the depraved noises coming from your mouth. This man would make you scream in that garage until the sun sets, according to his endurance in cardio. It is okay, he has been letting you scream all the time with him lately, so it is only fair to leave you voiceless.

"Please." Your pleas are persistent, the throbbing pain in the center of your legs making your hips roll almost automatically and slowly on his groin. And it was possible to watch Caleb flying to the sky and seeing stars while he releases your wrists to grip your waist, commanding you to stop these movements. Because his big cock is hard right under you, Jesus. He would go crazy in this place and would take you to sin with him, a single slip could change everything. What would you think of him after this fateful decision? Your sweet purity going down the drain like this...

Caleb is thinking about how you are still not ready, watching you gazing innocently at him, unaware of the many desires and darker thoughts hidden within these purple orbs. You would not be able to handle all the things he wishes to do with you. Therefore, all he does at this moment is close his eyes tightly and take a deep breath in unison.

"No." His raspy tone conveys much about his arduous battle against these desires thus far. Your eyes instinctively close when his lips draw near, you emit a soft moan as you feel them brush against yours. The man is aware that once he begins to kiss you, he would be unable to stop. It is a torment to realize that you are unprepared to be wholly his, in body and soul. He requires you to have conviction in your actions before engaging in any recklessness, as both of you must be ready for that.

Then the place becomes cold as he crawls out of the seat, silently distancing himself from you while wearing a sad countenance. His eyes convey loneliness and melancholy, even as he closes the door behind him. You notice that your skin has been marked by the grease and his hands, it may take some time for you to forget the feeling of them on your body.

[neeeooon]

Hey can you do bllk boys reacting to an extremely introverted and shy reader confessing to them?

ofc!! thank you for the request, i hope you enjoy! 🤍

confessing to them ;

blue lock x extremely shy gn!reader

isagi yoichi

-> after school, instead of going home to study like you’re supposed to, you often find yourself sitting alone to watch the soccer players (isagi). he catches you watching sometimes and even tried talking to you once, but you ran off before he had the chance

-> finally, one winter, you’re walking home when you notice isagi kicking a ball around the frost-covered court. since it was the day before break, you pulled every ounce of courage you had to the surface and approached him

-> “oh? hi, y/n.” and you lost your train of though because he knew your name? “hi. what, uh, why are you out here in the cold?”

-> you spend the next hour kicking the ball around and talking together. it’s so surreal for you to feel comfortable around another person, and by the time your little game comes to an end, you find yourself saying, “you don’t have to say anything, but i have a crush on you…”

-> isagi isn’t exactly surprised, considering he’s seen you silently cheering him on at almost every practice, but he still blushes. “i can give you my number?” “yes! i mean, yes, please.”

michael kaiser

-> kaiser doesn’t usually have patience for people who waste his time, but he doesn’t see your anxious fidgeting and stammering as bothersome. he’ll gladly wait for you to put your thoughts together, his cheek in his hand

-> one day was different, because when you approached him with your fingers nervously knotted together, you weren’t smiling. “i need to talk to you… if that’s okay?”

-> he lets you pull him to a more secluded area, where you rub your hands together in an attempt to calm yourself down. kaiser can’t stop himself from grabbing your hands after a moment and holding them between his to catch your gaze. “take a breath. what is it you want to tell me?”

-> “i like you,” you blurted as your face immediately turned red. “i’m sorry! that wasn’t supposed to be so aggressive—“ “i like you too, y/n.” “…… me y/n?”

bachira meguru

-> bachira was the closest person to a friend you ever had

-> you really struggled to talk to people, so when a boy with a loud laugh and pretty smile asked you to partner up with him for a project, you were enamored

-> it was white day, and after years of following bachira around, you finally worked up the nerve to confess to him. you were too shy to say the words, so you spent the entire night before writing your feelings down in a letter and stuffing it in a package of presents

-> before class, you snuck the present into bachira’s desk. it wasn’t until the final bell rang that you realized you forgot to sign your name

-> panicked, you rushed to retrieve the gift, only to run into a grinning bachira. “y/n! i got your gift. so you really like me, huh?” you weren’t expecting to face him and immediately wanted to crawl into your jumper and die

-> “i, um…” “i got this for you!” and he hands you his own white day gift, which is a drawing of the two of you holding hands. “you’re cute when you blush. we should go on a date!”

itoshi sae

-> you were part of an exchange program for school and got to visit spain for an entire month. since your school was next to the prestigious soccer academy (which was also full of foreigners), your class got to watch them practice

-> sae always seemed so bored and disinterested to the point where you never even saw him smile. still, there something about him that made you want to talk to him, and that scared you since you weren’t sure how

-> desperate, you turned to the internet. how to tell a guy who doesn’t know you exist that you like him? surprisingly, there were quite a bit of responses from people in similar situations. you decided to go with the top-rated comment: make him food

-> that’s how you ended up in the practice arena at 4 am. you weren’t expecting anyone to be there that early. you were wrong to assume sae practiced like a normal person

-> “what are you doing in here?” “oh! sae! i, um… here.” and you practically throw the cookies you baked at him before he can react. you wrote a note, and he’s able to read it and catch up to you before you’re able to run away.

-> “no one’s ever…” he pauses, and your surprised to see that he’s blushing. that he’s just as shy as you. “have you eaten breakfast yet? i know a place nearby if you’re hungry..?” “that’d be nice..!” “cool.” “cool :)”

mikage reo

-> you got a summer internship at mikage corp, where you occasionally ran into the future heir, reo

-> you didn’t mean to develop a crush on him, but he was the only one who ever acknowledged you. maybe it’s because you were one of the only other young people, but he’d always smile and wave when he passed you

-> little do you know that reo finds you utterly adorable. the way you awkwardly return his smile or wave, or how you stammer over your words when he greets you by name. he had a whole plan to ask you out, but to his surprise, you beat him to it

-> you were wringing your hands out anxiously as you waited for reo by one of the meeting rooms. when you saw him you paled, but it was too late to turn back. “y/n, hey! are you free late—“ “ireallylikeyouandthinkweshouldgetcoffeesometimeifyourefree—wait, what?”

barou shouei

-> you didn’t understand why more students weren’t fascinated by barou, the self-proclaimed “king”

-> you were always too shy to say anything when you passed each other, but you couldn’t stop yourself from going to his games to watch him play. you didn’t think he noticed

-> you missed two days of school and one of barou’s games when you got sick, and when you returned, he was waiting for you before practice. “i didn’t see you at the game.”

-> “whaaa, me?” you manage, and he nods. “yes, you. the one who always comes to my games. where were you?” “sick.” “sick?” “yeah.. you know who i am?” “well, not your name, but i’m not an idiot. why do you come, anyway?”

-> you think, screw it! since you don’t know when you’ll get the chance again. shuffling on your feet and unable to meet his eyes, you say, “i like you… i mean, watching you! play soccer! not in a creepy way, just that you’re really good, and—“ “i’m barou.” “i know. i mean i’m y/n!”

[dreamersworldduh]

UNSPOKEN TRUTHS

• Dick Grayson x Male!Reader

SUMMARY — you and Dick Grayson go way back but it’s been so many years since you two last spoke. So what happens when you two reconnect in the oddest way possible.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 7.8k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! firstly, THANK YOU all for the love and support for Sunday Mornings. Now, this is a long one and I may have gotten a little carried away but nevertheless I hope you all enjoy!

Dick Grayson.

There's an undeniable magnetism about Dick Grayson—an aura that makes it impossible to stay away from him, even when every instinct tells you that you should. He embodies everything that simultaneously irritates and captivates you. He's infuriatingly charming, effortlessly sociable, and devastatingly handsome. Add to that his cocky attitude and penchant for being the ultimate goofball, and you're left with a contradiction wrapped in an irresistible package.

You've known him since your very first year at Hudson University, where fate (or maybe bad luck?) had you both enrolled in the same criminology class. While you were focused on minding your own business, diligently taking notes and keeping your head down, Dick Grayson had other plans. He was the kind of guy who seemed to thrive on interaction, and apparently, you had caught his attention.

It started innocently enough. You were hunched over your notebook, furiously scribbling details from the professor's lecture, utterly engrossed. That's when Dick made his move. Leaning over with that trademark mischievous grin, he decided your focus was far too serious for his liking.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low enough not to draw the professor's wrath but loud enough to break through your concentration.

You tried to ignore him, hoping he'd get bored and leave you alone. But this was Dick Grayson, and persistence was practically his middle name. He didn't just want your attention—he demanded it. Whether it was tapping on your notebook, cracking an unnecessary joke, or asking a deliberately ridiculous question about the lecture material, he seemed determined to throw you off your game.

At first, you hated him for it. Who did this guy think he was, barging into your quiet world of focus and discipline with his infuriating grin and boyish charm? But over time, something shifted. Maybe it was the way he made you laugh when you least expected it, or the fact that underneath all the cockiness, he was genuinely kind and intelligent.

Dick Grayson wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. And whether you liked it or not, he had a way of turning your world upside down.

Your friendship with Dick began as a slow bloom, nurtured by shared classes, late-night study sessions, and moments of unexpected laughter. What started as a simple camaraderie between classmates grew into an unshakable bond that lasted all four years at Hudson University. The two of you were inseparable, each other's confidant, cheerleader, and partner in crime-solving, so to speak.

By the time graduation rolled around, everyone assumed that life would pull you in different directions. With the ink barely dry on your diplomas, it seemed logical that you'd both scatter to explore the opportunities your criminology degrees offered. And for a while, it seemed like that was how the story would end. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

You eventually landed a job in Blüdhaven as a small-time investigator, the kind of work that fit your personality like a glove. Observant to a fault and driven by a relentless curiosity, you thrived in the world of puzzles and mysteries. Unraveling clues, piecing together fragments of stories, and finding answers where others saw dead ends gave you an unshakable sense of fulfillment.

But being as observant as you were had its downsides. You were the kind of person who couldn't let things go, even when every rational instinct told you to back off. That's how you found yourself in your current predicament—a missing persons case that had taken a dark and dangerous turn.

It had started innocently enough, following breadcrumbs that no one else had noticed. But as you dug deeper, you realized the case was connected to a local gang, one that didn't appreciate your meddling. Unfortunately for you, they'd noticed your snooping long before you realized you were on their radar. By the time you put the pieces together, it was too late. They had you.

The gang's leader, a stereotypical brute with a barrel chest and a growling voice to match, stood over you, barking out threats. His speeches were a predictable blend of clichés: "You should've minded your own business!" and "You don't know who you're messing with!" It would've been almost funny if the situation weren't so dire.

Despite the danger, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. You'd managed to find the missing person, even if it had landed you in chains. And now, as the leader ranted, you sat there, tied to a chair in some dingy warehouse, mentally kicking yourself for not being more careful.

Then, something caught your eye.

Out of the corner of the dimly lit room, a movement stirred in the shadows. At first, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. But then, you saw him—a figure dressed in sleek black and blue, moving with cat-like precision through the darkness. The gang leader, oblivious to the silent intruder, continued his tirade, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The man in the shadows was swift, almost inhumanly so. One by one, the gang members guarding the room were dispatched with precise, fluid motions. He was a blur of calculated power, blending perfectly into the gloom until he wanted to be seen. And then, he was there.

Nightwing.

You'd heard whispers of him before—Blüdhaven's vigilante protector, a myth to some, a menace to criminals. But seeing him in action was another thing entirely. His black and blue suit seemed to absorb the faint light in the room, his presence commanding yet effortless.

As chaos erupted in the warehouse, the gang leader spun around, barking orders to his panicking subordinates. You could only watch in awe—and maybe a little bit of relief—as Nightwing expertly dismantled your captors. You didn't know how or why he'd come for you, but in that moment, you didn't care. All you knew was that your life was in the hands of someone who clearly knew what he was doing.

The warehouse was a symphony of chaos. Nightwing moved like a shadow come to life, his every step deliberate and his strikes landing with unerring precision. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the fluidity of his movements. He wasn't just fighting—he was dismantling. Each thug fell with a grunt or a pained yell, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. The air was thick with the sharp sounds of punches landing and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the cold cement floor.

The leader, who had loomed so intimidatingly just minutes ago, now looked like a lumbering fool. He charged at Nightwing with brute force, swinging a metal pipe with the confidence of someone who had never faced someone of this caliber before. Nightwing sidestepped with ease, his movements economical and almost effortless. In a flash, the vigilante grabbed the leader's arm, twisted it with a sharp motion, and sent the weapon flying. A quick roundhouse kick to the chest sent the man sprawling onto his back with a groan of defeat.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the fight was over.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Nightwing straightened, his breathing steady despite the intense effort he'd just exerted. He surveyed the room, his sharp gaze ensuring no threats remained. The dim lighting cast a faint glow on his black-and-blue suit, accentuating the imposing figure he cut. You couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awe, even as your pulse raced from the ordeal.

Finally, his focus shifted to you. His stride was purposeful, his boots barely making a sound as he crossed the distance. He crouched beside you, the sharp angles of his mask now just inches from your face. His hands, encased in black gloves, moved swiftly, slicing through the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a gentle concern that caught you off guard. His eyes—calm, steady, and searching—met yours briefly, and in that moment, the hostage trembling nearby seemed like an afterthought.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaky as you replied, "I'm fine. Thanks to you."

As he helped you to your feet, his hand lingered on your arm, steadying you. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt through you. Those eyes. Brown, warm, and so achingly familiar. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as realization struck.

"Dick?" you whispered, the name escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.

He stiffened, the subtle movement confirming what you already knew. His head turned slightly, his gaze flicking to the hostage, who was watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes. His silence said everything.

You bit your lip, realizing your mistake. Swallowing your questions, you forced yourself to focus. The hostage needed to be taken care of, and this wasn't the time or place for the confrontation brewing in your mind.

"Thank you," the hostage managed to stammer, their voice shaky. Nightwing gave them a curt nod, his usual confidence slipping back into place as he offered them a reassuring glance.

Moments later, the sound of sirens filled the air, the flashing red and blue lights of the approaching police cars spilling into the warehouse. Officers rushed in, taking the gang into custody and escorting the hostage to safety. Meanwhile, you stayed put, standing just outside the chaos as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from your system.

Nightwing lingered, his posture tense but his presence solid and unwavering. It was clear he was waiting—perhaps for the right moment, or perhaps for you.

"You're not leaving," you said, stepping closer to him with a sharpness in your tone that surprised even you. "Good. Because we need to talk."

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. Still, you caught the faintest hint of unease in his posture. He knew what was coming.

As the last of the police cars pulled away, leaving the two of you bathed in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you finally allowed yourself to say what had been clawing at you.

"It is you," you said softly, the weight of the realization settling over you. "Dick Grayson."

Nightwing let out a soft, resigned sigh. Without a word, he reached up, his gloved fingers curling around the edges of his mask. In one smooth motion, he pulled it away, revealing the face you'd known for years.

The sight of him hit you like a wave. His dark hair was slightly tousled, damp with sweat, and those familiar brown eyes stared back at you with a mix of guilt and apprehension.

"Hi," he said, his voice quiet but steady, as if testing the waters.

You stared at him, struggling to untangle the mess of emotions inside you. Shock, anger, confusion, and something else—something softer—swirled in your chest. "You've been here," you said finally, your voice trembling. "In Blüdhaven. This whole time. And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not that simple," he replied, his tone gentle but laced with regret. "I wanted to. I just... couldn't."

You huffed, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "You're not getting out of this, Dick. We're talking about it. All of it."

A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, he almost looked like the carefree friend you remembered from Hudson University. "Yeah," he said softly. "I figured as much."

The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, unspoken questions lingering in the air. There was so much to say, so much you needed to understand, but for now, the two of you simply stood there, the silence stretching like an unspoken promise.

Soon, the two of you arrived at Dick's apartment, the closest and most convenient place to regroup. The space was warm and inviting, a surprising contrast to the gritty chaos of the warehouse you'd just escaped. Dick excused himself to change out of his vigilante uniform, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and his belongings.

It wasn't long before your curiosity got the better of you. Old habits die hard, and you found yourself wandering the apartment, taking in the details. The first thing you noticed was how organized it was compared to his dorm back in college. Gone were the piles of laundry and cluttered desks; everything here had its place. The sleek, minimalist decor hinted at someone who valued function over flair, though the occasional personal touch softened the aesthetic.

There were pictures scattered around, mostly in simple frames. You stopped to study them, recognizing some of the faces from news articles and social media posts. These must be his siblings. During college, Dick had rarely talked about his family, offering only vague hints that he was adopted and that his adoptive father was extremely wealthy. Back then, the extent of his family's resources was evident in the way he casually splurged—never obnoxiously, but like the carefree college student who'd buy a round of shots for half the campus without a second thought.

Your gaze lingered on a particular photo, and your breath caught. It was a picture of you and Dick, taken during a Christmas party in your junior year. The two of you stood beneath a sprig of mistletoe, your face frozen in an exaggeratedly annoyed expression as he planted a kiss on your cheek. But you remembered that moment vividly. You remembered how fast your heart had raced, how flustered you'd felt, and how you'd struggled to keep your reaction under control. Out of all the pictures you'd taken together, you couldn't believe he'd kept this one.

The sound of his voice startled you from your thoughts.

"You know, this is exactly how you got yourself captured the first time," Dick said, his tone tinged with amusement.

You turned sharply, only to find him leaning casually against the doorframe. He was dressed in a navy blue tank top that revealed the lean, athletic build beneath, his arms toned from years of training. Loose-fitting gray joggers hung low on his hips, offering a distracting peek at his defined waistline. For a moment, your thoughts betrayed you, wandering where they shouldn't. You quickly shook the imagery from your mind and refocused, gesturing toward the picture in question.

"Why this picture?" you asked, pointing at the frame.

Dick stepped closer, glancing at the photo with a soft smile. "It's my favorite of us," he admitted, his voice light but honest.

Your chest tightened. You stared at him, studying the way his expression softened as he looked at the photo, as though it held a special place in his memory. You remembered that night clearly, but you'd never imagined it meant as much to him as it had to you.

"You don't even like Christmas," you teased, trying to deflect the sudden wave of emotion threatening to surface.

He shrugged, turning to you with a playful grin. "True. But I like you."

The simplicity of his statement made your heart skip a beat. He said it so casually, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, yet the weight of those words hung heavy in the air between you. You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.

"Dick..." you began, your voice faltering.

"Don't overthink it," he said, his grin fading into something softer. "I just... like having a reminder of how happy we were. That's all."

You looked back at the photo, the moment frozen in time, and then at him. For all the chaos that had led to this point, standing here with him now, it was hard to deny that something about this moment felt right.

The dining room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen. You leaned against the chair, arms crossed, watching as Dick moved to the table where a stack of papers sat in disarray. His movements were deliberate but lacked his usual confidence, as though he were stalling for time.

“So,” you began, your tone cutting through the silence, “I’m guessing things have been rough if you decided to change careers. Last we talked, you were dead set on becoming a cop. It was literally all you could talk about.”

You turned to face him fully, your words sharp but not without curiosity. Dick froze for a moment, his shoulders tensing before he turned his head slightly toward you.

“That’s still in the works,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with defensiveness.

“Yeah?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you pointed to the table. “You mean with those blank applications over there?”

Dick followed your gaze to the stack of untouched forms on the dining room table. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as if that would somehow untangle the thoughts swirling in his head.

“You don’t understand, Y/N…” he started, but you weren’t about to let him finish.

“I may not be a crime-fighting vigilante in spandex,” you interrupted, stepping closer and folding your arms tightly across your chest, “but I do know you can’t keep putting your life on hold like this. Blüdhaven isn’t Gotham, Dick. You don’t have to be out there night and day. It’s not your responsibility to carry this city on your back.”

He turned to face you fully now, his jaw set. “I also run my own team, you know,” he pointed out, his tone firm but not without frustration.

“Okay, and?” you replied, your voice rising slightly. “I’m thankful for what you did tonight—for me, for that hostage, for everyone you help. But come on, Dick. You can’t just live for this. You should have a life outside of your nighttime activities and team leadership. You deserve more than this relentless grind.”

His hands clenched briefly at his sides, and then he threw them up in exasperation. “I did!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. “I did have that life. Four years, Y/N. Four years of normalcy. School, friends… you.”

You blinked, his words hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t done.

“I fell in love with you, for god’s sake,” he continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I knew—deep down—I couldn’t hold onto that. I couldn’t keep living in a reality that wasn’t mine to have.”

For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly still. You stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, his words ricocheting in your mind.

“You… fell in love with me?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Dick looked at you, his expression vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. His usually confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and honest.

“I never stopped,” he admitted quietly, his gaze unwavering.

The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, but before Dick could react, reality struck you like a lightning bolt. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the room, startling you both.

“You waited four years to tell me you’re in love with me?” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of frustration, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite name.

Dick blinked in surprise, his cheek barely reddened from the slap. He raised a hand to rub at it, murmuring, “Ow.” Though you knew it hadn’t actually hurt him—your slap had been more for dramatic effect than anything else—it still made him flinch slightly.

“You know,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperated humor, “it took a lot of courage to admit this. I mean, at first, I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. But the more I got to know you…” He paused, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I was whipped. Everyone knew how protective I was of you.”

“Clearly not everyone,” you shot back, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

Dick tilted his head, his expression softening with that boyish charm that always seemed to disarm you. “That’s because you were always so oblivious to things,” he pointed out, a teasing edge in his tone.

“This isn’t about me,” you retorted, your frustration flaring again. “This is about you—about you waiting years to—”

Before you could finish, Dick’s hands moved with startling quickness, cupping your face as he leaned in, cutting you off completely. His lips crashed onto yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

Your first instinct was to resist, your mind screaming at you to stay angry, to push him away and demand answers. But the moment his lips moved against yours, warm and insistent, your anger began to dissolve like sugar in water. His touch was firm but not forceful, as though he was pouring every unspoken word, every pent-up feeling, into that kiss.

Damn him.

Your hands, which had been frozen in mid-air, slowly lowered to his chest, resting against the fabric of his tank top. You wanted to be mad, to hold onto your indignation, but instead, you found yourself leaning into him. His lips were soft yet commanding, and they melted away every ounce of tension in your body.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. His brown eyes, now so close, bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. There was an undeniable hunger in them, a raw and unguarded lust, but beneath it was something deeper, something that spoke of years of unspoken feelings and restraint finally breaking free.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with tension as he leaned in closer, his forehead still brushing against yours. His hands, which had been gently cupping your face, slid down to your jaw, his thumbs tracing soft, maddeningly slow circles on your skin.

“I want to make love to you so bad,” Dick whispered, his voice husky and low, the words trembling with emotion. “But I want to do this right.”

The warmth of his breath tickled your lips as he spoke, and the sheer vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. Yet the weight of those words, so raw and sensual, sent a jolt of arousal through you. You felt your body react instantly, your breath hitching as your dick tightened in response.

You had never heard anything like this from him before—such a delicate balance of sweetness and longing, spoken with the kind of confidence that sent heat pooling in your stomach. His voice wasn’t just sexual; it was reverent, like he was making a promise wrapped in desire.

Your hands rested against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tank top as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth of his body beneath your touch only heightened the tension, and you struggled to form a coherent thought, let alone words.

“Dick…” you finally managed, though it came out as little more than a breathless murmur.

His eyes never left yours, his gaze darkened with an intensity that made it clear just how much he wanted you—but he didn’t move, waiting for your response. Waiting for you to meet him halfway. And in that moment, the depth of his restraint only made you want him more.

“I want you to make love to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze. The words hung in the air for a moment, electrifying the space between you.

Dick’s eyes darkened instantly, the flicker of hesitation replaced by raw desire and unrestrained passion. That was all he needed. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours, crashing against yours with a fury that made your knees weak.

The kiss was nothing like the soft, tentative one from earlier. This was urgent, consuming, as though he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t contain himself any longer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The heat of his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as wildly as your own.

You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with an intensity that made you shiver. His fingers trailed up your back, one hand tangling in your hair while the other held your waist, anchoring you to him.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, sliding over the smooth, warm skin exposed by his tank top. You clutched at him, your fingers curling into the fabric as you felt his muscles flex beneath your touch. He kissed you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, pouring every ounce of his suppressed longing into it.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and swollen from the sheer intensity. His forehead pressed against yours as he steadied himself, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse, though the look in his eyes made it clear how much he wanted you.

You nodded, your hands sliding down his chest to rest against his waist. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed to hear before his lips were on yours again, this time softer but no less passionate, as if he wanted to savor every second of what was about to happen.

Dick’s lips moved from yours with deliberate, unhurried precision, trailing a path along your jawline before finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The contrast between his soft kisses and the occasional scrape of his teeth sent a shiver coursing down your spine.

When he finally found your sweet spot just below your ear, your breath hitched sharply, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his lips lingering as he alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing nibbles.

Your hands, which had been resting lightly against his waist, tightened instinctively. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his joggers, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat radiating from his body. The firmness of his waist beneath your touch grounded you even as your head tilted back slightly, offering him more access.

He hummed against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His arms wrapped around you more securely, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other pressed against the small of your back, holding you flush against him.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough. The combination of his words and his lips on your skin was overwhelming, igniting an firm erection in your dick that made it impossible to think of anything but him.

Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling against his as you surrendered completely to the sensations. Every press of his lips, every soft graze of his teeth, sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you, and you couldn’t help but cling to him even tighter.

“Dick,” you breathed, his name spilling from your lips in a way that was half plea, half encouragement. His response was a low, approving growl that made your knees go weak, but his strong arms kept you firmly in place.

Dick’s hands slid down your sides, lingering for a moment at your hips before they gripped your thighs firmly. In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His strength, always impressive but now impossibly intimate, sent a shiver through you.

Your arms clung to his shoulders for balance as he held you close, your chest pressed against his. His lips captured yours again, and the kiss was slow but no less hungry, his steps steady as he carried you toward the darkly dim room down the hall.

Normally, your inquisitive nature would have taken over, and you’d have surveyed every inch of the space. But right now, your attention was consumed by him—by the heat of his body, the way his fingers flexed against your thighs, and the electric connection between you.

The faint glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls as he entered the room. You barely registered the surroundings, focusing instead on the way his breathing had quickened, mirroring your own. He reached the bed, lowering you carefully to the floor with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

His hands lingered on your hips as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze burning with unspoken desire and reverence. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin as he lifted it over your head. He took his time, his eyes roaming over you like he was memorizing every detail.

Your breath hitched as he began to undress himself, his movements fluid and unhurried. His tank top came off first, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. His joggers followed, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Your hands moved instinctively to his waist, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you gently, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone.

His hands returned to you, sliding along your sides with deliberate slowness before slipping beneath the waistband of your own boxers, guiding them down. The intimacy of the moment made your pulse race, every inch of skin he revealed heightening the tension between you.

Now, with both of you standing there, bare except for the thin fabric separating you completely, the air felt charged, heavy with anticipation. Dick’s eyes locked onto yours, his expression a perfect blend of lust and something deeper, something that made your heart pound harder than ever before.

Dick’s hands wrapped around your dick with deliberate care, his grip firm yet gentle. The slow, teasing movements of his fingers as he stroked you sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. His eyes stayed locked on yours, their intensity leaving you breathless. He watched your every reaction, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as soft moans began to spill from your lips.

The sound seemed to embolden him, as if each moan was a symphony only he could conduct. He leaned closer, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Before you could process what was happening, he guided you backward, gently pushing you onto the mattress.

The soft surface cradled you as you fell, the world around you blurring into insignificance. All that mattered was him—his touch, his gaze, his presence. Dick climbed onto the bed, settling himself between your legs with a confidence that made your pulse race.

His hands found your thighs, gripping them firmly but not aggressively as he spread your legs slightly wider. The warmth of his palms was grounding, his touch both possessive and reverent. His eyes never left yours, a silent question hanging in the air, one you answered with a slight nod and a quiet, shaky breath.

Leaning forward, he placed a featherlight kiss just below your navel before lowering himself further. The sensation of his tongue grazing your dick made your back arch slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He didn’t stop there—his tongue trailed down with slow, deliberate strokes before his lips closed around you completely.

The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, his movements skilled and calculated. He alternated between slow, torturous licks and firm, rhythmic suction, drawing louder moans from you with each passing second. The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, mingling with his soft hums as he worked.

Just as you thought the sensations couldn’t intensify, you felt something new. His hand, which had been resting on your thigh, moved downward, his fingers tracing teasing circles near your hole. The first press of his fingertip was gentle, testing, and when he felt your body relax, he slid a single finger inside with the same care.

The combination of his mouth and the intrusion sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and your moans grew louder, higher, uncontrollable. Your hands instinctively reached for him, one tangling in his hair as the other clutched at the sheets beneath you.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his brown eyes dark with desire, a glint of satisfaction evident as he took in the sight of you unraveling beneath him. He added a slight curl to his finger, hitting a spot that made your entire body tremble. The way your voice broke with pleasure was like fuel to him, and he redoubled his efforts, his lips and fingers moving in perfect harmony to push you further toward the edge.

The only thing you could do was surrender to him completely, your mind and body consumed by the intensity of the sensations he was creating.

The sudden press of a second finger into your hole sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, a sharp moan escaping your lips at the unexpected intrusion. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, your chest rising and falling as Dick’s fingers moved inside you with increasing speed. Each curl and thrust was precise, hitting spots that made your back arch off the mattress in ecstasy.

The heat pooling in your hole was overwhelming, your breath coming in short gasps as you struggled to keep up with the rhythm he was setting. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of control, his fingers stopped abruptly and slid out, leaving you gasping at the loss of contact.

“Why did you—” you began, your voice breathless and laced with confusion, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes traveled down to him.

Dick had shifted back slightly, his hands hooking into the waistband of his boxers. With deliberate slowness, he slid them down his hips, his eyes never leaving yours. As the fabric pooled at his knees, your gaze dropped, and your breath hitched at the sight before you.

His dick was fully revealed, and he was… well, impressively endowed. Huge as hell. The dim light of the room cast shadows that only emphasized his size and shape, and for a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The anticipation in the air was electric, and the confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips told you he noticed your reaction.

“You were saying?” he teased softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

Your mouth opened to reply, but no words came. Instead, your eyes flickered back up to meet his, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach flip. He moved closer, his hands returning to your thighs, gently spreading them wider as he leaned over you, his bare skin brushing against yours. The weight of him above you, combined with the heat radiating from his body, sent your pulse racing again.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a mix of tenderness and desire.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

His smile softened for a moment, a flicker of something deeper crossing his expression before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an invitation.

Dick broke the kiss, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly. His eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Reaching over to his dresser, he grabbed a small bottle of lube, his movements deliberate but steady.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing a reassuring circle against your hip.

You nodded, your anticipation building as he popped the cap. The cool gel landed on your hole, and you squirmed at the sudden chill, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Dick chuckled lightly at your reaction, his hands smoothing over your thighs to steady you.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he worked the lube gently around your hole. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, his touch careful and precise.

Once he was satisfied, he coated himself in the gel, his large hands moving confidently as he spread it over his dick. The sight alone made your heart race, but before you could get lost in the thought, he tossed the bottle somewhere across the room with a soft thud, refocusing entirely on you.

His hands returned to your waist, gripping you firmly but gently as he positioned himself between your legs. The weight of his gaze anchored you, and you took a deep breath as you felt the head of his dick press against your hole.

“This might feel a little intense at first,” he warned, his voice husky but tender. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”

You nodded again, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as he began to push forward slowly. The stretch was immediate, his size making you wince slightly as your body adjusted. Dick paused, his brows furrowed in concentration as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek.

He continued inching forward, his movements measured and deliberate, giving you time to adjust with each small push. By the time he was fully seated inside you, your breaths were coming in shallow gasps, but you could feel the tension in your body beginning to ease.

Dick stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. His hands moved up to cradle your face as he kissed you softly, his lips tender and warm. “You feel so damn good,” he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses down your jawline and neck.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his words laced with affection as he peppered your skin with soft touches. His hands stroked your sides gently, grounding you while his lips worked to soothe any lingering discomfort.

“You’re everything,” he added, his voice low and filled with emotion, as though each word was meant to make you feel as cherished as possible.

The warmth of his presence, the tenderness of his touch, and the sincerity in his words made it impossible not to relax completely. Your body adjusted to him, the initial discomfort fading into something far more intimate and fulfilling.

Dick’s thrusts began slow and deliberate, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he slid in and out of your hole. Each thrust was careful, as if he were gauging your every reaction, ensuring you were comfortable. The initial stretch had given way to a new sensation—fullness that sent sparks of pleasure radiating through you with every deliberate motion.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your knuckles whitening as you let out a shaky moan. The heat building in your core only intensified as Dick’s strokes grew deeper, his pace gradually increasing. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to anchor you but not hurt. He adjusted his angle slightly, and the next thrust hit a spot that made your back arch off the mattress and a louder moan escape your lips.

“That’s it,” Dick murmured, his voice a deep, encouraging rasp that sent shivers through your body. “Let me hear you.”

Your moans grew more unrestrained as his movements became more confident, each stroke deeper and more precise than the last. His body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin adding to the growing intensity. The sound of your bodies moving together—his labored breathing, your gasps, the rhythmic creak of the mattress—filled the dimly lit room, creating an atmosphere of pure intimacy.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips as the pleasure built higher. His response was a low groan, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. His lips were warm, insistent, and grounding, keeping you tethered to him even as your body felt like it might unravel from the sensations he was creating.

Every thrust felt like a wave crashing through you, each one pulling you further under, until all you could do was cling to him and let him take you where he wanted.

“Say it again,” Dick whispered in your ear, his voice low and full of need. His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his breath hot against your skin. “Say my name.”

“Dick,” you moaned, your voice breaking as another thrust sent a wave of pleasure surging through you. “Ugh, Dick—”

He growled softly at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you up from the bed. In one fluid motion, he shifted, sitting back on his knees with you straddling him. Your legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed together as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you against him.

You didn’t need any encouragement. Your body took over, moving instinctively as you began to rise and fall along his dick. Each motion sent him deeper inside you, filling you completely, and your moans grew louder, spilling into his ear with every movement.

The sensation was overwhelming—the stretch, the heat, the way his hands gripped your hips to guide you as you moved. But before another moan could escape, Dick silenced you with a kiss. His lips crashed into yours, passionate and demanding, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion and desire. “I love you so fucking much.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, your heart racing as you whimpered in response. “I love you too, Dick. I love you.”

The rhythm between you grew faster, more desperate, as your body tightened around him. The pleasure was building, an unstoppable crescendo that left you trembling in his arms. You buried your face in his neck, gasping out, “I’m close. Faster, baby. Please.”

His lips brushed your ear as he chuckled softly, his voice deep and intoxicating. “As you wish.”

With that, he tightened his grip on your hips and thrust upward with renewed intensity, meeting each of your movements with precision. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady slap of your bodies moving together. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life.

Dick’s lips found yours again, his kisses feverish and consuming as he whispered words of love and encouragement between each kiss.

Your entire body tensed as the pleasure reached its peak, and you let out a cry of pure bliss, your climax washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Dick’s thrusts didn’t falter for a moment. If anything, they became more relentless, each one deeper and more deliberate than the last. His breathing grew heavier, his body pressing firmly against yours as his rhythm quickened. The telltale tension in his muscles and the soft groans spilling from his lips signaled that he was nearing his own climax, but he didn’t let up.

His lips never left your skin, moving from your mouth to your neck and back again, as though grounding himself in the intimacy of the moment. Each kiss was full of raw passion, his lips trailing heat and leaving you breathless.

“You feel so good,” Dick murmured against your ear, his voice strained and low. “So perfect.”

The intensity of his thrusts made it impossible to form coherent words. Your body arched instinctively, your hands clutching at his back as he held you tightly against him. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging in slightly as his movements became more erratic, more desperate.

“Y/N,” he groaned, your name rolling off his tongue in a deep, guttural tone that sent shivers through you.

A moment later, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips pressing flush against yours as he reached his breaking point. The warmth of his release filled you, a rush of heat that made you gasp. His head fell against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling slightly against yours.

Even then, his lips continued their tender assault, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and up to your neck. His voice was a low whisper, almost inaudible over the sound of your labored breathing.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d hit you,” you breathed out, your voice heavy with exhaustion but tinged with playful annoyance.

Dick chuckled, his warm breath ghosting over your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “Why?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. “What did I do this time?”

“You robbed me of four years of amazing sex,” you replied matter-of-factly, shooting him a tired glare that only made him laugh harder.

His laughter was rich and unrestrained, his chest vibrating against yours as he leaned back just enough to lift his head from your neck. His gaze locked onto yours, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. Without warning, he captured your lips in a kiss so passionate and full of promise that it left you breathless all over again.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was wicked, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started,” he said, his hand sliding down your side possessively. “I hope you don’t have plans in the morning.”

You barely had time to process the meaning of his words before his lips were on you again, igniting another round of passion that carried you both well into the night.

By the time morning rolled around, the two of you were sprawled on the floor of his living room, completely spent. The apartment bore the evidence of your nocturnal escapades: furniture slightly askew, scattered pillows, and discarded clothes littering the space. The air was still faintly warm from the fire you’d burned through the night.

Dick’s strong arms were wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, your breaths soft and even against his skin. His chin rested gently atop your head, and both of you wore blissful smiles as the sunlight began to filter through the curtains.

The world outside was quiet, but in that moment, everything felt perfectly complete. There, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared intimacy, you both slept peacefully, content in a way you hadn’t been in years.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

-------------------------

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

-----------------------------

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

-------------------------

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[insidekatmind]

His teacher's pet~Cho Sang- woo

Wearning: +18,smut, age-gap.

You sit at your desk, pen in hand, staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you. The test has been going on for ten minutes, yet your mind is still stuck on the moment Cho Sang-woo placed the booklet on your desk with a faint smile. A surprise test. You weren’t expecting it, and you certainly weren’t prepared.

Your legs shake slightly under the table, a nervous tic that you try to control but fail. Then you feel a light hand on your shoulder. “Don’t stress too much, you know…” Sang-woo murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, discreet enough not to attract the attention of the others. His presence is warm, reassuring, and before you can respond, he’s already gone to check on the other students.

Your heart beats a little faster. It’s just for the test, right? It can’t be for anything else. But the whispers of the other students are always there, always present. “Hae-soo has a thing for you…” “You’re his favorite…” They bother you, yet you can’t deny them entirely. He treats you differently, that’s true. But that’s only because you’re a good student, a role model, his pupil. Nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself every time his gaze lingers on you longer than necessary, every time his encouragement makes you feel something you shouldn’t. You focus on the test, trying to push those thoughts away. You have other things to think about. Or at least, you should.

After class, as you gather your books, you hear him call your name. You turn to find him leaning against the desk, his arms crossed and that look that makes you feel a mixture of pride and nervousness. “You did a good job today.” His tone is soft, almost pleased. You move closer, unable to ignore the way his gaze seems to dig into you.

Then, with an unexpected gesture, he invites you to sit on his lap. Your breath catches in your throat. “You deserved it,” he says, his whisper heavy with something you can’t quite decipher. You hesitate for a moment, but then you obey, the heat of his body enveloping you through the fabric of your clothes.

“Here,” he whispers, slipping a small package into your jacket pocket. “A prize for my top student.” You open your mouth to protest, to ask what it all means, but he silences you with a finger under your chin. “Don’t tell the others, okay?”

Your heartbeat is deafening. You swallow hard, unable to tear your gaze from his. You know you should leave, that you should pretend none of this ever happened. But as he smiles at you like that, you feel like it’s already too late.

You nodded and smiled. “Thank you,” you muttered. Sang-woo laughs softly, leaning closer. “Just doing my job as a teacher,” he whispers. His eyes are fixed on you, almost studying you, and you find yourself unable to look away. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes your heart flutter, and you feel yourself sinking deeper into his lap.

His hand on your chin, he gently lifts your face, bringing it closer to his. You can feel his breath tickling your lips, and you find yourself holding your breath. “Do you have plans for tonight?” he asks, his voice low.

“No,” you whispered in awe, losing yourself in his eyes. He smiles at your response, his hand sliding from your chin to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Good." His voice is soft, almost possessive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You can almost forget that he's your teacher, that this is all so wrong.

He's so close now, his face just a few inches away from yours, his breath warm against your lips. His hand on your waist, he pulls you even closer, his grip firm and possessive. "I want to see you tonight," he whispers, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You smiled. “Sure,” you said softly. His grip tightens and he draws you in even closer, his lips just hovering above yours. "And don't be late," he whispers, his voice low and commanding. He's in control, and you find yourself melting into his touch.

"Meet me at my place at ten."

He runs his fingers down your spine, his touch possessive and authoritative. His eyes never leave yours, and you can almost feel the intensity of his gaze.

“Okay,” you said softly and hugged him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him. His grip is possessive and protective, and you find yourself unable to resist. Your heart beats against yours, the warmth of his breath against your neck.

He lingers there for a moment, his hand sliding up to the back of your head, his fingers gently playing with your hair.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive. you can almost feel the sense of satisfaction in his tone, as if you’re the only thing that matters in this moment.

You murmured happily in his embrace, you loved it when he complimented you. He smiles against your neck, his grip tight and protective. His fingers continue to gently run through your hair, and you can feel the possessiveness in his touch. It’s like you belong to him, and you can’t deny the excitement that comes with it.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone both teasing and possessive. “When I call you a good girl?”

"Yes" you whispered softly. He chuckles softly, his grip becoming even tighter. “I know you do.” His voice is deep and possessive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand slides down to your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice low and authoritative. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You look at him softly and respectfully. "I'm your good girl."

His eyes darken at your words, and for a moment, you see something primal and possessive in his gaze. He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you, as if he wants to claim you as his own.

“Yes, you are,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “My good girl.”

His hand moves from your waist to your chin, tilting your face up to his. “And you’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”Sang woo played with your lip and you nodded.

His finger moves from your lips to your cheek, tracing a line down your jaw. His touch is gentle yet possessive, and you can feel your body responding to him.

“Good girl,” he repeats, his voice low and commanding. “Always so eager to please me.”

His mouth moves closer to yours, his breath hot against your skin. “And tonight you’ll be all mine,” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Every inch of you will be mine," he whispers, his hand sliding down your neck. His touch is possessive but gentle, and you find yourself melting into him.

"And you'll give yourself to me completely, won't you?" he says, his voice soft yet authoritative. "You'll let me do anything I want with you."You nodded, clutching his shirt, and Sang woo smiled. “How about you kneel down for me like a good girl and suck my cock, hm?” Sang woo muttered seductively and authoritatively. Hearing his words and tone made you gulp. You knew this was about to get hot and spicy, and you wanted to experience and do it with him. So you got off of him and knelt between his legs

"Yes… sir…"

Sang-woo smiles as you unbutton his jeans. “What a good girl, you’ll get a higher grade just for being obedient,” he murmurs with satisfaction. You could feel your excitement growing as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down. Feeling satisfied about the praises he was giving you, you looked up at him. “Anything to please you…”

Sang woo smiles and strokes your lip. "You already know what to do princess" he whispers in a husky voice.

The way he called you princess made you feel butterflies. You knew just what he wanted from you, and you were eager to please him.

"I'll make you feel good, I promise..." you whispered back with a smile.He smirked, his hand still on your lip. "I know you will," he replied softly, his gaze fixed on you. He let his hand move to the back of your head, gently guiding you closer to his lap.

You took off his boxers and you could feel yourself getting wet seeing how hard he was. He let out a little smirk as you took his boxers off, knowing the effect he was having on you. “Look at you, already so eager for me.” He leaned back a little, spreading his legs wider. “Come a little closer.”You nod and bring your hand to his cock, stroking it a little before taking it in your mouth.

Sang woo raises his hips and grunts. “So good, my favorite student,” he murmured, guiding your movements.

As he guides you, you find yourself enjoying it even more, knowing you're pleasing him. His words of praise and affection make you feel even more eager to continue, taking care to move the way he wants. You look up at him with desire.He moans softly, his hand still on the back of your head. "Just like that..." he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours.

"Such a good girl for me." His other hand moves to your cheek, his touch possessive but gentle. He's enjoying every second of this, and you can feel the excitement building between you both.

You lick the shaft while trying to take it all in your mouth. He moans softly, his grip on your head becoming a little tighter. "Yes, keep going."Your nails dig into his thighs as he sets a rhythm, thrusting into your mouth with increasing intensity. the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking your throat fill the room, mixed with his breathless groans and your muffled moans.

"What a good girl." You choke on his cock as he roughly squeezes your hair, guiding you that way so you can take him deeper. Your cheeks are red, there are small crystal tears in your eyes, and saliva mixed with his cum flows from your chin. Sang woo's lips are touched by the most mean smirk,you looked so beautiful with his cock in your mouth. You kneel before him with his cock deep in your mouth, drooling but you keep taking what he gives you. "Do you like how you feel?"

You didn't have a chance to respond because your mouth was full of his big cock that was tearing you apart.

You hum around him, your tongue swirling around his length as he hits the back of your throat again, your eyes locked on his as tears stream down your cheeks. his hips stutter, his grip tightening in your hair as he finally spills, hot and thick down your throat, his groans echoing in your ears.

He comes with a loud string of curse words, emptying your throat. You close your eyes as his cock shoots thick ropes of cum, your hands resting on his knees as you slowly pull your mouth away from him. The classroom is filled with breathing sounds, Sang woo leans back to catch his breath and stares into your eyes as you wipe your mouth with red cheeks and messy hair. There's saliva coating your chin that you didn't clean, so Sang woo grabs your jaw.His grip on your jaw is firm, and he looks at you with an intensity that sends chills down your spine. He leans closer, his face just inches from yours. He wets his thumb with his tongue and runs it over your chin, his gaze fixed on you the entire time.

"You're such a mess," he whispers, his voice filled with desire. "But you're my mess."

He smiles at the reaction you have given him from how he has been acting towards you. He softly pats your head in a loving manner, showing you how proud he is of you but also how much he loved what happened.With the finger that cleaned your chin he brings it into your mouth. "Suck it" he orders you.

You can feel yourself getting aroused by his words, the need to please him getting the best of you. you look up at him, eyes full of desire. You begin to suck on his finger how he wants you too.He watches you with a combination of satisfaction and a need for more, his gaze never leaving your face. "That's a good girl, you listen so well and so fast" he whispers, his voice low and sensual.

He takes his finger out of your mouth and drags you onto his lap. "Don't be late tonight," he murmured, kissing your forehead.

His kiss on your forehead is soft and affectionate, but there's a hint of possessiveness in his touch.

"I won't," you murmur, your voice filled with promise. You know you'll be there for him, no matter what. He smiles, his hand running through your hair. "You're mine, remember?" he whispers, his voice possessive and commanding.He smiles, but there's a hint of something more in his expression. It's a look that shows his possessive desire for you, a need to have you all to himself. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“Yours” you say sweetly and happy to be his.

Your words are like music to his ears, and his smile widens. "Yes, you are mine. All mine." He tightens his grip on you, pulling you even closer. "And I'm not letting you go, understand?"His tone is dominant, but there's an undertone of care and affection in his words. It's as if he's claiming you as his own, staking his territory and making it clear that you belong to him. You feel safe in his arms, but there's also a sense of excitement in the way he holds you.He returns the kiss, his lips soft and gentle against yours. But there's a hint of something more underneath, a hungry gleam in his eyes. He runs his hand through your hair, his grip tight but not painful. He wants to be close to you, to claim you completely.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze is firm and possessive.

"Mine," he murmurs once more, his voice filled with a primal need.

[the5thorgy]

Bakugou x reader and it's just a reader who is really expressive with liking him? Little treats here and there, writing him notes, always being around him, etc. obviously he gets mad at some point and tells her to leave him alone but he winds up missing her? Idk it's just smth quick I came up with since y'all asked for requests. This also could be done with Gojo maybe 🧐

TOO MUCH..

CW: angst w comfort & bkg is a bitch

A/N: ty for sending in a request ily 🥹

You sat on the bench outside of the UA training field, your eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for him. Bakugou Katsuki, the student you were way too invested in. He was loud, brash, and always pushing people away, but you couldn’t help it—he was like a magnet, drawing you in with his strength, his passion, his unyielding attitude.

And, okay, maybe you were a little obsessed. But it wasn’t like you’d ever admit it. Well, at least, not in a way that didn’t involve writing him notes and leaving little treats in his locker. It was your way of showing him that you cared, even if he made remarks every day that he didn’t want to be treated ‘like a baby’.

Today, you had something special—just a little snack for Bakugou. His favorite, as you’d learned after a year of paying attention to the little details.

You heard his voice before you saw him. “Oi, you! What the hell are you doing here?”

You jumped to your feet, practically glowing with excitement. “Katsuki! I made you some snacks! It’s just a little something, you know, for your training,” you said, handing him the neatly wrapped bundle.

He eyed it suspiciously, his expression tight. “What, you think I need you to pamper me now? I’m fine.”

Your smile faltered a bit, but you shrugged. “It’s just a snack. I thought you’d like it. I know you’re always busy and don’t have time to grab something to eat.” Your eyes avoided his.

His crimson eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of something softer in them. But it was gone just as quickly. “Tch. Whatever.” He snatched the package from your hands, though, his eyes still burning with annoyance. “Stop acting like some damn food will make me like you more..”

“Bakugou, I—”

“Just leave me the hell alone!” he snapped, his voice rising. “Stop following me around and acting all sweet, okay? I don’t need it!”

You froze, his words like a slap to the face. You had grown used to his outbursts, but this time, it hurt a little more. You stared at him, blinking as your mind scrambled to process everything he said.

“Fine,” you whispered, your heart sinking in your chest. “I’ll leave you alone.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Bakugou standing there, clutching the snack you’d made for him, feeling a strange weight in his chest.

Days passed, and Bakugou didn’t realize just how much he missed you until he saw your empty seat in class. You haven't been around much lately. You didn’t sneak little snacks into his locker, no notes with little doodles of “Good luck!” or “I believe in you!” You didn’t hover around him like you used to. And it left him feeling... off.

He attempted to tone out the sound of Kirishima asking about you, but he was persistent. “Hey, Bakugou, have you seen Y/N lately? She hasn’t been around much. You know, I think she’s been worried about you.”

Bakugou scowled, the words rattling around in his head. “What the hell are you talking about? Who cares?”

But even as he said it, he could feel a knot in his stomach. It wasn’t like he missed her or anything. Not really. She was just... always there. He didn’t want to admit that he’d gotten used to her presence.

When he saw you again, it was in the hallway, your head down as you walked past him, seemingly lost in thought. You didn’t even look up when you crossed his path. The usual spark of recognition, the little flash of joy that came from just being near him, was gone.

"Oi!" Bakugou barked, and you froze, your hand halfway to the door of your classroom. "Why the hell aren’t you talking to me anymore? I told you to leave me alone, but that doesn’t mean you can just disappear."

You turned, your eyes wide with surprise. “I—I thought you wanted me to leave you alone..?”

He gritted his teeth, frustration building in his chest. “You think I wanted that? I didn’t ask for you to act like some damn ghost! You’ve been gone for days, YN. What the hell is going on?”

You blinked in confusion, stepping closer but still not fully understanding what was happening. “But... you said—”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean it! At least, not like that.” he made a desperate attempt to explain, his voice softer this time, tinged with an unexpected urgency. “You’re always around, and I hate it. But... hell, I miss you being there. I don’t know why. I just—” He stopped, his face turning redder than usual, and he looked away, grumbling. “Just... don’t disappear again, okay? I’m.. sorry.”

A slow smile tugged at your lips, the same smile you always wore when he frustrated you. “I can’t promise I won’t be around. I’m just too... much, I guess,” you teased.

“Damn right you are,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something warmer than the usual anger. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You stepped forward, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, then placed your hand on his shoulder. “I won’t. I promise.”

Bakugou stared at you, his heart racing, unsure of what to say. You spoke instead,

“But seriously, don’t ever pull this shit again or I might just kill you.”

He chuckled, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as annoyed with you as he let on.

From then on, the little notes and treats kept coming. And despite all the grumbling, the scowls, and the sarcastic remarks, Bakugou found himself growing more comfortable with your presence. He’d never admit it, but he was starting to look forward to seeing you, even if he was too stubborn to let you know.

After all, even Bakugou couldn’t stay mad at someone who cared enough to stick around.

all rights reserved © the5thorgy. do not copy, translate, or steal any of the works you find on this blog! ฅ ฅ

[tf2occontest]

The Courier VS Armani & Marcel, The Decoys VS The Therapist

(Final round! No match-up list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboard and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes wins the contest, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your FINAL contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

The Courier

@sicc-nasti

Image credit: @/sicc-nasti

Do you like receiving your mail on time and your packages in pristine condition - untouched by curious hands and peeping eyes? Do you love when your woefully embarrassing love letters filled with poetry from your soul are delivered with the utmost care and secrecy? Does it fill you with glee when your special snacks you ordered overseas finally make its way into your hands and not a SINGLE piece is missing?

If you said yes to any of these questions then WOW do I NOT have the guy for you!!!!

Instead-

TFI presents you something you didn't know was possible OR legal - weaponized postal services!

Meet your 10th Class-

The Courier!

By intercepting and opening someone else's mail, an individual can gain access to confidential information that can be used for identity theft, fraud, or other illegal activities. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? That's why our solution to this simple problem is bringing the mail to the battlefield! Courier is equipped with MANN CO approved disposable stackable mail crates for your climbing or shielding needs. Just think of how nice it would be to build a tower to do taunts on or have cover from that enemy Heavy's hail of bullets. Sure it's clunky but nothing shreds paper faster than a bullet - that's science tested and math approved by TFI scientists! And monkeys!

Courier is THE MANN for the job.

If that ain't enough to catch your attention, let's take a peek at the men behind the uniform.

RED’s Courier is a Puerto Rican ex-felon hailing from the greatest place on earth! New York City! With an insatiable appetite for all things fraud, deli meats, and violence - what more could you ask from a guy?

BLU's Courier is a Puerto Rican-Italian ex-con plucked from the greatest place on earth! Jersey City! With an insatiable appetite for all things smuggling, deli meats, and violence - what more could you ask from a guy?

Not enough for a vote?

Well, listen, I'm not above bribery. If you vote for them, Courier promises to not read your mail for like a week and INSTEAD- will write you up a totally not fraudulent marriage certificate to any merc you want!! Just think! Finally legally married to Heavy! Or Engie! How’s that sound for incentive, boss?

THROUGH RAIN, SHINE, BULLET HAIL OR SNOW, THEY’RE YOUR COURIER.

VOTE FOR COURIER IN THIS UPCOMING TF2 OC CONTEST

Maybe there’ll be enough in the budget for a third one!

Armani & Marcel, The Decoys

@friendlyengie

Image credit: @/friendlyengie

When your job description is to be as obnoxious as possible, obviously you’re going to send in a clown! Armani is a Decoy, which means his purpose is to get on the field and draw as much attention to himself as possible. Sure, it probably means he gets killed frequently, but isn’t that half the fun?

Personally, Armani is rough and over the (big)top. He’s Italian, too. If that helps. If it doesn’t ignore that part. He’s got the flowery language exaggerated expressions of a performer and absolutely none of the social tact. He’s loud and in your face and simply does not care! Take him or leave him, baby! (Please take him.)

Marcel is just a guy. A little man. His mime-specific approach to the decoy class means he’s a lot less loud shouting and japes, and a lot more inconvenient tricks and hiding where you just can’t see him. He saves his breath unless he has the chance to be really funny. As a person, Marcel is eccentric and expressive. Cartoonishly so. A man of few words, since said words can only be spoken when he pulls the string on his back, he normally conveys his thoughts through actions instead. He’s annoying, and he wants you to know that specifically. He’s charming enough that he can make people forget how obnoxious he is just long enough for whatever stunt he pulls next to come out of nowhere. Ain’t he just so charming?

The Therapist

@hazardtoons

Image credit: @/hazardtoons

You wouldn’t expect an organisation like Team Fortress Industries to invest in something like mental health treatment for its hardened soldiers. The one giving them this generous care is a woman only known by those who work at the company as Therapist - a seemingly well-intentioned lady there to give everything from a shoulder to cry on to someone to seek advice from.

There is a catch, however. Not all the information she gathers from her clients is used for good. Underlying that comforting presence is another tool of oppression used in the company.

[prythiansprincess]

babe i had a thought about best friend enzo 🫠

we know he 100% manipulates you when you’re with your bf but i also think he’d mess with your boyfriends head too!! subtly at first and then not so subtly towards the end with the most fucked up shit like you’re wearing your bfs quidditch jersey and he mutters to him in passing “she might be wearing your name but she’ll be moaning mine”

AND THEN your bf tries to tell you and you’re like “enzo would never, how could you accuse him of something like that!?” instant fight. and enzo’s like 😈

oh yes, enzo is absolutely devious. at first, he would befriend your boyfriend and gain his trust. enzo would sprinkle in useful information and advice because after all, no one else knows you better than him. but over time, he would start sabotaging your relationship bit by bit. little things like telling your boyfriend to get you a bouquet of lilies for valentine's day when he clearly knows your favorite flowers are tulips, which he sends to you during class for everyone, including your boyfriend, to see. he would even go so far as sending your boyfriend to honeydukes for nougat chunks and coming to the rescue when he tries to hand it to you. "y/n is allergic to nuts. you're her boyfriend. shouldn't you know that? here, honey, have a chocolate frog instead." more than that, enzo would do things to purposely piss him off. hugs would linger longer than needed, kisses on your cheek would draw closer and closer to your lips, and conversations would consist of enzo leaning down, pretending to be engrossed in whatever you were saying, to the point that you two were practically nose to nose while you giggled about some inside joke that only the two of you understood. and when your boyfriend tries to call him out on this? "i'm sorry, I didn't mean to come between you. i'll back off if it truly makes you feel better. the last thing I want to do is drive a wedge between my best friend and her boyfriend. I know how much she cares about you."

meanwhile, you're just nodding along as enzo flashes those puppy dog eyes, sounding so earnest and sincere. at this point, you're tired of your boyfriend's constant jealousy over enzo. "you see? you’re worried over nothing. enzo and I are just really close and if you can’t accept that, then I don’t know what it means for our relationship.” your boyfriend is just gaping in disbelief because despite all the concrete evidence he has, you still took enzo’s side again and again. “I really don’t want to cause any trouble, honey. we can dial things down if it’ll help make him feel more comfortable.” you shake your head as enzo rubs your back, his soothing touch easing the frustration you felt towards your boyfriend. “no, we shouldn’t have to change our friendship because we aren’t doing anything wrong.” your boyfriend starts to protest, but you hold your hand up to stop him. “enzo and I are a package deal. I guess it’s up to you whether or not you can handle it. i’ll give you time to think about it, but for now, enzo and I will be hanging out. like we usually do. as friends.” enzo nods in agreement, flashing a smug, satisfied grin at your boyfriend as if to say. give up, mate. it’s me. y/n will always choose me.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy XV

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) warnings: dark adult themes, violence, sex, drugs, obsession, yandere shit. plz don't read if u can't handle it ->chapter map

XV.

You stare at each other in perfect stillness for what feels like an eternity, a sparking live wire in place of your spine. Adrenaline sings through your veins; is he angry that you invaded his space, or contrite at all about this obvious fixation with you? You cannot read him. 

He hid it all so well. 

“John…what is this?”

“An art project?”

A total body of work, was more like it.

“Why?”

He looks down at the floor, his hands in his pockets. 

“I can’t…stop looking at you, y/n. Since…the moment we met.”

He raises his gaze to meet yours; his glittering black eyes shining dark pools of agony, and your heart breaks for him, even if deep down you know this is probably a cause for alarm.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. He takes a step towards you, and out of pure instinct you back away. 

He holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Please, don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you.” 

“John…” You look around at the scope of this body of work again. “This is a lot.” 

“I know.” He lets out a shuddering breath, looking to you like you could be his salvation, or his absolute damnation. “I’m sorry. I…I know.” 

He takes another step towards you, as though he can’t help it, drawn to you like a magnet. But again, you retreat. 

Some of the sketches feel more like scenes from your day to day, rather than what he could just concoct in the studio. There’s the coffee shop you frequent.

There’s the dress you wore last week. 

A cold dread worms through the marrow of your bones. “Have you been watching me?” 

He tilts his head, and you can tell he’s gauging how to answer this. “I see you around the neighborhood.” 

“We don’t live in the same neighborhood.” 

He answers this with silence, and your heart falls. 

Again, you look around at the staggering quantity. It could amount to a drawing a day, since the start of the semester. But you have to admit…they’re stunning. You hardly even see yourself, in the way he’s arranged your form and lines. He’s transformed your paltry flesh into something wonderfully other. 

“This is how you see me?” you dare ask, your voice small and fragile as hand blown glass. 

“I told you, y/n. You’re beautiful.” 

You’re not the sort of girl who could ever be on the cover of a fashion magazine. But to you, this is infinitely more beguiling. To be the muse of an artist like John Wick is a certain form of immortality the likes of which you thought you could only dream. It’s disturbing and flattering, all in the same package. 

Yet you remind yourself that just because he likes to draw you…doesn’t mean he cares for you.

“Do you even like me, John?” 

It sounds so third grade, but in the moment you don’t know how else to voice it.  

“Like you?” he scoffs. “I adore you, y/n. Isn’t it obvious?” He gestures around the room agitatedly, like he’s trying to tell you something but you’re too thick to grasp it.

Yet you can’t help but think about how distant he was in class, after the Jackalope incident, and then your little blowup about Matt’s critique. 

“It didn’t feel like it.” 

His bottom jaw juts as he grinds his teeth thinking about it. “I��may have overcompensated a bit.”

You narrow your eyes. “What, like…when a boy likes you on the playground he pulls your hair?”

He frowns at the comparison–but he does not negate it. “I knew it wasn’t…appropriate. I tried to stop.” He shrugs, looking around the room, and he doesn't have to say it aloud. See how that worked out? “I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone, after my wife died, y/n. At first…I didn’t want to.”

Your heart aches for him at that moment; you understand that all too well. Love is wonderful…but it’s messy, and it hurts, and it requires regular offerings of blood, sweat, and tears to keep it alive, much less to make it grow. It makes life worth living–but one way or the other, it always takes its pound of flesh in the end. After enduring such a loss, you sympathize that this poor man didn’t want to open himself up to all that again. 

And yet, here you are, in a room that almost feels like a sanctum, and somehow you are his icon of devotion. 

You should be on your guard, for surely this is a form of mental illness–and what does it say about you that you assume a man must be ill, if he is this into you?–but no one has ever wanted you so completely, so obsessively, before. 

It’s more titillating than you’d like to admit, and you have to mentally knock yourself upside the head not to give in to this. 

You wonder if he's been with anyone since his wife passed, and your heart breaks for him all over again. How much of this has to do with that, you wonder? Again, you find yourself assuming this fixation isn’t actually about you, but some external circumstances that makes you convenient to him. It's how most of your relationships have started, looking back, and it never ends well for you in the end. You look around at the shrine he's constructed in this studio. So he likes your shapes in their particular order. But what does he even know about you? 

You don't realize the answer is far more than you want to know. 

Then another thought occurs to you. “Were you cruel to Matt…over me?”

A sigh escapes him that seems to come from the bottom depths of his soul. “I wasn’t cruel,” he grumbles, looking away at a drawing of you. 

“You were definitely extra.”

He growls at this, a primal sound that more belongs in the time of the caves than here in this elegant old house. It lifts every hair on your body. 

“Fine.” He approaches you with one slow step, hoping not to spook you. “Maybe I was mean to him, but I was never dishonest.” Another step, and you can only watch as he approaches you like a slow-stalking predator on those impossibly long legs, looking at you like he might like to eat you if he catches you. 

“It drove me mad, thinking about you together, when I knew that boy had no idea how to handle a woman like you.”

He keeps advancing with that hungry look, and finally you remember how to move, scrambling backwards until your butt bumps into something solid. Too late, you realize he's backed you into his paint-stained worktable. You regain some sense, skittering around it just as he tries to close the distance between you. 

He’s being lazy about it, you realize. A man built like that could snatch you up in a second–he is but a panther toying with a mouse. 

“John…wait.” 

“I’ve been waiting,” he grouses, leaning on the table, letting you put it between you. He grips the edge of it with those huge hands as though holding himself back, the muscles playing in his bared forearms, his cuffs rolled up from doing the dishes. You cannot help but stare. This man should not be allowed to be so ridiculously good looking, when he is possibly so very unstable. 

He’s so beautiful. Fuck is he beautiful, but this…is borderline insane.

When he speaks his voice is low and full of gravel, rough with desire, the sound of which makes you press your thighs for some relief. “I know I’m not a good man, y/n. But I would be so good, to you.”

After the magic of earlier in just sharing a meal with this man, talking easily over food and wine with his dogs at your feet…you're afraid you believe him. There's a part of you that wants that, so badly. The logical part of you, however, cautions that it’s surely too good to be true.

You’re afraid you’re like a moth to the flame, unable to stop yourself from self-immolation. You just barely escaped something terrible happening to you via Matt’s friends. You have got to be smarter than you were then. 

“John…maybe…I should go home to think about all this.”

“Don’t go home,” he pleads, though it somehow also sounds like a command. “Stay here with me a little longer. We were having a nice time.” 

It’s true. You were, while blissfully ignorant of this smoking gun just down the hall. With your heart in your throat you know you shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought…but here you are. “What happens…if I stay?” 

Like…do you want to wear my skin? 

“Anything you want,” he answers gently, doing his best, you can tell, not to scare you. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a patient man.” 

You were smart enough not to go to Matt’s apartment where his predatory friends hung out, and your instincts were right. You know you should listen to your instincts now. Why is this harder? You shake your head, at yourself as much as him. 

“No. No. I'm going.” You turn to make for the door, and you were right about him. He is fast as lightning, and when he grabs you up the most embarrassingly girly little squeal escapes you. You flail, knocking a stack of papers askew, some fluttering to the ground. His arms are like iron bands around you, not hurting you but there is no escaping his hold. All you manage is to turn, so that your back is pressed in an agonizing line against the solid wall of his front.

He is warm, and strapped with muscle, and it should not feel this good to be engulfed by his larger frame. 

You push on his arms around your waist, to absolutely zero avail. 

“Y/n, please, calm down.” 

You scan the worktable, hoping for some tool to help you that might startle him without doing any real damage. You don’t want to hurt him. You just want him to let you go. Your eyes settle upon one of the unearthed papers, and that’s when you freeze in your struggles, going still as a stone. 

“Oh my god.”

It’s a paper filled with sketches, of the sort a sculptor might make before executing a project. It has views from the front and sides, various variations of designs.They’re plans for a mask–in the shape of a wolf’s head. The same stylized masquerade style half mask that you’ve been seeing in your fractured memories and your hazy dreams. 

Exactly like the one that still rests on your nightstand. 

“It was you.” 

You cannot raise your voice above a whisper, your fingertips like claws digging into his arms. You don’t know why you go limp in his grasp, your head rocking back on his shoulder. Shock, surely, or a reluctant acceptance. His voice is a low grumble beside your ear, his nose nuzzling in your hair.  A wave of gooseflesh erupts across your body, and the most shamefully delicious thrill shoots down your spine. 

“You’re finding all my secrets tonight, aren’t you Little Red?”

Your Lone Wolf has got you, and you’re afraid there’s no escape.

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[miniminecraftsteve]

Wenclair but it's Spider-Verse

i was watching atsv and decided i'd rewrite a ghostflower scene as wenclair cause i'm bored.

warning there's mention that yoko is dead just accept she's enid's peter oops

might do another scene soon if i can get myself to do it

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday walked into her room, slamming the door as she did. After arguing with her parents, Gomez and Morticia, over her missed classes, her constant lateness, her friends, and how it seemed that she didn’t care about her dad’s promotion in his job, she wished she could just tell them.

“Two months.” She muttered. “I’m Spider-Woman. I’m not grounded”

The girl sighed and grabbed her headphones, laying on her bed and playing a song that reminded her of the girl she’d met from another dimension two years ago. She missed her so much. Closing her eyes, she started humming along to the song, not noticing when her books began floating, her art supplies circling a strange orange and purple hexagon above her bed.

Wednesday noticed the sudden, growing brightness before she noticed the muffled voice over her headphones

“Wednesday! Wednesday!”

Wednesday took off her headphones to see the girl from two years ago. 

Enid Sinclair, Spider-Woman of Earth-902

“You got a minute?” She asked, as Wednesday yelped, throwing off her headphones and moving out of the way for Enid to drop down.

“Woah! Enid, how did you- Where have you-”

Enid interrupted Wednesday with a sudden, and strong hug.

“How… have you been?” Wednesday asked as she felt the warmth of Enid surround her chest, her soft hair touching her chin. Not an all too unpleasant feeling.

“Uhm.. good! I- I’ve been- Yeah, look at you!” She gestured to Wednesday, indicating how much she had grown and gotten taller since their last meeting. 

Enid got up from the bed, and began walking around the room.

“Is this the room you grew up in?” She asked with genuine interest, seeing how much more juvenile it was compared to her dorm room.

“Yeah… but, y’know…” Wednesday grabbed a beheaded barbie doll and threw it out of her room. “My- My dorm room is…  Very Adult” she said, deepening her voice, trying to cover up the fact her voice hadn’t changed since they last met.

“Woah, cool figures!” Enid gestured to a shelf full of Monster High dolls, one of the only things with colour that Wednesday could stand. Monster High, her graffiti art, and… Enid.

“Yeah, no i used to play with these when i was a kid too.” Enid says, unaware Wednesday simply collects them. She pats Draculaura’s packaging and turns to see Wednesday, trying to find a way to hide her sketchbook.

THWIP! THWIP! 

Two webs shot at the sketchbook, Enid’s getting there faster. 

“Are these your drawings?” She asked as she started flipping through them. “Wow, they’re good.” She notes.

“Maybe stop!” Wednesday says urgently, but too late, as Enid is already viewing the multiple sketchbook pages of drawings of her, her spidersuit, her hands in the “Thwip” motion.

She closes the sketchbook and hands it to Wednesday, her eyes closed, hovering over Enid’s shoulder.

“Missed you too” She says, teasingly.

Wednesday throws the book onto her bed, and turns to face Enid as she sits on her windowsill. 

“Wanna get outta here?” Enid asks, shedding her brown cardigan to now just be in her spidersuit, a pink bodysuit with purple markings, forming a spider. Wednesday would normally find these colours horrendous, but on Enid, they looked genuinely fitting.

“I’m… Grounded” Wednesday sighed, not wanting to get into trouble with her parents even more. 

“Bummer.” said Enid, rolling out of Wednesday’s window as Wednesday chased after her. She couldn’t say goodbye again. Not yet, anyways. She looked out to see Enid’s mask now on her face, it being purple with wide white eyes.

“Is… Spider- Woman grounded?” she asked sarcastically.

Wednesday looked back into her room, and back at Enid.

Enid’s eyes widened, as if to say “Are you sure?”

Wednesday sighed.

Just then, Morticia and Gomez appear outside of Wednesday’s door, rapping at it gently. 

“Wednesday? Your father is ready to talk now” Morticia said softly, entering Wednesday’s room, and seeing nothing new but an open window and Enid’s brown cardigan. She picked it up and Gomez stormed out of the room, yelling “That’s three months!”

Meanwhile, Wednesday and Enid are swinging through the streets of New York City, catching up on lost time. 

As Enid is explaining the way she got here, and her new fangled watch thingy that she got that keeps her from glitching in this dimension, Wednesday’s all-black spidersuit collides with the summer evening air and the cool breeze it’s blowing.

The girls swing through multiple streets in a minute, talking about Enid’s cool Spider-group she got invited to. They each grab a hot dog from the local vendor, and web a 20-Dollar bill to his short, Wednesday yelling “Keep the change!”.

They spot a thief stealing an old woman’s bag, and stop him quick and swiftly. Once they have decided to stop this, Wednesday took Enid up to her “thinking spot”.

“This is a really cool thinking spot” Enid spoke.

“Who needs a treadmill when you have the Williamsburg Bank building?” Wednesday jokes.

Enid laughs softly. Wednesday’s heart felt aflutter at that noise.

As the city sounds return to her ears, Wednesday needs to hear Enid’s voice again. She quickly files through the recent things she failed to follow up on a conversation with, and lands on the subject of her Dad.

“So… you and your father… you still haven’t talked?” She asks, and Enid’s face drops slightly.

“What exactly would we talk about? ‘Hey dad, how have the last few months been? Still think i murdered my best friend?’” Enid responds sarcastically.

Wednesday notes in her head to visit Enid’s universe and set her father ablaze one day.

“I mean… my parents… maybe if i told them, i-”

“Don’t. Trust me on that.” Enid cuts her off, tying up her hair and walking upside down to see the view of the city.

Wednesday decides to leave her some space, so when she goes upside down, she sits a little further away from Enid.

“Maybe some things are supposed to be just between us…” Wednesday trails off.

“That’s a nice way to think about it.” Enid replies.

“I’m just a really emotionally intelligent person. Beyond my years, some would say.” Wednesday tries to sound sincere, but ends up sounding sarcastic.

Enid scoffs and rolls her eyes in fake shock. 

“You really are always great to talk to.” Enid admits. 

“I am?” Wednesday asked, genuine shock in her voice as she moves to sit next to Enid on the edge of the building.

“Yeah… i mean, how many people can you talk to about this stuff?” she asks.

“You don’t even know…” Wednesday responds. 

Enid sighs. 

“Are you okay?” the dark-haired teen asked, her mask now off to match Enid.

“You’re the only real friend i made after Yoko died.” Enid replied. 

“...other than Ajax, right?” Wednesday asks, referencing a boy she spoke about being friends with during their swing.

“That’s… different.” the blonde responds.

“How?”

“I don’t know… you… and me… it’s…”

“We’re the same.”

Enid looked at Wednesday, slight confusion in her face.

“In the important ways” Wednesday continued her sentence from before.

Enid takes pause.

“In every other universe, Enid Sinclair falls for somebody.” Enid says, looking up (or down, depending on how you wanna look at it. With like, gravity and such. anyways)

Wednesday’s eyes get a bit wider, and her hand gets a bit closer to Enid’s.

The blonde sees this happen, and closes her eyes.

“And in every other universe… it doesn’t end well…” She says as Wednesday retracts her hand.

Enid looks at Wednesday, who has a slight reassuring look on her face. Enid smiles and turns away.

“I believe the saying goes there is a first time for everything.” Wednesday states, although Enid’s face doesn’t turn to see her.

Enid allows her body to fall to the left, resting her shoulder on Wednesday’s as they both watch the sunset.

----------------------------------------------------------

hope yous enjoyed :) i'll link my ao3 to my profile eventually

[vivsteria]

⊹₊⟡⋆ matcha sandwiches (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

ᯓ ✈︎ a/n: based on the conversation when you get the wasabi-octo plushie! first work, criticism is always welcome. ◡̈ ㅤpair: caleb x gn! reader

⟢ warnings: none, just fluff, not beta read!

"caleb!" you call out, just finishing the last touches of his matcha sandwich you made him for lunch, setting the matcha tube down after drawing a cat face on it.

you close the lid on his lunchbox and turn around just to your egregiously tall childhood friend behind you, his natural charismatic smile shining down on you. he greets you, "pipsqueak,"

"whatcha make today?" he hums, picking up his lunchbox ready to flip the latch to take a peak before you stop him, "hey! it's a surprise!"

"really?" he grins, though it falters when he catches the familiar green tube left on the counter. you luckily don't see it as you're busy sliding your own lunchbox in your bag. caleb had already prepped your lunch for the day before you went downstairs, but you shooed him away from the kitchen as you prepped his. already excited for whatever he had made today.

"ready to head out?" he calls, already striding to the front doorway as he begins sliding his shoes on. you call out in response, "coming!"

you stand next to him and wait patiently as he ties your shoelaces.

when he's done, he gets up and opens the door for you. "pipsqueak, are you prepped for that math test today?" "er.." you look down to the side of your lawn as he checks to make sure the door is locked correctly before taking your hand as a sign to start walking to school. "c'mon pip, we studied all night together. don't tell me you forgot all the formulas already."

"maybe it escaped my brain and decided to seek refuge in a more secure, permanent home," you sighed as you trudged dramatically along the concrete pathway. caleb pats your head, "don't worry, i'm sure you'll score in top 5."

"you've got a lot of hope in me.."

the rest of the walk is taken basking in the sun, greeting classmates across the street, and caleb having to pick you up with his evol when you began getting a little too tired going uphill.

"will i see you today at lunch?" you ask him, taking your backpack from caleb. caleb lets out a hum, "not sure, think my classmates will wanna play basketball again.."

"alright! if you're not in your class, i'll head straight to the court!" you smile up at him before entering your classroom, missing the way his cheeks and ears tinted pink. after making sure you get to your seat properly, he sighs and walks to his own classroom.

he did want to eat lunch with you, and his classmates playing basketball wasn't necessarily a lie.. but. he doesn't know how well he could control his face when biting down on wasabi again. though, he wondered what you doodled with the green paste today.

he had to make sure gran wouldn't accidentally rip off the packaging for the wasabi tube again.

⟢ wc: ~500 ^^ not sure where i wanted to go with this tbh but i really wanted to explore the domestic life of calebmc in their childhood. i hope you enjoy!

[randomfillername]

Random thoughts/hc I have about clinical trial (I did the double accept ending so this is for that).

(SPOILERS)

Angel works at home doing art and commissions while Lee still works his normal job. Lee helped them build a loose schedule and tried to help set up stuff to get the commission money. He doesn't know much about marketing (who wouldn't like their art) or making art so everything else is on angle and he encourages them however he can. (I don't know how artists make money or if patron existed in this timeline). Angle doesn't need to work but they mentioned kinda feeling like a burden so Lee wants to help them feel more independent.

The furry stuff Angel draws reminds Lee of the anthropomorphic animals in his childhood books. The religious ones his mother used to read him before she decided he was too old for it. He doesn't remember her reading them he just remembered that it was a thing and saw it happening with his younger siblings. When his mom would pass out before the younger kids he'd try to read to them but sometimes she'd wake up and yell at him to go back to his room. Angles animals are much more colorful and unique, full or life.

Angel starts living sticky notes with cute little doodles for Lee around the house. Their only sticky for a few day so Lee started to keep them in a folder but he feels super guilty over it because he feels like he's slowly repeating the shrine incident. He even keeps some napkins Angle doodled on. He eventually shows it to angle while apologizing for having it.

I feel like lee got super attached to objects as a child, especially those given as gifts. He kept the old socks he was given as a child even when they were riddled with holes, he kept broken glasses/cups, old clothes he outgrew, bus tickets from a day out, packaging/wrapping paper all hidden in a little space in his room. His parents found it and freaked out on him for hoarding it. He just didn't want anything to go to waste, he should be thankful for all he's given. Other than that he was a very organized kid. He wants to keep his place neat so now he only gets/keeps things he really wants

The blue Turkish floor lamp. I have thoughts on it. Lee likes the reflection from it and his stained glass window. As a child he was enamored by the stained glass at his church. Anyways I can't tell if I want angels hair to remind him of the lamp at home or if I want him to have the lamp because it reminds him of Angel. I'm leaning towards him already having it tho.

Angel starts attending a nearby community College part time for art classes. It's mostly to meet other people.

Sometimes they stay a bit late to hang out with someone or continue working on a piece so Lee would just wait in the car. Angel encourages him to wander around (angle was wondering behind the plexiglass in my run so I hc that they like wandering around places.) Lee ends up finding an entomology class so he just sits in the back happily listening the entire time. He trys to draw some of the bugs too (for scientific purposes). He might also find some biology classes too. He's not enrolled in the classes he's just there in the back. Maybe he listens to the professors like podcasts while studying. The students think he's a security guard the professors don't care. (Idk what community College is like but I once chilled in a horticultural class by accident and the professor just accepted it until I told him I didn't need the handout because I don't study this)

I also like angle going to a community center. They get to do art classes, maybe they volunteer to teach kids how to draw. The shy kids flock to them. Maybe Lee takes some beginner classes too.

Lee is very nervous to meet angels new friends. He's worried they'll think he's a creep even with the abridged version of how they got together. (I wanna maybe write a fic about this because Lee is definitely in the wrong but also their where both incredibly lonely so I wanna explore that)

Lee doesn't feel Like a creative person, he feels like he lacks imagination. He can't really make an image in his head and put it to paper like angel can. Angel tells him he is creative, he made the doll by hand (they emphasize not making another doll). As a kid he learned some sewing skills from his sister and mom but then got told it was “women's work” so now he usually only uses it to mend his clothes. He starts sewing again and makes some plushies (shrimps, rabbits, their sona, ect) then gets into clothes. He feels a little embarrassed about making clothing at first but then he realizes he can make angel outfits. (I might make a short fic of Lee making Angels bunny sona plush and than freaking out because it's a sona so he doesn't know if it's crossing the line again. Angle actually thinks this one is cute though.)

He was told to avoid “women's work” so now he sucks at cooking. He doesn't believe that, he was just never given the opportunity to learn and was never interested in learning once we left the religion.

Angel bakes cute animal themed feed. Lee thinks it's too pretty to eat but he can't keep it forever so the next best thing he can do is eat it. He likes it and feels that it brings him closer to angle. He's put on a few pounds from it.

(I'm projecting and also I thought this before I saw the reject ending) I feel like lee would really like chilling in corners. Like if he knows hes going to repeatedly go to a a place he's picking a corner to chill in and that's his corner now. His day is off if someone is in his corner. Why have you taken His mentally assigned spot?

____

I'm 100% projecting but angel tries to get into a physical hobby (Lee is very stoked about this!) So they do rock climbing and Bouldering. They don't wanna Crack their head open trying it outside so Lee buys them a subscription to a climbing gym. Angel kind of sucks at it at first but they get a climbing kick and keep trying. Their not very tall so they get good at launching themselves up to grab the next rock instead of stretching to reach it. It makes them feel like an animal (in a good way) and they get to let everything go and focus on completing a task. Lee feels like he's watching his Angel fly.

[anxiousapplepie]

You know what? I think I'm crazy enough to try giving out some quick Rose lore! You guys wanna go on a lil trip? we'll we're doing it anyway because I spent all this effort drawing a powerpoint presentation so lets go! XD

So: GENDER. Most Roses are born Bigender, having both male and female reproductive parts. Of course there are exceptions, but as a rule Roses are a perfect packaged deal that with all the bits you could want for life!

As a result of their bodies, a Rose has many ways of creating new life. Including getting hooked up with a partner, or doing everything by themselves!

If a Rose wants to make a kid without any outside help, there are two main methods of doing so: Self-pollinating and Cutting. Self-pollinating is more safer and quicker to the individual, while Cutting requires a lot more magic and flesh/wood to successfully make a new Rose

The development of Buds from asexual parents heavily differs depending on the method. Buds from a self-pollinating parent grow up faster, but their magic takes longer to develop as their personality connects to their color. Buds from a parent who used the cutting method grow slower, but start developing strong colors almost immediately.

For those Roses that want their friends or lovers to get involved with creating a child, as many as a dozen Roses sharing their pollen and magic can make a new Rose. It's common for teams or groups to co-parent any children in their social circles anyway, so it makes sense for them to share the love from the start. Higher class Roses tend to favor asexual ways to create children (as a way to "keep the child pure" from outside sources) while Roses from lower classes prefer to combine strengths with other Roses and give a child as many chances to become as strong as possible. And... yeah! I think that's all I wanted to say for now.

I've thought about this way too much over the last few weeks and figured I didn't need to wait for someone else to ask what was going on in my head XD

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too. 

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

----------------------------

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

-----------------------------

Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

--------------------------

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt. 

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially. 

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

-------------------------------

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

---------------------------

Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[myung-heee]

manipulation c.yj

kinktober: day 9 + manipulation

pairings: yeonjun x f!reader

warnings: manipulator!yeonjun x (kinda) innocent!reaader, manipulation, unprotected, (noncon at first), oral (f receiving), missionary

yeonjun is your closest friend since high school, both of you are complete opposites. he was popular, athletic, and had good grades, making him every girl's ideal type. Well, you can't blame them. yeonjun is a total package, embodying everything one could desire in a guy. he's like the living standard of a man.

both of you are quite close, and the reason why he was close to you and never broke your friendship remained a mystery to you and the other students around you. imagine being friends with the most idolized man on your campus while you consider yourself just a potato. however, yeonjun doesn't see you that way!! he views you as a cute potato.. (lol) he likes you as a woman, as a lady. he just hasn't found the right time to tell you

on the other hand, there's kai, your new friend who recently transferred to your class. initially, yeonjun didn't pay much attention; he would casually greet kai with a smile or a simple 'hi' whenever they crossed paths.

your friendship with kai seemed to flourish as yeonjun got busier with his basketball practices.

"let's hang out at my place," yeonjun approached you while you were sitting at your desk, copying the notes kai had lent you. you looked up at him and said shortly, "sorry, can't," before returning your attention to your notebook.

he raised a brow and asked, "can't? why? do you have something important coming up today?" he replied, "yeah, I'll be studying with kai," you said without even glancing at him. his expression faded, and he scoffed, "kai? the new guy, huh?"

"are you replacing me, y/n?" he asked. You looked up at him, trying to find a joke in his expression, but he seemed genuinely serious, gripping his towel, eyes fixed on you. "it's just one time.. i can always hang out with you, you know?" you explained. he sighed and looked away. "that's the point—just one time. this is the first time you don't want to hang out with me and choose someone you met just weeks ago?" his voice grew louder, drawing a few glances from your classmates. you sighed and looked around.

"jun, let's talk about this tomorrow. i have something to do," you said, showing him your notes. he just scoffed, wiped his face with the towel, and walked away. Before he could leave the classroom, he said, "i'll see you at the gate after class. i won't take no for an answer," and left.

your brows furrowed as you were about to say something, but the door had already closed. you sighed, put down your notes, and placed kai's notebook on his empty desk.

you told kai you weren't able to study with him tonight because something urgent came up. luckily for you, kai didn't actually mind it and told you that it was all fine.

you smiled at him. after class, you went to the gate right where yeonjun told you to. you saw him on his phone, a basketball on the side of his waist, and he had a towel hanging over his shoulder. you cleared your throat; he immediately looked in your direction and smiled, putting his phone in his pocket and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"i really thought you didn't want to be friends with me anymore," he chuckled. you looked down. he was your only close friend, so of course, you would choose him over anyone else.

you had been debating with yourself earlier about whether you would hang out with him or kai, then a thought came to your mind. yeonjun was a popular guy, yet he chose to be friends with you. you felt bad, so you thought that maybe you had to choose him too.

"well, you're my best friend... why wouldn't i hang out with you?" you smiled. he patted your head. "i am your only best friend, so you'll choose me over anyone, okay?" he whispered. you nodded.

"that's what i thought," he smiled. you looked at him, confused about what he meant, but you just brushed it off. as you arrived at his home, his parents were there, and you greeted them.

"we'll just study together," he said and guided you upstairs into his room.

as you entered his room, you immediately made your way into his desk. you put your bag on the table and sat on his gaming chair. his eyes were fixated on you. "do you really think we'll study?" he chuckled. you furrowed your brows and threw a glance at him. "wait, we won't?" you asked in a confused tone.

 

he put his towel on the doorknob before clicking the lock. "yeah.. we'll hang out, remember?" he smiles innocently. you looked over at the doorknob, confused about why he locked the door.

 

when he saw your doubting expression, he slightly scratched the back of his neck and looked at you. "i just wanna have some privacy, so i could make up for the time i should've been with you instead of my practices," he sighed. you slightly nodded. "it wasn't your fault though.. besides, we're best friends, it doesn't really matter. it's not like i am your girl or anything," you said quietly.

 

best friends. he smiled at that word.

"yeah, best friends," he replied. you smiled and stood up. "what should we do then? we aren't going to study, right?" you asked. "do you want to play games? multiplayer?" you continued.

 

he shook his head.

 

"there's, uh, thoughts in my mind that i want to ask out loud, but at the same time, i can't" he softly said. you tilted your head in confusion. "what is it? Tell me, I'm your friend," you smiled.

 

"yeah, that's why I can't tell you because you're just my friend," he sighed. you stared at him for seconds. not knowing what to say. "what.. should i do then?" you asked, his face lit up like a candle. smiling at your response as if it were the exact words he wanted to hear from you.

"are you sure you can do anything i'll ask?" he raised a brow, making his way towards you.

 

you slightly nodded; you trusted him. so why not?

"you know.. you've been spending a lot of time with kai, and it makes me.. jealous." he sighes. he stops walking. he's in front of you, towering over you. you looked up at his tall figure.

 

"you feel jealous?" you asked, confused. he nodded.

 

"yeah." he places his hands on your chin and looks at your eyes deeply. "i wonder if he's being this close to you." his voice sounds like it's hypnotising.

 

you immediately shook your head. "n-no.. he doesn't," you said. he chuckles. "he better be," he says, lowering his head. "you won't let him, right?" he whispers in your ears.

 

"no," you shortly said. "good girl," he said as he kissed your temple. "that's what i thought, hmm?" he smiled.

 

you nodded. with each second, you grew more desperate and needy for your best friend. all the signs of battling from your thoughts that he was just a friend disappeared. every word that leaves his mouth feels like music to your ears.

 

"i know you like me, y/n, so why don't you show how much you do?" he held your shoulders and sat you on the bed

"h-huh? right now?" you asked, confused. you held his arm and shook your head. "we can't.. your parents are downstairs." you whispered.

 

"let's just be quiet and quick," he said reassuringly. he gently kissed your neck down to your shoulders, your hands holding on to his shirt.

 

"wait—"

 

you said, stopping him from removing your shirt. halfway through it, he paused and looked at you. he can see that you were hesitant.. you were about to say something, but he cuts you. "don't you trust me? come on, y/n.. i'll take care of you. hmm? you'll love this," he confidently said, kissing your nose before completely removing your shirt.

 

he traces soft kisses on your shoulders, leaving soft marks. "trust me, okay?" he said softly. he cupped your clothed chest and massaged it softly before removing your bra. you blushed, feeling all shy and embarrassed.

 

"you're so pretty," he whispered, giving both of your chests equal attention, sucking and licking, leaving bite marks all over them.

 

he knelt on the bed and pushed you on the mattress, back touching the comfortable sheets. he rubbed his palm against your inner thighs. you're still wearing your denim shorts.

 

he was about to pull them down when you stopped him again, holding his arm. "wait—i don't think—" you were stopped when you met his eyes; his eyes are dark, staring into you. he seemed to be losing his patience now.

 

"don't act like you didn't do these with kai. Such a whore." his words hit like a brick as he pulled your shorts down. you rubbed your legs together, and you knew deep down that you didn't want this at all. but you can't do anything. you like him, and you trust him.

 

you bit your lips as you felt his finger rubbing your clothed sensitive spot. you've never felt this way before, not with your best friend.

 

you gasped when you felt him pull down your panty, revealing your wet core. he laughed softly when you covered your face embarrassingly.

 

"cute"

 

he said before completely diving into your wet entrance, covering your mouth to muffle your moans, the other hand gripping to his sheets.

 

"kids! dinner's ready!" your body froze as you heard his mom shout from downstairs. your brain is getting fuzzy. your eyes shut, you force yourself not to moan so hard.

 

"yeonjun," you moaned his name quietly, making him look up, his mouth still on your entrance. your eyes met, you could see how his jaws move up and down and the way he eats you out.

 

he groans, and he can tell that you're getting close. and he has a bad idea. as you were about to release, he removed his mouth from your core, your hips chasing his mouth. you whined at the sudden loss of pleasure. "junnie." you glanced at him, brows furrowed.

 

he chuckled at the view. he ran his fingers through his hair before lowering his sweatpants, just on his thigh. he took out his hard erection. you were about to say something but were stopped when you felt him rub his shaft against your wet pussy.

 

when he entered his shadt inside you, you couldn't help but whine. "hnggg!" you whine loud enough that both of you stopped at the same touch, eyes meeting with each other full of lust.

the surroundings were all quiet until you heard him chuckle, "keep quiet for me, y/n." he kissed your forehead and pushed himself deeper.

as he found his pace, he began thrusting fast enough that you could hear the bed creaking. your brows furrowed, hands on your mouth, and the other one is holding his arm.

you were so lost in pleasure, yet you remained conscious, forcing yourself not to release a sound.

"fuck. im near, fuck!" he groans. you shook your head. "please pull out," you said quietly.

the case is that he won't come unless you go first. he held it in and began thrusting harder and faster, hissing. "come on, cum for me," he said desperately.

you can feel yourself getting closer and closer until a wave of pleasure hits your body, making you moan out loud. yeonjun immediately covers your mouth and chuckles. "shh.. you're taking me so well," he says, still fucking you through your orgasm.

he closed his eyes and pulled out, exactly as his seed spurted out on your thigh.