#and i came back from that and i finally felt like i could DO things again

[jaeyunnz]

"Work Break Seduction."

ni-ki + f¡reader — ♡ 18+

WARNINGS — dom!ni-ki, sub¡reader, dirty talk, making out, cussing, rough sex, riki eats out reader, unprotected sex (stay safe dont do it.) pet names.

both characters are of age. (20+) not proofread, sorry if theres any errors. this is quite long but worth the read i promise!

Reader recently went into a new college and grew a school crush on Riki. Though he plays hard to get, your able to break his nonchalant demeanour.

Note : Riki was mostly requested, so enjoy. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Your parents recently moved to a different town, which meant transferring to a new college. It wasn’t as bad as you expected, though you didn’t really know anyone there—but that was fine. At least your childhood friend, Jess, was with you.

A few weeks passed, and you found yourself constantly drawn to a boy—Riki. Girls flocked to him, yet he always brushed them off or rejected their advances. No one seemed to know much about him. He was distant, only ever seen around small groups. But that only made him more intriguing. The mystery surrounding him pulled you in, making you want to learn more about him.

The problem? He avoided everyone—including you. The only times you ever spoke were during school projects, and even then, the conversations were brief or short talk.

This morning, once again, you found yourself paired with Riki. It didn’t bother you as much, but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “Alright, your partners have been chosen. Get to work, project’s due in two days,” the teacher announced. You scanned the room for Riki, and then your eyes landed on him. He was leaning back in his chair, his posture casual and almost lazy. You knew you had to make the first move and approach him, or he’d likely ignore you the entire time.

You hated that you always had to be the one to approach him—it made you feel almost desperate. Yet, here you were, getting up and walking toward him. He watched as you pulled out your chair and sat down beside him. “Hi,” you said, glancing at him for a brief moment. He responded with a small nod, his usual way of acknowledging you.

You settle into the seat, trying to ignore the awkwardness that always seemed to hang between you two. The silence stretched for a moment, neither of you making any effort to start the project. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at his phone, clearly disinterested. Then, you let out a soft sigh, wishing he’d at least pretend to care. Finally deciding to break the silence. “So, uh… how do you want to split this up?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He shrugs without looking up. “You can do whatever,” he mutters. You bite back a small frustration. Damn, you knew he wasn’t one for much conversation, but it always felt like pulling teeth to get him to participate. Yet, there was something about his indifference that kept you intrigued, even if it was maddening. “I guess I’ll start with the research,” you say, hoping for a bit more input. He doesn’t respond, but you take that as your cue to begin.

The next hour passes in relative silence, except for the occasional rustling of papers and the tapping of his phone. You focus on your work, trying not to pay attention to how he barely acknowledges your presence. Though you’re starting to get irritated by how you’re doing all the work while he’s just sitting there—eyes glued to his phone, doing nothing at all, you can’t bring yourself to get truly mad. Not when he looks this… handsome.

Should you try to start another conversation, hoping he might actually respond? You really wanted to get to know him better, maybe even get him to show a little interest in you, too. Fuck it, might as well, you really like him. "Prom is coming soon, you going out with anyone?" Thats the first thing that came to mind, it was a bit personal, but your curious. Maybe you can shoot your shot?

He finally lifts his head up from his phone, placing it on the desk and locks eyecontact with you. "Nah. Not interested in that typa stuff." For the first time, he actually seemed engaged, and it left you a little thrown off balance. "Why not?" You say, he gives you a shrug. "Why are you asking anyway?" He raises an eyebrow, your slightly taken by surprise when he asks, trying to make yourself sound less interested. "I'm just trying to conversate with you, I mean your quiet as fuck."

He lets out a deep, small chuckle that sounds rich, causing you to snap your eyes at him. Shit, he's really talking to you? "Yeah, well you could've asked me anything," he taps the desk with his fingertips, "But that was apparently the first thing that came to mind?" He rests his arm over the head of the chair, scanning your body for a moment which causes a small faint redness appear on your cheeks. "A bit bold of you, I'll give you credit for that."

You slightly roll your eyes, "How was that bold? I simply asked if you had a prom date or not." He finally sits up straight in his seat, running his hand through his short black hair which catches your attention. "Really?" He chuckles a bit, looking around the classroom.

You raise your eyebrow in slight confusion before he meets your gaze again, "C'mon now. You don't think i've noticed you staring at me?" Your eyes widen, he leans in closer and suddenly your heart starts to pound unbelievably fast. "Every single time we have a class together, I see you." his cold fingertips trails up your thigh, "Your into me? Aren't you? I mean thats why you asked me such a question." Your body freezes, shivers running down your spine.

How the fuck did he know?

"Thats not..." unable to finish your sentence with his hand making contact with your thigh. "Not true?" He says, his hands creeping down to pull your chair closer to him, the both of your knees brushing against eachother. His eyes dart down to your lips, a teasing smirk appearing on his face. Before you can say anything, the bell rings, interrupting the intense moment.

"We can uhm... finish this project later?" He leans back against his chair, acting totally careless about what just happened between you two. "Meet me at lunch." Is all he says before leaving the room. You know your face is beet red, but you dont even wanna see how you look right now. So then you start putting away the paper work into your bag, packing your stuff as he leaves the room, not looking back at you once. For a moment you just stand in the now empty class with a blank mind, trying to process everything that happened.

At lunch, you find yourself sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, just as he asked. Your heart races a little, unsure of what to expect. You glance around, half-expecting him to bail, but then you spot him walking toward you, looking as casual as ever.

"Hey," Riki says, sliding into the seat across from you. His eyes briefly meet yours before he looks down at the table. "Hi," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your nerves are on edge. There’s a moment of silence between you two, the kind that always seemed to stretch on forever. You want to fill it with something, but words feel like they’re just out of reach.

Finally, he speaks again. "So, what’s your deal?" You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugs, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before looking away again. "Like, why are you always tryna talk to me. You barely know me." His bluntness takes you by surprise, but somehow it doesn’t feel as cold as you thought it would. It’s almost… honest.

You take a deep breath. "I don’t know. You’re just different, you know? It’s hard to ignore." He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'll take that as a compliment I guess."

"I mean yeah, like you’re this whole mystery. I just want to figure you out." For a second, he looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he leans back in his seat, his gaze lingering on you a little longer. You feel like he’s reading you, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s trying to figure you out too. Then, without warning, he leans forward, closing the space between you. His hand brushes against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Well," he says, voice low, "maybe you’ll find out soon." Before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours. It’s sudden, soft at first, but the intensity quickly builds, and everything else fades away. The warmth of his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, and for a moment, everything feels completely different, like this is where you’re supposed to be.

When he pulls away, you’re left dazed, trying to catch your breath. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of something—something you can’t quite place. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a little rough. You nod, still in shock, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I think I’m more than okay." You bite your lower lip slightly, blushing profusely.

You both sit there for a moment, the air thick with tension and a thousand unspoken words. Your heart is still racing, but now, it's not from nerves. It's from the overwhelming feeling that something has shifted between you two. He doesn't move away, instead, his eyes search yours, almost like he's waiting for something.

Your mind is swirling, but your body seems to take over, leaning in closer, lips barely brushing against his. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in with a force you can't resist. Without thinking, you kiss him again— this time deeper, more urgent. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently grazing the skin as he pulls you in, his other hand sliding to your waist. Your heart hammers in your chest as he kisses you back with a hunger you didn't expect.

It's nothing like the first kiss-this one is raw, a mix of desire and need. You feel his fingers trace the line of your jaw, his touch almost desperate, and it sends a rush of heat through you. Your hands instinctively find his shirt, tugging him closer, as if you can't get enough of him.

His lips move with yours, more demanding now, and you match his intensity, breathless and wanting more. You can't explain it, but everything about him feels right-how he holds you, how his lips mold against yours, like this was always meant to happen. His hand slides down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat building between you two. The kiss deepens, and everything else disappears-there's only him, only this moment.

When Riki pulls away, both of you are panting, eyes locked, faces inches apart. "You sure about this?" he asks, his voice husky. You nod, trusting your voice.

You're sure. You want this. You want him.

Without saying another word, he tilts his head toward a washroom near by the cafeteria. Afterall you both can't do anything with people around, so that was the only option. You get up, your heart beating even faster as he follows behind you. He pushes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind you.

He slowly turns around, pushing your back against the wall and his lips are on yours again, and this time, it feels like the beginning of something that neither of you can pull away from. The kiss continues, deepening with each passing second. His hands move, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can't get enough of you either. The way he holds you makes everything else fade into the background-the noise of the cafeteria, the people walking by the washroom, it all feels distant and irrelevant.

You feel his breath against your lips, a slight tremor in his touch as his fingers trace the curve of your back. Your own hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pull him in even closer, wanting more of him. You can taste the faint trace of mint on his breath, and it only makes you crave him more.

Riki slowly pulls away from the kiss, the both of you breathless. Finally his hand slides down your thigh, inching under your skirt. "Can I?" He grunts out as you nod at him almost instantly. "Starting to think you've wanted this for a while now," he chuckles, slipping his hands underneath your skirt and groping your ass, a small moan escaping your lips. "S-shut up will you?" He smirks, his lips trail down, leaving wet kisses down your neck. 

You press your lips tightly together, glaring at him playfully. You can't help but feel a surge of need. It's like you're both fighting the same battle, giving in to something that's been building up for weeks. Suddenly you find your hand guiding his further up your skirt.

Riki doesn't hesitate, immediately shoving your hand aside and tearing your panties apart with his hands. He gets down on his knees and buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your dripping folds without warning like a starved man. Your eyes roll back to the back of your head, looking down at him in slight surprise. "Fuck, you're so wet." He growls against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs.

He groans as he feels your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your delicious moans spurring him on. He alternates between long, teasing licks and quick flicks against your clit, savoring your sweet taste. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you harder against his face. "F...fuck ah mmph.." Your back arches against the wall, clawing at it slightly as you try to keep quiet, not wanting anyone to hear.

He hooks his arms around your legs and throws them over his shoulders, opening you up even wider. He laps his tongue greedily around your clit, determined to make you come on his face before he allows himself to enter you. "Mmh." He groans against your pussy, your body shaking slightly from the vibration. "A-ah Riki..." The stall gets filled up with slurping sounds along with your quiet desperate moans.

He slightly pulls back, looking up at you with half closed eyes. Your breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead. "Riki or daddy?" He licks his lower lip slightly, smirking a bit as he sees your widened eyes. "I..I am not calling you that weirdo." He tilts his head back, "Hey hey, it was just a suggestion."

"I'll think... about it." You whisper embarrassed, turning a light shade of red when he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Thats my good girl." Your legs slightly tremble at the name, butterflies forming in your stomach before he spreads your legs wider, feasting on your pussy like it's his last meal. He growls against your cunt when you reach down to grip his hair. Your about to reach your climax and he knows it.

"I-I'm gonna-" you whine out, the sound echoes around the empty washroom. Riki snaps his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. "Come on my face, baby." His tongue laps up your juices, going fast and hard against your sensitive nub. "Give it to me." His words are more than enough for you to reach your high, finding yourself cumming all over his face, your thighs shaking violently while you try your hardest not to scream from the pleasure.

He feels your body convulse with your climax. He spreads your legs wider, pushing them back almost painfully, allowing him deeper access. His tongue goes wild, licking and sucking every last bit of your juice. He growls softly against your pussy before pulling back, licking your release off his lips. You suck in a moan, looking down at him.

Riki's cock is aching against his jeans, begging to be free. "P-please." He hears your soft beg. He unbuckles his belt slowly, eyes darkening. "Do you want my dick?" His voice is deep, seeing you slowly nod your head. He pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, freeing his throbbing cock. He strokes himself slowly, letting you admire his impressive size. A droplet of precum pearls at the tip as he grunts. You stare intently, gulping at his length, "You're..."

He steps forward, turning you around and lifting your ass up, rubbing the head against your sensitive entrance. "Yeah? Think you can take it?" His voice is thick with desire as he pushes the tip just slightly inside you, a loud gasp escaping your mouth. "So far for being quiet." Riki says teasingly as you glare up at him playfully, swallowing hard. "I-I'm trying my hardest," He chuckles while pushing in slightly more, filling you with just the tip. "Am I too big?" He grunts, your hands going up to grip his shoulders tightly.

"I-I can take it.." you whimper out. "You sure?" He feeds you another inch, making you wince slightly. He watches your face closely. "Tsk, you're only halfway there." He pulls back slightly then pushes in another inch, hitting a new spot inside you which causes your mouth to open wide. "You really can take my whole dick? Don't wanna hurt you." His voice drops lower.

You just nod, desperation taking over you. "Good girl." He praises darkly, then grips your hips tightly and slams his hips forward, impaling you completely on his massive length. For a second, your vision gets blurry, the pleasure overwhelming. "Fuck!" He roars as he bottoms out inside you, gripping on your hips tightly. You let out a loud straining moan before hearing someone walk into the washroom.

The both of you freeze, and Riki doesn't move inside you just yet. Your slightly panicking but he doesn't seem to care because he begins to grind his hips slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. Your mouth opens wide, but he quickly covers it with his hand, leaning down and whispers against your ear, "That pussy just swallowed every inch of my cock like such a good girl." His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you open wider. You swallow hard, whimpering against his palm. "Shh, don't wanna get caught do you?"

Finally that person seems to leave — and Riki's hand leaves your mouth. His thick shaft drags in and out of your tight, soaked pussy at a brutal pace. Each thrust makes you wince and whimper, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He pounds into you relentlessly, the sound of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room. "F-fuck ah.. Riki-" You roll your eyes back, your mind becoming blank.

He can feel your gentle scratches against his back as he pounds into you, his hands tightening on your thighs. "Fuck, baby. This what you wanted? My dick destroying your insides?" You nod, opening your mouth to speak but words come out as moans instead. He pulls your hips further up to get deeper inside you. He leans forward, his mouth finding yours in a harsh, bruising kiss as he continues to rut into you.

He groans loudly into the kiss as he feels your pussy clench tightly around his throbbing shaft before breaking the kiss, panting heavily. "Shit, you're squeezing me so fucking tight." He adjusts his angle, deliberately targeting your G-spot with every powerful thrust.

Your trying to grip on the walls, but your fingers slip. "G-gonna cum..." His eyes darken with lust at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "Cum for me, baby. Milk my dick with that tight cunt." He reaches down and circles his thumb over your clit, applying pressure in time with his thrusts.

And with that, He feels your release bathe his length, making him groan loudly. Your pussy pulses around him tightly, almost painfully. He pumps into you erratically, losing his rhythm. He lowers his head and watches as your fluids coat his shaft, making it glide easily in and out of your body.

He pants heavily, finally unleashing his pent up load deep inside of your wet cunt. Your back arches against him as he does so, the both of you letting out loud moans from the feeling. Then he pulls out slowly, his cock glistening with your juices. "Fuck." He holds your waist and you tremble, putting your whole body weight on him since your struggling to stand.

The bathroom stall feels too small now, the air thick with the weight of what just happened. You’re both still breathing heavily, and there’s a quiet, almost uncomfortable stillness between you.

He leans back against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to process everything. You do the same, your mind racing a little. It’s strange how quickly things shifted, how in the span of just a few minutes, everything between you changed. You glance over at him. He’s still looking at you, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re both just sitting there in the aftermath, unsure of what to say next.

"So… that happened," you murmur, trying to break the silence. He lets out a small laugh, but it’s low, more to himself than anything. “Yeah. Guess it did.” His voice sounds different now, less guarded, but there’s still that underlying tension. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or nervous. A mix of both. "I didn’t expect it to happen like this, especially here." He looks around the cramped stall, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Neither did I. But… it’s not the worst place, I guess."

You roll your eyes, half-smiling. “So… what now?” you ask, the question hanging in the air between you. He pauses, clearly thinking it over. Finally, he looks at you, his gaze steady. "I don’t know. But I don’t want it to be a one-time thing." You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. "Neither do I."

💘: thank you so much for all your support on my storiesss!! i didnt expect anyone to like them, so thank youu!!!🥹💕💕 ill get to the rest of the requests soon, im currently busy w school so itll take some time, thanks for your patience🫶

[mapis-putellas]

𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅/𝑨.𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

This didn’t come out as good as I wanted, so I apologise <3

Alexia didn’t like it when you gave her the silent treatment. She liked it even less when you wouldn’t tell her why. You’d been ignoring her since the second she got back from training, and that had been nearly two hours ago. There had been no greeting at the front door. No hug. Not even a kiss. You had barely even acknowledged her existence, and Alexia had no idea why.

She wracked her mind as she showered, trying to figure out if there was an important date she’d missed or if today had any particular significance. But there was nothing. It was just a regular Tuesday. As far as she knew, today held no importance to you and it certainly held no importance to her. So what was going on?

Her mind ran through every possible scenario as she got out of the shower and changed, slipping into one of your hoodies in an effort to feel a little closer to you. You were fine this morning. You’d woken up together, as usual. You’d been intimate, you’d showered, and then you’d cooked breakfast before she’d left for training and you’d left for work.

That was about as perfect as a morning together could get, so it had to have been something that happened after, right? But how was she supposed to know that for sure when you wouldn’t talk to her? How was she to blame for that when she hadn’t even been there?

The thing was, both you and Alexia thrived on communication. Neither of you liked being upset with the other, and it was often you who believed in talking through everything. Even when things were hard. Even when things were uncomfortable.

It was why you so rarely argued or fought. You always talked it out. So what was different now? Why wouldn’t you talk to her?

She came to a stop in the living room threshold, brushing a wet strand of hair out of her face as before tucking her hands into the pockets of her -your- hoodie. You were on the couch, curled up beneath a blanket watching tv. From the angle the couch was placed, Alexia knew you knew she was there, and she silently pleaded for you to look her way. To acknowledge her. But you don’t. You continue staring at the tv, even as Alexia made her way over and sat down on the couch a couple feet away from you.

She reached out, tentatively brushing her fingers lightly against your ankle, hoping to draw your attention, but you only pulled your leg away. She tried to pretend it didn’t sting. She swallowed heavily as she exhaled through her nose, pulling her hand back, trying to ignore the way her vision became blurry as she stared at the tv. Her hands, resting on her thighs, trembled slightly as she toyed with the cuffs of the hoodie. She chanced a glance at you, but you were still looking at the tv.

Alexia blinked then, and a single tear fell down her cheek, tickling her skin in its wake. It dripped past her jawline and into her hoodie, slightly marking the material. Another followed shortly after. Then another. And another, until she was silently crying. She didn’t wipe them away, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She didn’t want you to finally acknowledge her just because she was crying. Pity was the last thing she needed.

Eventually, she had no choice but to sniffle slightly so her nose didn’t start running, and from the corner of her eye, she see’s your head whip around to face her at an almost comical speed. A part of her wanted to meet your eyes, because finally, finally she was getting the acknowledgement she’d been wanting since she’d gotten home. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so, because quite honestly, she was scared of what she’d see.

She heard you sigh lightly as you shoved the blanket off of your legs, tossing it to the side before crawling over to her. Her eyes remained stubbornly glued to the tv as she felt your body press lightly against her own, your head resting against her shoulder. She sniffled again, hesitating for just a second before she leaned her head against your own.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, turning your head slightly to press a kiss to her arm.

Alexia nodded, honestly not quite sure what she was supposed to say.

You sighed again, eyes closing for a brief moment. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Ale. It’s just…a bad day.”

“You ignore me because you have a bad day?” Alexia whispered, and you hated the sound of hurt that lingered in her voice. You swallowed thickly as you wrapped your arm around her waist, internally grateful when she didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” you said again. “Really. I’m sorry. It’s just…misplaced anger, I guess. I’m not mad at you, but you were just…there.”

Alexia was silent for a second. “Why are you angry?” She whispered.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.” You admit. “I’ve just…felt wrong all day.”

“I don’t understand.” You felt her shift beneath you slightly, and you look down to see her fisting the sleeves of her hoodie in her hands.

“I know,” you murmured, the guilt in your stomach amplifying by a thousand. You placed your hand over her own, squeezing softly. “I don’t either. Not really. But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

“No,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You shouldn’t.” You look up at her just in time to see a couple of tears stream down her cheeks.

“What can I do, Ale?” You reached up to wipe them away, the pad of your thumb now trailing over the damp skin of her cheek. You pretend it didn’t kill you a little inside when she pulled away from your touch.

She looked hesitantly down at you, almost as though she was checking for a reaction. “I do not know.” She admitted.

You nodded, bottom lip trapped softly between your teeth as a somewhat uncomfortable silent settled over you both. You shifted a little against her shoulder, but neither of you pulled away from each other. In fact, you tightened your hold around her waist, terrified she’d push you away even though you probably deserved it.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” You assured after a few quiet moments, and though Alexia didn’t say anything, you do feel her nod, her cheek brushing the top of your head.

The rest of the afternoon passed pretty uneventfully. Alexia was quiet, to no fault of her own, and you tried your best to be extra attentive despite your still souring mood. You let her put on the football without complaint despite the fact you’d rather watch anything else. (You liked watching her play in person, sure, because it was Alexia and you loved watching her in her element no matter what it was she was doing, but watching it at home with people you couldn’t care less about? Less fun, but you kept your mouth shut.)

You made her favourite dinner, something you didn’t do too often considering the time it took and the extensive clean up process afterwards.

By the time bedtime rolled around, things were less…tense so to speak. Alexia was still quiet, but she leaned into your affection and actually laughed at the jokes you were trying to make as opposed to humouring you with a fake smile. You could tell she’d forgiven you for how you’d acted, but you weren’t quite done making it up to her yet.

She deserved more than just basic human decency.

Tomorrow was one of her off days, and whilst she usually preferred spending those at home with you -you didn’t get much free time together, so she liked to make the most of it- you had a plan up your sleeve. Alexia loved going on hikes. If given the chance, that’s probably what she’d spend all of her free time doing, but her schedule just didn’t allow it. She was busy all the time. Constantly on the go with matches, training, media. That wasn’t even mentioning away games that took her away from you for days at a time.

You, on the other hand, could not hate anything more. You weren’t as fit as Alexia, not even close, so you often struggled with things she did with ease. You got sweaty. Out of breath. And you complained, a lot. Not intentionally. And she never got mad at you for it. But you could tell it bothered her, not being able to enjoy something she loved with you.

And so tomorrow, you were going to hike with her. You were going to go wherever the hell she liked and you weren’t going to voice a single world complaint or distaste.

*

The next morning, you woke before your alarm. Alexia was still out next to you, lying on her stomach with the sheets pooled at the waist, exposing a sliver of the bare, tanned skin of her back. Her arms were holding her pillow to her chest, and soft, barely audible snores were escaping her slightly parted lips.

You reached forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as you leaned down to press your lips to her forehead. The kiss lingered for a few moments before you pulled away, tugging the blankets up to cover her properly before sliding out of bed.

You got ready as silently as you could, slipping into a pair of leggings and sports bra, pairing it with an oversized shirt that you tied at the waist to fit better. You packed lunch, slipping it into the fridge to keep cool whilst you focused on breakfast. Pancakes and coffee, her favourite on rest days. Table set, you headed back to yours and Alexia’s shared bedroom, pushing the door open and peeking inside.

You smiled when you saw she was still asleep, now lying on her back with her arms above her head. Her head was facing you, and as you got closer, you could see the way her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. Her nose would twitch occasionally too, and your smile widened as you climbed onto the bed, throwing a leg over her waist and carefully settling to straddle her hips.

Alexia stirred immediately, her arms moving down to rest on either side of her body. She scrunched her face up, obviously unhappy at the interruption to her sleep, and you laughed softly as you leaned forward to rest your elbows just above her shoulders. You reached forward slightly and trailed the backs of your fingers over her cheek. It was warm to the touch, and you hummed as you pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips.

No reaction.

“Baby…” you mused, leaning forward to kiss her again. This time, she turned her face away from you, and though she tried to hide it, you didn’t miss the way her lips quirked up just slightly at the corners. Ahh. So she was awake.

“I saw that,” you murmured, the smile audible in your voice. “Come on, my love. I made you breakfast. Your favourite.”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

“There’s coffee too.” You try and tempt, but much to your dismay, she remained still.

“Alexia…come on baby. It’s going to get cold.”

Silence, though her lips do twitch again.

“Okay, so you’re going to be difficult, huh?” You laughed, sitting up and sliding off of her. “I can work with that.” You murmured to yourself, shaking out your arms before sliding your arms beneath her back and hauling her up into a sitting position. You then bend at the waist, using the momentum to throw her over your shoulder, blankets and all.

“Amor!” She squawked, now face to face with your ass as her hands scramble for purchase against your T-shirt.

You bounced her up slightly, your arms looped around her thighs as you begin making your way out of the room. “I tried nicely, baby. You asked for this.”

“I ask for nothing!” She cried.

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Put me down, now!” She demanded, adding emphasis to the last word by slapping your butt. Hard. The sound of her palm making contact with you echoed throughout the hallway.

It was your turn to yelp. “Ow! Don’t hit me, you tyrant.”

“Then put me down, amor! Now!”

You only complied because you were in the kitchen. You set her down in front of you, your hands trailing up her body as you did. She glared at you as your hands came to rest on the small of her back beneath her shirt, her face red. She tried and failed to hide the way her lips threaten to quirk up into a smile.

“You are trouble,” she grumbled, and you simply grinned as you pressed a kiss to her nose.

“You love me.” You shrugged, reaching round her to pull out her chair. “Now eat up. I have a surprise for you.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow as she sat down and allowed you to push her closer to the table. “Surprise?” She picked up her coffee and took a tentative sip.

“Sí,” you confirmed, kissing the top of her head as you sat down opposite her. “I won’t give much away, but it’s something you love doing.”

“You?” She grinned, and you snorted in amusement as you reached for your own drink. “No, but maybe later if you’re lucky.” You nudge her with your foot beneath the table.

Alexia hummed a little, hiding her smile by taking another sip of her drink. “Bien.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You know the hike Mapi and Ingrid mentioned going on last week?”

Alexia’s eyes light up. Her eyes drifted down to your outfit, almost as though she’d just taken note of what you were wearing. “Sí?”

“You wanna go?” You ask, picking up your fork.

“Contigo?” She leaned forward in her seat slightly.

“Sí. With me.” You confirmed. “We can have a picnic at the top too. I’ve already packed the food.”

Alexia’s eyes flicker over to the refrigerator. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, and Alexia, seemingly unable to help herself, grinned in excitement as she set down her coffee and goes to stand up.

“Hey, no.” You stop her, reaching out a hand.

Alexia froze midway to her feet, looking at you sheepishly.

“Breakfast first, baby.” You gestured to her untouched pancakes.

“But-“ she pouted, looking longingly to the bedroom.

You shook your head. You were glad she was excited, but you didn’t want her going on a hike on an empty stomach. Knowing your luck, she’d end up passing out or something. “Breakfast.” You said again.

“Fine.” She grumbled, pouting as she dropped back down in her seat and picked up her fork.

An hour and a half later, you were midway through your hike. Alexia was a few steps ahead of you, happily chatting away as she pointed out different things that caught her eye. You hummed in acknowledgment each time she glanced back at you for approval, forcing a smile into your face, but inside, you were slowly dying.

You insisted on carrying the backpack, which, now half an hour in, you were quickly regretting. It was heavy; filled with lunch, drinks, a small first aid kit which Alexia had insisted on bringing and who knew what else. You were sweaty, your legs burned, and you were pretty sure you had a blister. But, like you promised, you hadn’t uttered a single word of complaint. Not a single one.

You’d come close though. Several times, actually. Almost instinctively, your lips had parted, and something along the lines of a complaint had begun to slip out. But you’d managed to stop yourself, and Alexia had been none the wiser for which you were thankful.

But then, along came the rock. You were completely unaware of its presence, sticking out of the ground just a few feet ahead of you. You were too busy trying to keep up with your pro athlete of a girlfriend whilst simultaneously ignoring both the burning in your legs and lungs. One second, you were walking. Or, well, stumbling really. And the next, you were sprawled out on the ground, your hands in front of you in what you could only assume was a subconscious effort at protecting your face.

You laid there, bewildered, for approximately ten seconds before Alexia’s voice filled your ears.

“Amor, are you okay?” You feel her hand come to rest on your back.

You shifted a little, wiggling both your hands and feet. No pain. That was good.

“I’m..I’m okay,” you muttered, bracing yourself and pushing up onto your knees. You heaved a breath before forcing yourself to stand up, Alexia’s hands slipping under your arms to help you do so. Keeping her hold on you, she guided you away from the traitorous rock to a flatter part of the ground before letting you go and reaching for your hands.

“Let me see.” She murmured, and you swallowed thickly as you comply.

You wince a little when the pad of her thumb trailed over one of your palms, and she gave you an apologetic look as she reached up to pull the backpack off of your shoulders. You let her, watching as she crouched down and unzipped it before pulling out the first aid kit that was placed at the very top.

You supposed it was a good job she insisted on bringing it after all.

“Here bebé, hold out your hands.” She instructed as she stood back up, a bottle of water and gauze in her hands.

You thought it was a little overkill for a couple of scrapes in all honesty, but figure it was best to let her do what she thought was necessary. You wince only slightly as she wiped away the dirt and dried blood from your palms, giving them a few moments to air dry before covering them with two large bandaids. And then, without warning, she brought both of your hands to her lips and placed a lingering kiss to each.

Your smile was instant.

“Better?” She looked at you over the top of her sunglasses.

You nod, cheeks flushed a light shade of red. “Mhh, better. Gracias baby.”

She grinned. “De nada, amor.” She put the first aid kit back into the backpack before hosting it over her own shoulders. You don’t try and fight her, instead taking the hand she offered and allowing her to tug you forward.

A comfortable silence settled over you both as she absentmindedly swung your hands back and forth, and you find yourself letting out a quiet sigh of content as you trail your thumb over her knuckles. She squeezed your hand in response, and you instantly returned the gesture as you looked up at her.

She met your gaze, and her lips immediately quirk up in so a smile so genuine it made you melt a little. It also reignited the guilt over yesterday you thought had faded, and you let out another sigh as you looked down at your feet.

“You do not have to feel guilty, amor.” She broke the silence, and you look up at her immediately, eyes wide in shock.

How had she…

“I know you.” Is all she said.

You purse your lips contemplatively for a moment before speaking. “I hurt your feelings, Ale. Of course I’m going to feel guilty.”

She hummed. “Sí.” She agreed, and you bite your bottom lip as you look down at your feet. “But you apologise. You make it up to me, no?” She gave your hand a squeeze, silently coaxing you to look back at her, and you do. The look in her eyes was one full of love, understanding, and it eased the guilt just slightly.

“I’m trying.” You nod.

Alexia squeezed your hand again. “You were forgiven…Inmediatamente, amor. Te amo. It was easy.”

You gently eased her to a stop before coming to step in front of her, resting your hands on her hips. She stepped close, her own hands rising to cup your cheeks as you raised up onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips against her own. She let out a quiet exhale through her nose as she reciprocated, eyes fluttering closed as she pressed her chest flush against your own. You slid your hands round to rest at the small of her back, sliding up and down just slightly as her nose grazed your cheek.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Ale. Truly.” You murmured as you pulled away, and Alexia hummed as she brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You were you. Simple.”

“I love you.”

“Te amo, amor.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult @totaly-obsessed

[naniwatig3r]

CONTOUR LINES (18+)

Mingyu x artstudent!Femreader

Summary: You’ve finally broken up with your boyfriend Mingyu. Ignoring him has been hard, but you were finally at peace. But he had other plans, as he shows up to the figure drawing class you T.A…. And as the model.

Warnings: Unexplained breakup (im lazy lol), angst, cute fluff sometimes, art school stress, public nudity, public unprotected penetrative sex (no one is around though!), quickie

a/n: this was a idea i got while messing around with my friend who has a thing for mingyu, lol.

Word count: uhhh, around 7k ? I can’t remember 😅

————————

Another miss call.

Great, you thought, the tenth missed call from your ex boyfriend Mingyu this week.

It’s been about a month since you broke up with your ex, Kim Mingyu. It was an odd pairing in the first place. You met him coincidentally in the quad the beginning of the year, as you sat at the edge of the school fountain. Your sketchbook open, as you drew the scenery and people around you. A normal activity you did as an arts student.

You were clearly in the zone, drawing the fold in a random college student’s arm, before a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Whoa, you can draw.”

Your eyes snap up, seeing a towering figure, completely blocking your view. No shit, you thought.

“Yeah, I guess.” You say plainly, hoping your short answer would deter this guy. But then the sunlight is back on the page you’re drawing, and you feel his warm presence sit right next to you. Maybe he’s just sitting down to sit down, so you try and finish your life drawing of the current student, but they were gone. Probably going to their next class.

Huffing, you still for a moment to put your pencil down.

“I wish I could draw like that,” You hear, as you glance to your side. Furrowing your eyebrows in irritation as the man leans over to stare directly into your sketchbook. “You’re a really good drawer.” He says in awe.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” You say curtly, as he continues to stare at your sketches like he’s at a museum. These sketches were nothing compared to a Degas or something, yet he stared at them like it was, his brown eyes flickering around in interest.

He clears his throat, as he looks up to meet your eyes. He smiles, a toothy one where you notice how sharp his canines were. Cute.

He pulls his sleeve up from his wrist to his elbow, holding his large hand out, “Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.” He says, introducing himself. You nod, reluctantly shaking his hand, his grip tight and strong.

“Y/n.” You say back shortly, eyeing him, wondering how long this tall man was going to bother you.

He lets go of your hand, as he adjusts his position to turn more towards you. One leg over the other, leaning forward. His bangs falling so perfectly across his eyebrow, that it made you narrow your eyes. It’s crazy, people like this seriously exist huh?

“Do you do art or something?” No shit.

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a fine arts major.” You respond, giving him a strained polite smile. It felt like you had to, the way this guy has been beaming at you like a puppy as you give the driest replies.

He grins, “Whoa, no way. Thats cool,” He praises, “I’m—“

The rest of the meet cute didn’t matter.

After this, you kept bumping into him, coincidence you thought at first, but thinking back… he had no reason to be near the art school area of the campus.

He always asked to see your sketchbook, or whatever was in your portfolio folder as you tried to get to your studio. Even helping you carry your supplies and folders inside, and once he learned where you worked he came with iced coffee when he could.

At 3 am, he’d lay on the floor of your messy studio, watching you as you mix another color on your palette. Your sweatshirt pushed to your elbows, paint on your hands and face as you work on the gigantic canvas for your final.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” You say a bit softly, your eyes tired despite your multiple energy drinks. “It must be boring to watch me throw paint for the last few hours.”

He shakes his head, sitting up as he looks at you with his puppy like eyes. “No, I like it. You’re so focused…” He trails, “I didn’t think art would be this hard.”

You glare at him for that remark, making him immediately tread back. His mouth gaping open and closing like a fish, “Ah! Not like that it’s easy — just that you’re so passionate you know?” He explains, throwing his hands around.

Rolling your eyes, you put your brush back into the muddy cup of water. “Why? Engineering not doing it for you?” You ask lazily, as you pull your claw clip out of your hair. Massaging your scalp from the tension.

Mingyu’s eyes focused on you, his cheeks slightly flushing. Eyes roving over how strands of your hair effortlessly frame your face. He clears his throat, “Uh, no. I like it. I’ve always been good at studying, and I get the material so,” He says, as he scratches his head.

“But I guess, it’s different watching you. Your eyes are different when you’re drawing, painting, sculpting. Whatever.” He says quietly.

“Different?” You muse, standing up to stretch your legs. Mingyu following instinctively, his tall frame dwarfing you.

He nods, “Mhm, yeah. I thought art was just a major for people who didn’t want to do anything, but getting to know you…” he says, as he follows you to your studio table. As you open the most recent energy drink you got from the vending machine. “You just don’t stop. Like you’re meant to do it.” He breathes.

His genuine words make you raise an eyebrow, turning to him. You give him a small smile, making his heart rate jump. “Yeah? It’s like you, I think.” You say, taking a sip of that battery acid of a drink. “I’ve just been doing this since forever. Natural to keep going.” You say nonchalantly, but Mingyu looks at you like you’re a living genius.

“Thats whats so cool,” He gushes, “You’re just made to do this.” He says, as he glances at your current work in progress. A large canvas with pleasing colors, his eye being drawn to the right areas. The beautifully rendered figure, framed with all the right strokes.

He looks back at you, with such an adoration you think it’s hallucinations from doing so many allnighters.

“Ah,” he starts, as he moves his long legs to shuffle through his bag, pulling out some tupperware. “I forgot, I was making uh, some dinner earlier and I had leftovers.” He lies, knowing full well he made it for you. He turns around, opening the tupperware to reveal a lunch box of different side dishes and protein. It could rival any meal inspo on pinterest, as he even carefully cut out seaweed to make cute faces.

You snicker, making Mingyu’s cheeks pink. “Leftovers huh?” You say, as you grab the lunchbox from him. Your fingers brushing over his, a welcome warmth from the cold air conditioning of the studio. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I was just gonna make some ramen.”

“Yeah no problem,” He strains, smiling. “You need energy to keep on going right? At least eat well if you’re gonna sacrifice your sleep.”

You take a bite, and even though it was cold, you nod in approval at the taste. The annoyingly large man could cook. Your reaction makes Mingyu grin, as you can see shamelessly how much that did to his ego.

“Still, you should go you know?” You say, as you remember Mingyu talking about his week a few days ago as you painted. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

Oh? He doesn’t focus on the fact that you’re asking him to go. Only that you remembered his schedule. He grins, “You remembered huh?”

You roll your eyes, “Of course I did. You told me.” You say, your own cheeks reddening from how embarrassed you felt from Mingyu’s reaction. Why was he so excited?

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, I was reviewing earlier. It’s in the afternoon anyways.”

You finish the lunchbox, washing it down with your energy drink before going to pick up a new large paint brush. “Fine by me then,” you sigh, not bothering to argue with him. It was weird the first time he accompanied you on an allnighter, but Mingyu’s presence became a normal occurrence since then.

And there he was, sitting obediently like a dog next to you as you continued painting. Your playlist ending hours ago, as the only sounds are the strokes of your brush, and the breathing of both of you.

It was like this for a while, until near the end of the year. This time, you were running out of steam.

Maybe it was all the all nighters the whole year, or the fact you got sick right before finals, but you were stuck in your studio once more. Slaving away as you work on your third painting of the night, trying to get your exhibition finished before sunlight.

You hear the sound of the door opening. He had his own key now — you copied one at one point since he always was knocking. Mingyu coming in with late night take out in one hand, clad in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, ready to tackle the night with you.

You don’t even bother looking behind you, his familiar presence and cologne already telling you who it is. “Hey,” He says softly, putting the food down as he notices your tired state. It was like you were running on fumes, the amount of empty redbulls and monsters around your studio telling him all he needed to know.

You grunt, “Yeah, hey.” You say tiredly, as you wipe your face with the back of your hand. Paint smearing on your cheek. Mingyu comes over with a napkin from the takeout container, huffing as he wipes your cheek with it.

“Whens the last time you took a break?” He asks, a bit worried. Despite hanging out with you for so long, he wouldn’t say he knew anything about art. But he knew you. And the way your wrist movements against the canvas were sluggish, and the way your eyebrows furrowed as the strokes didn’t land and look the way you wanted… he knew you were at your limit.

“Doesn’t matter, I have another painting after this.” You say roughly, “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I should have painted when I was sick. At least worked on the concepts and colors so I didn’t have to figure it out right now.” You rant, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

Mingyu frowns, “No, y/n. What about a fifteen minute break? I got burgers, it’ll help.” He says, but your face isn’t budging, like the strict deadlines for the paintings.

You curse, “God, Mingyu, I can’t stop. All the fucking pieces look like shit, if I stall any longer I’ll never finish this ass of an exhibition.” You say shakily, as you haphazardly throw your brush into the water cup, the muddy water splashing out. You grab another brush to pick up a new color.

He looks around the 10 other pieces littered around the room drying, he doesn’t get it, and he never would. They all looked great, cohesive despite your protests. “Y/n, they look great. You gotta take a break you know? Maybe it’ll help. Maybe your eyes will like, reset or something. You’ve been looking at this painting for hours.” He says, trying to reason.

You don’t listen, as you flick your wrist harshly to create a quick line of color.

clack!

You wince, dropping your brush to clatter on the floor. Your wrist acting up at the worst time, as you curse under your breath. Mingyu’s hands go up instinctively to hold your wrist, holding it still.

“God, now my wrist is flaring up too. Great, just what I need!” You curse bitterly, your head down.

Mingyu holds your wrist gently, despite your angry state you don’t push him away as he gingerly inspects your wrist. “Hey, come on. Lets take a break, and then we can wrap your hand alright?” He says softly, trying to coax you.

He leans down to see your hidden face, and it breaks his heart. Hot tears welling in your eyes from stress, frustration, and the impending deadline.

He doesn’t think twice, leaning down to hold you into an embrace, pulling you off your stool into his arms. Tight, the tips of your shoes barely grazing the floor. You can’t help but cry into his shoulder, “God, why am I so bad? I can’t show anyone any of this,” You sob, as Mingyu rubs your back. His grip tightening around you, holding you close as you basically collapse into his arms.

“Hey, y/n, you’ve just been working too long. Lets take a break alright? It’ll look better once you rest your eyes a bit, I promise.” He coos, “I’ve got some burgers and sweet potato fries, even convinced them to give me extra —“

“Mingyu, why are you always here?” You ask bluntly, choking back your tears. Through the whole year you’ve been tolerating him getting closer. First, random conversations when you bumped into each other on campus, then visiting the art school, coming to your studio, staying to keep you company. You never once tried to push him away, but you didn’t understand how he hasn’t been turned off yet. Your all nighters, your insecurities, the way you reject his invitations to campus parties and events to work. It was all a mystery, especially as you crash out in his arms, over some acrylic and oil on canvas. This must look pathetic to him.

His eyes are a bit panicked at the question, “I uh, do you not want me to be?” He asks reluctantly, still holding you close.

You sniff, your hand against his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie into your fist.

“No, I just... Thank you.” You say quietly into his chest, and Mingyu felt his head spin. You could definitely hear it, he thought, the way his heart was pounding out his chest. How you relied on him, telling him to stay. If it wasn’t for the fact you were leaning on him to stay up, he’d probably melt into a puddle on the floor.

Mingyu takes you to the table, helping you sit down on one of the comfier chairs. A foldable one with a pillow he brought at one point, so he could watch you comfortably. He boasted once — y/n look! Found this by the dumpster!

You let out a deep sigh as you sit down, Mingyu bending down to his knees to look at you eye level. A hand to your cheek as you close your eyes tiredly. “Hey, you okay?” He asks, searching your face.

You nod, “Yeah, um, sorry,” You sigh, “I’m just — I’m just stressed. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown in front of you.” You say apologetically, embarrassed by it. But he shakes his head, not affected by it. In fact, it probably caused him to fall harder, seeing how hard you work.

“Don’t apologize,” He says, pushing strands of your hair back. You look up at him, straight into his brown eyes. The way he looks at you so fondly, worried, that his bottom lip juts out slightly as he observes you. The way his fingers felt along your cheek, how he’s warmed you up in the cold room, brought takeout for you.

Fuck, how his hair is tousled under the hood, and the fact his face was a sight for sore eyes after looking at your paintings all day. Something with actual 3d planes staring at you, instead of flat canvas. Maybe it was the all nighters, the fact you’re on multiple energy drinks on an empty stomach, or that Mingyu is there for you.

You lean forward, shutting your eyes shut as you push your lips against his.

It’s warm, soft… might even get lost in it if—

You pull back after a second, as you see Mingyu’s wide eyes.

Oh fuck, did you read this wrong? Shit, at least you can blame it on lack of sleep—

A pair of lips crash into yours again, this time, you part yours as Mingyu’s warm lips mold into yours. Its warm, and comforting and everything nice, as you grab his collar to pull him closer. Making him stumble forward as he holds onto the edge of the chair to steady himself close to you.

You let out a soft breath as Mingyu snakes his free hand around to the small or your back, pushing you close as possible to him. Mingyu compensating for your lack of energy with his, as he kisses you deeply, something he’s always wanted to do. Every since he watched you draw random people at that campus fountain.

He pulls back as you pathetically try to chase his lips, as he kisses you chastely before speaking. “Y/n,” He breathes, “Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted to do that.” He confesses, as he holds your face in his large hands.

You smile softly, “Mingyu, I—“

The box of charcoals clatter, as you accidentally drop it right next to the table of supplies. Sheepishly you bow at the students in class, not meaning to disrupt their focus.

You bend down to pick up the charcoal. What are you doing? It may be the third figure drawing class today, but dropping a box of pencils as you recount your days with Mingyu was horrible. Terrible.

Especially when you boasted to one of your friends as you shared a meal, Ah, Kim Mingyu? Thats over. Lets just focus on grad review.

You sigh, standing back up as you slide the box of art supplies on the table. Checking the time, you slide the notifications of Mingyu’s missed calls away. It was five minutes before class started, where the hell was the model?

And as if on cue, the other T.A. comes skitting towards you, pushing her glasses up as she avoids the boxes of supplies around the room. “Ah, Y/n—“ She starts, talking quietly to not cause alarm.

She stops in front of you, as you furrow your brows. Today the professor wasn’t in. As the consistent T.A., she trusted you to handle today with no substitutes. It wasn’t anything hard. You just helped set up the drawing horses and supplies, adjusted the lights and made sure the models were comfortable. It was easier especially when another T.A. was assigned to assist you today.

“Hm? What?” You ask, as you dust your hands.

She takes a deep breath, “Um, well, the model got food poisoning.” She starts. Leaning in so other students didn’t hear. “I just learned this right now, she’s like in the bathroom in the main hall throwing up like crazy.”

You frown, “What? Is she okay?” You say, straightening up, walking towards the front door grabbing your jacket off one of the stray art horse chairs.

She follows clumsily, “She’s fine! But she can’t model for this class. I know you’re in charge, but I panicked and just called whoever was on the emergency model list.”

You stop, causing the other T.A. to bump into your back, with a little squeak. A small what should have been insignificant memory flooding back.

“You’re TAing now? Seriously?” Mingyu asks lightly, as he fiddles with a loose strand of your sweater, the rough pads of his fingers pulling on it.

You slap his hand away disapprovingly, causing him to pout. “Yeah, just for figure drawing. I want to make a little money anyways, but working at the campus cafe is too time consuming.” You respond, as you continue to draw in your sketchbook. Outlining the foliage in front of you with your pen.

“Hm, what would that mean?” He asks, leaning forward to wrap an arm around your shoulder. Careful not to disturb your drawing, as he rests his chin on your closer shoulder. Watching you draw was his favorite past time nowadays.

“Just like, setting up, taking care of the figure drawing models. Things like that.” You respond absentmindedly.

“Models? Like, thats a job?” He asks, making you crack a smile. You forget how normal people knew nothing about art. You’re just glad he was openminded about basically everything.

You turn to look at him, “Yeah, the school hires people to pose for drawing. Its for studying.” You respond, as you tap your pen against the tip of his nose, where his beloved mole resided. Making him scrunch his nose, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Actually, I should write the emergency contact list. The professor updates every semester of models to contact if theres no shows, and the et cetera. I should just do it now so I don’t forget —“

“Add me on there then.”

You blink.

“Huh, what?” You say confused, looking at him with raised brows.

He straightens up, “You heard me. Add my number to that list. It sounds interesting,” He defends, his tone light.

You shake your head, smiling. “Mingyu, you don’t get it. You have to stand there naked, and do different poses every five to thirty minutes. Its not an easy thing to do.” You say, dismissing his words as nonsense. Sometimes he was too eager to try things just because they existed in your world.

Mingyu doesn’t falter. “Yeah I know. I just, it sounds cool. Also having a bunch of people drawing me, I don’t know… sounds nice. Also its like emergency contact right?” He says shrugging, “It’s not like it’ll actually happen. I know you’d never call me if it was an emergency, but just add me on it. If all models decide they’re not feeling it that day.” He suggests lightly.

You stare at him still in disbelief, narrowing your eyes. He scoffs, leaning forward to lean his forehead against yours as a challenge. A little goofy smile on his face, “What? Come on. Just add me to the list.”

The rational side of you knew this would never actually happen. Mingyu had no qualifications, and besides, there was a dozen other numbers to call before him. So you suck it up, sighing, writing his name down. Just for the sake that he’d shut up about it.

“Okay, fine.”

Your heart beats, eyes wide as you try to calm yourself. You didn’t want to release your anger against this girl for trying to fix the situation. It was your fault, really, in the first place to put his number on there. But this never was something that has happened before.

“Which number picked up?” You ask calmly, clasping your hands together as you focus on not exploding on your fellow T.A.

“Uh, just called the first one. He said he was on campus so he was down, and we only have five minutes till class—“

“Jesus, his name please?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Oh fuck. Fuuuucckkkkk.

Mouth wide, and panicked eyes, you start to speak, before you hear the opening of the classroom door. You turn, and your face practically goes pale.

There he was — Kim Mingyu, just in a simple coat and pants. His eyes immediately landing on you. Its only been a month, but he cut his hair. Slightly shorter than you remember, as you tilt your head.

Stop it. You have to act normal.

You take a deep breath, trying to act professional. There was no time to question why the hell he’d even pick up and walk all the way here. Or why your heart was beating so fast, just looking at him.

“Um, escort him to the dressing room area.” You start, prying your eyes from Mingyu to the other T.A. “There should be a clean robe there too.” You inform, patting her arm as you beeline straight away from them.

You find a haphazardly stacked amount of newsprint, focusing on making all the edges match as you calm your heart. It’s fine, it really is.

For some reason Mingyu was interested in figure drawing modeling before. Maybe he just wanted to cross that off his bucket list, and had nothing to do with you.

The other T.A. comes back to stand beside you, “Is he comfortable?” You ask.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just seems a little inexperienced,” She responds, scratching her cheek. “He asked if he had to take all his clothes off, and I was like, huh? Yeah? But other that that—“

“Yeah, alright.” You interrupt dryly. “Thank you. I’ll just take over after this.” You say, as you grab the timer from the table.

You walk towards the center, clearing your throat as the art students look up. “Right, hi. Professor Kang isn’t here today, but don’t mind. Today will be quite an easy day.” You start, crossing your arms.

Your eyes immediately follow to the ruffle of the dressing curtain, as Mingyu walks out in a fluffy robe. Brown eyes meet yours, and for a second you think this will be fine. Until the corners of his lips turn up, into a toothy grin only you knew so well.

That motherfucker. Bucket list my ass, he said yes just to mess with you!

You turn away sharply, focusing back on the class. “The model today is Kim Mingyu.” You say shortly, before stepping off the small platform.

You gesture for Mingyu to walk to the center, your face stone cold as you watch him step onto the platform.

He clears his throat, “Do I take the robe off now?” He asks cluelessly.

Great, just show everyone you have no clue what you’re doing. If this was a few months ago, it’d be cute. But Mingyu standing hopelessly waiting for instructions was annoying you, to say the least.

You nod, and immediately, he undoes his robe and lets it fall to the floor.

You can’t help but stare. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your body tense. Stop stop stop! You couldn’t give him a reaction. As an artist, it was normal to see naked bodies. It wasn’t a sexual thing, especially in figure drawing. But Mingyu wasn’t just an old man or something. He was a conventionally attractive, tall, well built man. In more places than one.

“Oh shit, he’s hot.” The other T.A. whispers to you, covering her mouth. You bite back your embarrassment, as you just send her a glare for her unprofessional reaction.

It doesn’t help that other people around the room are pleasantly surprised by Mingyu, as I see pink dusting around people’s cheeks. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Holy shit, a hot model. Is this real?”

“I thought we had a middle aged woman today. Bro… score!”

“I’ve never stared so closely.”

“Alright, warm ups. Ten one minute poses.” You say plainly, holding up the timer and pressing down on it. Immediately, Mingyu nods, springing into action.

His poses were something else. They were a bit awkward, as he stood there. First putting his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

But he started getting more comfortable. After the ten one minute poses were up, the other T.A. Adds a stool to the platform for Mingyu to sit on.

“One pose, 15 minutes.” You say, setting the timer again.

This time instead of looking at the ground, wall, or ceiling, he stared straight at you. His eyes unwavering. The sight makes your mouth go dry, as the studio lights enhance Mingyu’s features perfectly.

His face framed by the little curl of his bang, light bouncing off his tanned skin as the definition of his muscles are on display. The way his large shoulders balance his proportions, and his skin smooth and tightly wrapped around his toned torso. He always was working out, and it seemed like he kept that up, as your eyes trail from his abs to his bottom half. Your cheeks flushing as he’s so unabashedly bare in front of the whole room.

But it only propelled your anger. How could he? Just step into your domain — the art school wing — and just come here? Posing like a gangly weirdo, riding on his looks so none of the students complained. Staring straight into your eyes as a confrontation. So much it felt like he was telepathically speaking to you.

Why aren’t you returning my calls? Or, how does this make you feel? It was infuriating.

And as if satisfied in your attention on him, he smirks, like he won some imaginary battle. This idiot.

The timer rings, making you flinch against the supply table. Your cheeks flush slightly, as you clear your throat. “Another 6 poses, each 2 minutes.” You manage to choke out, pressing the timer.

As the figure session goes on for the next hour, Mingyu’s confidence was starting to irritate you to no end. At first what was awkward, was now overtly dramatic. His poses of showing off his muscles, flexing his back, it was too much. People were here to draw, not ogle.

You decided to play, not wanting Mingyu to have the upper hand. As Mingyu goes to pick up the robe off the ground, you yell, “Stop right there!”

Mingyu freezes immediately, mainly out of confusion. His eyes drifting to you, a slight furrow of his brows.

“Now, the model will stay still. Do you see how the arm connects to the shoulder blades? Please turn to a new paper and start focusing on that area.” You say, stopping Mingyu in an uncomfortable position in the name of education.

You eye how his leg starts to shake from holding it, but it only fuels you. “Now focus on the thigh muscle, we’ll hold this pose for another 3 minutes.” You say, a little glee seeping into your voice.

Mingyu’s eyes shooting up to glare at you, as you cock your head and smile.

You push Mingyu to do crazy things, like pretending to do a lay up for 10 minutes to talk about line of action. Or when you asked the students to move in closer to draw his face, having twenty people at once hyper fixate on his expression. Now, the class was fun. You completely turned it around.

The timer rings. “Alright, lunch break.” You say, as it’s half way through the 6 hour class.

Theres a collective sigh of relief, as students massage their wrists, and Mingyu putting his robe back on, but loosely. Letting his chest peek out through the fabric, as he walks around the room.

You watch as he circles, smiling and complimenting others.

“Wow, thats really good.”

“Whoa, really love how you drew that one.”

“Is that how I look? I’m flattered! Thanks.”

You huff, looking away as you catch a glimpse of him leaning over a pretty girl’s shoulder as she shows her sketches. Purposefully letting the loose robe drape his exposed chest as he examines the drawings.

Students get up to stretch their bones outside, getting lunch during the break. The other T.A. goes to check on something, leaving only you and Mingyu in the figure drawing room.

You stand, ignoring him as you walk towards the platform, readjusting the power of the studio lights. “Next part of the class is long poses,” You say, twisting the knob. “So it’ll be harsh lights. you just have to sit there, it’ll easy.”

You turn back around, Mingyu looking at you with a small smile, barely a yard away. His hands on his hips, as he looks down at you. “You know,” He drawls, his voice low. “This was a lot more fun than I thought.”

“Is it?” You respond bitterly, “Well I’m glad. Because you’re not gonna be paid for this.” You inform him, as Mingyu isn’t a real model signed with the school.

“Thats okay, I’m getting what I wanted anyways.”

You sigh, as you cross your arms. Deciding not to beat around the bush.

“What are you doing here, Mingyu?” You ask tiredly, finally looking at him straight, your brows furrowed. You boldly looking into his playful eyes.

His smug expression softens, almost reminiscent to how he would look at you before everything. He takes his bottom lip under his teeth, chewing as he looks at you.

“You seriously need me to answer that? Like always?” He says quietly, but with only you two in the studio, he could whisper from across the room and you’d still catch it.

“What, like you actually answer me with anything that makes sense?” You respond back tightly. Sighing, you relax your shoulders, biting your cheek as you glance away from him. A student’s messy pencil case catching your attention, albeit forced.

A deafening silence falls. Mingyu never really liked to fight anyways.

“You’re, you’re difficult, you know that?” He starts, as he ruffles his hair with his hand, as if that would release his pent up frustration. “When I got the random phone call that you guys needed a last minute model, I thought for a second it was intentional.”

He takes a step closer, “But of course not. You looked like you saw a ghost when I walked in.”

You gulp, “Well, to be fair, thats what you are now.” You say quietly. Avoiding his eyes.

“Oh? So I’m just dead to you?”

“No, that would be easier.” You snap, finally looking back to face his eyes. Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his eyebrows knitted, trying to figure you out like an abstract art piece.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a disappointed huff. “y/n.” He starts firmly, in a tone he barely used.

But of course, directed to you, making your skin crawl in the overly air conditioned room.

Hands on his hips, as he takes a long breath, his head facing down as he hides his expression. “For an artist, you’re really shit at expressing your feelings.” He sighs, his bangs hiding whatever you could gather from him.

“Fine.” He concludes, looking up, his shoulders more relaxed. “I’ll stop bothering you about it, since you’re so sure.” He says throwing his arms out. “On one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, wary of whatever condition he was gonna propose. Mingyu could be unpredictable when you pushed him, making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

“Draw me.” He says finally. He glances at the clock on the wall, “They still have that lunch break. So just draw me at least once, before everyone comes back.” He proposes, turning around to walk casually to the platform, as if he’s assuming you would just do it.

Is he serious? You weren’t even together anymore, and yet he wants a free commission from you? Thats crazy, like you’d ever —

“Fine.” You say curtly, “Since you’re so desperate for my attention anyways.” You quip, walking over to the supply table, making sure your shoes stomp against the hard floor. You swipe some spare paper, clipboard, and some charcoal.

The second you were at an art horse in front of Mingyu though, your fire waned slightly. The dead silence of the room was deafening, as you adjust your clipboard. The sound of the metal clips thumping against the paper, the feet of the art horse squeaking as you adjust sitting on the worn wood.

When you gaze up at Mingyu, it was obvious. He really was getting what he wanted, and it was your undivided attention.

Once ready, the charcoal in your hand, Mingyu sits down on the stool, eyes steady on you as he grips the already loose tie around his robe with his large hand. Letting it fall, as he exposes himself once more in the bright lights you set up yourself. He kicks the robe away off the platform, set on you drawing him like this.

You blink back any feelings that threaten to show on your face, readjusting the charcoal in your hand as you avoid Mingyu’s eyes, pressing down to finally start a line.

Its been a while since you last drew figures, and it usually took an hour of continuous drawing before you really found your pace in figure drawing sessions. But it was different this time.

Your heart beats in your ears, a silence of the room highlighting the sound of your charcoal smearing against the newsprint — the sounds of your breathing and of Mingyu’s, as time passes. Agonizingly slowly, yet a focus every artist aches for.

Your hand moves accordingly. Outlining the contour of his silhouette, the way his neck slopes, the soft lines that shape his abs he always was working on. Pressing for pressure with your charcoal as you indicate the weight of him sitting on the stool, hands in his laps loose as you capture his likeness with ease.

But the focus doesn’t last for long, especially when you flicker your eyes back to his. Already flicking a stroke to mimic his right eyelid, before you still. Pressing the tip of your charcoal into the paper, crumbling against the grain as you stare into his large brown eyes.

Fuck. What are you even doing?

Why are you drawing him so intently, when you vowed just a while ago that you never wanted to see Mingyu again?

Your breath hitches, as you raise your arm, flickering back to your drawing. Charcoal in the air, swinging to run a huge line through your figure of him, to smear it, to destroy it, to —

Your wrist stops mid air, as you feel a warm grip tightening around you. Eyes wide, you unfocus on the paper, to look up. Somehow in your tiny melt down Mingyu got down from the platform.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. Jaw tense, “You were just gonna ruin it, weren’t you?” He asks you quietly.

You can’t help but knit your brows, a pained expression forming that matches the one in his eyes.

The charcoal clatters out of your hand, landing on the floor in broken pieces.

Tears start welling in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. “You’re right,” You start shakily, “I don’t know… how to address anything unless I’m drawing.” You say weakly.

Mingyu’s eyes soften slightly, swallowing hard as the bright lights highlight the contour of throat bobbing. “Yeah, seems like it.” He replies carefully. You expected him to use this as a told you so, maybe give you a smug smile, like, I knew you weren’t over me.

But Mingyu was never like that anyways. No matter how much he craved your attention, he also wanted your peace of mind. A hard thing to ask from an artist like you.

His grip on your wrist softens, as he kneels down, getting eye level with you as you still sit on the art horse. Holding your hand in his, rubbing a thumb over the veins on the back of your hand gently.

“I miss you.” You finally muster, your eyes focused on his.

“I miss you too.” He responds back, before cracking a small smile.

You strain your brows into a furrow, blinking back the warm tears you naturally formed from the vulnerable moment. A shaky huff also coming out of you, as you decide to lean forward.

Inching your face closer, until the tip of your noses brush, Mingyu stiffening slightly as you shyly graze your lips against his lips. A small breath escaping his lips, fanning over yours before you finally part them.

Your lips against his — it was like home. Finding your way back after such a tumultuous and useless road. The warmth of his lips seeping into you, Mingyu as relieved as you are. His hands finding its way to the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer.

It only escalates, as you open your mouth wider to push your tongue against his, making Mingyu groan out as he meets you with similar enthusiasm.

He pulls you forward, off the art horse. Taking you down to the ground, maneuvering you until your back is against the hard floor. Covering you with his large frame, his weight pressing down on you in ways you were having such a hard time admitting you missed.

It was fast, and albeit messy and rushed. Like trying to make up for wasted time as you pull him close, hands wrapped around the back of his neck as your lips go numb, your teeth clashing.

You let out a whine, when Mingyu pulls away with a heavy breath, fighting against your attempts to pull him back for a kiss.

“Y/n — fuck, can we?” He asks hurriedly, his voice breathless. A look of want in his big eyes, but there was also a little responsibility.

First of all — anyone could walk into the studio any second. There was only a lunch break, sure, an hour. But at least half of it has passed.

As you take your bottom lip under your teeth, chewing at your swollen lip as you think. And Mingyu knows exactly what look you were giving him, and he wasn’t going to reject you. Not now.

He leans back in, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, breath hot against yours, before moving to your jaw. Leaving open mouthed rushed kisses down your neck, as you move your hands down his back. Feeling the muscles you were forcing yourself to look away from during the whole first half of class.

Touching Mingyu was way better than just drawing him from afar. You’re sure on that.

He moves his hand down, to push your midi skirt up, bunching the fabric to your hips. Your legs exposed to the cold air of the studio, as he wastes no time to slide your panties to the side. Already wet and damp from the heavy making out, and partially to the adrenaline of being in such a risky place.

“Damn, already?” He says, with a slight tease to his voice, making you pinch his arm. He lets out a pained chuckle, before placing his thick fingers against yours core, a gasp escaping your lips.

It helped that he knew you so well already, your legs squirming around the sides of him as he runs his fingers through yours wet folds, his thumb circling your clit as he inserts two fingers in, stretching you out as you gasp, Mingyu attacking your neck with messy kisses as he gets you ready for him.

“Fuck, Gyu,” You whine, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he curls his fingers, hitting the spongy flesh that makes you arch your back off of the floor.

You weren’t the only one worked up, Mingyu being bare this entire time. His dick pressing up against the inner of your thigh, hardening at the sounds of your pleasure.

Your hand shoots down to grab hold of him, helping him get hard as he lets out a moan, as you tighten your grip. Pumping him a few times, lining him up to you as he removes his hand from your entrance.

You both let out soft gasps as you hold his dick to swipe against you, coating him in your arousal, his tip leaking with precum.

He doesn’t even ask, he just knows, as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch. The friction from your pulled to the side panties, to the tight warm walls of your pussy, making him feel lightheaded with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby,” He breathes, without even adjusting, he ruts into you roughly. Bottoming out as he knocks the wind out of you.

A whine escapes your throat, as you hold tightly around his shoulders, as Mingyu doesn’t slow his pace.

Its rough, its fast, and overall — desperate. The lewd sounds of flesh colliding echoing in the empty studio. Your mind going dumb at his fast pace, only focused on how he goes in, out. In, out.

The smell of his sweat, the way your hands run down his exposed body, all for you. He did this all for you. To get your attention, to get you back. God, does he even know how that makes you feel?

“Fuck, fuck,” He whines, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Already feeling a little fatigued from abusing your pussy so fast. But it was just too good, he missed it so much. So, so much. And he made it evident, as he pushes the back of your thighs higher to your chest, getting deep as he can. And fucking you like his life counted on it.

You feel the familiar build up of your orgasm, your walls tightening as you grip Mingyu’s shoulders. “Gyu, Gyu, I’m —“ You manage to choke out, as he moves his face from your neck to yours. Catching your cry with his mouth, drowning it as he kisses you messily.

You shudder, squirming under him as you feel the familiar high. Your body tingling with sensitivity and pleasure, as he overwhelms you with what can only be love.

He follows soon after, not being able to maintain his mouth to yours as he lets out a shaky grunt. Spilling inside you, his cum warm and filling, making your cheeks flush in contentment and relief.

He slows, stilling as you both catch your breaths. Pulling out of you with a reluctance. Pushing himself up, to lean back to sit. You follow as well, adjusting your skirt back as you push yourself up to your elbows.

Mingyu was a sight, as he always is. His tan skin glowing with a layer of sweat. The way his toned chest rises from catching his breath. The way his bangs are sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with a rush of blood. A satisfied look on his face, as he sighs, licking his bottom lip as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile, a warm one. As you gather yourself.

“Lets get you cleaned up before the second half. Where did you throw your robe?”

“Oh fuck. I don’t know. You got any other ones?”

[comflexxed]

june’s breath hitched, barely noticeable, but enough that he felt it in his chest, in the sudden, unexpected way his heart seemed to pick up speed.

beautiful.

the word wasn’t foreign to him, but hearing it now, spoken so plainly, so easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, made something deep inside him falter. he swallowed, trying to collect himself, but the way hans was looking at him, the way his hand rested over his own, grounding him there, made it impossible to ignore the weight of the moment.

he could have deflected. he could have rolled his eyes, teased hans for being too smooth, for missing the remote on purpose, for saying things that made june’s chest tighten in ways he wasn’t sure he was ready to acknowledge. but he didn’t. he just sat there, his fingers twitching slightly beneath hans’ touch, as if testing whether he wanted to pull away or hold on tighter.

june let out a slow, quiet breath, his gaze flickering downward, not quite able to meet hans’ eyes as the words settled between them. the soft glow from the screen cast gentle shadows over hans’ face, highlighting the sincerity in his expression, the confidence that had taken over him. it was rare, seeing him like this—not just warm, not just kind, but certain. and june didn’t know what to do with that certainty.

his free hand moved, almost without thinking, smoothing over the blanket as if that could keep him from fidgeting. his voice, when he finally spoke, was quieter than before, carrying something more fragile beneath it.

“you mean that.” it wasn’t a question. just an observation, something he needed to say out loud to understand it himself.

the weight of hans’ hand over his own was solid, real, unwavering. so was the way he had said it — without hesitation, without expectation.

june let that realization sink in before he finally looked back at him, searching his face for something — he wasn’t sure what. a sign, maybe. a reason to believe that this wasn’t just a passing moment, wasn’t just something they would brush off when morning came.

the screen in front of them waited patiently, still blank, still ready for them to make a choice. but june wasn’t thinking about the movie anymore.

“i don’t think i ever realized how easy it would be to stay,” he admitted, his voice just barely above a whisper. and then, because the words felt so heavy in his chest that he had to let them out, he added, “not until now.” his fingers curled slightly beneath hans’ hand, not quite gripping, but not letting go either. he didn’t know what would happen next, what it meant to let himself stay, but for now, for tonight, he wasn’t going anywhere.

hans couldn’t deny, the moment was different now, with sunny off to bed and just the two of them being this… close. he couldn’t help the curve of his lips when june asked about the next movie, and perhaps it was the ease of the moment or the comfortable warmth between them, but he found himself giving a slight smirk, his eyes trained on june’s.

“you know what, i actually don’t care which movie you choose,” he said honestly, his hand inching closer, the remote situated precariously in the nest of blankets between them. “it wouldn’t make a difference to me. just having you here, it’s all i care about.” 

he couldn’t tell where this sudden confidence was coming from, but everything in june’s demeanor felt like an encouragement to close the little distance between them that was caused by the blanket. “i don’t want just any person to stay, june,” he whispered as his hand covered june’s, the gesture in a way keeping him rooted in place. “i want you to stay.” he made sure the emphasis was there, for june to feel that this was something important to hans, that he was important. 

he gave a slight nod to the remote that his hand completely missed, chuckling to himself as if it wasn't obvious he had missed it on purpose. "we could choose something completely random and just... be here together."

as the credits finally reached the end, the screen turned blank, waiting for their next move. but hans was not moving, only using his free hand to tug the blanket over his leg, his body turned towards june as well, the rest of the room forgotten if not for the faint glow of the screen that illuminated their faces.

in the dim light that warmed their faces, hans could only say, “you look so beautiful.” the words rushed out of hans with a sense of urgency, as if any delays would make him second-guess this confidence that came over him. 

[isuggestforcefem]

Forcefem February story: Nicole saves Ethan

Part one - Nicole

It began as it usually did. Nicole, a poor helpless orphaned young woman, with a story to make the most stoic of men sob, and such a great excuse for her to join the town. The town's eldest was wary of her. He knew, she thought. Or at least, he suspected something. Nevertheless. That wouldn't stop her. This wasn't her first, anymore. Nicole knew how to handle herself. Keep herself en guarde.

It did make her job less fun, though. She had barely any respite, needed a consistent story and a consistent character, every moment of her waking day. And she couldn't work at night, lest they see the light of her room.

Angela had been very lovely, on this part. The old woman had allowed Nicole to stay in her ex-husband's study, as it hadn't been used in years. Angela had lost him, she would say, on the lonely nights. He had walked out one day, and never came back. Taken by the night, she would say. Nicole wondered if she knew, too. She wondered if the creaks of wood she heard from behind her door were Angela, watching her, spying her.

All that to say it really wasn't a fun time. She yearned for the plan to enter motion. It had already been a month! Usually, she could have had cleared step one in a week, at most, but clearly, Diana's choice of town still lacked. She'd have to talk about it with her, once she was back. Even though Diana was her best friend and most trusted ally at the Academy, she still lacked a lot of technical skills. Maybe that was why the administration still refused her application for solo missions. "I ought to help Diana out", Nicole thought to herself. Her friend was her senior in experience and yet Nicole risked graduating before her.

Nicole approached the mirror. She was still as beautiful as ever. Surely, this face would be enough to sway most hearts. Her hair was undone. She grabbed her hairpin, held a strand of hair, and clipped it onto her hair. Suddenly, a swirl of magic took control of the brunette's hair, assembled it in a neat ponytail. She messed with it a little bit. Better not make it look too neatly woven. She had an image to keep up. She grabbed her dress, Angela had washed it for her. What a treasure of a woman. She almost felt guilty to betray her trust in this way. But then again, she always did. It never stopped her.

Going down the stairs, Nicole yelled "I'm ready!". Angela's brother had asked for a helping hand. It did upset her plans,, but she had to keep up appearances until the end. She could still do it tonight. She would do it tonight. She had faith.

The day seemed to never end. She had been gathering herbs for hours by now, but still Angela's brother showed no sign of going back home. At least the sun was still high. Finally, the man spoke to her. "I think we're done for today, you can go back." "Oh thanks," she said, without a trace of emotion in her voice. Finally, speaking her soul.

This place was boring. The local pub served frankly disappointing alcohols, and was only inhabited by things that were more of the decaying corpse than they were of the person. The town's center was usually occupied by a group of gangsters - guards - that looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Whatever. This would soon be over.

There he was, her target. A boy named Ethan. He had little presence, few friends. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would care.

She would.

He had short black hair, wore a white shirt and brown pants. She had seen boys like him by the dozen, and all of them had became beautiful, happy girls. He would follow.

"Hi," Nicole exclaimed brightly, with a little wave, "I'm here early! -Nicole! Hello, I am glad to see you. -I have a gift for you!" Saying this, Nicole reached for her bag's contents. There was a choice to be made; four rings from which to decide the step to take.

[themultifanshipper]

Ollie was a sweetheart.  

But boy was he pretty when he cried. 

warnings: smut, sub!Ollie, the title is pretty self explanatory, teasing, edging, idfk at this point i don’t even remember why i wrote this it’s crack

 

You'd been dating for a few months now, and you were fairly certain you knew what he liked in bed. 

He liked to be in control, most of the time, and he liked to experiment with different things. 

He liked to tease, edging you to the brink of madness before he finally let you come. 

But today, he’d had a terrible day, and you could tell he needed to let loose. 

You decided to switch things up a bit. 

You talked to him beforehand, asking him if he wouldn't mind you being dominant for once, and you told him he would definitely get to come, and what you had planned would definitely get him out of his head. 

That was all the reassurance he needed to agree to anything you wanted to do to him. 

You knew he would quickly submit and beg. But you weren’t expecting this. 

You decided the colour system was best for what you wanted to do, and you kept asking him his colour, and he kept saying green. 

But he was crying. 

“Fuck- this is torture!” he gasped as you popped the tip inside you once again, then resumed your torturous rhythm of sliding him along your soaked cunt. 

He was tied to the headboard while you hovered over him, rubbing his tip along your folds and dipping it inside you from time to time. 

And had been doing so for a good 20 minutes at least.

Like most men, Ollie's tip was very sensitive, so the constant overstimulation was driving him up the wall. 

“I told you Ollie, I'm going to make you come with just the tip” you teased.

There was a reason for this of course.  

When you had sex with Ollie the very first time, you were a virgin and he'd half-jokingly said you could do ‘just the tip’ to take it slow. 

That resolution lasted all of five minutes before you started begging and he'd slid inside you completely, rutting his hips into yours desperately until he came first, and you were left to get yourself off while he apologised profusely for half an hour. 

Well this was payback, and you were determined to make you both come with just the fucking tip. 

“Don't worry baby, you can come whenever you need to, and I’m going to use you to get off, it's a win-win!” You squealed excitedly, but he just whined. 

“It's too much! I can't come like this” 

You kissed him sweetly, wiping away a stray tear. 

“Of course you can, baby.” 

You held yourself steady with a hand on the headboard next to his head, and your other hand held his cock and started rubbing it on your clit. 

You let out a breath and Ollie’s eyes rolled back into his skull. 

You rocked your hips gently, your clit bumping against the underside of his head and his hips jerked. 

“Fuck- fuck, Jesus!” he whined, eyes screwed shut. 

“Colour?” you panted, your mouths were inches apart. 

“Green, fucking green- shit” he bit his lip in an effort to conceal the pathetic noises coming out of his mouth but it was useless. 

The pressure on your clit was fucking amazing, the soft skin of his cock providing the perfect surface to rub yourself off on. 

Your hips snapped forwards as you felt the familiar tingling sensation in your loins, letting you know you weren't far off from your orgasm if you kept this up. 

“Kiss me” Ollie cried, “Please” and you obliged, crashing your lips together as you rutted against each other helplessly. 

He looked so beautiful, cheeks puffy and red, tears clinging to his lashes. 

You panted and moaned into each other other's mouths as you got closer to your orgasm. 

“Fuck, I'm close.” He groaned, eyes fluttering shut. 

You didn't even answer. Surprisingly you came first, leaning your forehead against his while you rode the waves of your high. 

Then you decided to take pity on Ollie. 

You sank down on him in one foul swoop, taking him all the way to the base. He wailed, hips bucking uncontrollably as he came on the spot. 

You could feel him pulsing inside you, his orgasm so intense that a fresh wave of tears spilled down his cheeks. 

While he rode it out you untied his hands, and they went straight to your body, arms wrapping around you to hold you tightly while his hips twitched with the aftershocks. 

His body slumped backwards, and you gladly went with him, leaning into his embrace while you kissed along his jaw. 

“That was intense” he muttered after a while. 

You giggled. “How did you do in the race?” 

He blinked. “I don't remember” 

“Then my job here is done” you smiled, pecking him on the cheek before lifting yourself off of him and heading towards the bathroom to take a good long shower.  

“Come and join me… if you still have the energy” you teased. 

Ollie has never moved faster in his life.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

hi girl could u do a Aaron x reader on a red carpet type of thing?

pairing: aaron pierre x black reader

warnings: pure fluff, implied flirting, suggestive whispering, Aaron being obsessed with Reader (as he should)

summary: Aaron is being honoured at a red carpet event, and Reader—his date and the love of his life—is by his side. She’s nervous, but Aaron is there every step of the way, making sure she feels like the star of the night. Between teasing interviews, stolen glances, and a whisper that nearly makes her lose composure, it’s clear to everyone—especially the cameras—that Aaron Pierre is absolutely smitten.

word count: 514

a/n: i have such love/hate relationship with asks cos when they're vague, it means that i have full creative control which is exciting but it's also overwhelming cos then idk if it's come out how the reader wants it to 😭😭 but anon, i hope this is along the lines of what you were thinking !

The flash of cameras was relentless, a steady wave of light as Aaron guided her down the red carpet with effortless ease. His hand rested at the small of her back, his touch a quiet reassurance beneath the whirlwind of it all.

“Breathe, love,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, a whisper of warmth against her skin. “You look beautiful. They’re all going to be obsessed with you.”

She exhaled slowly, nodding, though the weight of a hundred eyes still pressed against her. This wasn’t her world—flashing lights, interviewers shouting names, the hum of celebrity chatter all around. But it was his. And somehow, standing beside him, fingers lightly grazing his, she didn’t feel so out of place.

They paused at a checkpoint, a journalist calling out to Aaron. “How does it feel to be honoured tonight?”

Aaron’s smile was immediate, easy, but before answering, he glanced down at her. “Feels like the real honour is having her here with me.” His voice held that familiar warmth, that teasing edge, and she rolled her eyes even as her lips curved.

“You’re so full of it,” she murmured.

“You love it.”

She did.

They moved further along, cameras flashing, their chemistry undeniable. The way Aaron absentmindedly adjusted the drape of her gown, how his fingers trailed over the dip of her waist. How, when she stumbled slightly—heels catching on the plush carpet—his reaction was seamless, catching her as if it was second nature.

Twitter was already in shambles.

📸 @PopCultureDaily: Aaron Pierre catching his girl like they’re in a rom-com?? We are SICK.

📸 @FilmFanatic: He’s so obsessed with her it’s actually unfair.

“Aaron, what did you just whisper to her?” another journalist called out, eager for a soundbite.

Aaron barely blinked. “Nothing fit for broadcast.”

The reporter laughed, and YN pressed her lips together, trying to fight the warmth creeping up her neck. Because what he’d actually said, voice husky against her ear, was—

“As good as you look in this dress, I can’t wait to take it off you.”

She nudged his ribs discreetly, and Aaron only grinned, charming and utterly unbothered.

The rest of the carpet was a blur of moments—shared glances, stolen touches, inside jokes murmured between posed smiles. But the real moment, the one that mattered, came later, when they finally had a second away from the chaos.

She relaxed as they stepped into a quieter space, heels aching, adrenaline still buzzing beneath her skin. Aaron turned to her, eyes tracing over her face with something softer now, something private.

“You did amazing,” he said, voice quieter now. “I know this isn’t your world, but… you handled it like you were made for it.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “Oh, so I’m a natural now?”

Aaron leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. “You’ve always been.”

And just like that, the lights, the noise, the cameras—it all faded away. Because here, in his arms, was the only place that ever felt like home.

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[justwinginglife]

Better Half

“Hey- the Colonel’s hungry. Get him a sandwich or something. Better yet, make it a steak dinner. Actually, make it two.”

You barked orders to a passerby and the confused but obedient soldier threw out a quick salute in response before scurrying away to do your bidding. By now, he knew better than to question you (they all did); it was common knowledge that any command you gave, no matter how bizarre or seemingly random, was to be followed immediately if one wanted to avoid risking your wrath. Even Caleb was only half immune to this rule.

Once, you advised him to flank the left side of the enemy and he’d flanked the right instead. Besides the ground sliding out from beneath him because the right sight of the field had softened significantly more than the left due to recent weather conditions, he also had to suffer the consequences of your cold shoulder for the next week. Now he only disregarded you when he wanted to tease you; he’d never risk doing it out on the field again. You were many things, but you were almost never wrong when it came to battle strategy and that made you invaluable to him. At least, that’s what made you invaluable to him at first. As time went by, you became so much more to him than just sound advice.

You turned to face your superior only to see him attempting to stifle his snickers with a gloved hand. “Did I say something funny, Colonel?”

He attempted to clear his throat but it was to no avail. The slight shake in his shoulders gave him away. “It’s nothing- at ease, soldier.”

You stared at him, unamused.

Realizing it was futile, he finally let himself laugh aloud. “The Colonel is hungry, huh? Last time I checked, I was the Colonel. And I’m not hungry.”

You crossed your arms stubbornly. “You’ll be hungry soon; you always eat around this time anyway. And besides, I’m hungry.”

He smirked. “Are you telling me you’re throwing my name around just to get yourself a free dinner? Tell me, my oh-so-lovely-adjutant, does that sound like abuse of power to you?”

“Nope. Like I said, you’re going to get hungry here soon anyway.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

His stomach growled right on cue.

You raised a brow at him as if to say “I told you so.”

He laughed again, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. Who knew you had my eating schedule all memorized?” He nudged you playfully with his elbow and you couldn’t help but relax slightly at his familiar touch, biting back a smile.

You knew he was supposed to be your boss, but he’d always made you feel more like equals than anything else. You were always the first person he greeted when he walked into work, and you were the only person he bid farewell to when he left. He kept you at his side almost constantly, seeking advice when he needed it, or simply company when he wanted it. This line of work could be gruesome at times, but somehow he felt that life was a little less gray when you were there to make him laugh.

Sometimes you’d pretend you were the only one who could make him open up like this. If anyone had seen the two of you at work, they would’ve agreed. To anyone else in the Farspace Fleet, he was the Colonel- calm, cool, collected. To you, he was Caleb- silly, stubborn, sensitive. Sometimes you’d even pretend he was your Caleb. But then you’d see that damn necklace around his neck and that familiar pain would trickle back into your chest like a poison seeping into your veins.

He wasn’t yours. He was never yours. He was… hers.

Every time he left for Linkon, every time he gave you that mock salute before grinning widely and telling you to “hold down the fort” until his return, every time he waved at you as he boarded the train, you felt your heart sink more and more. You wondered if maybe one of these days, he just wouldn’t come back. If maybe he’d run off with her, marry her. And then he’d forget all about you.

It wasn’t until he bounded off the train with a souvenir in hand for you ( he got you one every single time, without fail, whether he was gone for a day or a week), that you felt you could breathe again. It wasn’t until he was in the passenger seat of your car, letting you drive him home, listening to an album you’d both discovered together, that you felt you could relax again. It wasn’t until he was making you dinner in his home, the way he always did as thanks for picking him up, that you felt you could finally forget about her for a moment.

But it didn’t help that he always wore that damn thing everywhere he went. Even now, as you waited for the soldier to bring you and Caleb dinner, you couldn’t help but glare at the stupid hunk of metal. What an ugly design- she couldn’t have picked something more classy? It was the most unrefined thing he owned; you were sure you would’ve picked something more suited to him had you been given the chance. But you knew he’d never give you the chance.

Without meaning to, you let out a small sigh as you sank into your desk beside him.

“I don’t plan to return to Linkon anytime soon.”

You froze in your chair. Had he really caught on that quickly? You must not have been as subtle as you’d thought. “What do you mean?” You asked nonchalantly.

“That sigh. You always sigh like that whenever I say I’m going to Linkon. Well, I have no intention of making any visits in the near future.”

You had only meant to glance over at him briefly but when your eyes met his, you found it impossible to look away. You reminded yourself to breathe. “You’re not? How come?”

“No reason to.” He shrugged.

Bullshit. He had a reason. He had a good fucking reason and you hated it. You hated her. Without ever knowing her personally, without ever meaning to, you’d begun to hate her for the simple act of having him. “Oh really? No one to visit?” You asked innocently.

He chuckled. “Just say it if you’re gonna think it.”

“Think what?”

He raised a brow at you. “Really? We’re gonna play that game? Fine, I’m good at games. What should we play, 21 questions? Shall I guess what’s bothering you?” He moved to pinch your cheek and laughed when you swatted him away.

You could tell he was about to press the issue so you were grateful when the soldier finally returned with your meals. “Eat.” You commanded Caleb.

He saluted you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You ate in silence, but you could feel him sneaking glances at you. You didn’t dare reciprocate the eye contact for fear you’d never be able to look away.

“Hey.” The sudden solemnity in his voice surprised you.

“What is it?” You picked at your food some more as you waited for him to speak.

“Would you say I’m… needed?” His voice cracked slightly.

Well now you had to look at him. Just what on earth was going on in his head? You were just talking about Linkon, and now he was breaking out some existential philosophy? “Needed as in what?”

He winced. “Never mind.”

“No, I’m serious. As in what? As in the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel? Or as in Caleb?”

He picked at the edge of his desk. “I dunno. Both, I guess.”

“Honestly?”

He hesitated and then nodded slowly.

“The Farspace Fleet has never been more impressive in its entire history than it’s been under your command. But does it need you? No. So if you wanted to do something else, be something else, you could. You could do anything you wanted.”

“And… Caleb?”

You smiled warmly. “I’ll always need Caleb. He owes me a date, by the way; if you see him, tell him he’s not allowed to bail on me like he did last time; concert tickets are nonrefundable and expensive, and his oh-so-lovely-adjutant doesn’t make as much money as he does.”

He cracked a smile. “Caleb doesn’t get a break even when he’s sick, huh? Alright, I’ll be sure to tell him. No one messes with the Colonel’s adjutant, after all.”

And just like that, you were back to normal.

“He really did bring us steak dinners,” Caleb laughed as he cut up his food.

“I said steak, didn’t I? You should know better than anyone there’s consequences when you don’t listen to me.” You wagged your finger at him in warning and it only made him laugh harder.

“When I brought you on as my adjutant, I didn’t think I’d be hiring a comedian as well. Tell me- do you play venues or am I the sole viewer of your comedy act?” He teased.

“Neither. Both would imply I’m getting paid to be funny and unfortunately I am not. Unless you’d like to add my humor to your bill.” You winked at him.

He shook his head, grinning. “Unfortunately, my dear, I don’t think the Farspace Fleet can afford such quality humor. Will you accept payment in Caleb’s homemade dinners instead?”

Your eyes lit up. “Absolutely! Tastes better than this shit anyway.” You gestured to the food before you.

He chuckled. “You’re the one who made a big deal out of requesting it and now you don’t like it? So hard to please.”

“This steak is so well done, you’d think a crematory cooked it. I like Caleb’s medium rare steak much better.” You made a point out of chomping aggressively on the chewy hunk of meat.

He shook his head, grinning. Then he glanced down and began to poke the food around his plate, and you knew it was time to ask.

“So why wouldn’t you be needed?”

He choked on his water. “Wh-what?”

“You asked if you were needed and it was right after we were talking about your visits to Linkon. Did something happen?” You knew this was a sensitive topic, but you also knew him. He’d beat around the bush until the day he died. He’d tell you a million things, but never how he felt. He’d allude to it, dance around it, but never outright say it. Not unless you dragged it out of him.

“Not… not really.” He cleared his throat and continued to jab at his food with his fork. There it was. The famous Caleb avoidance tactic.

“You get into a fight with her or something?”

He bit his lip. “Nothing gets by you, huh? Yeah… something like that.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re not doing that shit with me, Caleb. She might let you get away with it, but I won’t. You know damn well I won’t. Come on- spill.” You demanded.

He gave you a sheepish look. “I’m fine, really.”

“You start getting all existential on me about if you’re needed and then you tell me you’re fine? You think I don’t know you any better?” You were starting to get annoyed, but you took a deep breath, trying to be patient with him. You knew this was hard for him. “It’s me, silly. I won’t tell anyone. Hell, I didn’t even tell anyone you cried during that dog movie.”

He snorted. “It died! It’s not my fault I cried. They make those movies specifically so you cry.”

You laughed and nudged him with your elbow. “So, if I can keep a secret about the all powerful Colonel of the Farspace Fleet blubbering like a baby, I can surely listen to you rant about your girl for one minute. C’mon. Let loose.”

He hesitated but then he gave in the way he always did when you persisted like this. “She… she said she didn’t need me anymore. She said she could take care of herself. She didn’t like the way I’ve been ‘acting’ now that I’m Colonel. I was just… I was just trying to protect her the… the only way I know how.” His fork clattered onto the plate as pain flashed across his eyes. “Anyway, point is, she doesn’t want me around anymore. So I’m… I’m here.”

Your brow twitched. “I’m sorry- the fuck does she mean she doesn’t need you? What, she thinks she’s all grown now and doesn’t need anybody? Even adults need to lean on each other sometimes, getting older doesn’t mean you stop relying on others. She’s too immature; only immature people go around claiming that they’ve ‘matured’ and don’t need help anymore. I’m telling you Caleb, I’ve been telling you, you seriously need someone older.” You paused to see how he was taking your ranting. He only listened in silence.

You set a hand on top of his and very gently said, “I could blow up her house if you wanted.”

That made him smile a little. “You know that’s not what I want. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I know, I know. You’re too good to people sometimes, Caleb. I think between the two of us, I’m the meaner one. I’d march right up to her -if you’d let me- and tell her exactly what I thought of her bullshit.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s entirely accurate. You’re definitely the better one out of the two of us. You don’t… you don’t know the things that I’ve…”

“What- the things that you’ve done? Honey, I’m your partner in crime. The things you’ve done, I’ve done them with you.”

“But you don’t know what I… what I tried to do to her.” He admitted weakly.

“So lay it on me. What’s so scary that you think you can’t tell me?”

“I told her-” He swallowed, eyes darting away from yours. “That I’d lock her up to keep her safe. That it’d be safer for her by my side.”

“And?”

His eyes flicked back up to yours, wondering if he misheard you. “What do you mean, and?”

“And what else? Was that it?”

He huffed slightly, but there was no annoyance in his voice. “Of course you would think that’s fine.”

“But you’re right though. There is no safer place in the world than by your side. Besides the fact that you’ve got the coolest superpower in the world (seriously- it’s such a cheat), and that you’re a great fighter, you also just have the sway that comes with being the Colonel. She’d be an idiot to not realize that. Yeah, sure, you could’ve maybe worded the whole ‘lock you up’ thing better, but it’s like you said; you were only doing the best you could in the only way you knew how. I wouldn’t fault you for that.”

He stared at you for a moment. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You gave him a wink. “Absolutely batshit, thank you.”

He laughed. “How is it that you always know how to make me feel better?”

“Umm, maybe because I’m the best adjutant in the world and you should pay me more?” You teased, nudging him again.

He snorted. “You wish. But seriously. Thanks. I needed that.”

You nodded. “Now, let’s go get drunk and talk about how much women suck. I’ll buy.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “But… you’re a woman. And you don’t drink. And you’re broke.”

You shrugged. “But my best friend drinks and he looks like he could use a drink and a good, old ranting session. And again, if you just paid me more, I wouldn’t be so broke.” You grinned unabashedly.

He took in the sight of your grin and couldn’t help but smile himself. You always had the brightest of smiles. It was damn near impossible to be upset around you.

The two of you soon found your way to a bar; Caleb specifically picked one near his house because he was sure he’d have to carry you home drunk. You insisted that you weren’t that much of a lightweight and even proposed a drinking competition but by the time you’d gotten one and a half drinks in, you were already dozing off in his arms. He chuckled as he gazed down at you fondly. Signaling to the bartender to close out his tab, he scooped you up in his arms and walked you to his house.

When he got inside, he laid you on his bed and simply watched you for a moment. He was tempted to crawl up beside you, as he was sure you wouldn’t mind, but then he thought better of it. He’d sleep on the couch instead. He turned to leave, but then decided instead to bend down and kiss the top of your head before whispering, “Thanks again for tonight. I had fun.”

He began to pull away, but before he could get too far, you latched onto him in your sleep and yanked him into bed beside you. He tensed up, unsure of what to do in this situation, but the sound of your even, happy breathing made his heart lurch in his chest. He could listen to it all night. He probably would be listening to it all night, because he wasn’t sure he could sleep with how tightly you were clinging to him. Did you even know what you were doing?

“Caleb…” You murmured in your sleep, nuzzling even closer to him.

He covered his mouth to stifle his chuckle. Yeah, you totally knew what you were doing. What was he going to do with you?

He brushed your hair to the side gently, wanting to get a better look at your slumbering face. You were adorable, there was no other way to put it. He wasn’t sure why he was thinking these things, as he was sure he would never dare to in broad daylight, but somehow, as you dozed off beside him, your perfume soaking into his shirt, he couldn’t help but enjoy it. Enjoy you.

He wondered if things could’ve been different, if you would’ve been the only one in his heart and in his bed like this, had he grown up in Skyhaven like you had. Would you have gone to school together? Would you have sat beside him? Would you have had lunch with him? Would he have had the nerve to ask you to the prom? He shook his head, laughing softly to himself. Probably not. He was plenty outgoing, but a pretty girl like you? He’d choke over his own words. It seemed he never had enough nerve when it came to matters of the heart. All he ever did was hold back how he was feeling and what he was thinking. But not… not with you.

His brows furrowed suddenly at the realization. Did he have a single secret from you? He swore he only had the one, and you’d just coaxed it out of him only hours ago. Now that he thought about it, you were the only person who truly knew him. The only one he shared everything with. Of course, he had someone he loved, someone he’d loved his whole life, but even she didn’t know all of his secrets. You were the only one he told them to. You were the… the only one he wanted to tell them to.

He tensed up again. How could he let this happen? This couldn’t happen. Besides the fact that he was already in love with someone, he shouldn’t have been sharing so much with one person anyway. You could betray him, you could leave him, or even worse, you could hate him. One day, he could share too much, and you would never look at him the same way again. And he couldn’t stand that.

Carefully, he pulled your arms off of him and made his way to the living room. He stared at the ceiling until sleep eventually took him.

In the morning, he woke up with a blanket around him. He blinked, still groggy from sleep. He hadn’t remembered to grab himself a blanket, where did it…

Suddenly he heard the soft sound of an inhale and an exhale, then another inhale and exhale. He quickly turned on his side. There you were, sleeping on the floor. You’d given him the blanket he’d had on his bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. What the hell were you doing? Why were you on the floor? Didn’t he leave you in the bedroom? How long had you been here? He hoped to god you hadn’t been here long, otherwise you might get a cold from the lack of a blanket. He quickly scooped you up in his arms, attempting to settle you on the couch where he had previously been laying, so that he could wrap you up in the blanket, but you slowly began to stir.

“C-Caleb? What’re you-” You rubbed your eyes. “What’re you doin?”

He sighed. “What am I doing? What are you doing, why were you sleeping on the floor when I clearly put you on the bed, huh?”

You gave him a sleepy smile. “That’s an easy one. Cuz it’s your house. You should get the bed, silly. I tried to wake you up to get you to come to bed, but you were knocked out. Was like talking to a pile of bricks. So I brought you the blanket and slept on the floor.” You said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

He groaned. “You dork, I put you on the bed on purpose. How long have you been sleeping out here with no blanket on?”

“I dunno… couple hours?” You sat up slowly.

He rested his hand on your forehead, brow creased with concern.

“Watcha doin?”

“Making sure you’re not sick or something, cuz you slept in the cold like a dumbass.”

You grinned. “And? What’s my diagnosis, doc?”

“You’re not sick; you’re just stupid.” He flicked you in the forehead.

You laughed. “Good morning to you too, Cap’n Cranky.”

“Morning, goofball. I said I owe you one of Caleb’s homemade meals, right? How ‘bout I make you breakfast? I’ll make it nice and warm to make up for you sleepin in the cold.”

You straightened in excitement, nodding your head enthusiastically.

He cracked a smile and then got to work cooking.

No matter how many times you’d watched Caleb cook, you never got tired of it. You loved the way he expertly diced his vegetables, the way every cube was the same size. You loved the way he flicked his wrist out and flipped the pan. You loved the way he’d dip a pinky into the sauce to taste its flavor. You loved the way he hummed to himself when he got really into it. You loved everything about him.

“You know, I think I just might be your biggest fan, Chef Caleb.” You called out.

He grinned. “Only cuz I bribe you with my food. You wouldn’t like me so much if I didn’t feed you.”

“Hey- that’s not true. I’d like you no matter what.” You declared.

You might’ve imagined it, but you swore you saw him hesitate for a moment.

“Caleb?”

He blinked and his smile returned. “Sorry, spaced out.”

You stared at him carefully.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “What? Why’re you staring?”

“Caleb, it’s too early to be doing this.”

“Doing what?” He asked innocently as he stirred the pot.

“To be hiding things. You know you can’t hide things from me, you have a terrible poker face.”

“Hey- I have a great poker face, I’ll have you know.” He said, putting a hand over his chest in mock offense.

“Says the guy who is trying to avoid the topic by continuing to talk about poker faces.” You retorted.

He sighed and turned the stove off. “Fine, fine. I should know better by now, nothing gets past you. I was just… I was just thinking last night about some things.”

You sighed. “Caleb. You’re going to have to elaborate on ‘some things.””

“I know, I’m getting there. It’s just… do you think… there would ever be a day when you don’t like me anymore?” He asked quietly.

You snorted. “Nope. Never.”

“But what if… what if I did something really bad? What if I hurt you?”

“I’d forgive you.”

“But what if I hurt someone you care about?”

“You’re the only person I care about.”

“But what if-”

“Caleb, where is this all coming from? What’s going on? Don’t you trust me?” You cut him off suddenly. You could tell he was starting to spiral.

He winced. “I do… it’s just… sometimes I think I’m not cut out to have any sort of close relationship with anyone. My… my hands are far too stained with blood and I-”

“Well, if I stain my hands right beside you, who’s to say whose blood it is?”

His eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

“I’m saying, I’ll hold your hand no matter what. I’ll stand by you no matter what. I don’t care what you do, I don’t care what you’ve done, I don’t care what you’re going to do. You’re stuck with me. If you’re in it, I’m in it too.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him, enveloping him in a tight hug. “You dork, is this why you left the bed last night?”

He tensed up. “You… you knew I was lying with you?”

“Yeah and you were warm and then you left and it was cold. So it’s your fault if I get sick.”

“I just said you weren’t sick,” He grumbled, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t bottle your feelings up again, okay? Just tell me if you’re feeling down. I don’t care if I’m asleep, I don’t care if I’m mid-shit, I will drop anything and everything for you.”

“Well I definitely wouldn’t interrupt you if you were mid-shit,” He laughed. “But I will keep that in mind… thanks. I really do appreciate it. You… you have no idea what it means to me to know that you’re there for me.”

“I’ll always be here for you. And my offer still stands; I will totally blow up her house if you ever want me to. I never liked her anyway.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “What’s with you and explosions? I really will have to keep you in line, won’t I?”

“Keep me in line? Who’s the one who flanked right when I said left and went down the hill in a landslide?” You raised a brow at him.

He groaned, palming his face with a hand. “I said I was sorry, how many times you gonna keep bringing that up?”

“As many times as it takes for you to know that I’m always right.”

“Yeah, yeah- you’re always right, eat your damn breakfast.” He laughed as he shoved a bowl of food at you and directed you to his dining room. Then he slid into a chair beside you, nudging you gently with his arm.

The two of you ate in silence but it was a comfortable silence. The kind you can relax in when you know the other person is waiting for you on the other side of that silence. The kind you can only enjoy when you truly cherish the company you have.

“This is nice; I should bother you for breakfast more.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Is that right? What should I charge you for in return?”

“Is my undying attention not enough?”

“Undying attention is pretty good. But my home cooked meals are a hefty price. How about your undying attention and no more secrets between the two of us?”

You stared at him curiously. “We already have no secrets.”

“I think we have a grand total of one.”

“One? That’s one I’ve never heard of.”

“You still haven’t told me why you get upset every time I go to Linkon.”

You choked on your porridge. “Upset? I don’t get upset. The weather is just terrible there and I don’t want you to get sick.”

He raised a brow at you. “Now who’s got a bad poker face?”

“I think we should have no secrets except for my one. It’ll be the only exception. And then no secrets after that.” You mumbled in between bites. You were now feeling the need to stuff your cheeks so full that it was physically impossible to answer him. God, your behavior was ridiculous, and you knew it was, but you couldn’t help yourself. How was it that you could control an entire fleet and yet you couldn’t control your own feelings? You weren’t even sure you could control your face right now. You were sure your cheeks were as red as the sunrise.

“What’s so big a deal about your one secret? I told you I was willing to lock someone up for the rest of their life, and your secret is worse than that?”

You nodded quickly. “Oh my god, so much worse.”

He crossed his arms, unconvinced.

“You’ll honestly never look at me the same way again, I think it’s probably for the best if we keep this one under wraps.” You said weakly. You didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

“You said you’d like me no matter what. Well, I’m the same way with you. I’ll like you no matter what.”

“That’s-” You cleared your throat. “Kinda the issue.” You mumbled under your breath.

He tilted his head towards you, straining to hear your last words. “What did you say?”

“I said I need a tissue. Too much porridge. Messy stuff.” For good measure, you let some of it drip down your lip, shrugging your shoulders as if to say “What can you do?”

He rolled his eyes before grabbing a napkin. You thought he’d just hand it to you but instead he gently wiped the porridge from your face. His fingers brushed against your lips once. Then twice. Then again.

“Um… I think you got it.” You blushed.

“How long are we going to keep doing this?” He murmured, eyes fixed on the fingers that were still caressing your lips.

You swallowed. “Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

Your eyes widened and you pulled away suddenly, standing up straight instead. “Anyway-I-think-everything-is-going-to-work-out-great-your-girl-will-be-over-herself-in-no-time-at-all-and-you’ll-be-back-in-Linkon-before-you-know-it-okay-great-talk-I’m-gonna-go-wash-my-dishes-now-thank-you-so-much-for-the-meal.” You blurted out hurriedly before escaping to the kitchen.

“This is my house, you know. You can’t run and hide from me!” He called from the dining room, his voice getting louder as he made his way towards you.

“Not hiding!” You called back.

“Bullshit.” His arms wrapped around your waist, turning you to face him. He backed you against the kitchen counter. “Tell me the truth.”

You flinched. “I can’t.”

“You can, you just won’t. But if you’re gonna go and bottle up your feelings, then I can too, right?” His voice dropped to a low tone, almost like he was threatening you with his own feelings.

You sighed. “Fine. Fine, no secrets. But just… could you turn around and look the other way? I can’t say it when you’re looking at me like that.”

“No- you made me spill my guts to your face yesterday. It’s only fair you do the same.”

“Caleb!” You whined.

“No. Come on. Just tell me. I promise that whatever it is, it won’t make me think any less of you.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Alright. Okay. Fine. I’m in love with you. There. Happy?”

“Immensely.”

Without another word, he kissed you.

Your whole body froze. What? What was going on? Oh. You had to still be sleeping. That had to be it. There was no way he was actually kissing you. He was still in love with what's-her-face. There was no way he was-

His tongue slid into your mouth.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a whimper tumbled past your lips. Oh god, he was actually kissing you. And he tasted good. Kinda like porridge. But good. Oh god, why was he kissing you? Did you even care? Wait, yes, you very much did care. You very much did not want to be a rebound. No way in hell. You’d rather be in the friend zone than the rebound zone. God no.

You quickly pulled away from him, gasping for breath.

“Did you not like it?” He asked, eyes looking slightly hurt as they skimmed over you, trying to find an answer.

“Ha… did I like it? Of course I liked it.” You grumbled under your breath, still looking away from him.

“So then why-”

“Because I’m not her. I’m not sure if you realize that.” You’d snapped and you hadn’t meant to snap. Oh fuck, you really hadn’t meant to snap.

You heard him exhale a shaky breath.

Oh no. No, you really weren’t trying to hurt him. You immediately turned to reach for him.

“Ha. Got you to look at me.” He smirked.

Oh, you bastard. You scoffed and flicked him in the forehead. “Jackass. Why are you acting all hurt?”

He leaned in towards you, grinning. “Why are you acting all sensitive? Aren’t you in love with me? Usually, people wanna kiss the person they’re in love with; I mean, I get that you’re new at this love thing-” He teased.

You pinched his cheeks, interrupting his speech. “Yeah, yeah. You’re being a pain in my ass right now, you know that? And besides, I refuse to be your rebound, so maybe you should be careful who you go around kissing.”

His grin faded. “What do you mean? It’s not like I’m going around town kissing people. Just you. You’re the only one I want to kiss.”

You raised a brow at him, unconvinced. “You were just in love with someone else, only moments ago.”

“Hey, that was yesterday. I’m a whole new me today.” He attempted to joke lightheartedly but he couldn’t help the feeling of heaviness that had begun to settle in his chest. You didn’t believe him. Of course you didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame you, but it still hurt.

“Caleb- you were in love with her for years. That doesn’t just go away. I’m not gonna be the bandaid on a gaping wound.”

His expression grew serious and he straightened. “I know. I don’t expect you to be. But I think… I think we’ve been done for a while now. I just didn’t want to accept it. I was always… changing myself to be whatever I thought she’d like. When I finally got comfortable enough to show her who I really was… well, you know how that went. But you…you’re the only person who sees me and loves me anyway.”

“So what? Doesn’t mean you love me back.” It killed you to say the words, but it was true nonetheless. As badly as you wanted to be his, as badly as you wanted him to kiss you nonsensically until you forgot all rationale, until you forgot your own name, until you forgot what day it was, as badly as you wanted him to cuddle you to sleep, to be there when you woke in the morning, you didn’t want it if he didn’t want it. He’d had enough of pretending in his life; he didn’t need to pretend to love you back just to appease you. It’s not like you would quit your job if he rejected you. You’d already stayed by his side regardless of your feelings and his lack of return on them. You didn’t want to be just one more person he had to change for.

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t mean that. But I do love you, regardless. Love is a choice; I choose you.” He said it so simply. Like he was reciting a book, like he was just stating a fact.

“But what if I don’t want you to choose me just because I’m the only one who understands you? If someone else comes along who understands you just as well as I do, will you want them instead?”

He shook his head. “I’m not choosing you because you’re the only one who understands me. I’m choosing you because you’re the only one I want to understand me. You’re the only one who makes me laugh every damn day, the only one I want to laugh with every damn day. You’re the only person who tells me when I’m being stupid, and the only person I listen to when I’m being stupid. Hell, you’re the only person I can’t live without. I’ve already been living without her this entire time, between the long distance and the long missions, but from the moment I met you, I knew I’d need you. So let me need you. Let me love you.” He held his breath as he waited for your response. “It’s also a no charge on Caleb’s homemade meals for his girlfriend,” He added on lightheartedly, hoping you’d laugh.

You bit your lip in attempts not to.

But he knew you better than that. He grinned. “There she is. Hi, baby.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Caleb! You can’t just call me that- I’ve not even said yes yet!”

He smirked. “Yeah, but your cheeks already did.” He kissed each side of your blushing face.

“No charge on meals and you’re paying for concert tickets.” You grumbled, attempting to remain serious.

He laughed heartily. “Only you would attempt to put a price on a relationship. Fine. Sounds like a deal to me. I still think I got the better end of the bargain anyway.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him before beaming down at you and peppering you with light kisses here and there. “I get a woman who’s both generous and gorgeous. She just gets Caleb.”

“Well, Caleb is more than enough for her. She loves Caleb exactly the way he is.”

“He’s starting to love Caleb the way he is too. All because of her.”

Taglist: @tbaluver @pixelcafe-network @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter @minasfwoopyponytail

[writeriguess]

Hiiiiiiiiiii I was wondering if you write for Dabi (bnha) and if so could you have a super oblivious reader? He has strong feelings for her and she feels the same way, but she doesn't have a lot of self confidence and is so convinced he couldn't love her that she doesn't notice the signs that he *does* at all. Shigaraki or Dabi himself have to spell it out for her. I hope you're doing well c:

author's note: Yes of course I write for Dabi <3

Burning

The first time Dabi realized he had it bad for you, he almost laughed at himself. Him? Catching feelings? What a joke.

But the joke was on him, because now he was stuck with it—with you, this annoyingly sweet, absolutely clueless little thing who had no idea how deep he was in. He'd tried to make it obvious. He stuck around when he normally wouldn’t, let you ramble about whatever nonsense filled your head, stole you food when you forgot to eat. He even softened his usual sharp tone when he spoke to you, which, coming from him, was practically a love confession in itself.

And yet, you remained completely, infuriatingly oblivious.

"You gonna keep starin’ at her, or are you actually gonna grow a pair and say something?" Shigaraki drawled from across the room, idly scratching at his neck.

Dabi clicked his tongue, tearing his gaze away from where you were sitting on the worn-out couch, nose buried in a book. "Mind your own business."

Shigaraki just smirked. "It is my business when I have to watch you pine like a damn schoolboy every day. It’s embarrassing."

Dabi scowled, but before he could snap back, you looked up. "What’s embarrassing?"

He didn’t miss the way your gaze flickered to him, then away just as fast, like you couldn’t possibly believe he was the topic of conversation. He clenched his jaw.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Shigaraki’s just talking out of his ass again."

You smiled, and something about how soft it was made his stomach twist. "You two are always bickering. It’s kinda cute."

Shigaraki barked out a laugh. "Yeah? You think that’s cute? What about Dabi stealing food for you every damn day? Or how he only ever watches your stupid movies when you put them on? Or—"

"Shut up," Dabi growled, but the damage was done. You were blinking at Shigaraki like he’d just spoken in a foreign language.

"Wait… what?"

Shigaraki rolled his eyes. "Holy shit. You seriously didn’t notice?" He gestured vaguely at Dabi. "This idiot’s practically in love with you."

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Dabi felt his face heat—though whether it was from anger or something else, he wasn’t sure.

You stared at him like you were trying to process some impossible equation. "But that’s… no. That doesn’t make sense."

He scoffed, forcing himself to lean back against the couch, arms crossed like he wasn’t seconds away from combusting. "And why’s that?"

"Because you’re you. And I’m just… me."

Dabi’s jaw ticked. "You say that like it means something."

You looked away, fingers twisting in your lap. "It does. I mean, you could have anyone. Why would you…"

He let out a slow breath through his nose. "You really are a dumbass."

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. "What—"

"I don’t do this kind of thing, alright? I don’t stick around. I don’t care about people. But you—" His voice dropped, rough with something raw. "You got under my damn skin, and now I’m stuck with it. So yeah, I like you. I thought I was making it obvious, but clearly, that was giving you too much credit."

You opened your mouth, then shut it again. Then, after a moment, you let out a shaky laugh. "You are making it obvious. I’m just an idiot."

Dabi smirked. "Yeah, but you’re my idiot."

The warmth in your gaze made something in him settle, just a little. Finally, finally, you got it.

Shigaraki groaned. "Thank God. Now can you two get out of my sight? I’m gonna throw up."

Dabi didn’t look away from you as he flipped Shigaraki off. Because for once, he didn’t care about anything else.

Not when you were looking at him like that.

But of course, nothing was that simple. Because while you finally realized how he felt, you still couldn’t seem to believe it.

The next day, Dabi caught you staring at him, eyes narrowed, as if trying to puzzle something out. When he raised a brow, you quickly looked away, face heating.

It happened again at dinner. And again when you were sitting together, watching some dumb show you liked. Every time, you’d glance at him like you were trying to see what Shigaraki had pointed out, and each time, your expression would shift into uncertainty, like you still couldn’t quite accept it.

Dabi sighed. "Are you gonna say something, or just keep staring at me like a creep?"

You flinched. "I’m not staring."

"Yeah, you are."

You fidgeted. "I just… I’m trying to understand."

Dabi frowned. "Understand what?"

You bit your lip, hesitating. "You really like me?"

He groaned. "Are we seriously still on this? Yes. I like you. I want you. Do I need to spell it out more? Want me to tattoo it on my forehead? Because at this point, I might as well."

Your face turned red, but you still looked doubtful. "I just… I don’t get why."

Dabi dragged a hand down his face. "You ever think maybe it’s not something you have to ‘get’? Maybe you should just accept it and stop making this harder than it needs to be?"

You still looked unconvinced, but after a moment, you exhaled. "Okay."

Dabi narrowed his eyes. "Okay?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Okay."

For the first time in weeks, Dabi felt like he could breathe. "About damn time."

You laughed softly. And when you leaned just a little closer, Dabi figured maybe this whole feelings thing wasn’t so bad after all.

Feel free to request <3

[lostinlovingrevery]

Whistleblower

Weapon X! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: This is really different from what I usually write but I had this idea and I wanted to get it out there. I MAY make a smutty alt of this lol...

Plot: You're a doctor recruited to work at the research base Lake Alkali, where you eventually become the whistleblower on the immoral experiments used on mutants held inside, one particular man being the reason you finally spilled the secrets....

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, mentions of experiments, descriptions that could be a lil disturbing? reader get attacked (not by Logan teehee), reader is a mutant but no powers mentioned, reader feels bad for Logan lol, more of a plot based fic with some future romance implied?

Word Count: 4k+!

Fingers tapped rhythmically against a stack of papers. Jazz played in the background. A hot cup of tea, slowly cooling off as it becomes forgotten. 

You were sitting in your shabby little broom closet of an office. A ceiling light flickers above you. Filing cabinets stuffed full of documents and manilla folders lined the walls. A laptop sat on your desk, open to an email that you have typed out, attached to the email was files, and pictures.

Lots of pictures.

You looked up, at a shitty motivational picture of a person looking at a landscape of a mountain, and a quote plastered in bold text at the bottom, 

“AN IDEA WITHOUT ACTION IS NOTHING”

You had an idea. 

Whether you were brave enough to take action is the issue.

You’re a doctor. A scientist. Majored in medicine, and went back to grad school for biology, and even dabbled in some psychology. Your name was… controversial. Your studies and research revolved around mutants, and supported mutants. You have been torn down by other scientists, doctors, and even colleagues for your work. You didn’t care.

 A few years later your work got noticed by some higher-up government officials.  Another scientist by the name of William Stryker recruited you into his mission. A top secret base located at the beautiful and scenic lake Alkali. You were told that you would be helping the future of mutants and humans alike.

That was a fucking lie.

Initially, you didn’t know anything. You were moved onto the base, given your own personal quarters, something with a bedroom and bathroom and a space big enough to be a living area. You were given small amounts of clearance. You had weekends off. It was a 1 year contract.

 Your job at first was to check the physicals and health statuses of soldiers, give out flu shots, and occasionally run a physical on a “volunteer” for the experiment programs they ran in the base, experiments you didn’t have clearance on. You didn’t think anything of it at first, everything you saw seemed clean, and people were treated with respect. Time went on and suppose they began to trust your persons, so you moved up the ladder and took part in studies that were more your style. That’s when you began to feel like something was wrong.

Some of the research didn’t feel…ethical. It felt that the mutants were being treated like..animals. They talked about them like animals. At face level, the people who came in were volunteers- participating in studies in the name of science, sometimes a monetary reward was offered. Then you would notice that said volunteers never officially left. 

It was when you did some snooping around that you discovered some horrific truths. You found files, pictures, classified things that weren’t meant for your eyes. You were caught- of course you were caught. This was a top secret government research base. There were eyes everywhere. 

You were taken to Stryker, who gave you a firm lecture- as if he was scolding a child. He then asked you if you were still wanting to stay a part of the research team. He had noticed your wonderful work ethic, and your bright mind. Thought you’d do great to help out. He also implied your inevitable murder if you were to say no.

You said yes.

Not because of the bullshit excuse of “This is for the best of humanity and mutant-kind”. To perform immoral and cruel experiments on mutants in the name of discovery and America. Fuck that. You were smart, you had ambition. You also had empathy and a moral compass, unlike these arrogant pricks. 

They didn’t know you were a mutant too- at least, they never implied they did. Not that it matters. You were raised to be accepting of everyone, to treat people with kindness, to lend a hand. That’s why you became a doctor. You were half tempted to use your powers to create a rebellion, take the place out. There were too many people though, all prepared, they had weapons and tools meant for controlling mutants and subduing them. It would be over before it started. You weren’t exactly a fighter, even though your powers were strong, but you were clever.

You reread the email you have written out for the millionth time. You used a fake email. You had multiple VPNs and several other spyware you installed in an attempt to hide where the email came from. Honestly, though, it probably wouldn’t matter. They’ll know it’s you the second you hit send. They’ll come in, knock you out, and use you for their sick experiments too. 

Perhaps though, if this email goes to the person you’re hoping it does. Maybe it won’t take so long. It won’t be so bad.

You agreed to stay for a reason. For information. For evidence. You had to be careful of your reactions, of your words. They watched your every move. Looking for signs of any infractions against them. It took time but you earned the trust of the staff and the mutants. 

You were kind, you provided comfort to them. You whispered promises that you will help them and that they will be free. All the while you took discreet photos and made copies of files and reports secretly. You’ve been storing them in the vent next to you; you made a secret compartment inside so that when the head of security comes in for their monthly inspections they never find anything. Chief Hanlon. That guy is a huge dick. 

You thought back to the faces you’ve come to know. People with tortured eyes and permanent scars. It tugged at your heart. You felt guilty, for ever taking part in something like this, for ever agreeing to come to this hellish place.

The next face you think of is what pushes you to hit send. 

“Weapon X-” 

Dr. Stryker was walking you down a long, poorly lit, concrete corridor, guarded by men in military gear, holding assault rifles- all of them eyeing you suspiciously. Stryker was walking with a cocky smile and a swagger. It was 2 weeks ago, before you had been pushed to finally compile your evidence and find someone who could help you.

“My biggest achievement in my career.” He continues. You both stopped at the end of the corridor, and he punched a code into the keypad. The metal doors open, and you step into a large room. Surrounded by large machinery, scientists, and guarded personnel, sat a huge glass tube, filled with some kind of substance, and a man who sat suspended inside it. He motioned to the tube, almost like he was presenting it grandly to you. “My pride and joy.” 

It made you sick to your stomach at the sight. He was suspended in the tube- floating in the clear liquid-like substance. He had no clothing on, and you could make out the tense muscles of his body. Despite his burly appearance, he looked unhealthy- his skin was pale, his hair grown out, wild and untamed, from his head, down to his chin, his beard scruffy and long as well. Even his stomach seemed sunken in. 

Are they even feeding him?

 The metal wires that were attached to his skin went in various places, his arms, his chest, his legs, and his head. The Holter monitor at the bottom that sat in front of you reads his heart rate; It was faster than it should be for an average person. You made out dog tags around his neck- the only article of clothing on him. There was a large oxygen mask, covering his nose and mouth. 

His eyes were open- and staring at you. 

“A soldier I met in Vietnam. He’s a mutant- obviously, claw-like appendages that protrude from his fist.” Stryker explains. “He has an extraordinary ability to heal. He can recover from anything- bullets, stabbings, broken bones. He has heightened senses, incredible strength, and a fierce rage, making him the strongest weapon in the world.” He says proudly. “A few years ago, I convinced him to partake in an experiment that bound adamantium metal to his bones. He’s indestructible.” 

You swallowed, not taking your eyes off of him. This poor man, what must he feel? How much pain is he in?

“The machine keeps his body supported and alive, but the substance- something I invented- keeps him frozen in place, which is why the machine is needed. He wouldn’t be able to breathe, no heartbeat or anything. He’s come back from death plenty of times, we’ve researched that- but we rather not risk fully killing him, y’know?” Stryker laughs. You grimaced at him, your eyes turning to look at the man, examining his body - that’s when you saw the twitch of his pinky. 

Didn’t Stryker say he was frozen in place?

“What’s his name?”

“Name?” Stryker says, a bit surprised at your question. “Logan.” 

You were glad to have a name for the face. Calling him Weapon X, felt nothing but wrong.

“What is his…purpose?” You ask, tearing your eyes away, not mentioning the twitch. You knew what Stryker would say. 

“We use him to carry out missions that cannot be failed,” Stryker says. “He’s nearly impossible to control, hence why we keep him in this- and when we send him out, he’s equipped with a helmet that helps us keep track of his whereabouts and sends signals to tell him what to do.”

“Mind control?” You asked. You use him to kill people.

“Kinda.” He says, turning to the computer and typing in a few things. “Your job here will be just to monitor his vitals. We noticed spikes in heart rates and blood pressure lately. Rare moments, but something we’d like to keep an eye on. If it gets worse, you’ll be tasked to come up with a solution. He’s too valuable to lose.” 

You nodded. You could still feel Logan staring at you. 

After Stryker finished explaining everything, you were sent back to your day. Logan's face lingered in your head. The way his eyes stared at you. What was he thinking?

It was that night you began looking for help. Your mind would wrack through people you have met through your years when you remembered someone- someone from when you were in college. A kind man, who approached you regarding your paper of mutant psychology. A paper you wrote in research regarding how mutant lifestyles can be affected by their powers. It was widely controversial, considering mutants weren’t- and still aren’t- quite accepted in your society. Your peers and professors had tried to sway you from writing it, but you refused, not caring about the consequences. Mutants were forever treated as evil people, the news constantly reported the “bad” mutants. Nevermind the fact that there were still plenty out there, living normal lives. 

The man wanted to know more about you, your paper, and what you wanted to do after college. He confided in you that he had a school for mutants and invited you to come see it. At the time, you were too busy- but you always kept his card. You didn’t know how or why- but something about him told you that maybe he could help. You prayed to whatever God was out there, that this man, 

Charles Xavier

Could help you, Logan, and the others who were trapped here. 

After that, you spent the next week discreetly putting together everything to send to Charles. Anxiety wracked your head. What if he can’t help, what if he doesn’t help? Maybe he confided in his secret school of mutants, but what if he was just like Stryker and it was all a sham? 

You were doing your usual responsibilities when you went to check on Logan. It was two weeks ago today that you were in charge of monitoring his health. Your intuition told you that his spiked heart rates, the twitch of his pinky, and the way his eyes watched your movements- even though he shouldn’t be able to move at all, were not a coincidence or a sign of a failing health state. 

It was just you and a few guards that were stationed at the door.  You were observing the latest changes over the last 24 hours. The two guards were silent, and then one of them started talking, bringing up some workplace gossip.

“Hey, y’know, me and Miranda, we got a date Saturday night.” 

“Shit, she said yes to your dumbass?” 

“Man fuck you.” 

They were talking, and distracted. You turned to scowl at them, which they didn’t notice, both facing each other wrapped up in their own conversation. You looked back at the monitor, tapping your fingers on the table when you noticed movement. Your eyes glanced upwards, and you noticed the twitch of his toe. You looked farther up and his eyes were staring down at you. 

You looked back at the guards. Hesitating before silently standing up and moving closer to the tube. Your hand went up to the glass and gently pressed. You looked back at the guards once more, still gossiping and distracted. You looked up at Logan. Staring right into his eyes, and you mouthed to him, 

“I’ll get you out of here”

You’re not even sure if he would have understood you, if he could lipread. The others say his mind was too far gone to understand what’s going on around him, and the helmet is what gives him directions. They called him an animal.

“He’s a man. Not an animal.” You corrected them. They simply stared at you. You could feel their silent judgments. Has everyone lost their humanity here? How could you look at him and not see a person?

The way his eyes moved- staring at you, you felt there was something there, someone there. He was thinking. He was observing. You wanted him to know you were on his side. 

You had no other choice at this point. You were at your wit's end. Who cares about your safety, your own life if you get caught. These people deserved better. 

Now back in your office, you sent the email. Hopefully, Charles is good about checking his email- that he knew what to do, or you and everyone else here is fucked. You went to bed that night, unable to sleep, Logan’s eyes tearing through your mind. 

You walk on eggshells for three days, waiting for the moment someone confronts you, for them to break into your room and stick a bag over your head and throw you into a jail cell where you get to await whatever Stryker thinks you’ll be good for. 

You were starting to wonder if anything was going to happen, while you were sitting at your desk once again in your little office. Filling out various medical files- one on a woman who had snow-like powers. Stryker had ideas to use her against hot and dry environments, turn them frigid cold, in order to incapacitate enemies who were prepared for hot weather. At one point you believed this research wasn’t about warfare, or violence. You thought you would be helping mutants, understanding what made you, you. How you managed to let the wool go over your eyes you didn’t know. 

The blare of the alarm startled you out of your thoughts. Announcements of guards and soldiers to get into position, alerts of intruders coming to the base. 

You thought you were going to puke. 

You got up from your chair, unsure of what to do. Another announcement told staff to stay where they were. You tapped your fingers on the desk behind you as your brain wracked for ideas, should you go out and see what’s happening? Who were these intruders? 

Maybe it had something to do with the whistleblower email you sent several days ago.

You could hear footsteps of soldiers running down the hall past your door. 

What if this is my chance?

You could help them escape the mutants. The soldiers, the security, they were distracted by whoever was attacking - people you hoped were on your side. You knew the codes, you could fight a little bit yourself- even if it wasn’t your preference. You grabbed your lab coat off your chair, making sure your badge was still attached for access, throwing it on and you opened the door, peeking out into the hallway- empty.

Your heels clacked on the floor as you ran down the maze like hallways that you’ve become familiar with the last 6 months towards the elevators. The lights shut off suddenly, leaving you in darkness until emergency lights kicked on. The alarms were off now. The only thing you could hear was faint gunshots happening thankfully far away from you. 

You could barely see, the red lights of the elevators and stairway signs led you to the direction you wanted to be in. You carefully walked towards them, your heels clicking against the tiled floor as you went to the stairway door, pushing it open. 

Soft orange glow lit up the otherwise dark and very cold stairway. You could hear more gunfire. You turned to look back at the hall you came from, searching for any signs of people that may have been around, before going into the stairway, and climbing down the stairs.

With the power off, the captive mutants are likely escaping themselves already, which may explain the occasional gunfire. People fighting back you can only assume. If they’re fighting, you’re going to fight with them. 

You carefully made your way down the stairs, cautious to not trip due to the lack of lighting. You reached the floor that would lead you to the captive mutants. Your mind wandered to Logan. He was a few floors down. Maybe you can help him too?

You chose to go farther down the stairs. You had to do something. How could you not? 

You reached the floor you wanted to reach, and carefully pushed the door open, peeking out into the hall. Only small red emergency lights lit the dark empty halls, but they provided enough light for you to make out multiple bodies strewn across the floor. They were still, unmoving, and against your better judgment, you moved inside into the hall, checking one of the bodies.

It was one of the soldiers that usually stood guard in Logan's room. You kneeled down to check his pulse. No pulse.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, as you carefully walked down the hall, checking each body for pulses. You may have thought everyone who worked here was scum - but you were still a doctor and if there was something you could do, you would do it. 

After the 5th body you could confirm was dead, you quickly walked down the hall to Logan’s room. The door was wide open - and you could see from where you were, the tube that kept Logan immobile and suspended was broken apart. The substance that kept him frozen was leaking into a large puddle on the ground- where you could barely make out several more bodies on the floor. 

He was free

Judging by the state of the soldiers, you’re not sure if that’ll be a good thing for you. 

You took a couple of steps back, only to feel a hand on your shoulder, swinging you around- you felt a sharp punch to your face, knocking you harshly to the ground. Pain radiated from your nose down to your jaw, and you felt blood trickling down your nose over your lip as you brought a hand up to it. Looking up fearfully, you recognized him, the chief of security.

“You bitch.” He hissed, fists clenched at his side. “You fucking did this didn’t you? I told Stryker you couldn’t be trusted. I should have put a bullet in your head when I caught you sneaking around the first time.”

“No-!” You yelped as he reached down, hand against your throat and pinning you to the floor, your head banging against the concrete making you yelp in pain. You clawed at his arm, kicking your legs in an attempt to get free as you felt his fingers tighten against your throat. You looked up at your attacker, his eyes furrowed, as he gritted his teeth, squeezing your throat tighter as you began to gasp for air- your chest growing tight.

In a flash, you heard a scream, and something warm and wet splatter on your. His hand was gone, and you watched in horror as he was lifted into the air, sharp metal points sticking out through his chest, and you saw Logan, holding him up in the air- a sharp snarl escaping him.

You heard a snikt! And you crawled away as the chief's body fell to the ground. Your heart pounding out of your chest, tears fell down your face, as a shaky breath escaped you- looking up at the towering and terrifying presence that now stood above you.

The red light illuminated him, making him look almost devilish. He was hunched, hands in fists, covered in blood, completely naked. There were a few wires hanging haphazardly from his arms and legs - and the helmet, the one you assumed is the one they use to control him. 

They’re not controlling him now, are they?

You waited, waited for him to kill you next. Surely he will?

He straightened himself, a scowl on his face as his nostrils flared, his chest heaving with deep breaths. He stared into your eyes. You swallowed, and pushed yourself up from the ground. Your body was shaking, and you stepped forward towards him, over the body of Hanlon. 

“Logan?” You said his name, your voice hoarse, and cracked. He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You blinked a few times, and you reached your hands up, they’re shaky and unsteady, but you reached towards him- to the helmet.

He flinched back a moment, before stopping, letting you do whatever you were going to do. His eyes unceasing their hard stare, his nostrils flaring with every breath- making you nervous that those famous claws you’ve heard about - and just seen in action are going to make their appearance and turn you into a shish kebab. 

He didn’t do anything, and you finally made contact with the cold metal. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, as your fingers found bolts and clips, undoing each one until the helmet came loose from his skull. 

You saw relief flood his eyes, his hands reaching up as you slowly moved yours back, returning them to your side shaky as ever, as he pulled the helmet off and dropped it to the ground. 

He blinked a few times, looking around, a small breath of relief escaping him before looking at you again. 

You both stood there, unsure what to do next.

1 Year Later

Your fingers nervously tapped along the files in your lap. Your leg crossed over the other as you sat on the very uncomfortable chair provided to you while you waited. You laid your hands flat across the folder, as anxiety twisted in your gut. 

“Nervous?” 

The voice drew you out of your anxious thoughts as you looked up and smiled.

Logan stood there in front of you, clean, healthy, happy. He wore a clean dress suit, his hair slicked back, and his beard trimmed. He gave you a thin lipped smile, his eyes regarding you with softness. 

It had been a long year to get to where he was, with you there to support him as best as you could.  

It was Charles Xavier's people who came and caused chaos at the base. A group called the X-men, a group of talented and powerful mutants who work in the name of helping mutants- which is right up your alley. You- nor Logan didn’t join right away, but accepted Charles' invitation to stay at his school, alongside other mutants who were rescued, in order to wait for the dust to settle. 

The dust was finally settling. Stryker and his men were on trial before congress. You were the piece to finally put things to rest. The evidence you compiled, the things you witnessed. You were about to go before congress, and speak on the behalf of mutants that had become victims to Stryker. 

You stood up from your chair, hugging your files to your chest. “A little bit.”

“Don’t be, you’ll do great.” He says. “You always stood your ground about things like this. Just cause it’s a bunch of assholes in Washington don’t make it any different.”  

You got to know Logan, who he was. He became someone you admired like no other. He rose up from the trauma and pain he suffered in Alkali, refusing to let it harden him. He was still a bit rough around the edges- but for you he was soft. 

During his time in Lake Alkali, he was waiting for a chance to escape. The scientist said he couldn’t think clearly but it was far from the truth. The only time he went into an animalistic haze was when the helmet was on- it blocked his vision and his senses, made his brain fuzzy. 

When the X-men breached the dam, they were about to let Logan out to wreak havoc on the intruders. They put the helmet on him and he managed to keep himself together that time- escaping and slaughtering guards along the way. It was hard, it set his teeth on edge, it made him confused, unsure of what he was doing.

It was you that kept him from losing himself again. He heard your heartbeat, and your cry when Hanlon punched you. You removing the helmet was the final step for his freedom.

“I just hope it’s enough. You know politicians, how they are. You saw how they treated Jean.” You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing.

“You’ll convince them bub.  Quite worrying.” He says. His hand reached out, placing over your arm, his thumb running across your skin in a soothing motion. You nodded, attempting to let his reassurance calm your nerves. “After this, we’ll get some lunch, yeah?” 

You smiled and nodded, Logan paused, observing you before he stepped closer. It made your breath hitch, his proximity to you, your nerves becoming more worried about him now, instead of the trial. Lately, you and Logan's friendship that has formed over the last year has felt to be turning into something more. You weren’t quite sure what yet, and Logan didn’t seem to know either. 

You had an idea though.

The door behind you opened. 

“Ma’am? They’re ready for you.” A young man greets you and you nodded, looking back at Logan. He smiled supportively, and you quickly leaned up to kiss his cheek, before turning to walk into the room. 

“Wish me luck.” You called after you, before the door shut behind you, leaving Logan alone in the hall, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, thinking about how nice your lips felt on his cheek.

You were led to a desk, where the young man- you believed to be an intern pulled the chair out for you allowing you to sit. You quietly thanked him, smoothing your skirt out and setting the papers you were holding on the desk, you looked up and stared at a room full of men in suits. 

“You are here today to present evidence before congress against Dr. William Stryker, as well as numerous other names in this trial. Do you have that evidence before you?” 

You opened one of the files, and one of the first things you see is a picture of Logan. Weapon X. It made you sick to remember him like that. You looked up, lips pulled tight, eyes filled with determination.

“Yes.”

[shortbcofkoffee]

Prequal to this post.

It's a bad idea to do this on a fire escape, Tim thinks to himself. Someone could look up and see, we could get caught. Either way, though, he's not gonna stop Bernard's hands from running up and down his sides. He won't stop him from leaning into him and roughly kissing his lips.

It's good then, he continues to think as Bernard's hands travel lower to his backside, that my cape covers most of me. No one can see what he's doing and even if they could, seeing someone make out would be the most normal thing they'd see tonight. This being Gotham and all.

"Bern," he mumbled into his boyfriend's lips when he felt him give his ass a squeeze.

"Hm?"

"We're outside."

Bernard made an understanding sound and moved his hands back to Tim's sides. And thank God, he thinks again, for dancebelts. Because Bern's hands are soft but firm.

"Maybe we should go inside then," Bernard suggests as he moves from Tim's lips to his jaw.

Tim sighed. He wanted to but he knew if he got in bed with Bernard he'd never get back to the cave. "No, 'cause I'll never leave."

"I wouldn't mind that," Bernard smiled.

One of Tim's hands moves from Bern's back to bury itself in blonde hair. "I know you wouldn't. But then someone will have to come find me. Could walk in on us or something."

"Yeah, that'd suck."

Bernard returned to Tim's lips and Tim melted into him. It's rough and fast and Bernard is holding Tim like he'd disappear. He moves them from the brick wall to the railing. Tim lifts himself up, sits on the railing and wraps his legs around Bern's waist. Bernard's hands settle low on Tim's hips and his thumbs run up and down the V-line to his crotch.

God, did Tim want to go inside and wreck Bernard's bed. Honestly, he wouldn't mind if they did it out here, but he needed to go soon, or else... Bernard stops moving. His breath hitches and Tim pulls away in worry. Bernard's eyes are wide and his expression is a mix of terror and embarrassment. Tim follows his eyeline to the building behind them.

Fuck.

Batman was there. Staring at them. Tim climbed off the railing and glared back. A voice came through his comms.

"Red Robin, report back to the cave."

Tim groaned. "Fine. Give me a second." He turned back to Bernard. "You should probably go back inside. I think Batman's mad."

"You think," Bernard hisses as he climbs back in his window. "Ti- Red, he's gonna kill me!"

Tim cups one of his boyfriend's cheek in his hand when he's finally inside the window. "He won't kill you. I mean, I'm gonna get in trouble, but you'll be fine." He leaned in and planted one last quick kiss on Bernard's lips. "G'night."

"Night."

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE

My son Braden brought in a couple of beers - I'd been cutting back and was on a fitness kick, but this felt like a special occasion. But as he set them down on the side table he knelt down in front of the couch, his thick muscle filling out his black T-shirt and jeans.

I had a good idea what was going to happen. "Um, Brade... this is supposed to be YOUR homecoming," I said.

My son looked up at me. He had a killer smile, and some gorgeous looks he'd partly inherited from his mother, fair haired, ruddy complected, cute dimples. The square jaw, roman nose, and brown eyes were mine, though.

"It is, Dad," he said. God, somehow his voice had gotten deeper during his deployment. "I've been thinking about this for months." His hands reached forward and undid my belt then the button of my khakis.

"You sure, buddy?" I asked. We'd moved past the furtive, guilty phase, but this was incest, and I was always looking for a way to put the breaks on things with Braden.

"Sure, I'm sure, Dad." His fingers skill fully peeled down my briefs and pulled out my growing dong. I topped out at 7 and a half inches, and very thick. Braden had almost a carbon copy of my dick, just a smidge shorter, only I'd left his foreskin on. But he wasn't concerned about pulling out his own meat. Instead, he examined my heft and pulled it toward him. "Sit back and let me take care of you."

And like that my hunky Marine son started to give me a slow, loving blowjob.

***

I've made mistakes in life, God knows, but Braden wasn't one of them. Even if he was the result an unplanned pregnancy - wouldn't you know... my swimmers did the job the first time I got laid at 16. I did the right thing in marrying Susan, and we were a good team, at first. Me working full time even as I got my econ degree in college. And me somehow fitting in my CFA studying in between work and child care.

Susan and I made it work, until it didn't. There was no love and no sex, just a partnership in raising our kid. Braden was 8 when we divorced. The only bad part was seeing my son go through that, and visiting with him only on custody weekends and holidays.

He rebelled in his teen years. Brade was good at sports, or more accurate to say that's all he cared about. He refused to take school seriously, and the more I got on his case the more he actively resisted doing homework. Susan, god bless her, tried everything from punishment to incentives, but Braden was a solid C kid who failed sophomore English and had to do summer school.

I was pissed as hell and tried to give him a tough love lecture. Tell him he was going to fuck up his future if he didn't take school seriously. That was the first and last time Braden talked back to me. Calling me a dumb prick and a controlling asshole who wanted to be a parent only when I was in the mood to be. I was enraged, but I held it in.

After that, it was like something shifted. Brade never became a star student, but he apologized to me. He opened up about his emotions, and we talked through them. I assured him I'd be better about being there for him. I could be a workaholic and that was my way of dealing with divorce and realizing I was mostly gay. I finally told Braden that his dad was a homosexual and may at some point date another man. No time soon. I wasn't sure what I expected but my surly jock son clasped in me in a tight hug. "Me, too, Dad," he said. When he pulled back he was tearing up some. "I haven't told anyone," he said. "Don't have the guts."

That was an emotional connection with my son that I wasn't expecting.

I still had a demanding job but I made an effort to see all of Brade's football games and to catch some of his practices too. And then, in Spring, catching wrestling meets.

I'd been frustrated that my son was growing into a man very much the opposite of me. Then I came to love him for who he was. Custody visits stopped feeling like an obligation for him, and something he looked forward to.

Our first kiss just happened. Maybe there was a little sexual tension there, but Braden and I were hanging out and eye contact grew and a spark happened between us. I leaned in just a little. Braden leaned in the rest of the way. He was nervous, and so was I. But our lust took over. The forbidden aspect made us insanely horned for each other.

We made out and groped each other and stripped our clothes off. Right there in the living room, Braden made a beeline for my hard cock.

"God, I've dreamed of this, Dad," he whispered as he wrapped his fingers around the base and pulled it to his lips. "So much."

"Buddy...!" I urged in a tone that let him know he didn't have to do this. But that I wanted it.

It felt great. That was an understatement. It was the mind fuck of incest and the fantasy of seeing my jock son service me - all come to life. I wasn't Brade's first cock, I could tell, but he was still green. Innocent in his way.

I warned him I was about to cum. He sucked harder and moaned. I watched my hunky son take my load and swallow every drop.

I could taste my cum in our kiss when he finally pulled off and I gripped his neck to pull him in toward me.

"Let me do you, Sport," I urged. I was very much in the receiving is better than giving category when it came to sex, and it turns out there was a good supply of men on Grindr who were happy with that arrangement. But Brade deserved some recip head from his Dad.

That dick was a challenge, and I blushed at how much easier Braden had sucked my big cock than I was doing him. But it didn't matter. I loved the taste of him and the knowledge I had my own son's dick in my mouth. Pushing into my throat with each bob.

Brade went wild. He came buckets. I did my best.

As I finally pulled off and licked around his foreskin the best I could without overstimulating him, I heard him say simply and softly. "Thank you, Dad."

***

I took Braden's cherry the night before he shipped out to Basic Training. He didn't ask me to, and I didn't ask him if he wanted it. I just started rimming him, licking and feasting on his nearly hairless hole before I reached for the lube. As I locked eyes on him and slid one finger in and out, then two, then three, I knew Brade was ready. I wanted him so bad just then, but more than that I wanted to connect with him in the most intimate way before he went away.

Lord knows I'd lectured him about using protection. Even if Braden was the light of my life, I didn't want him facing an early pregnancy like I did as a teen. So I sheathed up my thick piece of dad meat before I slowly entered him.

I could tell it stung, maybe a lot, but Brade was a trooper. Holding on to me. Feeling up the chest muscle he loved. Focusing on the act he'd dreamed of. Pretty soon, he was feeling it, the pleasure of bottoming. It's something I'd tried only a couple of times before I realized I enjoyed topping a lot more. But Braden was getting very into it. His insides opened for me and his whole body seemed to receive the fuck, his thick athletic legs pulled back, his angelic face pleading with me as much as his deepening jock voice. "Fuck me, Dad!" he said aloud into private space of the master bedroom.

My hips began pumping for real. I'd never been so hard or so much in a sexual frenzy. I wanted this first time to last, but I knew it couldn't, not with how worked up I was and how quickly Braden was approaching orgasm. His 7-incher throbbed and jutted off his crunched abs, leaking like crazy, then quivering like his voice.

"Dad!" he hissed, his eyes widening in disbelief. I was gonna get my Brade across the finish line to a hands-free cum.

I powered the last strokes with that goal.

My son's grip on my body grew tighter, an eagle talon's grip, and his voice climbed to a high whimper.

It was a glorious sight watching that teen cock shoot unaided, all over his body. I could smell the fresh scent of sperm and see the light of the lamp make the white splotches stand out more on his still largely smooth body.

I'm the kind of guy who can't cum with a condom on. But I came inside one while I fucked my son. The sensation and physical thrill was incredible, but mostly it was the idea that Braden was fully a man now.

He loved watching me nut, and I could see a big smile sweep across his face, and a laugh came out of him. He was riding some major sex endorphins, too.

"Way to go, Dad!" he enthusiasm.

"Buddy..." I started. "Goddamn..." I reached down and held on to the rubber as I extracted my dick from my son's ass. No longer vice tight I thought lewdly as I watched my condom-sheathed head clear the breach, a heavy reservoir of cum at the end. Fucking Brade had inspired one of my healthier cum loads.

My son's eyes were on that bulbous tip. "Let me drink that, at least," he urged.

Jesus.

I nodded and scooted up in the bed, waving my still turgid dick in front of him. "Serve yourself, Sport."

His fingers peeled at the rubber and gingerly tugged it off. He brought it to his lips and up ended, taking the semen into his mouth like a shooter. Braden moaned excitedly as he swirled my cum in his mouth before swallowing it. That alone was enough to keep me rock hard.

Wide eyed, my son then discarded the spent condom and then turned back to take me into his mouth.

"You're too good to me, Sport," I hissed.

***

I told myself it was sex. Fooling around of the naughtiest kind. My own goddamn kid. The only thing that kept me from feeling completely guilty is that Braden wanted sex even more than I did. Anytime he came home we found ways to get it on nonstop. Long slow sessions at night. Him giving me road head. Us sneaking into a bathroom stall for a quickie. I got a big box of Trojans and learned to carry a couple on me at all times.

We had our first date night. And the next homecoming our first argument. We were still the odd couple, and Braden resented when I asked him what he wanted to do with his life after the Marines.

"You're just mad I didn't clear enlisting with you first," he said bitterly.

"Come on, Brade," he said. But he was right.

I was in the doghouse the next couple of nights, sleeping on the couch. Part of me resented the fact I was exiled from my bedroom, but the fact I considered it mine instead of ours - after all the ways Braden had given his body to me, after all the pleasure we'd had together - was part of the problem.

I apologized. A real apology, not a Bill half-assed apology. I told him I was in love with him.

My big tough Marine son melted at that. He got off of the kitchen stool and met me in a bear hug. "God, Dad. I love you so much. For real." My son didn't show emotion a lot but he was better at it than me. I hugged back.

Then we kissed. A real lover's kiss. A boyfriend's kiss. Soft, sensual. I didn't want that kiss to end, but it did.

"I'm gonna miss you bad, tough guy," I said, running my fingers along his square jaw.

"I'll miss you, too, Dad," Braden said. "A lot." His hand reached down to cup my crotch. I hardened up under his touch.

He gave a soft laugh. "You must think I'm some kind of nympho."

"I think you're perfect, son." I ran my fingers along his T-shirt, eager to feel the hard flesh beneath. "And I'm grateful for every way you make me happy."

Brade smiled but just took in the words. He looked down at my sweats, which were filling out big time with dad meat, getting harder by the second. "I'd so love to suck you off right now, Dad."

"Why don't you?" I asked, my voice croaking. I was getting very turned on now.

Braden's brown eyes looked up into mine. "Cause it's been three goddamn days since you're fucked me, that's why."

We kissed, harder this time, and began stripping one another. I wanted this to be romantic, a slow screw in the master king-sized bed I'd been exiled from. Braden wanted to be bent over the kitchen table and taken like a whore with just a little cooking oil for lube.

We did it Brade's way.

It was hot, crazy hot, and we'd gotten carried away. In my mind I knew we were fucking without protection. And given how much in heat my Marine son was, there was a good chance he was ovulating. But it felt so good being inside him raw. Intimate with my boy like this. My big hunky, muscled boy, taking my dick and asking for more. Calling me Dad as I railed him.

My Dad brain won out. I pulled out just before I came. I only had to give two tugs and I was firing out one of my biggest loads, all over his muscled back. Brade tried to wiggle his way back onto my but I held him apart. My son was definitely in full fertile heat.

I pulled him up and kissed his neck as he went for his cum, my own semen cementing his back to my chest as I growled how fucking hot incest was. How I wanted to fuck my son every single day. I got a little rough in my fantasy talk. Not only did Braden not mind, the scenario I was describing got him to shoot big. I loved feeling him orgasm as I held his body. Not seeing his face but knowing the intensity of his cum from the way his muscle tensed and shook.

We came down from the sex high and laughed at how carried away we'd gotten. I patted his chest and nuzzled my face against him. "All right young man," I said in a voice that was playful even as I meant every word. "You're going on the pill."

***

It was super hard to see him go off again. He had another year on his enlistment contract. I stayed off Grindr and all the apps. No hookups, no dates. Partly it was my desire to be faithful and monogamous with my son. None could compare to my Branden anyway.

My son made a show of pulling out his birth control pills when he was home next, setting him on the counter.

"I've been taking them, Dad," he said proudly.

I laughed, stepping up to him. "You didn't think I'd trust you?"

He shook his head in a way that maybe I didn't trust him enough. "You know I'm crazy about you, sir, but you got some control issues."

"Just wait till you're a father," I said.

Brade got a serious look on his face. "You won't let me be one." His hand was now reaching down to cup my crotch. I'd learned to go commando whenever Braden was home, with just some shorts or sweats that could come off easily. So my son was now feeling a very hard piece of dad dick through some flimsy gym shorts.

My heart pounded. It had never occurred to me that Braden would want to get pregnant, especially that he'd want to be knocked up with MY kid.

"You think about that, buddy?" I asked, looking into his hunky-adorable face and his soulful brown eyes. God, I was so crushed out on my own son.

"All the fuckin' time, Dad," he replied. His fingers now slipped beneath the elastic band of my shorts to make contact with my hardon. The touch of his fingers was electric.

He looked down briefly then back up at me. "I know you're gonna lecture me about responsibility and being ready for parenthood."

"Probably, yeah," I replied. This idea was so crazy, and I needed to put the breaks on it. But my dick sure liked it. And Braden could tell.

"You like the idea, though," he said. He was now frigging my dick as our eyes locked.

"I almost didn't pull out before..." I said with a croak in my voice, getting majorly turned on. "When we barebacked."

Our kiss was intense. And I heard Brade undoing his jeans and could tell he was shucking them down as he moaned into my mouth. He was crazy turned on when he pulled back, breathing heavy. "I wish you hadn't," he said with a half apology, then turned around. Between high school sports and Marine conditioning and plenty of leg day time at the gym, Braden had an incredible ass. Round, meaty, mostly smooth except for a dusting of light brown hair that got thicker in the crack. I'm not a religious man, but some god had given me a gift.

Instantly, my hand was on his buns, feeling up that warm muscle.

"I lubed up, Dad," I heard his masculine voice say.

I ran my finger into his crevice. Even before I got to his pucker, I felt the telltale viscous stickiness. It would be our first time with petroleum jelly. Turns out it wouldn't be the last.

I scooted up. I craved to have more foreplay time with Brade, but this wasn't the time. I lined up my prick into the tacky gel and rubbed it around his hole with my cock head.

"You took your pill today?" I asked. I wanted confirmation before entering him bare. But I also wanted to hold onto that idea of knocking him up.

"Yessir," he hissed. He was backing up some, trying to get me into him. He wanted this.

I reached around and held his body. Even through the T-shirt Braden's chest was hard and warm.

"And if you hadn't... would you stop me from being inside you, like this?" God, I was getting carried away by the fantasy. Particularly as I pushed in, about a half inch of raw dad cock.

"No, sir," Braden replied. Then "Fuck yes!" as I breached him all the way. A homecoming fuck that felt more intense than the ones before. Almost more intense than taking his cherry.

It was awkward fucking standing up. I was a couple inches taller than Brade. But bent my knees a little, and Brade leaned over to brace himself on the wall as I pounded him.

"Love ya, Sport..." I said as I fucked faster and deeper. Maybe it was in my head, but Braden's ass had never felt so good.

"Love you, too, Dad. So fucking much." His voice was needy now.

The words were what I needed to hear as I pounded us both to a heavy climax.

It took me a minute of the afterglow to realize Brade was crying.

"What is, buddy?" I asked with concerned. Jesus, if I'd gone too hard on the boy, I wouldn't forgive myself.

I could hear a laugh come through. "Just happy is all.. fuck! Sorry..."

I pulled him back against me tighter. My dick had slipped out and it all felt very lewd now that the act was done with. It only added to the emotional roller coaster we were both on. "Nothing to be sorry about. Let it out, Sport.... Guess it's pretty intense dating your old man," I said empathetically.

Braden nodded. "Pretty much," he said. "It's fucked up, right?"

I thought for a second. I mean, objectively it was. And yet... "Inside this house, inside these walls, it's not fucked up, Brade. It's what's meant to be, OK?"

He turned and looked at me with an emotional openness that melted me. I wasn't good at this stuff. Relationship stuff, emotional stuff. But I knew I could assure my son in this moment.

We kissed. Softly, like boyfriends.

Then we cleaned up and talked, for hours.

***

Braden was done with the active duty part of his contract and was living with me. Full time, day in, day out. It took some getting used to. I maybe had a loner thing going on, and it was hard to shift from the Dad role to the boyfriend role. And the honeymoon period of homecoming sex quickly wore off.

It came to a head one evening. I had to work late, later than normal, even. Brade had a dinner ready for me and plated it for us.

I was still preoccupied with work, though I gave a quick thanks before digging in.

Braden picked at his food but was sulking. Finally, he set down his fork. "I guess workaholic Dad is back now," he grumbled.

I felt both chastised and pissed off. "Forgive me for making a living, Son."

"It's all you think about."

"That's not true," I said sternly.

Braden shook his head and went back to eating. Maybe he was right, but he was acting like a sullen teen again, goddamnit. And here I was the father who didn't know how quite to handle that.

I did make a point of thanking him again for the dinner and of doing the dishes. "Go kick back, Son," I urged in my best contrite voice. Braden didn't even reply but just got up and left the room. I guess it was silent treatment time.

I'd dried the last of the dished when Brade came in.

"Sorry, Dad," he said.

I turned toward him. "Oh buddy... it's me who should be sorry. You do all this work, and I come home late."

I set down the dish towel and stepped toward him. He was stepping up to me, too. Our mouths met, hungry. This was gonna be me and Brade's first time having make up sex.

"Bedroom?" I asked.

"Yeah, Dad."

We were like kids jumping into a lake, rapidly stripping off our clothes and hopping on to the bed we now shared. His body felt amazing. I mean it always did but I craved the contact now. My hunky 23 year old stud in bed with me, his hardon battling mine as I started to roll him over.

Only he stopped me. "Let me ride you, Dad. Please."

"Pretty please?" I teased.

"Pretty please, sir. I wanna ride your cock."

This was a fun change of pace, my lying back and having Braden lube up my thick cock before straddling me. The penetration was quick, too quick for my son, and he had to rise up before trying again. The second time was a charm and I watched my hunky stud sink down on my bone.

I pumped up into him, but position equally allowed Brade to use his hips to work up and down my dick. It was magnificent, like a slow steady milking motion.

"Fuck, Son... so good, buddy."

"Yeah?" he asked with a smile. "I want it to be so good for you, Dad."

"You have no idea, Sport."

That increased his determination to ride me up and down. "I took my pill today... but if I didn't..." he said with a lust-filled voice.

I grunted. The idea was hitting me hard. We'd indulged some of this talk, but it was coming back even harder than before. "I'd feel a fertile ass riding me," I answered.

Braden had to let go of his cock to keep from coming. "God, Dad... this turns you on too."

"Damn straight it does, Sport. Fucking you... knocking you up..."

Even without stroking, Brade was getting close to cumming. "It's my biggest fantasy, Dad. Having an incest baby with you."

That tripped my trigger before I expected. I was fucking up into my son, but it was the mental shock as much as the physical sensation making me shoot a heavy series of cum shots into my son's bowels.

I could sense Brade was imagining it fertilizing him. His voice quivered and his body flushed pink. And I watched his dick shoot out its thick cum as he bounced up and down hard onto my still spurting prick.

"FUCK!" he gasped.

I patted his thigh. This was intense sex, for sure, and I was starting to return to normal. "Yeah," I said.

Braden eased off and slid down next to me, meeting me in a hot kiss.

After we made out he lay his head on my chest. Like that night I took his cherry. Before he shipped off. Life has a way of coming full circle.

His voice now seemed tentative. "Dad... you know I wouldn't do that, right? Stop taking the pills without your permission?"

I patted his back muscle. "I know, buddy. It's just talk... something to get us going."

"Yeah," he said. "Only if you ever decided it was right..." he said softly.

"I know, buddy. We'll talk about it, OK?"

"OK."

***

Like moths to a flame, we couldn't avoid getting deeper into the pregnancy talk. It spiced up our time in the bedroom, then became our fixation during sex. No longer occasional, it became every single time that me and Brade talked about having kids. Me impregnating him, us imagining his body being transformed by our kid.

I occasionally opened the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom to check that Braden was still taking his pills. I felt bad that I didn't 100 percent trust him.

We tried to mix it up. Braden gave me more blow jobs. He became an expert at edging me, and that felt new and exciting.

My son and I found our rhythm as a couple. Braden got used to my long work hours, and I did my best to make weekends about us. Brade would the first to point out that I wasn't good at romance, but Sundays were Brade Day, when he'd choose what we'd do. I was a big saver when it came to money, but I learned to relax a little. For Brade Day, I'd buy tickets for to catch a baseball game or go see the nearby city football team's home game.

Sometimes for Brade Day, he'd choose to do something I wanted, which was usually playing golf. I'd object, but he insisted that relationships weren't one-way things.

That stuck with me. I'd run through it all in my head why Braden and I couldn't have kids, why we shouldn't have kids. Incest was one thing, but having a child together was another. And the practical side of my personality was persistent. I knew raising a kid would cost money. I had it, but I wasn't sure what job or career Braden had in mind for his future. If we'd be on the same page in our parenting.

OK, my idle thoughts were no longer idle.

It was fun surprising my son. It was Sunday morning, Brade Day, and it took him a while to notice. Even after his cup of coffee he was still groggy.

"Um, Dad," he asked as he walked back into the kitchen. "Have you seen my pills?"

I nodded, with my best poker face. "Yeah, Sport. I threw them in the trash."

He was processing what I was saying. "You're joking."

I shook my head. "Nope. You can feel free to fish them out, if you like."

"Oh fuck," he hissed.

This was like make up sex on steroids. Me and Braden embracing in a bear hug and then a hot kiss. Then fucking on the kitchen floor.

I'd have felt bad if we'd conceived our son like that, but even lost in my fantasy I knew it would be a couple of weeks until Braden was fertile.

But it was decided now: we were gonna have a kid together.

[selfproclaimeddoctoroflove]

It was that time of the year it seemed. Dan Heng hadn't been a sociable person by nature, but he would never go as far as to lock himself in his room for a month, even refusing basic essentials like food and water from the express. Right?

Every time this had happened, it had seemed to take you by surprise. When you had gone to knock on his door to check on him, he had gruffly declined your invitations of conversations. At some points you would get so concerned that you would ask Himeko and Welt of they knew why this happened. Himeko would just laugh and welt would dismiss it. Pain in the ass.

But you were tired of not knowing. Of all the damn secrecy.

It had been a few weeks into his 'hibernation' as you called it, and you had confidently waltzed over to his room, banging on the door.

"Come on! Let me in! Or at least talk to me!" And although your voice was mainly flooded out by the rough banging of the door, you could still be heard fairly clearly. After a few moments of banging, your hands felt weak, and you were starting to get irritated from the lack of acknowledgment.

"Listen here if you dont open this damn door I'm going to--"

"Please.. Stop banging on the door, it's causing me a headache." Dan heng cut you threat short as his voice rang out, however it was clear he was heavily breathing. At His request, you promptly stopped banging on the door, though your irritation was still apparent. Who did he think he was? He finally spoke to you just to tell you to stop because you were worried? You were growing more furious as you balled up your fists.

"Are you serious? I've been so damn worried about you. You lock yourself in your damn room for weeks on end. How do you not expect me to start banging on your door?" You stated with a cold tone. Then you heard a breathy moan escape from the room. You stood in shock for a moment.. Moan... Locked in room.. Could he be?

"You masturbate for a whole damn month!?" You gasp at the thought of it. How the hell is that even possible? A month of non stop jacking off? He must be insane!

No sound was audible from the other side of the door until Dan heng spoke up again, "... Have you ever heard of heat?"

"Yea. Its the thing that makes you sweat."

"Not that heat. The kind where people get... You know..." His voice trailed off and the embarrassment was clear as glass.

"Oh. Your going through heat? That kind of heat... Well we're friends, right? Shouldn't friends help friends?"

And that's where it all went "up hill" (the hills not the only thing that went up, that's for sure.)

You were kissing Dan Heng ferociously like someone gone mad, trying to match his intensity, your lips were together like two ink smudges draw to close together, his hand slowly made itself a home on your waist as you straddled your legs around his lap.

"Aeon, I could just eat you whole.." He could hardly get his words out though, and had to make a effortless effort to try to pull away to speak, even though you both knew he'd come back to your lips like a starved man.

"You might not be able to eat me, but you sure can eat me out," you suggested through breathy moans, a sultry smile spreading across your face. You tightened your legs around his lap and moved to hands up to grab his face and coddle it with a intensity so that it seemed less like coddling and more like man handling.

By now the atmosphere was totally different from usual. Unlike the usual calm and soothing vibe of the room, the room was filled with unspoken desires and fantasies. Ones you have committed to fulfilling.

"Hah... Your right," his words came out in a low, dangerous whisper. It didn't take him to long to maneuver your pants off of you, leaving you in only soaked undergarments. "Your so wet..." he pointed out bluntly, using his thumb to circle your clit through your panties, making you loudly moan out in pleasure.

"Aren't you captain obvious.?" You shot out snarkily. With that, he moved your panties out of the way to directly touch your clit, moving his fingers around it and maneuvering your folds.

"If you keel talking like that, I won't do much more then this," he stated, still playing with your folds. He was incredibly skilled with his hands, having already made you moan out several times.

"Fine, I'm sorry... Please just.. Please.." Your voice was hardly audible however through the heights of pleasure you were reaching. You wondered if march could hear you.

Suddenly, he inserted a finger into your wet pussy, and due to how soaked you already were, his finger slid in like a knife through warm butter. Slowly he started to curl his finger. With his rich technique, he soon hit your G-spot, making you moan out uncontrollably in pleasure. As he slowly uncurled his finger, taking it out, there was a noticeable amount of sticky white cum on it. Underneath yourself, you could feel the sheets around your clit getting soaked with cum.

"Damn it.. I'm sorry, I didn't mean.." However your monologue was quickly cut short. "Don't stress it. I can get new bedsheets. And anyway, I should be thanking you." He said before licking the cum off his fingers, "let's do it again sometime."

[goshikisbaee]

Steady as Stone ᥫ᭡.

[ Aone x reader ]

content: fluff

———

You had always loved the way Aone existed in silence. Not because he lacked words, but because he never needed them to be understood. His presence alone spoke volumes—the quiet way he always stood beside you, the way his large hands would cover yours when they felt too cold, the way his gaze softened just a fraction whenever you caught his eye.

Today was no different.

The rain tapped gently against the window, the soft pitter-patter filling the cozy space of your shared apartment. You were curled up on the couch with a thick blanket draped over your legs, the warmth from a nearby cup of tea still lingering in your hands. Aone sat beside you, his broad frame taking up a good portion of the couch, but you never minded.

He was warm, steady, a quiet kind of comfort that made you feel safe.

You let out a content sigh, leaning against his side, and immediately, Aone adjusted to accommodate you, shifting so that you could rest against him more comfortably. His arm settled around you, careful yet firm, like he wanted to make sure you knew he was there.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on his forearm, marveling at the contrast—rough skin, calloused from years of blocking powerful spikes, yet so gentle when it came to you. He watched your movements quietly, the only reaction being the soft way he let his fingers curl against your side, thumb brushing slow, absentminded strokes over your shoulder.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head up to look at him.

Aone blinked, his expression as neutral as ever, but you had learned to read him well over time. The subtle shift in his brow, the way his lips pressed together for just a second before parting slightly—small details that told you he was thinking.

Finally, he nodded.

That was one thing you loved about him. Aone never spoke unnecessarily, but when he did, every word mattered.

“Just tired?” you guessed.

Another small nod.

You hummed, shifting so you could properly face him. “Then let me take care of you this time.”

Aone’s brows lifted slightly, just a flicker of surprise crossing his features before you reached for his hand, cradling it between your smaller ones. His hands were big—warm, solid, safe. You traced over his palm, fingers trailing along the lines of his skin, feeling the strength beneath them.

“You always do so much for me,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “So let me do this, just for a little while.”

Aone swallowed, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d protest. But then, he exhaled slowly and nodded once, a silent agreement.

Carefully, you guided him to lean back against the couch, shifting so that you could rest against him, arms wrapped around his waist. His heart beat steadily beneath your ear, the rhythm grounding, soothing. He held you close but not too tightly, always mindful of his strength.

The rain outside continued, a soft lullaby against the windows, and you felt his breathing slow, his body relaxing fully into your touch.

You smiled against his chest, fingers lacing with his as you whispered, “See? You can let me take care of you too.”

Aone didn’t say anything, but the way his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles in slow, steady strokes—it was all the answer you needed.

His way of saying thank you.

His way of saying I love you.

And that was enough.

———

[28harryssunflower]

Could you maybe do an angsty one with a happy ending? Harry is mistreating/ not putting y/n or the relationship first. He gets defensive at first when y/n brings it up

I didn’t know what era you preferred, so I chose the 2017-ish era. Hope that’s fine! But in the end you can imagine whatever era lol. It’s just about the picture at the top!

Hope it matches your expectations xx

Gone but not forgotten

It wasn’t always like this.

There was a time when Harry made you feel like you were the most important thing in his world. He used to text you first thing in the morning, send you little voice notes throughout the day, and surprise you with coffee when he knew you had a long afternoon ahead. He used to come home and pull you into his arms like he needed you, like you were the best part of his day.

Now? Now, you felt like an afterthought.

It started slow - plans canceled at the last minute, phone calls ignored, messages left on read. Then it became days without a word from him. Nights where he barely acknowledged you. Excuses that felt emptier every time he spoke them.

And it wasn’t just the silence. It was how he treated you when he was home.

When you tried to talk, he barely listened, nodding absently as he scrolled through his phone. When you reached for him, he’d pull away, muttering that he was tired. He didn’t touch you the way he used to, didn’t look at you the way he used to. You felt invisible, like he had already walked out of the relationship but forgot to tell you.

And you tried. God, you tried.

You made his favorite dinners, hoping he’d sit and eat with you instead of disappearing into the bedroom. You asked him about his day, even when he never asked about yours. You pretended it didn’t hurt when he came home late and went straight to bed without so much as a goodnight.

But tonight, something inside you snapped.

It was nearly 2AM when he finally walked through the front door. You sat curled on the couch, staring at your phone, your last unanswered message still on the screen: When are you coming home?

He didn’t even look at you. Just sighed, kicked off his shoes, and dropped onto the couch like he was the one suffering.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, voice tight. “You don’t even look at me anymore.”

Harry barely reacted. Just ran a hand through his curls and muttered, “Not now.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Not now.”

“Can we not do this tonight?” he sighed.

“No, Harry. We are doing this tonight,” you snapped, standing up. “Because I am so tired of feeling like I don’t even exist to you.”

His jaw clenched, but he still wouldn’t look at you. “You’re being dramatic.”

Your heart cracked, but you pushed through. “Dramatic?” Your voice shook with anger. “I never see you. You don’t call, you don’t text, you barely talk to me. You’re home maybe twice a week, and when you are, you don’t even fucking acknowledge me.”

“I’ve been busy,” he muttered.

“Busy?” You let out a hollow laugh. “You’re always busy, Harry. But you’re never too busy for your friends. You’re never too busy for a night out. You’re never too busy to go to some fucking fashion event. You’re only ever too busy for me.”

His eyes snapped to yours, irritation flashing in them. “That’s not true.”

“It is true!” you shot back. “Do you even realize the last time we spent a full day together? The last time we had an actual conversation that wasn’t just me asking for your time?”

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Christ, I can’t do this right now.”

Your whole body stiffened. “You never want to do this. You never want to talk. You just expect me to sit here and accept the fact that I don’t fucking matter to you anymore.”

His expression darkened. “That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is how I’ve felt these past few months,” you shot back, your voice rising. “You put everything before me. I feel like I don’t even fucking exist to you anymore!”

“You know that’s not true,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Do I?” You scoffed. “Because every single thing in your life comes first. The studio, the tour, your career, your friends. Fucking Christ, strangers get more of you than I do. I don’t even know if you love me anymore.”

Harry’s face twisted with frustration. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes! I am dead serious! Because I’ve spent months wondering what the hell I did wrong! If I wasn’t pretty enough, if I wasn’t good enough. If you just fucking stopped loving me and didn’t have the decency to tell me.”

His whole body went still.

You swallowed hard, trying to stop your voice from shaking. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? To sit alone every night, wondering why you’re not enough for the person you love? To look in the mirror and hate yourself because you think you are the problem?” Your breath hitched, the weight of it all crashing down. “And the worst part? You let me. You let me believe that I wasn’t worth your time.”

Silence.

Harry just stared at you, his face pale, his lips slightly parted. He looked like you had just shattered something inside him.

And then the tears came. You broke, a sob ripping through your chest as you clutched your arms around yourself, trying to hold it all in. But then, suddenly, Harry was there.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. You tensed at first, but then the warmth of his embrace shattered whatever restraint you had left. You collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest, sobbing so hard your whole body shook.

He held you like he was afraid you’d disappear. His hands ran up and down your back, his lips pressed into your hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You clung to him, gripping his hoodie, letting out every tear you had held back for months.

After what felt like forever, your sobs quieted. The exhaustion hit you like a wave, and Harry pulled you down onto the couch with him, tucking you into his chest. His arms stayed wrapped around you like he was afraid to let go.

“I never stopped loving you,” he murmured after a long silence. His voice was hoarse, like he had to force the words out. “I was just so caught up in everything, I- I didn’t see what I was doing to you.” He swallowed hard. “I hate that I made you feel that way. That I made you question yourself.”

You closed your eyes, your body still trembling. “You hurt me, Harry.”

“I know,” he whispered. His grip tightened around you. “I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

You wanted to believe him

For now, you just let yourself breathe in his warmth, hoping that this time, he meant it.

The morning after the argument, you woke up to the sound of quiet movement in the kitchen. For a second, you thought you had imagined it. Harry was never up before you. But when you peeked into the kitchen, there he was.

He was standing by the stove, shirt rumpled, hair a mess, clumsily flipping pancakes.

It wasn’t perfect. There was flour on the counter, a sticky bottle of syrup sitting dangerously close to the edge, and from the slightly burnt smell, it was clear this wasn’t his first attempt. But when he turned around and saw you standing there, something in his face softened.

“Hey,” he said, almost hesitant.

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh… I figured you shouldn’t have to wake up alone again.”

Your heart clenched.

You wanted to be mad. Wanted to remind him that one breakfast wouldn’t erase months of neglect. But the sincerity in his voice, the way his green eyes searched yours like he was hoping you wouldn’t push him away - it made something in you thaw, just a little.

So you sat down, letting him serve you the most uneven stack of pancakes you’d ever seen. And when he poured your coffee just the way you liked it, remembering exactly how much sugar to add, you realized: He was trying.

That’s what the next few weeks were.

Small things, big efforts.

At first, it was just tiny changes - goodnight texts when he was at the studio late, longer hugs when he came home, soft kisses pressed into your hair when he thought you were asleep. He started noticing you again. Asking how your day was. Actually listening to your answers.

Then, the changes got bigger.

One night, when you were curled up on the couch scrolling through your phone, Harry sat down beside you and nudged your leg with his knee.

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” he said.

You glanced at him in surprise. “Out?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Like a real date. Dinner, maybe a movie after. Whatever you want.”

You stared at him, half expecting him to say just kidding. But he didn’t. He just looked at you with this quiet determination, like he wanted to do this, like he needed to.

So you said yes.

And when the date actually happened, when he held your hand the entire time and kept stealing glances at you like he couldn’t believe he had let himself drift so far away from you - you felt the smallest flicker of hope.

The intimacy was the last thing to return.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t touch you - he did. But there was a hesitancy now, a carefulness, like he was afraid to push too soon.

One night, as you lay in bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling, you whispered, “Why are you being so careful with me?”

Harry turned his head, his eyes heavy with guilt. “Because I don’t deserve to hold you the way I used to.”

Your chest tightened.

You turned on your side to face him, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm. “I still want you to.”

He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t,” you murmured. “Not if you keep trying.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you. Then, slowly, carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch was hesitant, but when you leaned into it, he let out a shaky breath - like he had been holding it for weeks. Then he softly and carefully connected your lips.

And when he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his lips pressing into the top of your head - you felt, for the first time in a long time, like maybe things could really be okay again.

Not perfect. Not yet.

But better.

And for now, that was enough.

[melodyreads]

Matchmaker

hamzah x reader

summary: The reader's friend has been trying make a move at Hamzah ever since she started seeing his online personality. While the reader tries to be a supportive friend, her feelings seem to be getting in the way of things. What if he feels the same?

this came to me in a dream, hope y'all enjoy

---

"Oh my god I can't do this"

It had been like this for almost an hour now.

You and your friend Holly were in the bathroom of Mandy and Martin's apartment. Music echoed in the background as Y/n leaned against the bathroom door tapping her foot as she started to get impatient.

"Seriously girl, just go talk to him. It's really not that deep, you're making it harder than it needs to be."

Y/n didn't care if she was being blunt it was what her friend needed to hear. She had always prided herself on being a good friend. Always offering to be the DD. Always listening to the boy's problems no matter how often she recommended the friend should just break up with him. So after Holly begged her to try and hook her up with Hamzah, the answer would obviously be yes. Why wouldn't it be? Being straightforward and honest came easy, so why did she feel she was holding something back.

She gripped the door handle once more, "Just follow my lead, it's all gonna work out."

Holly let out a sigh of relief, "Seriously Y/n.. what would I do without you."

Y/n flashed her a reassuring smile before turning with a more serious expression flashed her face. Y/n knew that this was Holly's first time actually meeting Hamzah, but it definitely wasn't hers.

Hamzah had been talking to Y/n over Instagram DM's for months now. From casual replies to story posts to sending each other random memes, it was easy to determine they would get along once they finally met each other at a party.

It was almost intimidating how well they got along, Y/n admired all the effort he put into his channel and how well he managed it all. Turns out, thousands of girls felt the same way.

With Holly's hand in yours, you searched for a familiar face through the crowd until you ran into Mandy.

She turned around looking surprised, "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you two." Mandy pointed behind her, the boys have been so obsessed with that karaoke machine, I should have never purchased it."

Y/n looked past Mandy to see Hamzah and Martin singing karaoke together as if it were a competition on who could make the most noise. Hamzah wore a pink colored shirt that fit him a little too good with a hat that allowed his dark curls to peak through.

"That's a inappropriate way to describe your friend" she thought silently.

Y/n thanked Mandy before walking up to the boys with microphones. As she approached them she could feel a slight tug on her arm as she turned around to meet Holly's worried expression.

"Don't worry" she mouthed as she continued her way over to the duo. Her heart seemed to beat harder as she reached out to touch the arm of curly-haired boy. Probably due to him being the subject of the night.

As he turned to look at you, Hamzah's face practically lite up at the sight of your face.

"Y/n! Where have you been?" He reached down and hugged you with his one free hand and still held the microphone in the other. "I kept asking Mandy about where you ran off to." Y/n chuckled into the embrace. "I wasn't even gone that long,"

"Felt like ages." He muttered. Y/n tried not to think about how just one arm completely wrapped around her waist and how his fingers dug into her hips just right.

Holly cleared her throat.

"Shoot" She almost forgot why she was here.

Y/n released Hamzah with a jolt as she stepped to the side to introduce her friend, "I wanted you to meet Holly. Holly this is Hamzah, Hamzah this is Holly."

"You said that already" Holly said softly.

"Did I? Well... you get my point." Y/n looked back to Hamzah to see him he was staring back at her almost in disbelief.

Hamzah blinked, as if suddenly snapping out of a daze. His usual easygoing smirk returned, and he turned to Holly with a friendly nod.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Holly hesitated for a second before shaking it, her grip noticeably stiff. Y/n could feel the tension rolling off her friend, and she silently begged Holly to just relax. This was what she wanted, right?

"You too," Holly replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y/n talks about you a lot."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Did she really? Before she could gauge Hamzah’s reaction, he chuckled, looking between the two girls.

"All good things, I hope?"

Y/n forced a laugh, ignoring the way her palms suddenly felt clammy. "Mostly," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "Except for the part where you butcher every song you sing."

Hamzah gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, I was putting on a performance. It’s about passion, not pitch."

Martin, who had been silently watching the exchange with an amused grin, finally spoke up. "Man, you’re gonna pretend like you weren’t just screaming into the mic?"

Hamzah shrugged. "I was creating a vibe."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the slight shift in energy. She glanced at Holly, who still looked nervous but was at least smiling now. That was progress.

"Speaking of vibes," Hamzah said, tilting his head. "You’re acting different tonight."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. "Different how?"

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to figure something out. "I dunno," he admitted. "Just... different."

Holly laughed, breaking the moment. "Probably because she’s been hyping me up for this conversation all night."

Hamzah raised an eyebrow. "This conversation?"

Y/n winced. So much for being subtle.

"She thinks you and Holly would make a great match," Martin chimed in, completely oblivious to the way Y/n’s stomach twisted at hearing it said out loud.

For a split second, something flickered in Hamzah’s expression—too fast for Y/n to catch. Then, he smiled. "Oh yeah?"

Holly nodded quickly. "I mean, yeah. You seem cool. And I think we’d get along?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, and Y/n resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to help, but something about this whole situation felt... off.

Hamzah glanced at Y/n again before turning back to Holly. "Well, I appreciate the intro," he said smoothly. "But I gotta admit, I didn’t expect this."

Y/n frowned. "Expect what?"

He hesitated, then grinned. "You playing matchmaker."

Her stomach dropped. There was something in the way he said it, something that made her feel like she had completely miscalculated. Before she could respond, Hamzah lifted his mic again.

"Anyway," he said, turning to Martin. "We got a song to finish."

And just like that, the moment was over.

Y/n watched as he walked away, laughing as Martin passed him the next song choice. Holly exhaled beside her.

"That wasn’t terrible," she murmured.

Y/n nodded numbly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

--

The night continued as if nothing had happened. Holly chatted away, occasionally stealing glances at Hamzah, and Y/n did her best to stay present in the conversation. But her mind was elsewhere.

She kept replaying Hamzah’s words in her head. You playing matchmaker.

Why did it sound like there was something more behind them?

After a while, Holly got up to get another drink, and Martin was too busy butchering the lyrics to some 2000s throwback to notice the way Y/n was zoning out.

That’s when she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.

"Hey," Hamzah said, voice lower than usual.

Y/n turned to him with a surprised look plastered on her face. "...Hey."

He exhaled, drumming his fingers on the table. "So... Holly, huh?"

Y/n forced a smile. "Yeah. She’s great, right?"

Hamzah tilted his head, studying her. "She seems nice."

There was something careful about his tone, something measured. Y/n suddenly felt exposed, like he could see right through her.

"You don’t seem convinced," she pointed out.

He let out a soft chuckle. "It’s not that." He paused, then shook his head. "I just—I need to ask you something."

Y/n’s stomach tightened. "Okay?"

Hamzah leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you trying so hard to set me up with someone else?"

Her breath hitched. Feeling as though she had just been accused of murder. "What?"

"You heard me." His eyes searched hers, serious now. "Is it because you actually think we’d be good together? Or because you’re trying to convince yourself of something?"

Y/n’s pulse quickened. "That’s not—"

"Because if it’s the second one," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "then I need you to tell me right now."

Y/n swallowed hard. The air around them felt heavier, charged. "Hamzah, I was just trying to—"

"To ignore this?" he interrupted.

She froze.

Hamzah ran a hand through his hair, as if frustrated with himself. "Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I thought maybe I was imagining things. But then you tried to push me toward Holly, and all I could think was—why would you do that? Unless you were trying to avoid something."

Y/n’s heart was pounding now.

Before she could react, he reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t rushed. Just quiet, steady.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he said. "Tell me there’s nothing here, and I’ll drop it."

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. Because she couldn’t say it.

"What would Holly think?"

As if he could read her mind Hamzah sighed and spoke again, "Can you please stop thinking about what everyone else wants and just tell me.. what do you want?"

Y/n felt a pang of guilt matched with a sudden urge to jump on top of the boy in front of her.

Hamzah exhaled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Y/n, I like you."

The words settled between them, heavy and undeniable.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You—"

"I like you," he repeated, softer this time. "Not Holly. Not anyone else. And I think... I think you feel the same way."

Y/n felt like the entire world had just shifted.

Because, for the first time, she couldn’t run from it.

But she was done running.

Y/n placed her hand on the side of Hamzah's face and pulled him in for a kiss that made her forget about every person that could be watching around her.

He matched her vigor as their lips moved against each other with fever. His free hand grabbed at her waist as if it would disappear if he let it go for too long while his other hand softly ran up and down the arm still cupping his face.

Y/n broke the kiss with a shaky breath as she finally spoke, "I like you too."

The moment the words left her lips, something in Hamzah’s expression shifted. Relief. Something deeper.

"You do?" he asked, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

Y/n let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. I do."

A slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. "Then why were you trying to set me up with Holly?"

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Because I was just trying to make everyone happy. I thought... I don't know, I thought the two of you might have got along and I figured that was more important than what I wanted."

Hamzah chuckled, tugging her hand away from her face. "You really thought that would work?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly shy. "It was worth a shot."

He shook his head, amused. "Y/n, I’ve only ever had eyes for you."

She felt her breath hitch at these words.

"From the moment we met," he continued, his voice quieter now, "it’s always been you."

Y/n felt her heart squeeze.

And as he laced his fingers through hers, Y/n realized she had been waiting too.