#and i appreciate the blond it has its time and place

[forever-rogue]

thinking about blondrew garfield this fine evening. i gotta somehow incorporate this into a fic. he's just 🤌🏻

[gghostwriter]

Wanted: A Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 || Future take Summary: Your lovely group of friends, Penelope, JJ, and Emily, set you up with your perfect match Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.3k a/n: Back at it again with something miss Sabrina Carpenter inspired. The fluff idea has finally struck and I love how this ended up, even without any editing! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“I’m serious!” You clarified, wiggling to get comfy on Penelope’s sofa. “It was the worst date I’ve ever been on!”

All the three girls laughed. It was Friday night, girl’s night, and you found yourself surrounded by the baddest girls Virginia could ever offer. The Powerpuff girls of the BAU as you once jokingly dubbed them—JJ being Blossom, Penelope being Bubbles, and Emily being Buttercup. Witty thinking on your part, if you say so yourself. 

Having just moved into the state just a few months ago, you were grateful for the ray of sunshine that Penelope was for taking you under her wing and introducing you to a great set of girlfriends.

“It can’t be that bad—” JJ giggled as she took a sip of her newly refilled glass wine. “Can it?”

Bringing out your phone, you swiped to the screenshot Bumble profile of your date the night before. He wasn’t bad looking, not at all. He was cute in a very American boy next door type of way but then again, his profile being filled with gym pictures should have clued you in.

“We had dinner at that newly opened restaurant, Palm & Pine, which is a great place by the way, but all he ever did was talk about himself—”

Emily nodded along. “Typical macho male behavior.”

“—that wasn’t even the worst part! He brought out a scale, a portable weighing scale, to log his macro calories in a fitness app!”

Penelope chose the wrong time to take a sip of her drink causing her cough violently while the two remaining girls threw back their heads and laughed hysterically. All you could hear were gasps of weighing scale and calories between them.

“I’m all for being healthy but really? On a first date?” You crossed your arms to your chest. “At this point, I might as well get a cat or two to keep me company.”

Penelope snatched your phone and clicked to open the dating app. “Oh no no, sweetheart. You’re too beautiful and nice to end up alone. We can find you a perfect man to love and take home with!”

“Yeah, we’re profilers. Trust us to pick for you,” Emily slyly added as she peeked behind Garcia’s shoulder.

Reaching out for the opened bottle of alcohol, you sighed in defeat and let the girls do their thing. “I’m going to need copious amounts of alcohol in my system for this.”

———

It was bad. Based on all their comments and numerous swipes to the left, the dating pool was atrocious, hell on earth. 

“He looks cute—” Penelope continue to scroll on his profile before making a face. “Never mind, look at that horrible grammar.”

JJ leaned in and read the poor man’s bio. “Theirs a million reasons why I’m your future boyfriend—Jesus, it’s really hard out there, huh?”

“I’d take any man who’s nice and breathes,” you laugh in despair. 

Emily’s eyes twinkle from a sudden idea. Everyone had been drinking continuously and the filter had been turned off by the time the third bottle was opened. Any thought made beyond just screamed bad idea. “You know, we could just set you up with Reid.”

“Reid?” you tilted your head to the side. What kind of a name is that? Its very…unique. “You have a co-worker named Reid? As in that’s his first name?”

“No, no, no. His name is Spencer, Reid is just his last name,” JJ clarified, leaning forward with a sweet smile on her face. Oh no, you knew that look. She was very much into this.

Penelope slides your phone to you and promptly claps her hands in glee. “You’re so right! Why didn’t I think of that!”

“Right,” Emily turned to face the other two. “They’d be great for each other. Now we just have to get him to agree. JJ—” the blonde raised her eyebrows. “—can you talk to Reid about it?”

She shrugged. “I could but you know how stubborn he is.”

“I’ll blackmail him if I have to,” Penelope interjected. “Boy genius needs to meet our own girl genius. They’ll be perfect for each other, he just doesn’t know it.”

Your eyes volleyed in between the three. “Don’t I have a say in this?”

Emily tsk’ed as she turned her inquisitive dark eyes on you. “I’ll cash in on that prize I won last time.”

“No,” you breathed out, remembering how you badly lost last poker night and vowed to do any dare the winner would tell you to do.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” her smile growing wider and wider with each denial. 

Your shoulders slumped forward. “Fine but he better be the love of my life or you owe me big time.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head. He will be,” Penelope laughed, pouring more wine in all of the glasses. “Cheers!”

———

It took three weeks before the girls were finally able to wear the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid down and in the midst of waiting (and stubbornly hoping that he would never give in), you learned more about the boy genius than you ever wished for. How he has an IQ of 187, graduated high school at the age of 12, has 3 PhDs under his belt, and an avid reader—like yourself. 

You begrudgingly admitted that he spiked your interest and having someone to talk to about books would be lovely but beyond that, you were slightly intimidated by his background which made yours, a literature degree graduate and publishing editor, seem insignificant. Penelope tried to squash that negative thought once you aired it out in the open by saying that Spencer wasn’t the type to judge anyone based on their societal standing. If anything, he’d find you interesting, she urged.

But there was one information you weren’t privy to, how he looks like. The girls didn’t want to show any photos, stating it’s best to see him face to face rather than through an image, which in turn made you imagine the worst. 

You looked around, standing on the second step of the museum as you try to spot any curly, hazel haired man walking your way. He wasn’t late, you were just too anxious to be fashionably late. 

Someone stopped in front of you at the bottom of the steps. 

“Are you—” the doe eyed stranger cleared his throat. “Y/N? Penelope’s friend?”

Oh damn. He was beautiful.

“Yes, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” You squeaked. 

He smiled, stunning you into even more into awe. “Hi, yes. Yes, Spencer is fine.”

“Should we go inside?” You breathed out as you watched his cheeks reddened, no doubt matching the color of your own.

He nodded before slightly touching your arm to stop you in place and bending down like he was some kind of knight and shining armor and for all you knew, he could be. “Your shoelace is undone. Did you know that there’s more than 1,000 cases related to loss of footing each year and 67% of these falls were attribute to untied shoelaces?”

“We wouldn’t want to contribute to that, do we?” You quipped back as you studied how the sunlight hit his wavy locks, turning some into gold, and his doe expressive eyes with specs of green in them. Your favorite color as of today.

He laughed, his high pitched chuckle further capturing your heart. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” 

Your thoughts thanking the three women for setting you up with what seemed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[gukisbabe]

112:45am] jeon jungkook x fem!reader, 18+ smut!!! mainly face riding

completely absolutely obsessed with jks nose can you tell?

•••

"your nose is so pretty."

you find yourself mumbling at your boyfriend before your brain can even overthink those words and yet you're glad you didn't hesitate.

there's absolutely no reaction from jungkook for a whole minute as you absentmindedly trace his sharp features with your fingers, not quite able to handle just how handsome he is.

you've been observing his side profile for a while now and every time your eyes found their way to his nose, you couldn't help but bite your bottom lip at the mental image of its tip nudging against your clit whenever he's got his face buried in your cunt.

jungkook has been playing his video game for about an hour now and despite wanting to give him some space, you simply couldn't resist the craving of being close to him.

it's not like he minds your presence at all; jungkook loves having your legs in his lap and your hand in his hair, playing with the soft beautifully blonde strands as he enjoys his daily screen time away from all of his incone responsibilities.

usually you're quick to fall asleep, yet this time you seem to focused on him to even let the actual thought of sleep cross your mind.

you know it's because you can't stop thinking about your boyfriends lips, his hot tongue and his perfect nose, your head full of thoughts about how good he makes you cum over and over again once he's gotten a taste.

whereas jungkook remains absolutely clueless. he's also a little too focused to pay complete attention to your words but he does appreciate any compliment coming from your way. ever since the two of you started dating you've made it your mission to remind him how perfect he is

jungkook places a quick kiss of gratitude into your palm before he pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout and focuses on his game again, not realising how much you've been pressing your thighs together in hopes of releasing some of the pressure on your needy cunt.

there's just something about the way he scratches the sides of his nose whenever he's slowly getting excited, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and nibbling on his lip like he's purposely trying to torture you.

"j." you mumble sternly and reach for his hand, grateful he's quick to play into your neediness as he grabs your inner thigh and gently strokes your skin,

"i wanna ride your face, please."

usually you're not one to be this bold with your requests but after watching him for the past hour it's been incredibly hard for you to maintain your composure and even your patience has limits.

jungkook is absolutely stunned at your words. for a second he's not sure if he even heard you right, giving you a double take just to realise your current state.

eyes glossy, lips pushed into the cutest pout, thigh firmly pressed together and your cute nipples poking through the fabric of your pyjama shirt to the point where not a single thought is left to imagination.

just out of curiosity jungkook lets his hand wander in between your legs, gulping harshly at the way they fall apart like you've been waiting to be relieved and once his fingers graze your soaked panties, he knows exactly why you're reacting the way you do.

without even missing another beat, jungkook throws his controller as well as his headset to the side, turning his game off and almost instantly laying on his side of the bed.

"I'm sorry for not realizing sooner, baby", he whispers as you shakily make your way to straddle his handsome face, his cheeks and lips tinted in the sweetest shade of pink, "there you go, baby."

his praise elicits a soft whimper from your throat, your hole clenching in absolute despair and the second the tip of his nose grazes your flesh, you throw your head back with a loud moan of relief.

"fuck, baby", jungkook grunts against your cunt, his tongue lapping up your sweet juices and if it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you would have thought he passed

out, "you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect." all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect."

all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"that's why you love my nose so much, hm?", jungkook smile turns into a smirk as he pushes his tongue inside of your clenching hole, groaning and moaning against your wet flesh like a man gone mad.

"mhm, y-yes", you whisper and feel the sweet sensation of your release climbing up your spine in the sweetest way possible, "love sitting on it."

and for a moment jungkook movements stop, as he appreciates your sweet compliment, head cloudy from all the arousal floading his brain and his cheeks burning from excitement.

"that's my good girl", he grunts and finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before he pushes the tip of his tongue against the nub and applies just the right amount of pressure, making sure to have you cum all over his face to make you feel as loved and appreciated as he does.

[unseededtoast]

When Was It Over? | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: You had suspicions that another woman was receiving Spencer’s affections, and one night your worst fears are confirmed. Heartbroken, you try to move on but find yourself contemplating when things went wrong, and when it was all over. Inspired by “Is It Over Now?” By Taylor Swift

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.7k

content warnings: infidelity, angst, mention of blood

a/n: thank all of you lovelies for taking the time and reading, I appreciate each and every one of you. But especially to @mirdnightmass who suggested this, thank you🫶🏼 and if you have any suggestions please send them my way!

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

Reading the words on your phone screen cause you stomach to turn with anxiety. Spencer had texted you that he will be home from a case tonight, and that he'd like to come over. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue and you'd be overjoyed to see him. But lately you suspect that there might be someone else entering the picture.

Your suspicions started small. He'd take phone calls that weren't from his boss, he would purposely order an extra coffee in the mornings to take to work, and he started working later than usual. Though you had no concrete proof of anything, it was a gut feeling that you just can't seem to shake.

But you push your anxiety aside and text Spencer back, letting him know that he's more than welcome to come over tonight. And as soon as you send the message, you put your phone away and clean your home to occupy your thoughts.

All too soon, Spencer's knocking on your door and you let him in with a smile on your face. He kisses you as he comes through, smelling oddly sweet. Fighting the urge to throw up, you convince yourself not to overreact until you're certain there's someone else in his life.

Throughout the evening, while the two of you are tangled together on the couch, you peek at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder where things started going wrong. There's a tension between the two of you, and though unspoken, its presence is well known.

You remember how only a few short months ago you would have been beyond excited to spend an evening with Spencer, and now you find yourself counting down the minutes until he leaves. He used to shower you in love and affection, but now his hand barely grazes your thigh.

When Spencer leaves for the night, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a goodnight. You realize as you shut the door that he hadn't told you that he loved you once.

- - - - -

Two weeks pass and Spencer has once again come back home from a case. This time his message asks you if you'd like to come over to his apartment. And you tell him you'll be there, but there's an odd sinking feeling residing in your chest.

Later in the evening you go to Spencer's apartment with distant memories dancing in your head. It seems like just yesterday you came here for the first time, bright eyed and head over heels in love with your boyfriend, who couldn't have been more perfect.

You walk in and place your coat on the rack beside the door, smiling at Spencer who stands with his hands in his pockets. Biting the insides of your cheeks, you wonder if he's even going to lay a finger on you tonight.

"How was your day?" He finally breaks the silence and you nod your head,

"It was okay. Just went to work and now I'm here." The conversation feels like one between new coworkers, not significant others of three years.

"Come on in, I rented your favorite movie and dinner should be here any minute." He finally takes a step towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head atop yours.

Feeling his arms hold you for the first time in almost a month is almost enough to drive you to tears. You take in his scent as it comforts you, and you nuzzle your head into his chest, wishing that whatever was happening between the two of you would pass and things would go back to normal. You miss Spencer's affections, your heart yearns to hear him declare his love for you.

After dinner, the two of you retire in the living room where you take your usual spot on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped over the back, and you pull it over top of you, but your heart stops once it lands in your lap.

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

Spencer walks into the room after getting a glass of water, but he falls short of sitting beside you. He must've noticed something was wrong in the way you're sat on the couch.

While Spencer watches, you grab the hair between your thumb and pointer finger, pulling it through the fabric and hold it in front of you, eyes meeting Spencer's. Your hand shakes as adrenaline pumps through you, Spencer's jaw falls slack.

"What is this?" Your voice is oddly even and calm given the situation. Spencer's mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and answers you.

"A friend had to crash here for a few nights." He admits, and you wonder why you're just now hearing of this.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

"JJ, I work with her." He says, eyes casting down to the hair still in your grasp. Your heart wildly pumps in your chest.

"So you weren't going to tell me that a woman was staying the night with you?" Finally releasing the hair from your grasp, the realization dawns on you and it's like the puzzle pieces you'd collected over the last few weeks have suddenly put themselves together.

"No, she just needed a place to sleep for a few nights." He says, like he's also trying to convince himself of the same thing.

"Spencer don't lie to me. I know you've been taking coffee to her in the mornings, you've been staying later, and the last time you came over you smelled like her." Your voice starts to shake and you step away from Spencer. Tears well in your eyes and you beg your body not to betray you right now.

"She's just a friend." Is all Spencer refutes your argument with. Your head shakes back and forth, the reality setting in.

"Spencer you've taken better care of her than you have me. Hell, last time we saw each other you barely touched me and you didn't even tell me you love me. And tonight you're doing the same thing." Your throat feels like it's closing up from battling your emotions.

As you wait for him to say something, anything, your bottom lip trembles. Where did this all go wrong? Was there anything you could've done? Could you have held him tighter or kissed him more? The questions race through your mind but are cut short by Spencer.

"I'm sorry. We were on a case and she told me she loves me. But, I promise you that she is just a friend." The words that leave his lips are like knives being dug into your eardrums. And with his words, the tears resting in your lash line fall over and cascade down your cheeks, one right after another.

"How could you? Spencer, how could you? We had everything going for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I thought you were the love of my life. But now you're just, you're just a lying traitor." You force the words out before you completely break down. Turning away from him, you rush to collect your things.

You're not even sure you put your shoes on the right feet but you don't care. The door of Spencer's apartment swings open and you take one last look at him. His mouth is open, eyes wet, but he says nothing.

He doesn't try to stop you as you leave his apartment, and that makes you sob even harder on your way home.

Is this really how things are ending between you?

- - - - -

"Come on have some fun!" Your friend, Sarah, nudges your shoulder, interrupting your daydream. It's a Friday night and the weather is nice, so she's begging to go out.

"I don't know Sarah, I'm not really in the mood." Your tone is melancholy, and all you want to do is crawl into bed. With a huff, Sarah steps in front of you and grabs your shoulders so that you're forced to look at her.

"You need this. I haven't seen you smile in weeks. Come on, go get ready. It'll be good for you." Her voice is kind, and soft, and you know she's only trying to help. As your lifelong best friend, she's always been in your corner with support and love.

"Fine." You relent, and go find something to wear. You're in no mood for anything uncomfortable or flashy, so you settle on a loose button up and a pair of ripped jeans.

"You look so good!" Sarah tries to hype you up as she grabs her keys, but it doesn't really work. You can't feel good while you're suffering on the inside. With her arm slung around your shoulder, you accompany her to whatever she has planned for tonight.

"Really?" You deadpan ask her as you stare at the neon light adorning the front of the building. This is quite literally the last place you wanted to be tonight, but here you are.

"Yes, it'll be fun, come on." Sarah grabs your hand and drags you alongside into the bar where the music is too loud and the people are even more annoying.

Against your wishes, you line up at the bar and wait to gain the bartender's attention. You figure if you're going to be here you'll need something to numb the experience. Sarah knows you've never been a fan of crowded places so you're confused as to why she even brought you here in the first place.

Once the two of you have your drinks in hand, you find an empty table and take a seat. As you sip, you look around at the patrons; people watching has always been quite enjoyable for you. Your eyes scan the bar and land on a tall man across the way. His smile is wide, hair dark and curly, eyes bright and soft.

Blinking rapidly, you pull your eyes away from the man and order another drink. Guilt eats you from inside as you realize you had been checking out another man; albeit one that looks oddly familiar. And surely another drink will help numb the guilt as well.

Hours later and two drinks turned into four. You feel your cheeks warm from the alcohol, and you're keenly aware that your eyes are back on the tall, handsome man from earlier.

"You should go say something." Sarah says, leaning on the table as she nurses her drink. Shaking your head, you disagree.

"No, I can't." You say, almost as if convincing yourself of your own answer. You're not even sure if you and Spencer are over, you can't possibly go introduce yourself to another man.

"Come on. He's been looking at you all night." She nudges you out of your seat and through the power of liquid courage, you relent.

Turning away from Sarah, you find the man easily and take a quick deep breath. It doesn't take you long to cross the bar and in seconds, you find yourself staring up at the man's green eyes. He's got a small smile on his face, his eyes gleam with curiosity.

"Hi." You smile up at the man, who smiles back.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing talking to a man like me?" He smiles wider, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Your eyes dance from the man's smile to his eyes, relishing in their familiarity.

"My friend said I should come say something." You tell him, having nothing actually prepared to say to him beyond an introduction. The man finishes off his drink and looks over to where Sarah is. He nods,

"Well I'm glad she did. Can I get you another?" He raises the empty glass in his hand. While you feel a little tipsy, you know one more wouldn't hurt.

"Sure." You smile up at him and watch as he goes to order the two of you another drink.

While he's away, you glance over to Sarah, who's smiling at you and giving you a thumbs up across the bar. You suppress your smile, but you're thankful she's still here; she wouldn't leave you alone with a stranger and you know she'll be here to make sure you're okay. Her reassuring presence is probably why you agreed to approach the man in the first place.

The man comes back with two glasses in his hands, and he gives you one of them. He invites you back to his table, which is only a few feet away from where you are standing, and the two of you get to know each other. You learn that he's from the area, he works in finance for a fortune 500 company, and he recently got out of a long-term relationship.

You share how your relationship status is hugely unknown at this point, but spare him the details for your own pride's sake. Thankfully, he doesn't inquire and the conversation flows easily. He even makes you laugh a time or two, which hasn't happened in weeks.

As the night goes on, you find yourself sitting closer and closer to the man, drawn in by how he reminds you of someone you dearly miss. It's entirely clear to you why you're attracted to the man, but you push all of those thoughts away, the alcohol working diligently to cloud your logic and judgment and all you can focus on is the man's lips.

Not even twenty minutes later, you're pulling him in by the front of his shirt, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands hold your waist securely, and his lips move in tandem with your own. The taste of sweetness lingers between the two of you. Your body moves on its own volition, and in the heat of the moment you find yourself practically sitting in the man's lap. Thankfully, the table you two are at is tucked away in the corner, but you're still entirely visible to everyone else. However, that doesn't seem to matter as you place kisses on the man's jaw and down to his neck.

His hands move from your waist up to the first button of your shirt where he expertly undoes it. Your wet lips place another kiss on the man's neck, just underneath his ear like you're used to doing with someone else, and the feeling of another button being undone makes you realize what's happening.

Backing away from the kiss abruptly, your heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers work quickly to clasp the buttons on your shirt and you get off of the man, who looks confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry, I can't- I shouldn't have..." You trail off, giving him no specific answer as you turn around and find Sarah.

She must have been able to tell from the look on your face that you're ready to leave. And thankfully she doesn't ask you a single question on the way back to your house. The entire trip back, you stare out the window and wonder why you let that happen, and how you could've let yourself kiss another man. But mostly you just think about how it should've been Spencer.

Sarah drops you off and wishes you a goodnight, and you half-heartedly tell her goodbye.

Your mind is too preoccupied as you go through your nightly routine and by the time your head hits the pillow, your thoughts have shifted from the unknown man's lips to Spencer's.

You remember how his hands would map out every curve of your body and how his lips would kiss your tender skin, as if you'd break if he wasn't careful. Spencer would always hold you close to him as he showered you in love and affection, his hands unable to get enough of you. Even if the two of you were relaxing on the couch, he would always find a way to touch you, whether that meant you were cuddled in his arms or barely touching his shoulder.

A lone tear drips down your face as you try to sleep, missing having Spencer beside you, missing the feeling of his arms around you, and you know you'll miss seeing his gemstone eyes first thing when you wake up. You mourn the relationship, and can't help but wonder if your actions tonight were the final nail in the coffin.

That night, all you can dream about is Spencer, and how in love you used to be.

- - - - -

Awaking earlier than wanted, Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes the best he can. It's still dark outside, but he knows that he's not going to be able to fall back asleep. And even if he did, he knows that the only thing he will dream about is you.

The past few weeks all of his dreams have centered around you. At first, they were about how you two met and your first few dates. They were vivid, almost as if they were happening all over again. He could clearly see the tulips he picked for your first date, and he remembers the shade of lipstick you wore that brought out your eyes in the best way possible.

As he makes his way through his morning routine, he's distracted by the traces of you that remain in his apartment. You still have clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush still sits on his bathroom counter. And most noticeably, your scent still lingers on his sheets.

But, his apartment now has traces of JJ too. Her blonde hair sticks to the blankets draped over the couch, her perfume embedded in the material. She had left a hair tie on his coffee table and the mug she used for coffee sits untouched in the sink.

Spencer knows that her confession of love was mainly spurred on by a life or death situation, but he would be lying if he said it didn't reawaken repressed feelings. Back in his early days at the BAU, he had been head over heels for her, but he moved on when she got together with Will. And truthfully, when he met you it was the happiest he had ever been, and he was convinced that you were his soul mate.

That was until JJ told him that she loved him.

A heavy feeling of guilt has taken residence in Spencer's chest since you walked out of his apartment. He knew that you had every right to be upset, and truthfully he doesn't know if the two of you will ever reconcile. As you walked out of the door he wanted to stop you, to beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't. He had to let you go.

Staring at the couch, he can't help but wonder if your relationship had died the moment he let JJ stay over, the moment she laid on his couch could've been the exact moment your relationship took its last breath. Had that one decision been the beginning of the end?

And he can't help but wonder why he agreed to let her stay in the first place, after a confession of that magnitude, and why he hadn't told you. Was it his subconscious way of admitting he also has feelings for JJ, and that by allowing her to stay in his home it was an acknowledgment of that fact? Had he not told you because of the feelings he harbors for her? Would telling you force him to confront those emotions?

No matter what it may have meant, he can't help but to regret it. The look on your face as you called him a lying traitor will forever be ingrained in his mind. Spencer had never meant to hurt you, no, he loved you dearly.

As each day passes by without hearing from you, Spencer wonders if things are truly over for the two of you. His heart aches from your absence and he yearns to have you back in his arms. But he can't help but feel guilty as he realizes that he may have some of those same feelings for JJ.

- - - - -

Months had gone by since you last saw Spencer, and you finally feel like you can begin to heal. It took some time for you to process what had happened, and now you've come to be at peace with his decision. If he wanted to search for something greater, and found it in her, then there's nothing you could've done.

On a regular routine again, you enter your favorite coffee shop on your way to your new job, needing the extra caffeine. The warm air inside greets you and the rich scent of coffee fills the air.

After you order your usual, you stand off to the side to wait, pushing yourself up against a wall so that other people have room to move around. The lightly falling snow outside catches your attention and from the warmth of inside you can appreciate the beauty.

The barista calls your name out as the front door bell jingles. Grabbing your drink, you relish in how the warmth gives life back to your fingertips before turning to leave, preparing yourself to brace the bitter cold that awaits you outside.

But as your eyes land on the people who had just walked in, it seems as if the wintry cold followed you in after all. Spencer stands at the counter with a blonde haired, blue-eyed, woman next to him who looks like she just walked out of a magazine. Their cheeks are rosy from the cold, but you feel yours drain of all color. And if that wasn't enough, it's like your feet have been superglued to the floor, forcing you to watch as he orders for her with a smile on his face.

It seems he found something greater after all.

After the initial wave of sadness washes over you, you feel a familiar fire within you. Jealousy is an ugly beast, but you can't help the way your eyebrows knit together as you watch them, your thoughts consumed with how that should be you next to him, how it used to be you.

In fact, your jealously goes so far as to create hundreds of impulsive plans to earn his attention away from her. If you spilled your coffee, surely that would do the trick. Or if you tripped on your way out, that would be sure to make him look. Even the fleeting thought of jumping from the roof makes an appearance; the only consequence you can think of is how he'd surely come running straight to you.

But your imaginative plans are all for naught, as they grab their drinks and leave together. She laughs at something he said as the door shuts behind them. And you're still stuck in the middle of the coffee shop with one question floating around in your mind.

Did he really choose her over you?

- - - - -

Staring out of your window that's been frosted over with fresh snow, you can't help but to ponder how exactly you got to be where you are right now. In three days it'll be Christmas, and you've never dreaded the holiday more than you do in this moment.

A few evenings ago you had been rummaging through your closet and found the gift you planned on giving Spencer this Christmas. It was simple, but you knew he'd love it. He had always worn a purple scarf during the colder months, and when you saw this one you just knew he needed it. It was another scarf, but the seamstress who was selling it offered to stitch something on the back of it, and so you had asked her to stitch your initials on the back, so that even while he was away on cases he still had a piece of you with him.

Now the gift lays wrapped on your coffee table, where it silently taunts you with thoughts of what could've been. You stare at it, wondering if you should give it away, throw it away, send it through the mail, or do nothing with it at all.

Unable to look at the box any longer, you take it and put it with the rest of Spencer's things you intend to give back to him soon. Having his belongings in your home is slowly starting to drive you mad, and you know that in order to have any shot of getting over him, it all has to be gone.

In a momentary burst of determination, you grab the box of his belongings that sits in the back of your closet and you take it out to your car, despite the fact that the air is so cold it burns your face and that the snow is coming down at a considerable rate. You figure he's had you in his grasp for too long now and it's time to start reclaiming your home, your life, and begin piecing together who you're going to be after Spencer Reid.

The box is haphazardly shoved into your back seat and your hand quickly grazes the side of a book he had left on your nightstand, and as your luck would have it, you managed to give yourself a papercut. You hold your hand out of the car so you don't get blood on any of his things before closing the door with haste.

Your eyes cast down at the bright, crimson red blood that dots the pristine snow below your feet. Drops of blood roll down your finger and drip from the tip, each drip creating its own prominent mark in the snow. And you can't help but feel like it's more than just blood on the snow, that somehow it symbolizes how you may have very well killed what remained of your relationship with Spencer.

But he gave you no other choice.

- - - - -

Your insides twist and turn with anxiousness as you park your car along the street of a familiar curb. Looking back down at your phone screen, you confirm that this is the time you're supposed to be here before getting out of your car and picking up the box from the back seat.

After Christmas you had sent Spencer a text asking if you could come by and get your things that you had left in his apartment, and thankfully he agreed. You hadn't told him that you were bringing his things, and he hadn't asked for them, but you figured it was just common courtesy to bring them anyways. Plus you can't stand looking at the box any longer, all it does it resurface memories of a better time, one where you were happy and in love. Neither of those things are true anymore.

Walking up the stairs, you remember how excited you were the first time to come over and how you were awestruck by how well he decorated for a man. Of course you added a few things here and there over the years, but soon there will be no trace of you left. Your heart sinks with the realization that Spencer's apartment will no longer be your second home, his arms will no longer be your safe haven.

Once you reach his door, you knock lightly. You had partially hoped that he would just leave your things in the hall, and that the exchange would be easy, but of course he wouldn't do that. And within seconds of knocking on the door, he answers. His hair is messy and he's opted for his glasses today, your favorite look on him. Swallowing hard, you hold the box out in front of you.

"I think this is everything." Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. He steps further inside his apartment,

"Come on in." He invites you, and you wonder if you should accept. You know that if you walk in that a plethora of memories will invade your mind, and you know that if you don't that you may never receive the closure you need. After a few moments of contemplation, you step inside.

You place the box on the ground and put your hands in your pockets as you look around. The decorations you had placed around various locations are no longer there adorning the shelves or the walls, your spare coat no longer hangs from the rack beside the front door, and your handwritten notes are no longer on the front of the fridge. You swallow again and avert your eyes, pleading with yourself to not cry in front of him. But as your eyes move elsewhere, you spot a photograph that still hangs on the wall in his living room.

It was a sunny day in the early spring, and the two of you had just celebrated your one year anniversary. The two of you agreed that a nice picnic would be more than enough of a celebration, and honestly you were just happy that he wasn't being dragged away on a case that day. The two of you laid side by side on the blanket in the plush grass, content with one another's presence, fingers interlaced as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. Before the sun went down you had asked him to take the picture, and you always loved how bright his smile was that day.

"This should be everything." He comes back into the entryway with a box in his arms. You spot every little decoration you had ever brought over, along with your clothes that you had almost forgotten about. Spencer places the box on the ground as well, and you nod, clearing the emotion from your throat.

"Thank you." You say and go to pick up your box and get out of his apartment. Truthfully, there's a part within you that wants him to beg you to stay, you hope that he will profess his undying love for you and that you won't have to leave.

No matter how heartbroken you are over his decision, you know that you would take him back in a heartbeat. Your soul still aches for his touch and you're not sure that feeling will ever fade. The intensity with which you love him is passionate and all encompassing. For just another moment in his arms, you can't even begin to list everything you would give and sacrifice. His hugs were always the most comforting, his words always sweet and honeyed, his lips always soft.

Until they were for the blonde-haired woman who came in and took everything from you.

Once the box is in your hands, you give him a weak smile and are almost brought to tears just by looking at his face. Your sweet, sweet Spencer is so close yet has never been farther away. Feeling tears well in your lash line, you commit to memory just how beautiful he is for what is very well the final time you'll ever see him.

In an instant, flashes of what your future could've been runs through your mind. You see the two of you hand in hand at the end of an aisle, long nights of waiting for him to come back home only to be greeted with the most loving kisses, and countless mornings waking up in his arms. You were prepared to give him everything, but now you're left with nothing except the memories of when he still loved you.

Giving him one last chance to say something, your hope begins fizzling out. There's only one thing you want to hear him say, and you're coming to understand that you'll likely never hear those words come from his mouth.

When it's clear that there's nothing left to say, you turn and open the front door. Before the door gets closed on you, you turn to look at him just one last time. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but you can almost swear you see a tear fall from his eye.

"Goodbye, Spencer." You say as a lone tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, unable to keep them at bay any longer. Feeling your bottom lip beginning to tremble, you make yourself walk away before you have a full breakdown in the hallway right in front of him.

The ride back home is silent, except for the occasional sound of your sniffles. Before the exchange of belongings, you had held out hope that it meant that there might still be hope. But now there's nothing left to give you hope.

It seems things are really over now.

- - - - -

Spencer's phone lights up on his counter, catching his eye as he was walking by. Glancing at it quickly, he sees your name attached to the message. He picks the phone up and reads the message that reads less like a text and more like a cordial email.

"Hi, hope all is well. I was wondering if there is a time that I could come by and collect the rest of my things?"

The words make his heart sink, but he replies and lets you know when he'll be home. He knew that this day would eventually come, but he wasn't prepared for it to be so soon. Placing his phone back down on the counter, he looks around and notices just how many traces there are of you everywhere he looks.

In every part of his apartment he can easily recall a memory the two of you made there. The kitchen is where he remembers making cookies together on a friday night, the living room reminds him of the times you fell asleep in his lap, and the bedroom reminds him of all the mornings he was lucky enough to be awoken by your gentle kisses.

But he respects your wishes and begins collecting your things, committing each one to memory. With each and every little item he packs away, he finds himself becoming more and more angry with himself. He can't understand why he jeopardized the love of his life for JJ. Sure, he thought he loved her, and the two of them had spent extra time together after her confession, but after you left Spencer realized that he could never love JJ the way he loves you. And so he came to the painful conclusion that he could only ever love JJ as a close friend, but only after breaking your heart and shattering your relationship he cherished so dearly.

Spencer knows that he has forfeited every right to be with you by making those series of poor decisions but it doesn't make it any easier for him to accept.

As he packs away the rest of your things, he finally finds himself at his dresser, where some of your clothes remain. He remembers the day you brought some of your wardrobe over and he was happy to make room for you. You had told him that by keeping some of your things here that you two could spend more time together as you wouldn't have to go back and forth between homes when staying over or going out. But he never needed convincing, he would've let you do whatever you wanted as long as it kept that smile on your face.

And all too soon, you show up at his apartment with a box in your arms, filled to the brim with his belongings. As soon as he sees your face behind the door, he feels like he wants to collapse to his knees and beg for you to forgive him.

But instead, he gathers your things and returns them to you when you should be staying here. You should be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the night. He watches as the photo on the wall catches your eye, and even he can't help but to look at it as well.

Seeing the two of you so happy together in a moment frozen in time makes his throat constrict with emotion, and he feels the tears well in his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to see you smile like that again, to hold and love and cherish you until the end of time.

Instead, he watches as you turn and leave his apartment. The realization hits him like a brick wall that this could very well be the last time he ever sees you, and he can't keep his composure.  A tear escapes his eye and falls as you turn around and wish him farewell.

Once the door closes behind you, Spencer finally collapses to his knees, sobs wracking through his body while he mentally curses himself for not saying more, for not fighting harder for you.

His chest hurts from crying, but he can't find it within himself to care about anything other than you. He wishes he could forget, things would be easier that way. But instead he's sentenced to a life where he has no choice but to remember everything.

That night while he lays in bed, throat raw and eyes sore, all he can think about is you. The way you fit in his arms like you were made just for him, how you would rake your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and how sometimes, after particularly hard cases, you would hold him close.

As the hours pass and he gives into sleep, he can almost swear he feels your arms wrapping around him while you whisper for him to "come here", like you always did. Your voice was always soft and understanding as you took him into your warm embrace.

But now the room feels colder than it ever has before, and there's nobody to blame but himself.

- - - - -

A warm spring breeze blows your hair and with it comes the sweet smell of budding flowers. The sun is shining brightly through the puffy, white clouds and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

Once the snow had melted and signs of life began springing back up, it seems your spirits rose as well. Sure, some days are harder than others and you still miss Spencer, but you're able to live without the constant ache in your chest.

You've taken the time to reflect on what happened, and you have come to accept that there was nothing more you could've done. You had given him your entire heart, but that just wasn't enough for him. He searched for something better, something greater, and it seems like he found it. You only hope she makes him happier than you could have, and that she loves him well.

But no matter how hard you work on healing yourself, you can't silence the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of just how badly you want to see him again. You yearn to even just see him from a distance, and you desperately crave to hear him tell you that he still loves you.

You wish that he could be here sharing this wonderful afternoon by your side, hand in hand and you wish that things had played out differently. Maybe you two would've been engaged, or even married, by now. After all, tomorrow would've been your five year anniversary.

No matter how much time passes you still don't think you're ready to try to get back out there, much to Sarah's disproval. It just wouldn't be fair to the other man, the way you would still see parts of Spencer in him.

With a sigh, you can't help but think of what could've been, how your future with Spencer could've been filled with happiness, laughter, love, and so much more. But no, instead you sit alone on a bench in the middle of a busy park.

After hours of soaking in the warm sun, you decide it's time to go back home. As you walk down the street you recount memories you've thought of a hundred times before and wonder if maybe your path will cross with Spencer's again someday.

Before you open your front door you stop and take a deep breath. The looming anniversary date has made you a touch more melancholy and sentimental than usual and after a long day of reflection, you're finally ready to admit something to yourself that you've been pushing away for far too long.

It's over now.

[reverie-starlight]

...some atsumu fluff to warm up for the birth month of me AND this blog bc he is my husband. extremely self-ship coded bc I set a million alarms and snooze them all and it would piss him off, which I love doing <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions, university student reader. fluffy fluff. very short.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

atsumu groans when he hears your alarm go off for the fifth time that morning. it's loud enough that the sound travels from behind the closed door of your bedroom all the way to where he's leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking his morning protein shake. he hears the exact moment you cut off its wailing two seconds later.

"looks like it's gonna be one of those mornings," he mumbles to himself, taking another sip. he tries to savour his last moments of early morning peace before chaos breaks out.

getting you up in the mornings could be... challenging... to put it kindly. there are just some days you don't want to get up for class or make the trek to campus. he regularly hears you whining about how you screwed yourself over with choosing too many early classes. if he's being honest, it makes him even more satisfied with his decision to not attend university. he's spent many mornings trying to coax you out from under the covers to no avail.

but thankfully miya atsumu loves a challenge.

his success rate has been 100% lately, much to your dismay and begrudging appreciation, because you both know you care too much to actually miss a lecture, no matter how much you value your sleep. so after downing the rest of his smoothie, he puts his glass in the sink and pushes himself off the counter, heading to the bedroom.

he enters the room with no intentions of being quiet and jumps right onto his side of the bed. he bites back a grin when you startle and mutter some colourful words under your breath.

"babyyyy~" his voice is full of excitement and he just knows it's making you regret shutting off your alarms.

"atsumu, please, five more min-" you begin whining, but he cuts you off.

"nope! ya gotta start your day, or you're gonna be late." he places a hand on your shoulder and shakes you a bit.

you groan. "'tsum, please. I'm so tired..."

he tuts a little. "no can do, I'm afraid. you're the one who told me you've got an exam comin' up next week."

you don't respond and he grins, knowing he's getting closer. he moves his hand from your shoulder to the comforter covering your body and rips it off.

"ATSUMU!" you shriek, trying to steal back its warmth and go back to sleep.

the blonde just laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead when you lunge for the covers. he relents and lets you believe he’s showing mercy, watching as you bury yourself back into a burrito.

“five more minutes, but if you’re not up by then I’ll really make ya regret not listenin’.”

you scoff and wave him off, incorrectly assuming he’s gone soft on you.

four and a half minutes later, he’s sneaking back into the bedroom and waiting until his timer hit exactly five minutes to pounce on you.

you yelp a little, but it quickly dissolves into peels of laughter as his hands attack every side of the blanket prison you had unknowingly trapped yourself in.

“atsumu, nO!” you attempt, but you can’t reach him from inside the blanket and he knows.

"ya brought this on yourself, sweetheart. could've had me waking ya up with kisses and some sweet talk, but ya just have to make things difficult for me, hm?"

“nooo I’m sorryyyy-“ you plead for forgiveness, beg him, anything to get him to stop tickling you.

he finally relents a bit when he realizes that you might not be able to breathe under there and watches as you peek your face out a bit, weary eyes glued to his form.

“are ya gonna get up now?”

he snickers when you nod fervently and pats your leg over the comforter. “alright, hurry up, then. I made ya coffee. I’ll walk with ya to the train.”

“won’t you be late, then?” you ask on your way to the washroom.

he shrugs. “worth it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

again, super short, but very sweet I hope. birth month calls for lots of content for my favs, so get ready <3

[marvelseries19]

A CHRISTMAS IN NORWAY

Pairing: Leah Williamson x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: After two years of being together and on your second Christmas, you both decide to spend the holiday in your home country.

A/N: This is my first fic about real people, so please don't be too critical about it. I'm absolutely open to reading ideas, opinions, questions, etc. Just remember to be respectful. Be aware that I know nothing about Norway, and English is my second language. I know it's a little all over the place but I'm just trying to get out of the worst mental block I've ever had, also the ending might be a little rush, but I kinda ran out of inspiration at the end so, I just hope it makes sense.

Warnings: + 18, Suggestive

Word count: 0.9k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours]

Your room is softly lit by sunlight that seeps through the open curtains, creating a gentle glow on your bed's white comforter and helping to wake you up. The warmth of the sunlight creates a cozy and peaceful atmosphere, making it difficult to resist getting out of bed.

When you come to, there's a weight over your waist that belongs to your girlfriend's arm. You gradually stretch and turn to face the blonde, who has a happy smile on her face. You are enthralled by the way the morning light plays on her cheeks and the fluff of her lashes as she wakes up. You can't help but feel a surge of love and contentment as you realize how lucky you are to have her in your life.

You extend your hand and run a finger along her sharp jawline, causing her to smile drowsily. You exchange glances and appreciate, in silence, the wonder of this moment: the beauty of the snow-covered Norwegian landscape of your hometown, the closeness of being enveloped in each other's warmth, and the quiet of the winter morning.

"Good morning, Elske." You said it in a quiet voice, not wishing to shatter the peaceful atmosphere you two had built. She mumbled a good morning as she drew closer and hid her head in the crook of your neck. You could feel her lips brushing against your skin, leaving gentle kisses.

"How did you sleep?" You asked while gently drawing random shapes on her bare back, neither of you bothering to put some clothes on the night before. "I always sleep great when I'm with you." You could feel the smirk on her face on your neck. "Cheeky." You chuckled.

Suddenly, Leah detached herself from you, straddling your hips, the sheet falling from her frame, leaving her bare under your waze. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer. "I feel at disadvantage here." You uncovered yourself from the sheets as you met her gaze. A mischievous grin spread across your face. "Well, how about now?" The blonde couldn't hold it anymore, and she leaned down closer to your face. "Yeah, that works," she said while finally closing the distance between the both of you, locking her lips with yours. The kiss was electrifying, sending a rush of desire through your body. As your lips moved in sync, the room filled with an intoxicating mix of passion and anticipation. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in the heat of the moment.

You spend the next hour just basking in the love and warmth you found in each other before you decide to take a shower and go out for breakfast.

--

Walking hand in hand, the sound of your steps blends with the far-off cries of seagulls and the infrequent hum of a passing bicycle. The aged wooden structures with their colorful paint jobs and ornate facades that evoke earlier times serve as vivid reminders of the past. A soft golden light filters through the narrow streets, casting elongated shadows that dance along the colorful walls. The aroma of hot coffee and freshly baked bread wafts from the surrounding cafés, tempting you to follow your nose to find the perfect spot for breakfast.

After a while, Leah started to feel the cold. Lucky for her, you found a cozy cafe. Its wooden interiors and inviting warmth make it a refuge from the cold outside. As you step through the door, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet scent of pastries, instantly enveloping both you and your girlfriend in a comforting embrace.

The place hums with a gentle buzz of conversation and the clinking of cups against saucers. Soft acoustic music plays in the background, adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

The menu boasts a delightful array of Scandinavian pastries—warm cinnamon rolls, flaky pastries filled with berries, and traditional Norwegian cakes—all displayed enticingly on the counter, enticing customers with their delectable taste.

It was an understatement to say that it was hard to make a choice, but since you would end up sharing whatever you ordered, it didn't matter that much. "This looks amazing; I don't know why we didn't come here sooner," Leah said while your order was placed in front of you. "I can't wait to dig in!"

"I'm glad you enjoy it, baby," you replied, eagerly grabbing your fork and taking the first bite. The food was incredibly delicious; Leah's eyes lit up with delight as she savored her first bite, her taste buds dancing with pleasure, and you couldn't take your eyes off of the blonde.

The start of the relationship had been a bit rocky, with both of you dancing around your feelings for a while. It took a rather harsh push from your friends to make you confess your feelings, and now you couldn't be more grateful for them.

"You're staring, you know?" She said it with a smirk on her face. "Well, can you blame me?" You replied, unable to resist her charm. "Thank you for coming with me, Elske." She grabbed your hand over the table, intertwining her fingers with yours. "There's no place I'd rather be, baby."

The rest of the day was filled with laughter, adventure, and kisses. You couldn't help but fall deeper in love with her while you showed her every place that meant something to you. As the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you realize that you have found your soulmate. Well, rather confirmed that she was; after all, you knew that from the moment you met her. She was the missing piece to your puzzle. And you were hers.

[ryukumi]

"(Name), do you understand what I'm saying?"

Sitting beside you on the floor of your living room was your boyfriend, Tsukishima Kei.

Karasuno High's middle blocker of their infamous boys volleyball team that miraculously made it to the nationals after years of devastating losing streaks.

Scattered paper was seen all over the coffee table infront of the both of you. He was tutoring you on your recent maths lesson you struggled on for the past few days before.

You both went straight to your house after class. Thankfully, they had no practice for the day as they were given a few days off to study. You took this to your advantage and asked (begged) him to help you in your math lessons. You found it particularly hard this semester, and definitely not taking it as a chance to spend time with him with the excuse of a study session.

"Mhm."

You hum in agreement without hesitation, your eyes trailing on every detail of his face. From his blonde locks to his golden-brown irises, down to his pink lips moving with every word he says. A tongue occasionally gliding between his lips after every few words, as well as his middle finger adjusting his glasses. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find that the hottest thing the man infront of you could do.

You weren't listening despite your hum to his question. You never were, in fact, ever since he step foot into your house and placed his books on the medium-sized rectangle coffee table infront of you two. You were far too focused on his face, on his voice despite not hooking on to his words.

Tsukishima has been talking for a few minutes now, a pen in his hand, often switching from scribbling down numbers to resting in between his middle and ring finger. He tried to ignore the gaze you gave him. The look on your eyes as they trail slowly on each part of his face, especially focused on his lips. He licks his lips intentionally to try and get a rise out of you, such a meanie.

"(Name), if you wanna kiss me that bad, just say it instead of staring at me like a creep."

He teases with a light giggle. There was only so much he could handle if you kept staring at him like that, especially with those loose pyjamas you wore that slipped off of your shoulder, showing a teasing peak of your collarbone.

You finally comprehended his words after that 15 minutes of Tsukishima wasting his breath over something you asked him to tutor you about, yet that attention of yours was focused on something far from the topic.

" 'wanna kiss you so bad.."

You trailed off, not giving much thought to what you said. You decided to play along with his teasing remark. Earning silence in return. You snapped out of that gaze, turning away with a faint blush on your cheek.

"There's snacks in the pantry. You want anythi– Mmph!"

Tsukishima slides his hand to the side of your your face gently. His palm rests right on your jaw and the side of your cheek, your ear right between his index and middle finger. He tilts his head as he encased your lips into a kiss. A light one. He pulls away but keeps his face a few centimeters away from yours, gazing at your wide eyes and extremely flushed cheeks. He giggles.

"Gotta give my pretty girl what she wants, right?"

You leaned in closer for more, but before you could even close the gap between the both of you, your forehead was met with a pointer finger pushing your head away.

"Huh- Hey! What was that for?!"

"I would want to indulge in whatever those braincells of yours are thinking about, but before that, you've got to put this math lesson of yours first."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was based off of a dream I had a few hours agoo, I hope its alright^^

Im not particularly a fan of this TT, especially since it's my first work ever, no experience at alll. For me, it seems a bit too rushed to the plot and just not really written well, huhuuuu. I def need tips on this please. Criticism is HIGHLY appreciated mwamwaa♡♡

Ps. Not proofread

Edit: i finally edited it TYSMM FOR THE CRITICISMMM RAAHH hopefull this is better👾

[hanrinz]

KATSUKI BAKUGOU : OUR WAY HOME — katsuki doesn't wait for anyone, but if it's for you? you are worth all the time he has.

ᜊ FLUFF, mutual pining, just bkg being his usual self, i couldn't help myself this has been sitting in my drafts for a long time.

some might say that the blond haired boy will never be waiting for anyone, time was very precious for him. every second counts, and it's true — it really does matter to him.

every passing minute without the thought of doing anything pisses him off, cursing you in his mind as he stands idly outside the campus gates. his bag on the side of his shoulder as he kicks rocks under his feet, with his usual frown etched on his face. a little pop sucker keeping his mouth company.

already grumbling under his breath how you take so much time leaving the school.

but, who is he kidding? it's not that he's obligated to walk you home on afternoon fridays. always bitching about how he also walks the same way as you and you're just being delusional. even though he lives on the opposite side of the city.

THE katsuki bakugou walking you home? tsk, as if! he wouldn't be caught lacking and have the extras thinking he's gone soft, definitely not.

because katsuki bakugou is afraid of being vulnerable.

what's worse is that you know. you know that he lives in the opposite direction of your home, you know that he waits for you every friday after school, you know that the katsuki bakugou was harboring some feelings for you, but you kept quiet.

you kept quiet about it, not a single word and it's like you're challenging him — between the two of you who will be brave enough to say it.

he hates it, the time where the two of you dance around beckoning for the other to break, to just tell the unsaid truth. the flowers blooming in his chest that you have planted in his heart so carefully, the times you showered it with your sweet words and smiles making it grow like a garden — your garden.

and he is so afraid to pluck it out and give it to you, like a bouquet that holds the secrets of his heart.

katsuki bakugou who's never afraid of anything, now hides behind a facade. to keep the artifacts of his heart away from breaking.

"were you waiting for me, katsuki?" tilting your head in question.

raising his eyes to look at your face, he could only let out a scoff, as he stood up properly stealing away your bag from your hands, then walking off to the direction of your home, just so you wouldn't see the redness taking place on his ears.

he often forgets you could be rather annoying, when you want to. though he'll never admit it, it was no secret that katsuki can't resist your charms. it just so happens that you being annoying is one of them.

"oi, are you coming or not? pick up your pace, dumbass," he gruffed, stopping on his tracks as he waits for you.

shaking your head from his aggression, only catching up to him, "ahh always so grumpy!" you said in a teasing tone.

he offers you no words. skipping down to the road you're very much familiar with, a smile making its way to your lips. maybe you'll tell your affections for him someday, maybe not now. but, you can savour this moment with him for now.

"let's go home, 'suki."

katsuki thinks maybe he'll wait for you to say that again, maybe.. just maybe he'll wait for you, until you become his home.

◞♡ writers block is the worst, likes & reblogs are highly appreciated!

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [9 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You find unexpected acceptance within the pack.  

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: 👀 as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome! thank you! mind the warnings ❤️

When you wake, it is to thick fog.  It is early, the pale shadow of the sun barely visible above the damp grass. You wake before most of the pack, the majority of them still tucked away in their sleeping rolls. Carol is too, you spy the top of her blonde head some twenty, thirty paces away.

You rise quietly, rolling your pack up before slinging the bow Steve had given you across your shoulders—just in case. Your short-sword, a mere dagger in an Orc’s hands—remains strapped to your waist. The grass sea is dangerous.  You’d known it before, but now you understand it. ‘Tis an accursed land, far from Halith’s light. You have found no curses here, though. No angry, vengeful Gods; at least no more or less vengeful than your father’s own. 

The grass parts for you easily, though your feet stick in the mud. The bound leathers Carol had fitted for your “tiny human feet” do better at keeping out the damp and the cold than any shoes made in the village ever had, and you are especially grateful for them now. It hasn’t taken long—only a matter of weeks, really—for the village that had been your home for every summer its walls had stood to belong to another you, another life. You have no desire to return to the clutches of the Kingdom, nor the Church of Undying Light. They are as dead to you as the ones lost in the pass. 

Still, though, you cannot help but wonder what lies ahead as you move slowly through the grass. What future Tarrath holds for you. Steve had spoken of a vast city on the edge of an endless salt-sea, and you long to gaze upon it with your own eyes, to learn its mysteries. 

You are not far from the camp now, close enough to see it over the tops of the grass if you stand on the very tips of your toes. By the time you’ve crested the nearby hill, your cheeks warm with exertion and brow damp, the morning mist has all but dissipated. You stare down at the valley spread out below you with awe.

In the distance to the east, you can see the dark shape of that treacherous pass, dotted against the landscape. But in truth, you can see so much more. The sky is a pale, sickly blue, still a shadow of its former self after the might of the storm, but even so, you are glad to see it anyway. The grass sea stretches on for uncountable leagues in every direction, rolling into a horizon so vast your head spins at the thought of it. Mountains rise and fall, emerging and disappearing into the green. 

The world is quite a bit bigger than I imagined.

You had never really imagined it at all, existence beyond the village was immaterial and unimportant, your life a strange combination of droll, unending horror that you’d known would one day end in your unremarkable death. But now the land itself unfurls before you like the most tempting of scrolls, begging you to look, to see, to know and understand, to learn and experience—and you want to. 

The shifting hiss of grass parting makes you turn, a hand flying to the hilt of the sword at your hip, but you drop it back to your side almost instantly. The young orc before you holds his hands out placatingly. 

“Apologies,” you say with a wry smile.

“None needed. The zikaegina is a wild place. An old place, is what my mahem tells me.” He is young, much younger than Steve. Perhaps one of the youngest in the entire pack. Bright, warm brown eyes crease at the corners as he grins at you boyishly, his short tusks gleaming. “But beautiful, also.” He gestures at the view. 

“It is,” you agree. “I thought… I thought when I looked upon it that it must never end,” you admit, and he chuckles. 

“All things have an end.” He says amusedly, returning his gaze to the sea. “I am Peter.” You tell him your name, and he repeats it in that matter-of-fact way that Steve had done, like he means to taste each syllable, though it doesn’t make the skin on the back of your neck prickle like it had when Steve had said it. If he were human, you might’ve placed Peter at twenty summers, perhaps two or three more at a push, but as he’s decidedly not, it is hard to tell. Your eyes stray to the string of rabbits tied at his  waist, and he looses a little laugh. 

“Ah, yes. I thought it important to hunt this morning.” He unties them from his waist, hoisting them up proudly. It is quite a good catch, they are all plump and fat, much larger than the one you’d managed to bring down, before your rather dumb luck with the stag. “Do you like them?”

His question takes you aback, and you squint at him confusedly. 

“I—I suppose? I know Carol and the others will surely appreciate the addition to the stores.” Peter shakes his head, frowning. 

“They are not for the stores.” He brandishes them again, and you see now that they are an offering. He presses them into your hands, smiling. “They are for you.” Your face heats. 

“I, er—why?” Your brows crease. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”  Peter’s brows knit together in confusion. His eyes drop to your throat, and the bewilderment in his eyes only grows. 

“You are unmated, are you not?” He asks, nervously rubbing his shoulder with the opposite hand. “I-I know many females prefer jewelry, but I thought perhaps the rabbits might be more pertinent…” He trails off awkwardly, and the nervous fluttering in your belly turns into full blown panic. 

Oh no.

“I, well, that is to say—” You sputter out nonsense, wringing your skirts in your hands. You admit the hope had blossomed within you that one day you might truly be seen as pack too, but it had not yet occurred to you that attraction might also follow suit. You lick your lips before trying again.

“I’m not, but I, well I don’t think this is—”

“I am a good warrior, strong.” He says confidently. “I will never fail to provide, this I vow.” You swallow thickly.

“I’m sure you are,” you say slowly. “But—I—there are certain things to—”

“What is going on here?” Steve’s voice is icy, and his stony expression is just as cold. His eyes flick down to the rabbits in your hand, and then back to Peter before narrowing. “You shouldn’t be off hunting alone.” It doesn’t sound like he’s speaking to everyone—just to you. The weight of his admonishment makes your cheeks burn. It does not help when Peter puffs his chest out, looking decidedly childish before Steve, standing half a head higher and two paces wider. 

“I am blooded, and a capable warrior. Twenty-two summers is more than old enough to take a mate. Maavuman usok. The gift is given.” Peter fixes Steve with a stubborn, challenging expression. 

“She does not understand our ways.” Steve’s frustration is palpable. “You would as well claim a youngling.” Your eyes narrow at the comparison even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. While you can admit  to a certain lack of skill, you are certainly no child. 

“I am not a child.” You snap, and Steve’s deep answering laugh only stokes your ire.

“So you would take Peter as your own?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “From now till hereafter?” Cold fills your belly at his words, and you shake your head furiously.

“I—n-no,” The words escape your mouth in a clumsy stampede. “I just, I er, I’m not…” 

“You do not accept the gift?” Peter looks absolutely crestfallen, his brows knitting together. You’re tempted to ramble, to attempt to soften the blow of your rejection the way you’ve been taught to, but somehow you get the feeling that that will not translate particularly well. If these weeks with the pack have taught you anything, it is that Orcs appreciate blunt honesty. Excuses, on the other hand…

“No.” You wince. “I do not.” 

You fully expect Peter’s anger, but it does not come. Instead, he adopts a fierce expression, curling his hand into a fist before slamming it against his chest. 

“Then I will find a gift you will accept, promikun ni.” The smile that curls across his lips is cheeky. “Something worthy of you.” Peter is retreating back into the grass sea, his face a mask of determination before you can tell him not to. 

“Maker have mercy,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Steve chuckles derisively. 

“You would not take Peter as your mate, little human?” He asks amusedly as you wrinkle your nose. 

“He’s so…young,” you reply, still watching the place where the grass had closed around him. 

“A youngling in all but name. Barely blooded.” Steve’s lips curl back around his tusks with remembered irritation. “He has no business—” he stops himself abruptly, shaking his head. He seems more relaxed now, less frustrated. “No matter. It is finished, now.” 

“Surely there are those much more… suited in Tarrath?” You do not know why you so fiercely desire for him to know that the young Orc’s desires are unrequited, but you feel driven to do so. “Unless it is common in Orc culture to raid for one’s wife.” Steve’s laughter feels heavier somehow, as if weighted with knowledge only he is aware of. 

“Only sometimes, Sweetmeat. Only the very strongest.” Warm lead settles in your belly, though you will it not to.  “We will ride for Tarrath tomorrow.” You nod. Of course—this had been the destination all along. “I would much like it if you were to ride with me, Sweetmeat.” 

“A-at the front?” You ask incredulously, and he nods.

“Yes. I should much like to see your face when you look upon the Red City for the first time,” he replies, before hoisting the rabbits. You don’t miss the fleeting scowl as it crosses his lips. “I will give these to Carol.” He slings them across his broad shoulders, and turns on his heel. 

“Steve?” He pauses at the sound of his name. 

“Yes, Sweetmeat?”

“What is m-maa-mawvwuman usak?” You know the words are clumsy and incorrect in your mouth, but you try anyway. He licks his lips slowly, grinning. The bare skin of your arms prickles as gooseflesh spreads up them. 

“Maavuman usok.” Steve repeats it slowly, each syllable rolling from his tongue like drops of honey. “The mating promise.” The sticky lump in your throat feels nearly impossible to speak around.

“And prum—prum—”

“It means promised one.”  

to be continued…

Brave Masterlist

next chapter

[wyverndreamers]

WARNING for extensive talk about the dsmp and the characters in it !! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH CC'S THIS IS PURELY STORY BABBLE

loving the dsmp revival going on rn (maybe it's only on twt but i don't post on twt, so sorry for dsmp posting on this account) but i really don't like how a lot of the 'revival' is bringing back a lot of c!tommy's mischaracterization as a whole. i can understand the URGE to smooth him out, into something malleable and kind of babied, because for a while there he was just seen as this really annoying character in fandom spaces pertaining to the dsmp, but i see this urge around the internet to turn tommy into a 'perfect victim' with his trauma when that's just not true at all. i say this as a c!tommy enjoyer, i used to watch his pov's RELIGIOUSLY and i say this as someone who has an appreciation for his story and hate to see it cheapened by this constantly crying, blue sweater wearing blonde baby i see on my TL a lot. apart of what made c!tommy compelling is that at certain points he was very petty, and abrasive. he would act on impulse, and not always in a good way. a lot of the time, yeah it did good in the long run, but in the moment a lot of the stuff he does are stupid impulsive decisions that could've ended in FAR worse scenarios. people really like to hold up his trait of loyalty but completely ignore that his loyalty to a fault always came with a subtle sense of ENTITLEMENT that they were supposed to do right, because he was following him, kind of like how a child would be mortified seeing their parents doing something socially wrong like yelling at someone else. and a lot of people in the fandom actually LIKE this aspect of his character, but mostly because it can add to their characterization of him that is of inherent helplessness and childishness. and its usually painted as a good, pure trait to have, fully ignoring how a lot of his childishness is actually willful ignorance- especially in the face of his actions and how they'll effect people around them. he might bend eventually and mutter out a sorry, but that's not something he really WANTS to do. tommy is someone usually fully fixed in his own perspective and you can especially see it in the way that almost every other character at some point gets irritated at him FOR this in certain places in the narrative. and a lot of people would actually have you believe this is a good thing, because they actually view tommy as always having a perfect perspective on everything all the time. they think because he's the closest thing we have to a 'morally correct protagonist' that he is inherently morally correct and thus should be worshipped like the next messiah that will lead the revolution against the evil-doers. except, tommy just does not have that inherently morally correct perspective. yes he wants to do right, but his sense of 'right' is not always what is 'good'. bro literally tipped the initial domino that led to Doomsday happening, and that's not to say that anything that happened because of him burning down George's house was his fault (quite the opposite) but he also knowingly burnt down George's house knowing that George was friends with Dream, and having the full knowledge of what they could do at least to the extent of the L'manberg revolution where they literally had a traitor on the in betray them all. he recklessly incited George's (and again by proxy, Dream's) wrath because he did a reckless action. it's okay to call this behavior reckless and brash guys, that doesn't mean you're saying he deserved to be exiled. i could go on, but again i say this as an enjoyer of the c!tommy storyline and arcs he goes through. i just don't appreciate it when the thing that made his character so compelling, is cheapened down because the fandom cannot fathom the idea of liking a character that responds in complex ways to complex traumas. maybe some people relate too hard, IDK i just don't understand how you can praise a character for being human and then take out everything that MAKES the character feel so human sorry if this wasnt constructive or coherent, i didn't beta read my tumblr post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: happy sunday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stop in the openness of the library. Just ahead is the long counter that arcs in front of the windows that look into an office space lined with desks. There are monitors facing away from you, those meant for the librarians and their assistants, and along the far edge, a sign denotes the stations meant for self-checkout.  

You always thought of coming down but never found the energy. Besides, you wouldn’t want to borrow books that could be ruined at home. Beyond that, venturing into public has never been a simple task for you. You go for biweekly trips to spend the food credits on groceries and that’s about it. 

Your eyes skitter around frantically. You hear the babble of children in the kids’ section with its bright colourful chairs and couches and a table of toys for the tots. You quickly surpass it and wander into the stretch of tables and chairs by the reference section. You put your bag down on a chair and sit next to it, folding your hands on the table then pulling them back into your lap. 

You look over at the wall of tall windows that look out into a narrow strip of foliage. The brick walls are covered in thickly woven vines and birds flit in and out of the leaves. It’s pretty. You feel entirely out of place here. 

You check the time on your digital watch. Almost ten. You can at least tick the early box, even though you might fall short of everything else.  

You twiddle your fingers and keep your head down. Your toes tap in your sneakers and you fidget as the time ticks on. What if he doesn’t come? What if you’re not worth it? Should you check your email? 

As you reach your bag, a figure approaches the table from the other side. You retract your arm and peer up at the man as he sets a leather briefcase on the wooden surface. Professor Smith nods at you and greets you by name. You feel like you should stand to greet him. 

He offers his hand as you struggle to get to your feet. You tremble as you hesitantly accept the gesture. You don’t touch people and they certainly don’t touch you. It’s only a handshake. His grasp is firm and his skin slightly rough. Your hand feels weak and tiny in his confident grip. 

He let you go as your fingers tingle, “good morning.” 

“Morning, Professor, er, sir,” you stutter dumbly. 

“Please,” he pulls out the chair on his side and you lower yourself back to the seat. “How are you today?” 

“Mm, okay...” you swallow dryly, “er... you?” 

You almost cringe. It must be rude to forget that. You’re not so use to interaction and you’re certain it shows. 

You cross your arms over the table as his cheeks twitch and he smooths back his blond hair, “good, good,” he answers in his edged accent, “lovely sunshine today.” 

“Erm, yeah, uh...” you don’t know what to say or do. 

You close your eyes and reproach yourself. You must look totally lost. You drag your bag into your lap and unzip it. You take out your notebook and fish around for the chewed bic pen. You flip back the cover and flutter the pages, looking for a blank one. Your conscious of every single move you make as you feel his gaze on you. 

“Right, so, I suppose you’re eager to be done with it,” he begins, “was their particular activities you found challenging? Maybe a formula in particular--” 

“No, I... I think I got it but...” you twirl the pen and try to look at him. You get as far as the knot of his tie, the rest of it tucked beneath a sweater that seems rather much given the weather. “I just... fell behind. I’m s-sorry.” 

“Well, that’s fine. It happens. So, if you can do the work, I can wait on it,” he assures you. “I’m not here to reprimands, that hardly fruitful for either of us. I want us to come to an accord. Let agree on a course of action.” 

“Oh, alright,” you answer stuntedly, “well, I guess if I start Coursebook Four tonight I could have it done by—by Monday?” 

“That’s a good first step,” he encourages as he pushes his glasses up his nose, drawing your eyes up to his. They are icy blue but not cold. “I like it. Setting your own goals. I find for some, it’s more effective than tossing a bunch of dates at them.” 

“Thanks, professor, I... I really appreciate you... doing this,” you can’t help the shame that seeps into your voice. He pities you, you know it. You can see it in his face so you put your focus back to the table. 

“Mm, given your...situation I think it’s understandable,” he says, “not easy to work in a racket.” 

“Professor,” you put your hand to your forehead, dipping your head to hide behind it. 

“Very concerning to hear,” he says, “and to think of a young woman in that environment.” 

“Just my mom and her boyfriend. They don’t bother me.” 

“Seems they do with all that yelling.” 

“I-- I guess but—I—I need to use the bathroom,” you stand up and sway, “sorry.” 

"As you will," he allows lightly, "I'll be here." 

He sits back and checks his watch. It's much nicer than your plastic casio. You nod and sidle out from between the chair and the table. You shuffle away, only looking for a sign as you come out next to the front counter. You have to turn back to get to the bathrooms, your clueless meandering adding to the heat in your cheeks. 

You lock yourself in a stall and try to muster the strength to come back out. Why did you come here? You feel so much worse sitting across from that man. Look at him. How could he not judge you?  

You take and breath and try to shake away the anxiety. Someone else comes in and you make yourself leave. You wash your hands and steel yourself for another delve into the general public. You emerge and stop before the room of tables. 

Professor Smith sits patiently across from your things. You round the table and close your notebook, sliding the pen back in the spiral. You chew your lip and slide it into your bag. 

“I will have Assignment Four done like I said,” you speak barely above a whisper. 

“Sounds great,” he stands as well, “I must thank you for going to the trouble of meeting me here today. I do find virtual appointments hardly have the same... effect. Might I buy you a coffee for the inconvenience?” 

“A coffee? I... no, that’s--” 

“Or a tea?” He suggests. 

“Professor, um, no, that’s okay.” 

“I insist,” he says, “I saw a cafe on my way in. Just on the corner.” 

“I didn’t... bring my wallet.” 

“As I said, my treat,” he intones, “don’t worry, we won’t be talking business.” 

“Erm,” you sniff and slant your mouth one way then the other, “well, I...” you hate to keep saying no, it’s starting to feel rude. “Sure, er, okay, thanks.” 

“My pleasure,” he gestures you ahead of him, “ladies first.” 

You sling your bag on your shoulder and step past the table. You cross the library floor and tread by the curved counter. As you come to the doors, he quickly gets ahead of you and pushes the door open, holding it for you. He’s polite, almost to a stifling degree. 

The sunshine you casts a yellow haze, warming the dark fabric of your hoodie. You descend the steps and he catches up to you, keeping pace as he stays at your side. He points you to the left, “this way.” 

You obey and feel the brush of his sleeve against yours. Pedestrians across the street seem to stare at you. No doubt they can see how you don’t belong with that man. Him in his prim outfit; his sweater pulled over a tidy collared-shirt and tie, and his glasses denoting and air of professionality. But you, in your wrinkled hoodie and jeans, must make a paltry contrast to the man. 

“Right ahead,” he nudges the back of your arm gently before you can veer in the wrong direction, “would you like to sit outside? It’s beautiful out and I see a free table.” 

“Er, if you like,” you shrug and cross your arms, “you really don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he assures as you come up to the patio area before the corner cafe, “please, you find a table and I’ll go inside. What would you like?” 

You stop just beside the short wooden fencing that block off the seating area. Tea is usually cheaper. You’d rather not stretch his pity past a few dollars. 

“Black tea.” 

“Milk?” He asks. 

“No, thanks.” 

“Sugar?” He arches a brow. 

“Just tea.” 

“Ah, got it,” he dips his chin, “I will return. Please, have a seat.” 

He turns on his heel and as he struts up to the front door, you search the patio. You find a table for two near the wall. You won’t be centre stage there. You put your bag under the chair and sit with your back to the street. 

What are you doing? You could leave now. You could just go home. You came to talk about your schoolwork. So why are you here getting tea with this man? You need to go home and get started on it. You hang your head and lean back in the chair, arms folded as you gnaw your chapped lip. 

The voices of the patrons around you buzz in the air. You catch snippets of conversations; excitement over a date they just had, or complaints about their work life, and even the low murmurs of intimate partners cooing at each other. Life is all around you, happening to other people but you remain in your corner. 

You wince as Professor Smith returns. He places a porcelain cup before you. One you can’t just run off with. He sits across from you as you look up. 

“Thank you, sir,” you utter as you sit up. 

“Not at all,” he blows over his mug, a dark coffee with a thin layer of foam around the sides. You can smell it. “I do get curious,” he sets the steaming cup own, “about my students. Teaching from a screen can be rather disconnecting. I meet all sorts in my work but you... I didn’t see your name in the introductory forum.” 

You look evasively at the brick wall. You untangle your arms and pinch the tag of the tea bag dangling over the brim. You shrug. 

“I must’ve forgot to post.” 

“Ah, never to worry, I won’t dock marks for it,” he kids, “so, you live with your mother.” 

You nod and your eyes drop to the table. 

“She must be proud.” 

You tear the tag from the string and it recoils and falls into the tea. 

“Proud?” 

“Yes, well, you’re going to school. It’s not nothing.” 

“Yeah, but...” it goes without saying; you’re not doing very well. 

“Like I said, you’ve shown you can do the work, so do it,” he intones. 

“I know.” 

“What made you choose this program?” 

“I don’t... know.” 

“Well, you seem to have a natural affinity for numbers. Did anyone ever mention it?” 

“I guess,” you lift the cup by the handle and blow over the top. You cautiously taste it and burn yourself nonetheless. You put it back down and cover your singed lip, the tip of your tongue pulsing. 

“You alright?” He asks. 

You nod furiously. 

“Mm, well, I must admit, I am rather bad at subterfuge. This is a bad ploy,” he sits back, one hand on the table as he taps his index against his thumb, “I’d rather you take your time with the tea and not only for the sake of your tongue. I... hoped to keep you busy so that you needn’t return home so quickly. To that.” 

“That?” 

“What I overheard,” he says. 

“Oh, I told you--” 

“It may be usual for you but it doesn’t make it any safer,” he interjects. “I don’t know if you saw the email but I sent some resource you might look into. Grants. Some for housing. You could extricate yourself. You should.” 

You’re breathless. It’s humiliating. How pathetic you must be in his eyes. 

“I didn’t come to embarrass you,” he leans forward and slides his hand across the table. 

You turn your head and gulp, the lump in your throat suffocating. Your nose tingles as your face scalds. You shudder and push your shoulders up. 

“You’re a bright young woman, I only thought I might...” he struggles to find words, “well, I did not begin as a professor. I did not even start as some high and above pupil. No, I was a miserable lad. Barely made it through my first year but... all I’m saying is I might not have been where you are, but I get it.” 

Your lashes flutter as you fight back tears. You’re so tired of crying. You’re exhausted of feeling this way. No matter what you do or where you are, you just feel like you don’t belong. 

You look at your watch, “I’ll have to go soon.” You won’t even come up with a lie. You need to go before you break down completely. 

He sighs, “right.” 

[kuroppiii]

   hide and seek ᵕ̈         kozume kenma x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : where you and kenma   ⋮⋮  always manage to find a place ,   ⋮⋮  one just for the two of you

📋 content      ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮      ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛      ♡ # ~700 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 ( + about 300 in bonus )

🎶 on shuffle “ dream girl (home made) ” - anna of the north

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i ' m gonna cry this is so soft wtf ”

waning sunlight bore through the row of square windows perched high up on the nekoma gymnasium's walls. the gym lights were already off, and in the dimness of the space, the windows gave glimpses to the pink and purple sky as the sun was starting to set outside. they casted shapes on the shiny and sneaker-streaked wooden floor, the patches of light continuously getting sliced and diced by the shadow of the spinning ceiling fans the third years were yet to turn off.

the only noises that met your ears were the distant whirr of those metal blades, the minuscule clicking of buttons and flicking of joycons, and the faint sound of breathing coming from kenma–who was snug up against you as you sat on the floor against one of the gym walls, showing you the gameplay of the new game he just bought.

volleyball practice had just ended. you could hear through the open entrance doors the rest of the boys on the team conversing loudly, as they put equipment away or were gathering their things to go home–it was a school night after all.

but between you and kenma, no words needed to be spoken. you both were completely content there, feeling the warmth of one another close by and watching the bright screen of kenma's portable gaming console flash colorful pictures of a hero overcoming their evil adversaries.

kenma was very grateful for this fact, for this little ritual he started to share with you when you started to stop in at the end of volleyball practice. originally, you did it with the intention to chat and ask him how practice went, then to walk home with him and kuroo and talk some more.

but sometimes practice was tiring, and some days kenma just couldn't find the energy to keep up the conversation. it's not that he didn't want to talk to you. he loved hearing your voice when you two conversed, actually.

all it was is that he needed to recharge. he needed to play with his games, even if just for ten to twenty minutes.

so you let him. because you care. and kenma loves appreciated that about you. from then on, you two started to end the days off (before being met with kuroo to make the trek home, that is) finding a little corner, a bush, a not-so-dusty spot under the bleachers... to just sit. and he'd play another level or two of one of his games, and you'd calmly watch.

your shoulders brushed every time kenma had to quickly maneuver some ability in the game–and even if it slipped far enough for a rush of coldness to attack your arm, it would always without fail return to its rightful place, bringing with it warmth as an apology. at times, you swear you feel like your breathing was in sync. every time you blinked, your eyelids almost seemed to move in slow motion.

together, time gradually slowed to a stop. you two were in a little bubble of your own creation, where nothing else mattered except the both of you. both of you being, and being together...

"kenma! kenma? y/n!" kuroo's voice suddenly rings through the door of the gym and bounces off the walls of the big room. kenma quietly groans and a giggle escapes you at his reaction–as if you two haven't been in this scenario for a dozen times before, and as if kenma's reaction has ever changed, at that.

"yaku! i told you to turn the fans off. don't forget tomorrow!" you then hear the captain yell out. overhead, the fans spin to a stop, and now everything is still for a moment.

"time to go kenma," you softly nudge at his side.

the blonde reaches over to shove his console in his bag with a sigh, "fine, let's go."

as you stand up, you body feels a shock of cold. it's already yearning for kenma's warmth again, the one that makes hiding from the world feel so nice. so your body seeks it out, following close behind him as you make your way across the gym to the exit.

       ⇩  ⇩  ⇩ 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎 ::

years later, the conventions you and kenma find yourselves at are awfully crowded. with questions at panel after panel and interactions with fan after fan at meet and greets, it's hard to believe the day still isn't over yet.

and it's not like kenma didn't like his fanbase. he loved them, and he loved what he did as a streamer.

it's just that sometimes he had to recharge. and thankfully, he knew just how, and who to go to for that.

his feet moved mindlessly, seeking you out. he found you behind some backstage black curtains nearby.

"hey kenma!" you smile at him, "how'd the meet and greet go?"

"it went great," his hand suddenly grasps at yours, "let's go somewhere real quick?"

you don't miss the way his words come out laced with the tiny breath of a sigh, or how he's hunched over just a little more than usual.

so you don't question it as he pulls you through the crowds, weaving to different convention hall entrances until finally when he peeks his head in the doorway, you find a room unoccupied.

there, against the wall and on the worn-out carpeted floor, you sit–nothing besides a bare stage, rows of empty chairs, and the two of you.

kenma relishes in this newfound hiding spot, letting his eyes close and his head lean against your shoulder for even just a moment. the bustling of the convention-goers outside gets tuned out.

there's no game console in his hands this time. so you resort to watching how instead of pressing at buttons and joycons, he plays with your warm hands under his fingertips.

and you let him, for as long as he wants, and he appreciates loves that about you, the person–his solace–who gets him so well. he loves you.

[conditioned-to-obey]

Hii i just saw your answer to an ask where you said that patriarchy kinks dont sit well with you, i assume u mean the hypno/bimbo community?

That's at least where i see most of it-

Anyway, i just wanted to say that while i do understand your reasoning engaging in that kind of kink (with trusting and trusted people) has helped me heal so much, so for anyone thats wanting to indulge in it: please make sure you do it with people that you trust and know that they, even if they say they do, dont want to (actually) harm you.

(i dont mean any harm, you and your blog genuinely seem super nice :3)

No, I did not mean the hypno and bimbo community. That ask had nothing to do with either of those things?

To the contrary I've seen plenty of hypno and bimbo content without misogynistic patriarchy undertones.

There is a rather large difference between bimbofication as a means of embracing feminity – or not having to be intelligent as a feminine person to be valued, accepting and appreciating beauty and hyperfeminity, being allowed to be happy and bubbly, choosing kind simple happiness, not being pressured to not enjoy traditionally feminine things and concepts– as opposed to content that bases bimbofication in white, blonde, skinny beauty standards or surgeries only the rich can afford and to the detriment of the bimbo for male gratification. That is where my discomfort lies. It's a personal gripe, I just don't participate in the latter.

To me, anyone can be a hot happy dumb bimbo. That's a real beauty of it. I can very much see how that is beneficial and healing.

I've seen hypno used to assist comfort, release, calm and subspace. Hypno for subs to feel more in tune and in control of their headspaces. One comes to mind is directed towards helping a sub feel more like a puppy. Hypno in the sense that all you must do is let go. Release control and relax back.

Hypnosis on its own itself has been used in plenty therapeutic settings. So, it would be very silly for me to discredit it.

When I say patriarchy and misogyny, I mean male centric regurgitated drivel that if not tagged or marked as kink, may very well just be straight from an incel reddit forum. Most of these blogs don't even have a disclosure or warning stating that they are participating in kink in the first place.

Women being left unsatisfied sexually repressed and boring p in v sex ending as soon as a man cums? Sounds like sad reality for a lot of people to me. One I have heard many times. It just doesn't sound appealing.

This ask is somewhat redundant to me, as that advice you purposed is exactly what advice I said in my original answer. The one you are referring to in the first place. Maybe you should return back and reread it to soak up any context and concepts you may have missed.

I'll reiterate that I stated that it is best to avoid those spaces. In relation to what the original anon was looking for. As most people who are actually misogynistic and truly believe in patriarchy flourish there. Without having to be under the radar the operate in plain sight usually. Hence why my advice was to avoid those spaces if you're starting out and trying to find people you can trust to open up to exploring more taboo and complex play. It is in no means directed as telling anyone what to do, or what is or isn't healing for them as an individual.

Hope this helps. Best of luck.

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

"guess you fell for me, huh?"

synopsis: you accidentally catch a (cute) stranger who fell off a hill. what do you do?

genre: fluff, crack(??)

characters: lyney x gn! reader, adventurer! reader

warnings: usage of french (feminine) terms of endearment (translation at bottom), first meeting, reader is referred to in second person, i think i made lyney a bit ooc, not proofread

a/n: inspired by my darling housemate tripping over her own foot and going "i think i fell for you" without missing a beat to the other housemate that caught her. idk how the physics works for falling off a hill into someone's arms (the impact should be enough to at least give you some bruises i think) but we shall assume plot armour LMAO likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2023 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

it was supposed to be a normal day for you. emphasis on “normal”. you had meant to complete your commissions, collect your payment, and spend the rest of the day in your residence. sleeping. and snacking.

you stare down at the ash-blonde (a terribly cute one too, mind you) in your arms bridal-style, who is currently grinning up at you. archons, that grin…

“are you alright?” you ask, checking him for injuries. anyone would be equally concerned if someone dropped into their arms from the sky.

“i’m alright now that i’ve met you, ma belle*.” the absolute gall this man has, sending you a wink like that. you feel your cheeks warm. low standards, sure, but the way he said it was just too charismatic! 

“a-anyway, i’m glad you’re not hurt. what even happened?” you place him down, making sure he was standing properly before letting go.

“ah, well, it’s a little embarrassing…” he rubs his neck, looking away. “i was, uh, trying to collect marcottes, and as you know, it just rained not long ago, and, uh, i may or may not have slipped. and fell.” he gestures vaguely at the hill behind you. 

“ah.” is the only thing you say in reply.

“i have to say, if not for you, ma chère*, today would have ended very differently for me,” that silly little grin is back on his face. “please, allow me, the greatest magician lyney, to treat you to dinner tonight as sincere thanks for being my saviour.” he takes your hand in his, kisses its back, his eyes trained on yours all the while.

you finally can’t resist the urge. “i guess you really fell for me, huh?” 

lyney stalls, a shine in his periwinkle eyes, and you take the time to admire his features even more. he may have fallen into your arms, but it seemed as though you were the one who fell hard.

*translations: ma belle = "my beauty"; ma chère = "my dear". both terms can be taken as the equivalent of "sweetheart" or "darling" in english!

tags: @diorlumx, @i23kazu (send ask if you want to be tagged in future works!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

[vampiretendencies]

cutting jjs hair for him and he’s looking up all lovey dicey 🤧

went for s1 jj hair

the aimless tresses that framed jj’s strong, prominent features grew long and interrupted his vision on a regular basis now. he’s grown use to combing his fingers through it, only to place a hat directly on to of the mess— reminded him of that to when he was just a boy and his father refused to take him to get it cut. saying it ‘interfered with what he had going on’ or ‘you’ got hair cut money?’

once jj got old enough to handle a trimmer, and what he thinks were kitchen scissors he tamed it on his own. but this time it’s gotten too out of hand for him to do it by himself. and he worries that he’ll fuck it all up of his just does it mindlessly.

then it’s a familiar occurrence when his girl begins to speak, that he has just the pretty lady to do it for him.

you’re splayed across the couch, head in his lap whilst his thumbs gently at the profound texture of your skin. with the angle his studying you at, his blonde locks pour downward and he pouts as it blocks his vision of the one human he’s die without seeing. yes, seriously.

“kinda like the long hair on you j.”

“want me to keep it just for you baby?”

“no, cause i know how much it gets in your way.”

you listened— you truly listened to his complaints. you didn’t use it against him. you’d mentally noted every complaint and took it with utmost care. no one heard him out, or listened to his waking thoughts, but you. to show his appreciation for that, his lips gently press against your top lip. grazing the cushion-like cupids bow with slowness and an overwhelming sense of giddiness.

“maybe you could cut it for me, i trust you with it.” that’s saying something, though jj didn’t do maintenance to his hair as one could tell by current circumstance, he knew his precious locks were what made him up physically— he’d like to keep it that way. he trusts you with his life, so why not add hair to the list

“you sure j?”

“always sure when it comes to you.”

next thing you knew you were in the chateaus bathroom, roles reversed as you were towering over jj. he was facing forward first so that you could trim his face framing pieces. so they could fan backward as they use to before they were outgrown.

“hm how about some layers?”

“if you think they’ll look good baby.”

“course’, you could make a trash bag look good.”

the way you compliment him, makes it feel like the earth has stopped spinning on its axis.

and he thought, dumbfounded, how could you—no—how dare you stand above him so beautifully. lulling him into a trance that he’d bargained for. there’s no logical explanation as to how he deserves you, but God, he’ll do any and everything in his power to keep you. out of all of the romance movies you’ve forced him to watch, he knows why those men made such sacrifices. it outweighs his heart, that’s why he nearly feels it stop beating entirely with every touch. for one person— he could never fathom this overwhelming amount of admiration.

his very own depiction of a dream before his fingertips.

“can’t explain to you with words how much i love you.”

as his words are spoken in the midst of bathroom air, and the clashing of scissors shredding his hair to the floor. you freeze, the rest of you could be found in a puddle beside him, melting with content.

“don’t have to j, you show it enough.”

[maximoffcarter]

Practical study.

Pairings: Alex Cabot x reader.

Summary: Alex's girlfriend is studying to become a nurse, and even if she knows that her girlfriend is smart and can beat any exam, she also knows that sometimes there's nothing wrong in having a little help.

A/n: This was requested by bestie @saurgaeee. Featuring our beloved Alexandra Cabot. I studied psychology so I had to do my research to get this right hehe. Keep the requests coming you guys! Enjoy and leave your comments, reblogs, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻

*not my gif*

When y/n thought about her life in New York City, she thought she’d spend her whole time locked in her room while she studied, then go to school, work, probably the library and then back to her room to study some more. She knew that nursing school wouldn’t be easy at all, and the fact that she had a full scholarship that she had to keep was even more stressful, but this is the career she had picked, and she was not one to back down. She was proud of her decision, it had taken some time to decide but she was so close to graduating. And then her break came, she had taken this time to study a bit more, focus on work and be able to enjoy New York to its fullest. She had been so focused on school that she barely knew places in New York, other than the ones she frequented daily that were literally around her block. She had been so fascinated to visit other places of the city that at some point she got completely lost, and in her way back to the subway, she met a beautiful blonde that happened to sit down next to her.

For some reason, both women had engaged into an interesting conversation when y/n noticed the law books. She didn’t understand a thing of what the beautiful blonde was saying, but y/n was fascinated by her voice and the excitement on her face. She had just started working in some place…something about special cases? She didn’t remember well but kept staring at her and listening to everything she had to say. She never believed in love at first sight, but she could swear that she fell for Alexandra Cabot that day. She got off the subway with Alex and walked with her for a bit more, until they were in front of Alex’s building and Alex wrote her phone number in y/n’s hand; y/n thought that it couldn’t have been more cliché.

After that day, her days consisted of waking up, calling Alex, going to school, have lunch with Alex, go to work, go back home to study, and then give herself some time to go visit Alex, whether it was in Alex’s office or apartment. They finally made it official after their fourth date and after their sixth month together, Alex asked her to move in with her. This isn’t exactly how y/n pictured her life to be in the big city, she thought she’d be a loner for the rest of her life, knowing perfectly that once she started officially working as a nurse, she’d have hectic hours and she would barely have a life, but somehow, even now with how crazy their lives were, they made it work perfectly, and they couldn’t have it any other way. A year later they were still going strong.

Y/n opened her eyes and was startled as she heard the door closing, looking at her watch and noticing that it was pass eight. She sighed softly and closed the book that she had in her legs along with her notebook. She turned just in time to see Alex walking into the living room, smiling at her.

“Hey baby.” Alex smiled softly as she leaned down and kissed y/n’s forehead. “Were you studying?”

Y/n nodded softly. “Yeah…but I think I fell asleep.” She chuckled softly as she opened her arms for Alex.

Alex chuckled as she sat on y/n’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck and kissing her lips softly. “How’s the studying going?”

Y/n sighed. “I guess fine. I mean…it’s things I already know but.” She shrugged. “I wanna make sure that I actually remember them. I don’t wanna think that I know everything and then fail.”

“You are not. Stop thinking that way.” Alex smiled as she played with the hairs on the back of y/n’s neck. “You got this, I know you do.”

Y/n smiled softly. “You’re too nice, you always believe in me.”

“I wouldn’t be a good girlfriend if I didn’t believe in you.” Alex chuckled.

“You’re cute.” Y/n smiled. “I’m sorry, I was supposed to study for a while and then I’d make dinner, but I fell asleep.”

“How about we order something? I’m feeling Chinese tonight.”

“Of course.” Y/n smiled as she kissed her lips again.

“If you want, I can ask you things while we eat. That way you study faster.”

Y/n nodded. “That sounds good. But you better not do tricky questions.”

“Oh, but I love doing those! It’s to see how much attention you’re putting.” Alex grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Fine, we’ll see.” She grinned. “C’mon, I’m starving.” She patted Alex’s thigh.

********************

Alex sighed as she closed the door behind her and put both her purse and her coat in the rack, kicking her heels off. She walked to the living room thinking maybe she’d find her girlfriend there, but the lights were off just like in the kitchen. She stretched as she walked to the room and found y/n sitting on the bed with a bunch of books and papers around her, her notepad sitting on her lap. Alex shook her head softly as she smiled, walking to the bed, and leaning down to kiss her head.

“Thought yesterday you were done studying.” Alex whispered softly as she took her blazer off and walked to the bathroom.

“I thought I was, but I’m so anxious that I forget everything. I’ve known this for so long and yet, I cannot remember anything.” Y/n sighed heavily as she shook her head. “This is annoying. Like, I know this, but my anxiety is annoying.”

Alex walked out of the bathroom and sat in front of y/n, offering a small smile. “Baby, you got this. Like you said, it’s your nerves and your anxiety, but you know all of this. I know because I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working.”

“But this is it, Alex.” Y/n looked at Alex, a worried look on her face. “This is the end, and then I get to graduate. It’s fucking anatomy. I’ve known this since forever.”

Alex nodded. “Okay. I’ll help you study.”

“It’s fine, Lex. I just need to focus on this and-“ Alex started putting together all the papers and closing the books, putting them aside. Y/n furrowed her brows. “What are you doing?”

Alex looked up at y/n and smiled. “I’m gonna help you study.” She patted the spot beside her and waited for y/n to move, putting her notepad and pen aside and moving next to Alex. “Enough reading. We’re gonna do this in a practical way.”

Y/n frowned again and shook her head. “Alex, what-“ Alex took her hand and y/n’s eyes followed it, and then her mind clicked; practical way.

“What’s this called?” Alex placed her hand on her forehead, offering a small smile.

Y/n chuckled softly. “That’s frontal.” She moved her fingers down. “Temporal.” She moved them again. “Nasal.”

Alex took off her glasses, putting them in a safe place and raised her brow. “Anything else in that part?”

“Orbit.” Y/n moved her fingertips on the side of Alex’s face. “Maxilla.” She poked the tip of her nose, making her chuckle. She then placed her fingertips under Alex’s chin. “Mandible.”

Alex smiled. “Good. Now.” She grinned, unbuttoning her blouse slowly and then guiding y/n’s hand down her throat. “What’s underneath?”

Y/n gulped as she stared at Alex’s neck. “The uh…cervical…vertebrae?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Alex’s voice lowered as she raised her brow.

“Telling you.”

Alex nodded. “Good, baby. What about the muscle?”

Y/n chuckled. “Tricky questions?”

“Bonus.” Alex grinned as she used her other hand to extend y/n’s hand to touch her neck properly and not only use her fingertips.

Y/n’s breath hitched as her fingertips wrapped gently around her throat, chewing her bottom lip, her eyes switching between Alex’s eyes and her throat. “P-Platysma.”

“Good girl.” Alex wetted her lips as she guided her hand lower. “What’s here?” She stopped in her chest.

“The uh…sternum…and clavicle.” Y/n gulped as her hand stayed there, while Alex unbuttoned the rest of her blouse.

“What about around here?” Alex guided her hand again between her breasts. “Feel free to move your hand around so you tell me the right parts.” She smirked.

Y/n stared into blue eyes before she took a deep breath and wetted her lips as she looked back at her hand and tried to only focus on her hand, moving her hand as she mentioned the parts. “Costal cartilages, true ribs…and xiphoid process.”

“You’re doing so well, babygirl.” Alex grinned and guided her hand down again. “Continue.”

Y/n knew that Alex was just trying to help her out to ‘study’ but the way she was staring at her and was literally undressing herself right in front of her, made her think that Alex was also just trying to tease her. This was really getting out of hand once Alex stood up started pulling down her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Y/n eyes traveled down Alex’s body, she was now only in underwear and her stockings, making y/n almost choke. She cleared her throat as she heard Alex chuckling darkly; she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Should I stand, or do you want me to lay down?” Alex asked softly, the smirk never leaving her face.

“Uh…your choice.”

Alex slowly got in bed and laid down, turning her head to look at y/n, who moved closed to Alex. She raised her brow and smirked. “Start from the bottom to the top. No tickling.”

Y/n chuckled softly, nodding softly, her hands going to Alex’s feet. “Phalanges, metatarsals, talus, fibula, tibia.”

Alex chuckled. “Eager to get to the top?” She bit her lip softly as she looked at y/n.

Y/n looked back into Alex’s eyes and grinned. “I’m just trying to finish already.”

“We still need to name the muscles. There’s more than skeletal system.” Alex smirked.

Y/n sighed. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m helping you.” Alex winked at her. “Keep going.”

Y/n moved her hand higher, painfully slow as she bit her lip. “Patella, femur.” She stopped as her eyes landed on Alex’s underwear.

Alex raised her brow. “Is something wrong?”

Y/n gulped. “Alex…” she breathed out as she looked into Alex’s eyes.

Alex smirked as she sat in bed, moving to straddle y/n’s lap, kissing her forehead softly. She ran her hands through her hair. “You were doing so good, baby. Why did you stop?”

“You’re just teasing me now. You could’ve kept your clothes on.” Y/n grinned as she placed her hands on Alex’s hips.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Alex chuckled. “I did say it would be practical.”

“Then why didn’t you get fully naked?” Y/n leaned in to kiss Alex’s jawline.

“Ah, so now you want me to undress fully.” Alex placed her fingertips on y/n’s chin and made her look up at her. “We were just studying, baby.” She smirked.

“You’re such a tease.” Y/n rolled her eyes as she smiled. “I think I’m done studying now. I remember all.”

Alex looked back at the pile of books and then raised her brow as she read the names of the books. She scoffed as she shook her head. “You were not studying anatomy, were you?”

Y/n smirked, biting her lip softly. “Oops?”

Alex slapped her arm playfully. “You knew I’d offer to help you and I’d do all this!”

“I didn’t know you were going to strip, I thought you’d let me study on you though.” Y/n grinned.

Alex pushed y/n’s down against the bed and pinned her arms above her head with one hand, her other hand going to y/n’s neck, gently wrapping her fingertips. “I guess I should punish you for that.”

“You helped me study, why should I get punished?” Y/n raised her brow playfully.

“You didn’t finish studying, baby.” Alex whispered as she leaned down to kiss her jawline and then up to her earlobe. “Maybe you can get a closer look on the place you missed.” She whispered in her ear as she nibbled on her earlobe. “Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes.” Y/n breathed out as she moaned.

Yes, y/n thought it would be fun to study with Alex, but things really did get out of hand at the end, she did not expect any of this to happen, she didn’t think Alex would end up taking off her clothes and teasing y/n the way she did so far, and now…well…she really couldn’t complain. She had to listen and obey.

********************

Alex looked up from her notepad as she heard a knock on her door, smiling softly as her girlfriend stood at the door. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.” Y/n smiled as she walked into the office. “I passed.”

Alex chuckled softly. “Of course you did. I knew it, and I told you.” She raised her brow as she turned on her chair to face y/n who was now standing by her side.

“Maybe studying on you is what helped me.” Y/n grinned as she leaned down to kiss Alex’s lips.

Alex chuckled softly. “Right. We should do that more often.” She smirked.

“Well, you can give me a reward once we’re home.” Y/n bit her lip.

“You didn’t have enough from last night?” Alex raised her brow as she stood up and pressed y/n against her desk, her hands going to y/n’s hips.

“I never have enough when it comes to you, Ms. Cabot.” Y/n grinned as she placed her hands on Alex’s neck and pulled her close for a kiss.

“How about…” Alex whispered against her lips. “I first take you to dinner for doing so well, and then we go home for dessert.” She smirked.

Y/n nodded. “Sounds good.” She smiled. “Thank you for helping me and supporting me.”

Alex smiled as she pecked her lips. “I love you. And I’ll always be here to cheer you up, no matter what.”

“I love you more.” Y/n smiled.