#and warning people if they see it to stay FAR AWAY

[prettycopperpennies]

They React To You Voting X

GN! Reader Oneshots including

x Thanos/Choi Su Bong/Player 230, x Lee Myung-gi/Player 333, x Kang Dae-ho/Player 388

Description: After making an ally in the first game it is now time to vote, but how will your ally think of you voting X? (this can either be read as a stand alone oneshot or as a second part to this previous post).

Warnings: None

Thanos/Choi Su Bong/Player 230

As the significantly smaller group of people walked back to the room after the first game Thanos, seemingly officially an ally, stuck by your side. His lips moved silently as he rapped to himself, not noticing how shell shocked you were. As soon as you sat on one of the metal steps, you could feel your body fold into yourself. You could not believe what just happened out there.

“I think we were one of the first across,” Thanos bragged to you as he sat down next to you.

You didn’t answer, not really hearing him as he spoke to you. He noticed your wide eyes fixed on the ground in front of you with a far off look. He leaned over towards you, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Hey, are you good?” he asked, dipping his head in an attempt to meet your eyes with his own.

His close proximity pulled you out of your own world, but it did nothing to ease the worries rushing through you. He couldn’t stop his expression from mirroring your own as your head turned towards him. He frowned when he realized how upset you were. 

His finger went to his cross as he said, “You know, if you’re nervous one of these could help yo-”

He was interrupted by pink guards entering the room and everyone gasping and ducking away from the armed triangle workers, you among them. Thanos leaned forward in interest, simultaneously blocking you from the eyeline of the guards as you shrunk back further in fear. They assured the players they weren’t here to “eliminate” anyone else at that moment, nor were they the ones collecting on everyone’s debt. Instead they were here to announce the results of the game.

Thanos’ eyes doubled in size as he watched the stacks of money drop into the piggy bank. You felt your stomach doing somersaults, not nearly as enraptured by the view as the lanky, purple-haired man beside you.

“See? Don’t stress. We didn’t do that game for nothing,” Thanos said in a futile attempt to comfort you.

“That’s not the problem, Thanos,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, not willing to understand what you were trying to get across.

“But I’m watching out for you,” he assured you, “So there is nothing to worry about. You don’t need to worry about them-”

He pointed a ringed finger towards the guards before continuing.

“Or any of them.”

He pointed towards the group of players looking up at the piggy bank.

“And now we don’t have to worry-”

His eyes drifted back up to the ceiling where the piles of cash were suspended.

“About money either.”

The guards started to speak, explaining a vote was going to be held between the players. They were offering a choice: stay or go. As the two of you stood up and waited for your number to be called you knew exactly what you wanted, and with a sinking feeling you knew what the player next to you wanted too.

“We should vote the same, yeah? Since we’re allies?” Thanos said, turning to you. Apparently, he was thinking the very same thing as you.

“Um,” you said, your shyness overpowering you.

You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks as he flung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in a little.

“Vote O and I’ll tell you a secret,” he said with a smile, trying to tempt you over to his side.

“A secret?” you asked, doubting someone this outgoing and seemingly open really had that many secrets. Less than an hour ago he was openly taking drugs right in front of you.

“It’s a good one,” he whispered, ducking down close to you so you could hear him over the din of people moving around. His number was called and he gave your shoulder a squeeze before leaving you to vote O. He turned back, giving you a cocky wink, before joining the other O’s.

You felt your heart pound as your own number was called. You knew how Thanos wanted you to vote, and he wasn’t the only one. There were a lot of players voting O, but you hoped maybe the tides would turn. One game was enough for you.

Thanos gave a defeated huff as you voted X. He watched you walk to the other side of the room, waiting for you to glance over to him. But you avoided his eyes, instead watching the votes slowly grow on the board. He desperately tried to catch your gaze, wanting to talk to you. But unfortunately for him, you two had to keep to your sides as the vote crept on.

The vote was over and the O’s had won. You walked over to the bed you had woken up in earlier this day. You had a sinking feeling you would be stuck here longer than you thought, and unfortunately you had just gotten rid of your one ally. You were just laying down when someone spoke up in the bed next to you.

“So do you not care about any of us?” the player asked, glaring at you from the mattress they sat on.

“What?” you asked worriedly as you sat back up.

“Some of us have some serious debt, you know. And here all you X’s are,  not really caring what kind of world you are putting us back into if these games end and we don’t make enough money,” they snarled.

“No I- I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I just think place this isn’t safe either, and I don’t want anyone getting hu-”

“It gets a little hard and you just run away, is that it?” they asked.

“Back off,” a deep voice said, and soon Thanos was walking up the steps, getting between you and the player accusing you. They took in his tall stature and decided to listen, getting up with a scoff before walking away. Thanos watched with a glare as they retreated. As soon as they left he placed his hand on the top of the bed frame before leaning down to your eye level.

“They’re right, you know,” he told you, his signature cocky smirk absent from his face.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“The life waiting for me out there isn’t exactly a happy one,” he explained.

“We could die in here. Any life is better than none,” you said, desperately hoping your one ally could see your side.

He shook his head with a sigh before speaking up again, “Agree to disagree.”

“Is that your secret?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Thanos felt his heart thud as you looked at him with worry. Nobody cared about him quite like this before, and you were basically a stranger. He decided he couldn’t leave someone as sweet as you to the wolves, no matter how you voted.

“Nah,” he said, a small smirk turning a corner of his mouth.

You noticed that half smile, hoping against hope maybe the two of you could still stick together for the games even though you didn’t agree.

“So, what is your secret?” you asked.

 You absentmindedly leaned forward, your curiosity taking over. Thanos felt his heartbeat quicken once again as you shrunk the distance between the two of you. He wasn’t used to being so nervous around a girl like this. He found the nerves somehow bolstered his ego and he decided to mirror you, leaning towards you till the two of you were only inches apart. As he moved, you finally realized just how close the two of you had become. You blushed as his lips broke into a full smile.

“Don’t you wish you knew,” he said, then with a click of his tongue continued on, “Too bad you won’t hear it. At least this time.”

With that he reached a hand out, tapping a finger twice against the red patch on your jacket. Clearly, he was not above bribery.

Lee Myung-gi/Player 333

As everyone filtered back into the main room after the first game you finally realized just how exhausted all the stress had left you feeling. You were ready to lay down and just crash, but as you approached your bed you realized all your “neighbors” hadn’t made it through. You felt tears start to prick at your eyes as you looked at your singular state. 

Myung-gi hadn’t walked in with you, but he had kept an eye out for you since the first game ended. He watched you crawl into your bed, also noticing the emptiness of the other beds around you just as you had. He saw you suddenly ducking your head to your chest. He subconsciously leaned forward from where he sat, watching your hand occasionally wipe across your cheek. 

He sighed to himself, as if he should have expected this. It didn't help that even before the first game he had decided you were one of the more fragile players. 

You were cursing the lack of privacy in this place, trying to hide the tears slipping down your cheeks the best you could. Apparently, you weren’t doing a very good job of it because soon someone was standing beside your bed. You looked up, spotting Myung-gi looking down at you.

He felt a little twinge of worry as your red rimmed eyes looked back into his, “Are you okay, y/n?”

“Of course,” you said, hurriedly trying to wipe the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. 

Myung-gi glanced around the room, trying to gauge if anyone else was noticing your crying. He was a little paranoid that someone might think of you as vulnerable if they saw and would come after you in the next game (ignoring the fact it was the very reason he decided to offer himself as your ally). You noticed him looking around and did the same. You tried to quell the tears, but you just couldn't seem to calm down.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. 

He offered his hand towards you. You took it, and he gently pulled you off the bed and onto the step beside it. He stepped in front of you, blocking you from the view of the rest of the room.

“Just take a beat,’ he suggested.

You nodded, taking a few deep breaths. You felt your nerves start to calm, although you weren’t sure it was the calm breathing. Your anxiety quieted as Myung-gi kept you away from prying eyes. 

After a few moments those damned tears finally stopped. Myung-gi sat down beside you, smiling to himself when he heard you try to steady your breath; it was still hitching in your throat every so often after all the crying.

“Sorry. It was all those empty beds, and then I started to feel all alone, and-”

As you tried to explain, your voice wavered. You were just about to start crying again when Myung-gi spoke up, “You know, there’s an empty space below my bunk.”

You gave him a hopeful look, not confident enough to invite yourself to take up the bed (even though it was clearly what he had been insinuating).

He waited a few moments for you to say something, but he realized after a bit you weren’t going to speak up, and so he continued, “It might be better for you to hang out there instead of by yourself here.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a flood of relief.

“We’re allies, we’ve got to stick together,” he said with a casual shrug, but he couldn’t stop his chest from puffing up a little when you gave him a smile.

A group of pink guards entered the room, putting an end to your conversation. Myung-gi stood up once again, keeping you behind him as the jumpsuited group approached people. Soon people were begging the guards to give them a chance to pay off their debts, getting in front of them on their knees.

 Your own anxiety took over, and you moved to join them. Begging for forgiveness seemed better to you than just waiting for them to end you instead. As soon as you stood up Myung-gi grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Hang on,” he said, his focus on the guards who seemed to be trying to talk over the crying players.

Soon they explained they were simply here to share the effects of the game, and to conduct a vote. You were watching the money fall into the piggy bank, but Myung-gi was thinking about the aforementioned vote. He knew as he watched those bills fill up the clear container it would not be enough.

You made a move to stand and join everyone else gathering to vote when Myung-gi took a knee in front of where you sat, stopping you from getting up just yet. He grabbed both your hands in his, keeping steady eye contact with you.

“How are you going to vote?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“What do you mean? Don’t you want to go home?” you asked, surprised he even needed to ask.

“Of course I do, but…” he said, trailing off as he tried to find a way to put it. He gave your hands a squeeze as he spoke up again, trying to convey how serious he was, “Listen, I know that looks like a lot of money, but when it’s divided among everyone it won’t amount to barely anything.”

“I don’t care,” you said, tears once again pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“We’ve got each other, right? With an ally we’ve got an advantage compared to everyone else. We can easily make it through one more game,” he said to you, trying to convince you. 

You nervously chewed the inside of your cheek, now feeling much more unsure of what you should do in this next moment. He noticed you starting to waver and spoke up one more time, pulling you in slightly as he did.

“I’ve got you. I promise,” he said, speaking much quieter as if what he said was only meant for you to hear, despite there not being anyone else by you.

“All players please come onto the floor,” a guard said from their spot in the front of the room, looking over in the direction of the two of you.

Myung-gi let go of your hands with a tense sigh before letting you start down the steps in front of him. As the two of you waited for your own numbers to be called his eyes continued to flick over to you, trying to read your expression.

You were called up first, and you couldn’t bear to look over at Myung-gi before walking down the path between the small groupings of O voters and X voters. Myung-gi felt his shoulders drop a little as the tally changed. You had voted X. Your own shoulders dropped just the same as his when just a few minutes later he voted O. You both somehow managed to disappoint the other.

As the voting concluded, you fell into a quiet despair. You couldn't believe the O’s had won. You walked dejectedly to your empty bunk, wanting to just sleep your sinking feeling off. You were stopped in your tracks by your previous ally.

“I thought you might change your mind,” Myung-gi admitted.

“I thought you’d change yours too,” you said. Once again, those stupid waterworks started up and a few tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes.

Myung-gi felt a wave of guilt as he watched you start to cry. He knew this time it was partly his fault, and he found himself hating being the reason you were upset. He had to stop himself from reaching out and wiping the tears off your cheek. Instead, he just stood in front of you, desperately trying to think of some way to make it all better.

“I just want to go home, Myung-gi,” you said, your voice cracking a little as you tried to keep your composure.

“I’ll make sure you get home,” he said without thinking, making promises he couldn't keep. Anything to get you to stop hurting.

“Then why did you vote X?” you asked helplessly.

“I told you, I can’t go just yet. That’s not enough,” he said, pointing up to the barely filled piggy bank.

“Fine,” you said with a sniff, side stepping around him.

He followed you like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, wracked with guilt.

“It’s not like I want to stay here,” he said, trying to explain.

You stopped and turned on your heels, coming face to face with him. You fixed him with a glare, but with your tear stained cheeks and naturally soft demeanor you couldn’t quite pull off being intimidating.

“But apparently you don’t want to leave either,” you said.

As unintimidating as you were, Myung-gi still felt a wave of shame. He couldn’t bear to keep looking into your red-rimmed eyes and instead let you walk away. As you both went to your separate sides of the room, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting over to you.

You had laid down, pulling the covers over your head at a futile attempt of some privacy. Anxiety poked at him as you laid there, not even bothering to get up to eat. At lights out Myung-gi stayed up, his nerves not letting him sleep knowing you were by yourself, completely vulnerable. Instead, he stayed up all night, watching over you from across the room, making sure nothing happened to you. He meant what he said, he was getting you home.

Kang Dae-ho/Player 388

Dae-ho clearly wanted you as an ally, sticking beside you since the first game. The two of you were more than a little shocked with the events that had just played out. The two of you were sitting on one of the many steps among the bunk beds, trying to process everything. Dae-ho glanced over to you, noticing you subconsciously pulling at a loose thread on your sleeve. He reached out, his fingers just barely grazing across your hand.

The gesture managed to focus the anxious thoughts clouding your brain, and finally you stopped picking at the thread. You looked over to Dae-ho, who was giving you a comforting smile.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment, not sure how to answer that. You found yourself getting pulled back into your mind, terrifying images flashing through your brain. Dae-ho noticed your eyes start to glaze over. He shifted his foot, nudging at your own foot. You blinked, once again finding yourself having to be pulled out of your own thoughts.

“Sorry. I just… I don’t know. I guess I’m okay. Or maybe… Not?” you asked, trying so hard to find the words.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a solemn nod.

The two of you fell into another silence, unsure of what to say to each other. Dae-ho noticed Player 456 sitting and talking to another player. He sat up a little straighter, trying to get a better look.

“That’s the player who knew what was going to happen, right?” he asked, nodding with his head in the player’s direction.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said.

Dae-ho seemed lost in thought for a few moments before speaking up again.

“What if we join him and his friend?” he said, sounding a little excited at the prospect of growing your group of two.

You felt your nerves rise up at the suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea. Actually, you knew it was a really good one. But you were never good at making friends. Your shy nature always seemed to ruin every social interaction you had ever tried for, not including the interaction between you and the man sitting next to you at that very moment (but that was only thanks to him). You thought of all the ways you could mess up when talking to possible new allies, fidgeting once again with the new string as you did.

Dae-ho watched you attentively, easily reading the stress in your expression. He moved a little closer, his shoulder gently bumping into yours. As soon as you turned towards him, he gave you a reassuring smile. You tried your best to smile back, but in truth you were worried about ruining his shot at getting more allies.

“Maybe, you should go by yourself,” you said.

As soon as he heard your suggestion his smile fell. You couldn’t stand to see him look so dejected, and you cast your eyes to the ground.

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a little nod. He moved back away from you, giving you space. He chastised himself in his head, thinking he must have clearly misread the situation.

“I will just mess it up for you,” you admitted.

Talking so frankly about your shortcomings left you feeling so embarrassed. You were glad you had already turned your head to keep your eyes facing the ground. That meant, at the very least, he couldn’t see the blush painting your cheeks. 

Dae-ho took a moment, letting your admission sink in. He started to laugh a little, in spite of himself. You looked up with confusion, and he cut his laughter short after seeing how red your cheeks were.

“Wait, oh, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, and without thinking he reached his hand out and brushed it across your flushed cheeks.

That gesture did calm your nerves a little, but did nothing to quell your blush.

“I just thought… I thought you were just trying to get rid of me,” he admitted with another laugh.

Your eyes widened as you spoke up, “No! I didn’t want to get rid of you! Honestly, I was giving you the choice to get rid of me, because I- Oh, god.”

You covered your face with your hands out of frustration with yourself.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not planning on taking you up on that offer,” he said.

“I’m just going to mess everything up for you, trust me,” you muttered through your fingers.

“No, you’re not,” he said with a light hearted scoff.

“No, really. You need allies, and I-”

“I’m not leaving you behind! Besides, I’m not sure how you think you come off, but you’re actually pretty,” he just barely stopped himself from saying cute and instead said, “uh, charming.”

“Really?” you said, finally removing your hands from your face.

His breath hitched in his throat as he looked into your eyes, your cheeks still a little pink as your embarrassment slowly eased up. He could swear kindness was literally radiating off of you. To him, you glowed.

He was barely able to find his voice, taken completely by both the beauty on the inside and out. He was only able to answer with a quiet, simple, “Yeah.”

“Thanks,” you said with a grateful smile, “That’s really sweet of you.”

Before either of you could say another word the pink guards filtered into the rooms. Dae-ho instinctively put his arm out across you, protecting you just like he had in that first game. But soon you both realized they weren’t here to hurt you. They were only here to announce the results of the first game. 

You both turned your heads upwards to watch the money fall into the empty piggy bank. You couldn’t keep watching the money fall, knowing exactly what it represented. It was stomach churning, so when the guards announced a vote you knew exactly what vote you were casting.

“A vote?” Dae-ho said, sounding as hopeful as you felt. You both were practically sprinting down to the floor, not able to get the vote started soon enough.

Dae-ho leaned over to you as everyone chattered, milling around as they discussed what they were going to vote, “Let’s go home.”

You both pressed X, and Dae-ho found you among the group after he voted. He stood beside you, smiling once again. But it was a little more nervous than before. You felt your own anxiety peaking as the tally ticked up and up. You held your breath, so nervous to admit the X’s may not win.

“Why are people voting O?” you asked, not comprehending why anyone wanted to stay.

“I don’t know, but it’ll be okay,” Dae-ho answered, trying his best to reassure you.

“You sure?” you asked, more than willing to believe him despite the very real dangers you and him were both stuck in.

“Absolutely,” he told you with a definitive nod.

You both turned back to watch the vote continue on. As another player voted O, your hand subconsciously shot out and grabbed Dae-ho’s. He immediately gave your hand a gentle squeeze, knowing just how you felt. He held your hand through the entire vote, occasionally rubbing his thumb in a comforting circle whenever another O vote was cast.

You were crestfallen when you lost the vote, not at all sure what to do. Dae-ho was about to say something when you spoke up first.

“We need to talk to those other players,” you said, trying to muster a determination you never had when making friends.

You were filled with nerves, not at all giving a vibe of confidence, but Dae-ho was still impressed with you. He simply nodded, and not wanting to throw you off, he silently followed as you headed towards Player 456’s corner. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you square your shoulders as you got closer. Despite not being able to see your expression, he knew you were trying to keep up your momentary confidence.

He also followed you, although with some confusion, when you suddenly made a hard right turn a few steps away from Player 456 and his friend. Instead you quickly climbed up to the bunk bed above them.

You cast your eyes down a little as Dae-ho followed suit. You both ended up sitting on a high up bed, you with very hot cheeks and him patiently for you to explain what had happened.

“I chickened out,” you admitted.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he agreed. 

You looked up to see him grinning at you, and a wave of relief washed over you when you realized he wasn’t upset.

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to them,” he said with an untroubled shrug. Suddenly the guards were entering again, this time with food. Dae-ho’s eyebrows raised and he spoke again, “Right after lunch.”

[songmingisthighs]

[5.45] boyfriend!mingi × reader (ft. ateez, esp wooyoung)

⇀ birthday surprise gone horribly wrong

⇁ now ya'll know that i watch reddit stories videos on yt a wee bit too much

genre : angst

warning : mingi is a jerk, wooyoung likes butting in, public humiliation,

wc : 2.1 k

buy me coffee ?

"This party is so great!" Your friend squealed, giving you a side hug as you grinned widely in happiness. "I know!" you let her go to face your boyfriend, "And it's all thanks to Mingi," you leaned to kiss him on the lips but he looked away last minute and took a sip of his drink, causing you to miss his lips. "Don't sweat it," Mingi said, or more likely muttered. "I got to..." he trailed off before walking away, pointing at the direction of his friends.

It was odd for him to be so... quiet with you. It was rather worrying, actually.

Just as you were about to go over to ask Mngi what was wrong, your friend pulled you aside to a corner with an amused grin on her face. "A little birdie told me your boyfriend prepared a surprise," she excitedly whispered, almost squealing. "What? What are you talking about?" you blinked confusedly. "Well, I was talking to some of the girls who wanted to go home early because they live rather far but Wooyoung insisted that they stay because, as he said it, they're going to want to," she winked. Still confused, you narrowed your eyes at her, "And... why would that be? It's probably a cake or they want to perform a Britney Spears song in which it would make sense that Wooyoung would want them to stay." Exasperatedly, your friend scoffed and punched you lightly on your shoulder, "Dude! Mingi is going to propose to you!"

Though you didn't believe her, your face went red and you immediately shot the idea down, "No way! Are you crazy? We've been dating for like 7 months, I haven't even brought up the fact that my parents wanted to meet him! I've been so panicked over all this, I'm still thinking of ways to tell him," you huffed. In that moment, you looked sideways and your eyes met with Mingi. The way he was looking at you was like a smoulder, it sent chills down your spine due to its intensity. You shot him a smile and a small wave, hoping that Mingi would reciprocate in the creative, adorable ways he usually does. But this time, he simply pursed his lips and nodded once at you before averting his gaze, rendering you slightly confused but you try to let him be, thinking that maybe he was just over-stimulated due to the crowd of people in your place. Your friend simply shrugged, "I don't know, I know people who got married after 3 months because they just KNOW they're with the one. Or because they got knocked up, I guess. But anyway, I think something serious is happening down the line and I hope everyone's ready to see it."

"Hi everyone, thank you for attending (y/n)'s surprise party!" Wooyoung's voice caught everyone's attention almost immediately, "We have another surprise so can I please ask for your attention?" "Attention whore!" Yunho jokingly yelled from the back, causing the crowd to laugh and Wooyoung to flip him off. "Anyway, as I was saying before some BITCH cut me off, I'm really happy to see so many people here and I can only assume that it's a testament to how many people love (y/n) and if you agree, let's give a round of applause to her!" and the whole room erupted into roars of claps and people whooping you, rendering you shy as you drop your head and tried to hold in your mouth-ripping grin. The attention occupied your senses so much that you didn't realize that there was one person in the room who didn't join the mass, the one person who mattered most to you.

"That being said, I'm sure (y/n) reciprocates your love for her so in a way, we can say that (y/n) loves a lot of people," Wooyoung said and if you focus on his face, you could see a slight smirk blooming, almost taunting, "And recently we found out that there is a person that (y/n) seem to love a little bit more than others." When Wooyoung turned to cue something up with Mingi helping him, you managed to let the words sink in and when it settled, you found yourself confused. What was Wooyoung talking about? The only person who could have fit such a description was Mingi but he didn't look too happy right at that moment. But the biggest shock didn't come until the TV was turned on and you saw pictures of you that you've never seen before/

Wooyoung stepped back and grinned mischievously, "Now, we see just HOW MUCH (y/n) can love a person even if that person is not her boyfriend, my dear boy Mingi." He pressed on the laptop that was connected to the TV and showed a similar picture of you sitting in front of a guy who you had been seeing quite frequently. "Now you might be wondering, who is this well-dressed man? Where were they? What's going on here? Why were they meeting up?" There were at least three more pictures of the same situation from different angles and seeing them felt like you were being splashed with cold water. "Well, I think the right question should've been 'how long did they think they could hide this shit from her own boyfriend?' right?"

People around you started whispering while glancing at you, talking about the fact that you had just been caught cheating. The happy look on your face as you hugged the guy in the picture and the way you simply found comfort in his embrace was not making the situation any better. Honestly, the situation was worse because of it, especially for Mingi who was trying his best to not look at the pictures again. When Wooyoung came to him with those pictures, he didn't want to believe that you were cheating on him, someone as sweet as you, someone who had openly and verbally appreciated and loved him and even made a promise not to hurt him. That was a week ago and Mingi had had half a mind to cancel the birthday surprise party he had meticulously planned for you (it was mostly Yunho and Jongho because had it been left completely to Mingi, the party would just be two pizzas and some beer with streamers as decoration), but Wooyoung had another idea that he thought would be MUCH better. Wooyoung was looking proud of himself for revealing that while Mingi was glaring at you, looking visibly angry with the way he was breathing heavily. "Well, do you have anything to say to your BOYFRIEND, (y/n)?"

Your brain was on the verge of collapsing due to information rushing into your brain all at once, not knowing which, who, or where to address first.

It was then that the front door opened and closed and you heard people gasping in surprise.

How can they not? The guy in the picture in front of them was standing there with a gift in hand.

"What's going on?" he asked, confused, looking around at the people staring, pointing at him.

His voice seem to broke you out of your trance and your eyes immediately watered. Tears of embarrassment started pouring out of your eyes as you looked up at him.

"Seonghwa," you choked out, calling for him.

Seeing you in such a state, Seonghwa's eyes widened and he dropped the gift in panic, "(y/n), what's wrong? What happened?" Seonghwa was about to step forward to you when Wooyoung scoffed, "Of course he's here to hide in plain sight, throwing off people because who would imagine the accomplice to be together so blatantly, right?" Some people laughed at Wooyoung's jab and it was at that moment you completely broke and your dashed to your room. Once your door slammed shut, your best friend stepped up and pushed Wooyoung harshly, sending him reeling a few steps back. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" she screamed, "Why would you make a spectacle like this!?" Wooyoung huffed and regained his composure, but Mingi shot back at her, "Are you seriously condoning her action? She betrayed me and you think attacking Wooyoung is okay? It's bad enough she broke my trust, she HAD to have him here too?" Mingi spat as he jabbed his thumb at Seonghwa's direction.

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed, "Excuse me?" Mingi finally stepped up and went face-to-face with Seonghwa and his 6 ft stature easily towered over Seonghwa. Despite that, Seonghwa didn't waver for a bit. "You have some nerve coming here. Don't you have some shame?" Mingi asked. Still confused, Seonghwa could only stare at Mingi in disbelief, "What are you talking about? (y/n) invited me, what do you mean I have some nerve?" "Can you blame (y/n)'s boyfriend when you were caught getting all cosy with (y/n) behind his back? What were you even trying to do anyway?" Wooyoung piped back up/

When Seonghwa averted his eyes to Wooyoung, he finally realized the picture of him hugging you on the screen. "I was congratulating her on how serious her relationship had become with her boyfriend and I was telling her that I'd have her back when she finally decided to introduce her boyfriend to her parents," he said matter-of-factly. At the mention of being introduced to your parents, Mingi's heart skipped a beat for a moment but he kept his resolve. "And which boyfriend were you talking about, Mingi or you?" Wooyoung smirked.

Almost immediately, Seonghwa's face scrunched into cringe and he reeled back as if he had just gotten hit, "Ew! I'm her cousin!"

The whole room froze, especially Mingi and Wooyoung who looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"What?" Mingi whispered, needing a confirmation.

"I'm (y/n)'s cousin. We met up because she asked me for my help to support her AND YOU when you go to meet her parents. They have been pressuring her and she thought she finally found someone she could bring home," realization dawned on Seonghwa and his initial confusion melted into disgust, "Now, I think she's wrong."

Wooyoung's eyes widened and so did Mingi's. They were left gaping like fishes out of the water, not knowing how to react as they processed the fact that they had just made themselves not only look like idiots but also assholes.

The sound of a door slamming was heard and you showed up with eyes red, cheeks wet, and bottom lip trembling. Surprisingly (to everyone and even himself), Mingi was the first one to rush to you, crouching to look you in the eyes but you simply looked to the side, avoiding his gaze. "Baby, are you okay? I-I'm- I- Can we talk?" It was practically pathetic that Mingi switched his demeanour so quickly, but it was the first thing that he could think of.

"Get me out of here," you croaked, the brokenness of your voice tugged the strings of Mingi's heart as the guilt of what he did started to accumulate. "You wanna get out of here? Okay, we can do it, I'll get you out. Where do you want to go to? I-I can find somewhere or do you somewhere in mind already? I know it's just-" "Seonghwa," You cut him off, ignoring him as you looked up straight to your cousin, "Please get me out of here."

You didn't have to say twice before Seonghwa rushed to you, pushing Mingi out of the way (obviously intentionally) to get you out. When you walked past him, Mingi finally saw the large bag you had in your hand and the sight served as concrete proof of how much he fucked up.

On your way out, Seonghwa managed to scoop the birthday present he had accidentally dropped and momentarily turned around to glare at Mingi, "I'm taking this because my favourite cousin deserves one good thing now after what you did and you can bet I'm turning this day around for her," he hissed before finally leaving with you who couldn't even spare one last glance at anyone else and no one could blame you.

Silence hung in the air for two minutes before guests started trickling out, muttering shit excuses like having a curfew or needing to relieve their cat-sitter until there were just your friends and Mingi's inside. Your friend glared at Mingi and Wooyoung with so much disgust, they might as well have been chin-deep in a vat of butcher scraps mixed with manure. "I hope you're fucking happy doing this on her birthday you sick fucks," she spat before turning and leaving, the other people in your friend group joining. After they all left, Yunho and Jongho stayed back, looking at their friends in disbelief because they never thought their friends could pull something like that.

"You couldn't have asked her first or gather more evidence?" Jongho asked, scoffing. Wooyoung flipped him off while Mingi let out a sharp exhale as he slid down the wall behind him, "Shut up man," he halfheartedly muttered.

Served him right.

network :

@sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @itasluv @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @stopeatread

@yoonjunshi @hongjoong-lovebot

[fernpetals]

Precious

An extension of THIS ask

More of Yandere John Wick and his dollification-kink

Warning: Stalking, manipulation, hints of infantilization, implied restraining, implied age-gap, NSFW, John is soft but dark, tracking,dollification(obviously), a hint of corruption kink

Credit to the GIF owner.

Unedited Piece.

I kind of lost myself with this one. Note that the reader does not understand Russian in this one. So if any of my readers do, I apologise.

Precious. That is what you are to John. He sees you as precious and fragile. Especially if you are a civilian working a regular job. That is the most unfortunate of circumstances for you. Canon John is protective as such. Imagine yandere John—he is paranoid that something or someone is going to hurt you. There is a tracker somewhere in your car, and you are never going to find out. And your phone? He has the right connections—people who have your phone bugged for him.

And most probably, all this happens even before he is ‘officially’ your boyfriend. In his eyes, the proposal is simply a formality, just so that you don’t freak out. 

Once in a relationship, it all turns worse. You don't want to move in with him so soon? It has been a month! His patience is now running thin. This might even be the cause of your first major disagreement or serious fight. If you choose to ignore him after that, even for a day, you are only making it worse for you. Suddenly, your home is broken in, thrashed or suddenly, you are locked out of your own home. The lock just wouldn’t open and it’s late at night. But either way, you don’t need to fear, John is just a call away. Or just happens to have been on his way to your place, to apologise, of course.

Sadly, this is just the beginning of manipulation and gaslighting.

Once he has you under his roof, there is no going back. Isn’t it strange? Some of your bathing and beauty products are already lined up in his bathroom cabinet.

 “I bought them just in case you decided to stay for weekends. I was thinking of inviting you over.”

It is reasonable but you can see through it. Anyone can—he is trying to ease you into living with him. It’s harmless in your eyes, only if you knew how far he has gone and is willing to go.

John loves it when you put on pretty dresses—your closet is slowly filled with more and more of them. Either it is a dress he has delivered to you, or left on your bed, or he simply appears with a random dress in a bag. 

“Thought it would look lovely on you.” 

It is incredible how he gets the measurement right, even before you both get intimate. It’s like his hands have a mind of their own, mapping your form even through simple touches.

The truth is, you are all in his mind, every touch, every trace is imprinted in John’s mind. It takes him incredible self-control to not have his hands all over you. His throat dries up when he gets to touch you, even if it seems innocent, a squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand

Expect random trips to a boutique of his choice, he makes you try on as many dresses as you want, and he wants and every time you give him a twirl, he has to remind himself that you both are in public. If he likes a dress a little too much, he will invite you to his lap.

“Aren’t you a pretty doll?” His eyes have the darkness that unsettles you, just for a moment, before you shake it off

John is a gentleman, a true gentleman. A catch really—that is what you firmly believe. At least until you move in with him and the mask begins to fall. 

Suddenly, you realise that you barely have time for yourself, your closet is filled with the dresses he likes the most and you never go out with your friends as often. In fact, it has been a while since you have gone out. You are always rushing home after work because John prefers that you do not stay out till late. When was the last time you had a night out with your friends?

But by the time you come to realise all this, it is too late, you are so deep in his lair, entangled in his web. It is not easy to keep a sane mind with the amount of times his head is buried between your legs, or his fingers or both. And let’s not talk about what a silly mess his manhood thrusting in and out of your slick folds makes you. 

Like Donaka, John too has a corruption kink. You do not know how cruel the world is, you are a precious angel in this hell on earth. He wants to protect you, he will protect you and take care of you, regardless of what you want but he also gets off at your surprised expression when he bends you to a new position while your pleasure-drunk eyes look up at him. Only he will get to see that, of course. 

What would you do without him? You are going to work? He is dropping you, soon, you will see that you do not need to work at all. He is your protector and provider. You genuinely enjoy it? Well, you can continue what you do as a hobby, what is the need to take the pains of going to work every day?

John does not understand that. As I mentioned before, he sees you as something precious and fragile, a sweet doll that belongs to a safe, cosy, soft dollhouse. He makes sure that you have enough sleep, and enough nutrients and that you do not engage in any ‘dangerous’ activity. You do not need to cook, he will happily do that. If you insist on helping, he will let you mix things up, and even stir maybe, but you are staying away from hot oils and knives.

John is also the type who loves to kiss you on the cheeks for some reason, his lips softly touching your skin has a familiar warmth enveloping his heart. Even during intimate moments, he kisses you all over, like his lips tracing your body.

It is perhaps during the passionate, intimate moments that you get to see a glimpse of carefully concealed darkness. The sweet nothings make you blush. he says things in Russian that you have no idea of-

“You are meant to be fucked stupid and sleep soft and cosy in this bedroom, aren’t you? Why even bother stepping out? I have everything here for you.”

“Aren’t you pretty like this? My precious doll, all dressed up for me.”

“You were mine since the day I laid eyes on you.”

“Should keep you here all the time, huh? It’s too dangerous outside.”

“You need me, don’t you?”

“You are mine, aren’t you? All you need is me.”

“I could have just taken you, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything…”

If you do manage to put the dots and confront him someday, he will try to manipulate you and if that doesn’t work and you still want to leave…Good luck. Besides, he will have a good laugh watching you trying to fight him. Might even be condescending and mean about it.

[pokemonshelterstories]

"impact of socioeconomic status on how people’s pokemon care is perceived," can we hear more about that actually? i'm very curious to hear what you mean and your thoughts on it! if you've talked about it before, can i get a link to the posts?

sure! i don't want to give too much away since i may publish this later, but i spent a lot of time looking at how a trainer's socioeconomic status correlated to the amounts/kinds of welfare issues they were reported for.

unfortunately, pokemon care is something that is widely influenced by the wealth and perceived status of the trainer. obviously the wealthier a trainer is, the more access they have to pokemon with more intensive care needs and to owning more pokemon in general- and in many ways, this is a barrier to lower class trainers toward being able to compete at a high level in different forms of pokemon-oriented competition.

this isn't necessarily an issue in terms of whether or not anyone is entitled to be able to raise a certain pokemon (i still believe the vast majority of people should not try to raise the vast majority of pokemon, just in terms of how difficult it is to properly care for them), but it does cause problems when we talk about who's setting the standards of care for pokemon. a champion-ranked trainer or master contest coordinator is far less likely to have their care or training questioned than someone in low-level competitions. and because of this perception, we see an over-reporting of welfare concerns for less wealthy trainers (this is frequently compounded by factors like race as well), while welfare concerns are rare when it comes to the upper class. the types of reports are different, too, as are the consequences: a lower class trainer might be indefinitely banned from competing because their pokemon's body condition is below average (an issue that can often be remedied with education and access to higher-quality food), while an upper class trainer might get a slap on the wrist and a temporary hold on competition for overuse of pain medications to keep their pokemon battling through injuries.

one of the case studies i presented that really got me interested in this is of a wild absol named kui. kui lived in orre before cipher's invasion, but she disappeared along with all the other wild pokemon. she's recently reappeared and has been spotted throughout the region. she's actually started alerting a friend of mine who does ranger work out there to potential disasters. kui was never a captured pokemon. instead, she was befriended by a member of a native tribe, and while she was allowed to wander freely, she chose to stay among the tribe for the majority of her time. as a pokemon educator, i've been trained to see that as poor pokemon care. absol are powerful and dangerous pokemon, and habituating a wild pokemon like that without catching it is normally something i'd warn against. but that's the way this tribe has been raising pokemon for generations! and the bond they formed with kui has resulted in a positive outcome for both her and the tribe.

i've had to really reflect on my own personal biases in how i view people's interactions with pokemon as a result of researching this. i do still hold to a lot of the beliefs i have about the way people and pokemon should interact with each other, and i still think it's important to educate people on how to care for pokemon in a safe and respectful manner. it's just a good reminder that we need to care for pokemon welfare at all levels without making assumptions based on things like socioeconomic status!

[bedfordxcx]

Keep it cool. | Spencer Reid

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⛧· ·⛧· · ───────⛧· ·☽◯☾· ·⛧─────── · ·⛧· ·⛧

Pairing: Post prison!Spencer Reid x Fem!Loser!Reader (I did try to make it as gender neutral as possible but I do believe some Fem slipped through the cracks.)

Synopsis: In which Loser!Reader works a case with the team, including a specific Doctor you're almost creepily in love with.

Word count: Around 2.2k

Warnings: Reader knows far too much about Spencer, mentions of death and crime scenes, I think that's it!

A/N: Introducing Loser!Reader, yippee! Although, there's not alot of the loser vibes in this (I do have a vision for the future though, comics hint hint.) Might make a vision board for you guys to see where I'm going.

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Joining the BAU is terrifying.

But for you, it isn’t the crime scenes or even the murderers. You’ve been an introvert your entire life, the sort of person who spends more time in fictional worlds than the real one. Friends? None. Social skills? Practically nonexistent. A loser in every way that counts. The very idea of interrogating suspects, chatting with local officers, or presenting your theories in front of a room full of people makes you want to curl up under your desk and pretend none of it exists.

So why do you stay?

For him.

Spencer Reid, the man who occupies every corner of your mind and whose name is scrawled obsessively across your journals. One look at him on your first day—gangly frame, untamed hair, lips that always look half a second away from darting into a fact-filled ramble—and you’re doomed. Completely and utterly bewitched.

Even the way he refuses your handshake that first day, with an explanation about pathogens, leaves you spellbound. It isn’t normal, but then again, neither are you. From that moment on, you find yourself obsessed.

You’re beyond gone.

When Spencer is sick, you swear you can feel the congestion in your own chest. When he takes time off to visit his mother, you stare at his empty desk, imagining his hands rifling through files, the ghost of his pen against paper.

Every moment revolves around him. You don’t just daydream about him; you study him. You memorize his mannerisms, his voice, the way he moves. It isn’t healthy—not by a long shot—but the more you try to pull yourself away, the more tightly you cling to the idea of him.

Now, as Hotch drones on about the case, his voice is just background noise. It isn’t important. Not compared to the gentle, rhythmic breathing coming from Spencer.

And then it happens.

The all-too-familiar snapping of fingers in front of your face, followed by Emily’s teasing voice. “Hello? Earth to Agent Daydreamer?”

Stupid Emily. Always ruining your (non-existent) moments with Spencer.

You blink slowly, your gaze drifting toward Emily as you come to.

“Hm, what?”

You clear your throat awkwardly and look down at the table, avoiding her eyes.

“I... I was listening, definitely.”

You glance at Spencer, making sure to memorize the highlights of his face, the way the button of his nose sits a bit brighter than the rest of his features. You’ll definitely write about that in your journal later.

Before blinking away and staring down at the file in front of you on the table, though your cheeks are flushed from lying.

“And—I—I asked you to stop calling me Daydreamer...”

“Uh huh.”

Emily’s lips tug into a knowing smirk. There’s something almost cruel in the way she looks you over, like she knows, but you quickly shake the thought out of your head.

Get it together.

Just then, Hotch’s voice disrupts the teasing (thank god). “Wheels up in five.” You’re not surprised the team was called in to take this case. Three women, all with dark hair and petite frames strangled to death with no solid evidence linking the cases aside from the MO.

Emily nudges your shoulder. “Ready?"

⛧· ·⛧· · ───────⛧· ·☽◯☾· ·⛧─────── · ·⛧· ·⛧

The trip is uneventful at first. Hotch briefs you on the plane, and you do your best to listen with Emily’s teasing glances and Spencer’s fidgeting hands in view. You jot down notes about the case, but most of your attention is directed toward the man across the aisle. He’s wearing a sweater-vest today, the fabric accentuating the lines of his body.

You start to wonder what it would be like to feel his frame under your hands, to trace the curve of his waist, to kiss your way up to his Adam’s apple.

Your stomach flutters as you watch him. Is it too much? Do your stares linger a little too long? Do you look like a creep when you spend hours daydreaming about the feel of his hair or his skin?

Yes, you think, you certainly do.

But you can’t stop. Not when he’s there, right in front of you, so close and yet so far away.

He looks up, glancing around as if he feels your eyes on him, and you turn quickly back to your notebook, pretending to take notes.

“Where do you think he gets his coffee?”

Emily pulls you from your thoughts, the rest of the team still discussing the case in the background. The plane is dimly lit, the soft hum of the engines creating a soothing white noise. You’ve been staring out the window, eyes locked on the setting sun while your mind worked overtime, imagining all the ways you could make Spencer love you.

JJ arches a brow. “Who?”

“Reid, idiot.”

“Oh! The, uh... the café two blocks away from Quantico—they sell coffee beans for home use as well as the, well, drinks the baristas make..." You mumble, not realizing it might be a little weird that you know such specific details about him.

Why does Spencer drink his coffee black? Is it for the taste, or is it because it keeps him sharp? Maybe it’s routine. Maybe it’s just his preference. Either way, you have that fact on a page in your journal, labelled "What Spencer Likes."

JJ laughs softly. “You think you know him that well, huh?”

But Emily just nods, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You know, I could see it. And I bet he has a little home espresso machine, too.” She smirks, glancing over to Spencer as he continues to talk, his hands flying as his tone grows more and more passionate.

“You know how he likes his coffee?” Derek’s smile is wide, and you can see the accusations forming in his mind.

“You’re drooling, sweetheart,” Emily teases, her voice a low whisper.

You pout. “Am not.”

But despite your denial, you raise a hand to your lips to check for drool anyway.

But you aren’t drooling. No, you’re so far gone that just staring at him lights up the pleasure centers in your brain. You have pages upon pages of notes just like this, detailing Spencer’s preferences and likes from the way he takes his coffee down to what you think is his favorite color (you haven’t confirmed, you are just that good at picking up on subtleties like his tie choices and such). But your lips might as well start to water, because now you’re imagining him pulling you in close, whispering all your favorite facts into your ear.

Does he ever whisper secrets to anyone? Is he the type to fall asleep talking about his passions? These were the thoughts you had before bed the night before this case, and you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in bed with Spencer, both of your bodies tangled together as he whispered to you, lips brushing the hollow behind your ear. Would he ask how your day was? Would he press kisses onto your skin, and tell you about one of the many facts he has stored away?

These thoughts are getting out of hand.

You don’t even notice the conversation has ceased until you look up and see everyone with their eyes on you.

Oh. They’d asked a question.

It wouldn’t be out of character for you to space out like this. You’re notorious for it. But still—it’s a bad habit, one you’ve tried to kick since your undergrad.

Spencer’s brow furrows ever so slightly as Hotch speaks. “So what do you think?”

“Well, from what you were reading in the file,” Hotch presses, waiting expectantly.

Is it a good answer? A bad answer? Are you supposed to respond? “Uh... what?”

A voice pipes up. Emily.

“Maybe it’s his first time out. Just a thought,” her voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it.

The rest of the plane ride is uneventful. Spencer spends most of his time reading, his lips moving as if reciting the words under his breath. You’d do anything to be that book. You bet it smells like him.

When the plane touches down, it’s already late afternoon, and the local precinct is eager for your help.

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The first victim’s house still smells of death.

You keep your face behind your collar as the M.E. walks you and Emily through the house, describing the scene with a level of morbid detail that makes you question your career choice. Spencer follows, his eyes scanning every corner, his lips moving in quiet conversation. It might be your imagination, but he seems closer than usual, his arm brushing against yours as he leans in to whisper something about the blood pattern.

Stay calm. You’re on a case. People are dead. Focus.

After the scene tour, the team splits up. Hotch and Prentiss go to the station, Rossi and Morgan check into hotel rooms, leaving you alone with Reid.

Alone. With Reid.

Emily flashes you a wicked grin before heading out, and you make a mental note to smother her in her sleep. How dare she leave you alone with Reid and look that smug?? Just to make it worse, she winks. Ugh.

Spencer glances at you. "I don't know about you, but I always work better with caffeine in me."

⛧· ·⛧· · ───────⛧· ·☽◯☾· ·⛧─────── · ·⛧· ·⛧

The local coffee shop is relatively empty—just you and Spencer, the coffee machines hissing and gurgling in the background. You sit at a small table, a file open between the two of you, as Reid leans forward, fingers tracing the line of text.

“See the marks on her neck here,” he says, gesturing to the grisly photos. “That’s consistent with a rope or cord of some sort. But look at the angles. The depth.”

His finger travels up and across the photo, drawing your eye to the bruises.

“It’s not just strangulation.”

“It’s an odd pattern, though.” His voice has that familiar excitement to it, the kind that comes with unraveling a mystery. “It could indicate a signature, something personal to the killer. We should look into that more.”

Is his voice always this smooth? Are his lips always this pink? You’ve never seen him this closely before, at least not sober and awake.

Your gaze roams over his face, noting the way his tongue dips out to wet his bottom lip, the creases at the corners of his eyes.

Focus, focus, focus.

“And we could then link all of the victims together then.”

“Exactly!” He flashes you a grin, a real one this time, all teeth and crinkled eyes. It’s so damn cute you can barely breathe.

“Maybe he’s got a type, you know. A certain look, height—”

You can’t help but imagine Spencer pressed against your body, his breath on your neck, the rough stubble of his jaw dragging across your skin as he plants those damn perfect lips right behind your ear.

The warmth in his voice makes your stomach clench. You’re so close. If you leaned just a little bit forward, you could be kissing him. What’d he do? Would he pull back? Would he grab you and push you against the coffee counter? Would he pull your hair and bite your lips and whisper facts about how hot he thinks you are?

You can be a type.

“Mmhmm, a specific look, maybe... he wants revenge on someone who looks that way? And he’s working his way towards her. An endgame.”

The tension is almost palpable. You shift in your seat, trying to keep the air cool, to not let on how much you want him.

Spencer’s lips part slightly as he speaks, his tongue darting out to wet them. You can’t help but wonder if he tastes as good as he looks, like coffee and sugar and that je ne sais quoi that makes him… him.

You’re staring at him. You know you are. You shouldn’t be, but your eyes keep flitting between his lips, his hands, his eyes—you haven’t looked down at the file in what feels like forever.

You probably look like a creep, but you can’t help it. Every movement of his, every shift in his voice, sends a wave of warmth through your body. Maybe it’s obsession, maybe it’s hormones talking.

“The victimology might hold some clues,” he says.

“...probably, it usually does.”

“Right.”

Spencer licks his lips, his gaze lingering on the files scattered in front of you. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit you’ve noted when he’s deep in thought. If you had it your way, you’d have your fingers knotted in his hair, pulling him close as you kiss the curve of his jaw…

But for now, you’re here, in the coffee shop, trying to untangle your feelings for Spencer from the case at hand.

The smell of coffee and the hum of the evening news serve as a backdrop to your internal struggle.

Keep it cool. Keep it cool. Keep it cool.

[scoobywrites690]

maybe… könig who inexplicably is (and i will not be challenged on this) a cat person!! back at home, he’s got two cats, both of whom tend to turn their noses up at other people-except for you. his relatively new- especially given that he struggles with people *cough* women *cough*-girlfriend. he expects his cats to treat you like they treat everyone, quiet distaste and complete disinterest in being around you. to his shock, his cats seem to think you’re fine; they actually quite like you. i’d imagine this would stir some intense feelings in our giant austrian man… however u choose to go with that :P

it’s okay if this ask is too specific!! just thought i’d throw it out there because i miss my kitty so bad:(

This is so unbelievably cute! gosh I can't. just imagine this big brute of a man coming home from his big manly job to just have two pure fluff balls waiting for his arrival. and i totally agree he is most definitely a cat man, he loves when a cat comes running to him when he's out and he makes the kissy sound at them.

Hope you enjoy💕

This big brute of a man, who just has to step into a room and it doesn't take long for him to have people cowering underneath his gaze, this man who's classed as a literal battering ram at his big boy job.

How two little black voids waiting for him at home, two little voids that come running when they hear the key hit the lock, who are ready and waiting for when the door swings open and their owner is on the other side. greeting him with many meows as he struggles to make it through the door without trampling anyone as they weave in between his legs.

Desperately waiting for him to sit down so they can jump straight into his lap. Rubbing their heads in to him as they purr loudly. Happy to have their dad home and safe.

König found them out back of his apartment complex when they were just tiny little things, he almost didn't see them until a little meow caught his attention. And there they were, huddled together trying to shelter from the rain by some bins where two tiny little kittens, shivering together from the cold.

His heart broke at the sight, and without even thinking about it he scooped them both up pulling them close to his chest as he carried them to his apartment. König actually ended up phoning and saying he had some sort of flu and he couldn't come to work just so he could stay home and be there for when his new babies needed their next feed.

This massive man with a tiny kitten in one hand and an even smaller animal bottle in the other as he made it his mission to keep these babies alive.

So with them having spent their life with König always around they are very attached and even more protective of their dad. If König has some of the team come back to his, they won't pay any attention to them. purposely waiting for them to crouch down to say hello for them to stick their noses in the air and walk away with their tails held high.

(They're sassy little things)

Refusing to go anywhere near their dads friends. if they sit on the same sofa as them they'll get up and go lay on the other one. sometimes even going as far as leaving the room all together. waiting for them to leave before coming back out.

König eventually came to the conclusion that it would always be like this and just to accept it no matter how much he asked them not to (i believe this man fully talks to them like actual children)

That was until König brought you home. He'd been on a few dates with you coming back with a smile plastered across his face each time. But this time you both decided that a nice chilled out evening together would be nice, just to order some food, put some shitty show on the TV and enjoy each other's company. So that's what you both did.

Now König did tell you that he owned two cats, and when your face lit up with this news he couldn't help but warn you that they aren't too keen on strangers and that they can actually be quite rude.

so with this knowledge in mind when he answered the door to you, the cats already scowling at the sound of the doorbell. You greet König, giving him a soft peck to his cheek before sitting down in the living room and not paying them any attention.

Now this is what gets their attention. Becoming so used to people begging for their attention to now have someone come in and not even be fazed by their presence had them getting up from their cuddle pile and investigating.

With König in the kitchen trying to locate the menu of the local takeaway down the road, he's completely unaware of the events unfolding in his living room.

One cat coming right up to you and giving you a good old sniff, sniff of your hand, sniff of your arm. getting an understanding of this new person. The other one just sits next to you and stares. eyeing you up. almost in a challenging way. but you just sit, not attempting to pet them you just let them do their thing.

And next thing you know you've got one nudging its head into your hand asking for a good scratch behind the ear before laying down next to you, purring loudly. as the other one slowly clambers its way into your lap, curling itself into a ball and going back to sleep.

When König finally enters the room with a menu in hand he's dumbfounded at the sight in front of him. never did he think he'd see his cats loving up on someone that wasn't him, yet here they are purring away as they cuddle up next to you.

(almost feeling a bit betrayed by them)

The sight of the scene in front of him had his insides doing something weird inside of him. He's never felt this feeling before, it's like a load of butterflies just hatched inside of him and are flying about the place. His pulse quickening, heart beating faster than before. as he stares at the three of you all together in his living room.

He's not sure what's happening to him but he's not complaining.

(i wrote this in an hour because the words just kept flowing, i couldn't stop. i just kept writing. might have to write about cat dad Konig more in the future because i love this🤭)

[mattnickchrisfan]

the games we play - m.s

warnings: pure fluff, tension, dirty talk (not in a sexual way just like flirty banter)

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

"The Games We Play"

Matt Sturniolo had never been the type to chase people. It wasn’t his style—he was chill, laid-back, and let things come naturally. But then… you walked into his life.

It started innocently enough. You were a part of their usual group of friends, someone who everyone liked and who always seemed to be the center of attention. Matt would catch glimpses of you during hangouts, never thinking much of it. You had that reputation, after all—flirty, charming, and the kind of person who never stayed too long in one place. You didn’t get too attached to anyone.

And then, one day, his world shifted.

It was a typical Friday night at Nick’s place, the usual mix of friends piled up on the couch, chatting, laughing, the room filled with comfortable chaos. Matt was at the far end, trying his best to focus on a game, but every time he looked up, there you were—talking to someone, laughing, throwing that playful look around the room, as if you had the power to make everyone hang on your every word.

But when your eyes landed on him, the air shifted. The playful glint in your eyes held something else—a challenge, maybe. You leaned back against the couch, your attention now fixed solely on Matt.

“Hey, Matt,” you said, voice low, teasing. “You seem awfully quiet tonight. Something on your mind?”

Matt’s heart skipped, and he nearly choked on the soda he was sipping. He wasn’t sure if it was your tone or the way you were looking at him, but it made his stomach tighten in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Nah, just focusing on the game,” he muttered, immediately regretting how awkward he sounded. He could feel his face heating up.

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, clearly unconvinced. “You always look so... serious when you play.”

Matt shrugged, forcing his gaze back down at the game in front of him, but the problem was, he couldn’t focus. Not when you were so close, looking at him like you were trying to figure him out. He hated that feeling—that feeling of being under a microscope, like you could see right through him.

“I’m not serious,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him, and a small smirk tugged at your lips. “Mmm, you sure? You seem kind of... intense tonight.”

You were doing that thing again—making him feel like he was in a game he didn’t know the rules for. The way you spoke to him was different from how you talked to everyone else. There was something almost dangerous in it, a challenge that Matt wasn’t sure he was ready to accept.

But despite the way his stomach fluttered nervously, he didn’t back down. “Not intense,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just... trying to win.”

“Is that so?” You leaned in a little closer, dropping your voice to a teasing whisper. “Well, you should know—I’m the one who always wins.”

And just like that, the tension shot through the room like an electric current. Matt’s heart was racing, but he didn’t want to show it. He knew you were just playing with him, messing around as you always did with everyone, but there was something about the way you said it—something that made Matt’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Yeah?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping an octave. “What if I told you I wasn’t afraid of losing?”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, and for a moment, the whole room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you now, locked in this little battle, your words dancing around each other like a slow-burning fire.

“You sure about that?” you whispered, barely an inch away now. The scent of your perfume—sweet but spicy—was making Matt’s head spin. “Because I don’t lose, Matt. And I’m not sure you’re ready to play my game.”

Oh, God.

Matt felt his heart rate spike, but he refused to look away, even though everything inside him screamed to look down, to break the intensity that was building between the two of you.

He was already in deep, though. You had him, and you knew it. But for once, he wasn’t pulling back.

“I’m not sure you know how to play a fair game,” he muttered, unable to hide the smile creeping on his lips.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving upward into that infuriatingly perfect smirk of yours. “I don’t play fair. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

The words were a challenge, a dare. And as much as Matt wanted to hold his ground, he couldn’t help but be drawn in by your confidence, by that ever-present allure that seemed to surround you.

He glanced over at Chris and Nick, who were blissfully oblivious to the silent war happening between you and him. The world seemed to have narrowed down to just the two of you. The air was thick, like you were both holding your breath, waiting for someone to make the next move.

It was a moment that lasted forever.

“Maybe that’s why I like you,” Matt said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You blinked, caught off guard, your smirk faltering just a little. “You like me?” You said the words slowly, as though testing them on your tongue.

“Yeah,” Matt replied, his voice quieter now, almost shy in contrast to his usual cocky demeanor. “I like the game you play. Even if I’m not sure I know how to win.”

The moment hung between you, thick with unspoken feelings. You stared at him for a long time, and Matt thought maybe he’d messed it all up. Maybe he’d pushed you too far. But then, slowly, your expression softened.

“You’re cute, Sturniolo,” you murmured, voice surprisingly tender. “You know that?”

Matt felt his breath catch in his throat. Was this... was this happening?

He cleared his throat, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions flooding through him. “So, what now? Do I just keep playing and hope I’m not losing?”

You leaned closer again, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. His heart pounded, his hands twitching at his sides, desperate to do something—anything—to break the tension. But you held his gaze, not backing down.

“No,” you said softly, just before your lips brushed against his ear. “Now, you stop pretending like you don’t care... and admit that you’re already in way deeper than you ever thought.”

Matt’s breath hitched as your words settled into him, every nerve ending buzzing with the realization that this wasn’t just some playful back-and-forth. This was real. And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t want to run from it.

“You’re playing with fire,” Matt whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You looked at him with that same, daring spark in your eye. “I know,” you said, grinning. “And I think you like it.”

And for the first time, Matt didn’t bother denying it.

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

a/n: woah why is fluff lowkey so fun to write? hope you guys enjoyyyyy

[monjustmontemp]

I think there's an aspect to which Spirit Away is a story about the struggle of dependence and independence, the value of transactions vs. emotional connections.

Chihiro is a child, is dependent on her parents, and thus cannot control much about her life. She is leaving her previous life behind through no choice of her own. If her parents go down the creepy entrance, she cannot go anywhere else except with them, or stay lonely in the car. Staying is, of course, a choice, but for a girl so young and scared, it does not feel like it.

Chihiro is then dependent in the system of the Bathhouse, she must work to survive, which is very much simply capitalism with an extra layer of supernatural threat, and a criticism. Chihiro is immediately insulted, loses her name, and her sense of identity, but also gains a new level of confidence. Living in this hostile environment makes her surer of her capabilities, even if she would be unable to use those capabilities for herself without the connections (Haku) that remind her of herself.

She then uses those capabilities to free herself, her friend, and her family from this system.

So she goes from being dependent on her family, to being dependent on a system, to being reliant on her friends, to then her friends and her family depending on her. At the end, she even calls her boss, Yubaba, granny. She recontextualizes her whole relationship with her, with this being who harmed her spiritually, who would not have let her free, who turned her parents into pigs, but gave her the means she needed to survive in this spirit world. This makes Chihiro view the whole experience, perhaps, somewhat nostalgically, like a learning experience more than a tribulation. Chihiro leaves with a new wealth in emotional connections.

The movie presents a problem, and then a solution. Capitalism will commodify you, objectify you, but you can remain human by building up your community, through which you will find and protect your identity. You can imbue non-monetary value into the world that surrounds you. Very much a No Man Is An Island message.

In there, I think, also a warning about consumerism. Chihiro's parents are changed by consuming carelessly, made entirely dependent and beholden to Yubaba, made into animals, into property (because capitalism turns living beings into objects.) No Face sees other people seek things, and so he seeks things, he consumes and consumes, but this does not make him feel fulfilled. If anything, he is sickened by it, and can only heal once he receives emotional care, in the form of Chihiro sacrificing something for his well-being (which literally makes him vomit away that which he consumed.) The workers of the bathhouse are made into meals, sell themselves out, when they take No Face's gold. The take-away there, if I had to define it, is that this attachment to things rather than people... makes you more dependent, more vulnerable, and more isolated.

I think it is easy to relate to Chihiro's fear, at both being alone and being presented with unfamiliar challenges. I find it especially easy to understand the disconnect to oneself when one is doing that which is not for oneself but due to obligation, and that finding that balance where work can be meaningful, where you can help others with it, like with the River Spirit, is the key to a self-fulfillment that also means being in harmony with society.

Like all of Studio Ghibli's movies that I've seen so far, this movie seeks to help maintain emotional health in our materialistic and hectic world. It tells us how to survive intense work cultures (like Japan's is often described as) but also tells us to escape them, which is truly universally relevant.

[tokkiiibunny]

Chick Habit | Megumi Fushiguro

09: Lonely Hearts Club

Warnings: name calling, more threats

Words: 1 k

Mainlist

I feel like if I'm too kind

Then you will only change your mind

Take advantage of my heart

And I'll go back into the dark

Maybe you should be a little suspicious of Megumi, you should already know that kindness is not normal for him but, who cares?

"But I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

You'd been officially dating Yuji for a week and you knew you should feel happy, but that weird feeling stayed in you.

You had been seeing megumi after school for days, after the kiss in your bedroom nothing else had happened with megumi, of course the guilt ate away at you but you felt alone and Megumi was the closest thing you had to a friend, you knew there was something wrong with him but it's not that you wanted to get involved.

"He's sweet and good and handsome and funny but..."

"But?"

"It's complicated."

"Have you slept with him yet?"

You grimaced at his question "Don't be weird."

A small mocking smile appeared on his lips "I'm not, he just hasn't told me anything and usually he tells me everything."

"Maybe it's just that he likes to keep it private."

"or just that nothing has happened."

You rolled your eyes but a soft blush appeared on your cheeks. "Just shut up."

"Why?" Basically because Yuji was a gentleman and you hadn't tried to make any breakthroughs either, you'd already gone far enough to take another step.

"I don't know, it would be weird."

"Don't you want to compare him to Sukuna?"

"Holy God, don't be disgusting, Megumi." You threw a pillow at him  And he chuckled, It was weird as sometimes it could be nice and other times mean as fuck.

"Fine I'm going to shut up." But the smirk did not disappear from his lips

"Do you have plans for Saturday?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because Yuji invited me to the Halloween party and I don't know."

"Is there anything you know?" He mocked you but not in the rude way he used to.

"Stop bothering, I mean I'm not sure Yuji is too social and I know I'm not going to feel comfortable."

"Hmm, maybe I'll go." And it was enough to make me smile, you knew that Yuji was probably surrounded by People and Nobara wasn't going to go so it would be nice to have someone to talk to.

The afternoon was quiet, you liked it when things were like that, but lately nothing was going well for you and this would not be the day you could finally be at peace.

As the movie you had chosen was halfway through, Megumi spoke again, interrupting the calm.

"you should leave Yuji." And there he went again, you hated it when that happened, it seemed like megumi just couldn't stand too long without trying to start trouble again.

"No."

"Why? You don't even like it, you said it over and over again."

"but..." He interrupted you even though you didn't even know what you were going to say, what lie to invent or excuse to make.

"But you're an attention whore." Sometimes you wanted to punch him in the face, you hated it when he acted like he was absolutely right about you.

"shut up."

"Don't get upset, I just say what I see Yn, don't be offended" It was also annoying as he said things like that completely calm and then you felt stupid for letting him get you out of your mind.

"You're just being mean on purpose again."

"It could be worse and you know it."

"Why You insist so much with this?" Since you had started dating Yuji your fights were about the same thing, it was over and over again the same topic, you were tired.

He was silent for a moment that felt eternal, you were tired of not having answers from Megumi, he was completely changeable, one moment you both are fine and the next it seems that he hates you again.

"Because I know you're not good, you're not enough for Yuji. You slept with his brother, you talk and talk about how you don't like him and you kissed me twice." You hated it, none of that was his problem, well maybe the kisses but you still hated that he will remind you.

"Shut up, I didn't even know him when I was with Sukuna, I'm just confused and YOU kissed me when he wasn't my boyfriend yet." You tried to justify yourself even though you knew it was a weak defense.

"You just try to justify yourself but you know you're wrong, you look terrible."

You rolled your eyes, you were frustrated and angry and the last thing you needed was feedback on your appearance. "Thank you, how kind."

"I'm serious, do you really look bad, tired, sad, what's going on?"

"Nothing." Megumi leaned over to you and put his hand on your cheek, but you slapped it away, "don't come close."

"Because you know you're not going to reject me."

"You don't know what I'm going to do."

"I put you to the test twice and both times you failed."

"Stop talking like you're a mastermind, you kissed me because you wanted to." You hated that he spoke as if he knew you, you hated that he spoke as if he had some control over you, you hated when he gave orders as if he knew you were going to obey him, you hated his threats, you hated his insults, but you didn't hate him... hope that he would change had vanished but you still kept calling him every time you felt alone, every time you wanted a friend.

He clenched his fists and his expression tightened When you called out his actions ."What do you know? You just want to believe that because you don't want to feel like the little slut you are."

"You're a fucking psychopath Megumi." You didn't know he was wrong with him, but you didn't have to be very smart to know he wasn't normal.

"You're a lying whore." Megumi got out of your bed and walked to the door of your bedroom "If you arrive at that party with Yuji on Saturday, I'm going to show you how bad I can be."

"Don't threaten me."

"It's a promise Yn."

He left leaving you alone...

Notes Area:

>This was just a Filler honestly

>Suggestions, feedback, and comments are welcome.

Taglist (open) :

@soobinbunnie5 @anonymity-222 @hanakalovesbnha @starrysho @sylussss7 @Shortcakebbg @Szired @briezy04764

[thefloatingstone]

In case nobody has seen hippo teeth

You ever think about how weird hippos are ecologically speaking?

There's literally no other megafauna on earth that spends the entire day lounging around in water, mostly just socializing, only to come onto land to feed at night.

I remember when I used to do education programs on hippos, most people assumed they ate aquatic plants, and that that's the whole reason they were in water. Meanwhile, hippos are basically just giant nocturnal cows that eat only grass.

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[orcelito]

I was on call for nearly 7 hours between streaming my samurai game, watching anime, and then just chatting some. Which was really great for getting my mind off things!!! Hung out with a good assortment of friends, which was pretty great.

Though. Now I'm alone again. Which I usually enjoy. But it also has me remembering why I was on such a long call to start with...

I have therapy tomorrow, and I don't know whether I should mention this. She's primarily my grief therapist, so it'd maybe feel weird to spring something else on her... but I don't know...

[buckiverse]

Lessons

☆--- paring: zayne x reader

☆--- summary: Your childhood best friend, Zayne, had always been there for you, loyal, supportive, and understanding. So, when you realized you had a crush on Caleb, you turned to him for help. Taking it upon himself to be your guide, Zayne offered to teach you a few lessons in love. But as the lessons progress, you start to wonder... was Caleb really the one you wanted all along?

☆--- word count: 9.9k

☆--- warnings: mdni, oral sex, fingering, missionary, zayne is literally so jealous, caleb is kinda the boy best friend you tell your boyfriend not to worry about ngl, reader is inexperienced, soft!dom zayne, size kink if you squint, zayne knows you so fucking well it's sickening (he's just so sweet), no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: loosely based on nightly rendezvous (yes im doing a childhood best friend au for everyone... i fear im obsessed)

↳ xavier | sylus | caleb | rafayel

Some part of you felt like it was a bad idea—you knew better. Even after all these years, it felt surreal that Caleb was one of your closest friends. In your small town, there weren’t many people to bond with. The tight-knit community had shrunk over time, and most people you knew were just memories now. But you’d never forget the two boys who lived next door. One was more charming, the other more reserved, but both were just as kind and reliable.

Years later, that sense of community felt like a distant dream. It was why you jumped at the chance to move closer to Caleb and Zayne after they relocated to the city. The passing of your grandmother had made staying in the countryside unbearable. But as you stood ankle-deep in snow, staring at the truck piled high with your belongings, you wondered if you were in over your head.

The cold wind bit through your gloves as you trudged inside the apartment building. Your eyes darted nervously to the heavy furniture that needed to be moved. You shifted your weight, glancing at the door every few seconds. If any of the boys decided not to show up, you would be screwed. 

“Y/N!” Caleb’s voice rang out, and your head snapped up. Relief surged through you as you saw him approaching. Without thinking, you rushed into his arms, your cheeks burning as his warm embrace enveloped you.

“It’s good to see you too,” he teased, his playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. His hands rested lightly on your back as he pulled away, studying your face. “How long were you standing out there?”

“Not long,” you lied with an awkward laugh. “I just—got lost in thought.”

How he looked at you made it hard to breathe, as if he still saw the same girl from all those years ago. The creak of the lobby door saved you from spiraling further. 

Zayne strode in, his dark coat dusted with snowflakes. His sharp gaze flicked from you to Caleb’s hands, still resting on your waist. For a moment, his jaw tightened, but he quickly smoothed his expression.

“You’re late,” Caleb called out, smirking.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zayne replied, his tone dry as his eyes settled on you. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“Never,” you said with a grin, stepping forward to hug him. His arms wrapped around you briefly, his touch warm but hesitant. You smiled before turning and walking over to the elevator. You missed your family, and now it felt a little closer to being pieced back together. 

You gave a debrief of the plan for the day, as there was plenty you could do on your own later. Though you were grateful to Xavier for helping you get a place, it needed…tlc. The boys agreed to help you move bulky items and clean up the remnants of a bug treatment. 

The boys retreated to the lobby—they had to move a couch and some other, far too heavy things. The three of you had been friends for years, bickering and fighting like siblings, but never with ill intent. Though Caleb and Zayne constantly teased each other more recently than anything, you weren’t sure what was a joke anymore. 

Your body jolted. A sound of a shout came from the hallway, distracting you from sweeping. 

“Damn—Zayne, pull up the couch—” Caleb strained and bit out. 

“You’re the one who’s not paying attention,” Zayne shot back calmly. 

You walked up to the unfolding scene, your hands resting on your hips when you approached them. The couch was now on the tile of the apartment hallway. You were glad they didn’t break your stuff while they messed around.

“And… Why is my couch on the ground?” you asked, your gaze shooting between them. 

“It seems Caleb’s grip slipped,” Zayne quipped. You could feel the air quotes around the last portion of his statement. His hands were resting on his hips as his breathing slowed and evened out.

“I just need a second—I’m sweating over here,” Caleb said, a deep breath coming from his lips. 

You watched as he lifted his shirt. His jeans rested low on his hips as he lifted the fabric, you could see faint trails of hair leading down his abdomen. He had a vein running above his hip to below his pants. 

Your eyes betrayed you as you shamelessly traced his body. Fuck, he looked good.

Zayne watched you in silence, observing, watching the surprise on your face when Caleb lifted his shirt. And he did not like it. First, why did Caleb always do shit like that, but besides, why did you seem to like it so much.

The three of you worked together to tackle the chaos of the moving day. With the bulky items moved, Caleb helped you clean the kitchen while Zayne focused on the living room. You stood on your tippy toes, wiping the cabinet the best you could, stretching to reach the top shelf. Caleb moved in behind you, his body brushing against yours. 

“Let me get that,” he said, his voice soft as he grabbed the cloth from your hand.

Your breath hitched as his warmth seeped through your back. His fingers brushed yours briefly, sending a jolt through you. You moved aside, trying to compose yourself. He stepped to the side after finishing, leaning onto the counter, “Why don’t I take over this part, since you’re so small?” a playful grin played on his lips, as he winked at you. 

“Always picking on my size,” you joked, your voice shaky. “Maybe you’re just too tall.”

His grin widened, but something in his gaze lingered a moment too long. “...Maybe,” he murmured, his voice low.

From the corner of the room, Zayne’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen. His hand paused mid-swipe on the wall, his eyes narrowing at seeing Caleb leaning close to you. His grip on the rag tightened, but he quickly looked away. This wasn’t the time.

You noticed all his progress when you made your way to Zayne. He almost successfully cleared the living room. “Can I help?” you said, approaching his side. 

Zayne’s lips quirked into a slight smirk. “I figured you’d be too busy with Caleb to remember me.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you shot back, an uncomfortable laugh leaving your lips.

He attached the extended handle before handing you the mop, his fingers brushing yours slightly. “Guess I’ll have to remind you why I’m the favorite,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. 

☆

You fell into a routine in the following weeks, trying to adjust to your new life. Weekly meetups with Caleb became a ritual, and today, you waited for him at a quaint coffee shop Zayne had introduced you to. The warm smell of coffee and pastries filled the air as you spotted Caleb walking in, his black coat framing his tall figure.

“Y/N!” he called out, his smile lighting up. He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground for a moment.

When he set you down, his eyes held yours for a beat too long. Your stomach flipped as you sat across from him, trying to steady your thoughts.

You began your catch-up over a coffee and some food. Your discussion filled the silence, and you shared a laugh while discussing the latest work drama. You clued Caleb into the details about your coworker, and how the Hunter’s Association locked his file.

It was pretty peculiar in your field; most hunters had a public record, released by the organization they resided under, but in his case, it wasn’t as easily accessible, making him a high-profile individual. Which just made you curious. As talented as you were you couldn’t help but notice the difference in skills between the two of you. It was so obvious he’d been at this longer than you. 

Caleb listened intently as you shared the latest work news, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup.

“And what are you going to do about it?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Detective work?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “I don’t know. It feels like I’d be invading his privacy. I guess—I’ll wait for him to tell me when he’s ready.”

Caleb’s gaze softened. “That’s just like you,” he said quietly, his purple eyes glinting in the light.

Before you could process his words, your watch buzzed with an alarm. “I gotta get back to work,” you said, grabbing your things in a rush.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said, gesturing to the table. “See you later.”

It was a lighter cold today, and no heavy snow blocked your path. As you walked back to work, you were honestly heavy in thought. You couldn’t stop thinking about Caleb. His smiles and touches felt deliberate, and you had no idea how to handle it. Dating had always been a mystery to you, and your nerves weren’t helping.  

This wasn’t the first time these nerves graced your presence. When you were much younger, you recall the party, the smell of alcohol, the loud music, and unfamiliar faces. You knew Zayne and Caleb of course, but them being a bit older than you made this crowd—one you hadn’t been exposed to before.

Making your way through the door was the worst. Caleb knew everyone, saying “hellos,” “hi’s,” and “what’s up, dude,” as he led the way. Making your way through the moving bodies was a challenge. You were thankful for Zayne’s hand holding onto yours as you made the way. You scanned the crowd, and everyone was dancing. The number of people grinding on others was mesmerizing, and you wanted in.

The music thudded through the walls, pounding against your ears. You remember making your way up the stairs, following closely behind Caleb, as Zayne sandwiched in behind you, finally letting go of your hand. Honestly, this didn’t seem like Zayne’s type of crowd, and he wasn’t the most outgoing. 

When you reached the room, it had fewer people than the rest of the house. You walked in, sitting on the couch while Zayne stood near the corner of the room. Some people sat in a circle with a bottle in the center, obviously playing a game. One of the girls asked if you and the boys wanted to join. 

You could feel the eyes of two important men in your life shift to you. Both were curious about your response. 

“...yeah.” 

Caleb also joined the game, sitting directly across from you. A girl with blonde hair spun the bottle, and before you knew it, it was your turn. 

Placing your hand on the bottleneck, you spun the bottle, watching its turning motion with curiosity. When it stopped on Caleb, the purple of his eyes glinted as he looked between you and the bottle. 

You could hear the circle of people urging you both on. It was just a kiss. You could do this. He’s your friend. You sat up on your heels, your hands burning as they rested on your knees. 

He got close to you and whispered, “Ready?” only for your ears to hear, and he kissed you, his lips connecting with yours softly, sweetly. Some people teased him for the gentleness at which his lips touched yours, but something shot through you when his lips touched yours. He softly bit your bottom lip before he pulled back from you. 

He kissed you. Zayne saw, everyone saw, and you liked it. 

You needed advice—something solid to guide your next move. You’d already admitted to yourself that you liked him, but how were you supposed to approach this? What did you even say? Zayne helped you through that kiss, reminding you it was just a game. But all these years later, you wanted to be more than a game to Caleb. Even in your shared youth, he had good advice for you, so why wouldn’t you trust him?

When you arrived at the office, your mind was still a tangled mess, buzzing with uncertainty. You decided it was no use overthinking it; it was better to rip the bandaid off.

You pulled out your phone, hesitating for a moment before texting Zayne:

You:

“Can I call you? I need some advice.”

When his reply came moments later—“I have a patient right now. I’ll call you after.”—you let out a relieved sigh. You trusted him, and you needed his help.

Relief washed over you as you read his reply, your heartbeat finally slowing to a steady rhythm. You let out a soft sigh, tucking your phone away. All you had to do now was organize your thoughts.

While you waited, you turned to your caseload, focusing on the profile you’d been compiling for a new wanderer-type you’d encountered during a hunt weeks earlier. Using old files as templates, you typed furiously, the steady rhythm of the keyboard pulling you into the zone. Minutes turned to hours as you worked, the world fading into the background.

The buzzing of your phone jolted you back to reality. You glanced at the screen and barely caught the call before it went to voicemail.

“You want me to teach you how to date?” Zayne’s voice drawled through the line, laced with amusement.

Heat rushed to your face as you groaned audibly. “That’s not—it’s not like that!” you blurted, but Zayne only chuckled softly.

You spent the next ten minutes stumbling through your explanation, your words tangling as you tried to paint a coherent picture of your situation. When you finally stopped, waiting anxiously for his response, all he said was:

“Okay.”

That one word was enough to knock the wind out of you. “Okay?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he confirmed calmly.

Your heart soared. “Okay, then,” you echoed quickly, trying to mask your nervous excitement. You rushed to thank Zayne before ending the call, clutching the phone to your chest. Relief and joy bubbled inside you. You knew Zayne would come through for you. You trusted him completely.

On the other end of the call, Zayne set his phone on his desk, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. He began packing up for the day, shaking his head in amusement. The idea of you coming to him for dating advice was equal parts endearing and intriguing.

Of course, he would help you. That much was never in question. But who had caught your interest so suddenly? The thought gnawed at him, tempting him to ask outright, but he resisted. He’d figure it out eventually.

As he picked up his phone to draft a response, a quiet laugh escaped him. “Lessons,” he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue with amusement. He couldn’t help but smirk as he began typing out a plan. Lessons in dating and seduction? If anyone was going to help you succeed, it was him.

☆

Your phone buzzed with details for your first lesson. You had to admit you were quite excited. When you open the message, you read simple instructions:

Zayne:

“I’ll pick you up at 7 pm. Wear something nice, but comfortable.” 

A quiet scoff escaped your lips as you gripped your phone, its cool metal grounding you—way to give me nothing, Zayne. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as you typed back.

You:

“Got it.” 

With a rare day off, you had more than enough time to overthink this date—or, well, lesson. You'd been on dates before, but this felt different—important. You wanted to impress Caleb later, but you also wanted to enjoy this with Zayne and learn from him.

Determined, you took your time getting ready—a long bath, smooth and refreshed skin, natural hairstyle, skipping the heat of flat irons. Your makeup was subtle, accentuating your best features—your eyes and lips. The outfit? Simple, with an effortless elegance: a black skirt, a beige sweater, and knee-high black boots. Something nice but comfortable, you echoed mockingly in your head.

The doorbell rang. Your pulse quickened. Taking a deep breath, you cracked the door open.

“I’m grabbing my bag—give me a sec,” you said quickly before shutting it again.

Zayne chuckled softly on the other side. You looked nervous, and he thought it was cute.

When you finally stepped out, his eyes swept over you, approval flashing in his gaze. “Ready?” His voice was warm, familiar.

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah.”

Locking up, you stepped beside him, weaving through the apartment halls. The elevator was packed when it arrived, leaving just enough room for the two of you to squeeze in. When the doors slid shut, the crowd's pressure pushed you toward the back corner of the elevator.

Zayne stepped in after you, his body instinctively blocking the others from pressing too close. His warmth enveloped you, a wall of quiet protection. When his chest brushed against yours, your head shot up, startled by the contact—only to knock it against the cold metal wall behind you.

A low groan slipped from your lips, and Zayne chuckled. “Careful.” His hand came up, cupping the back of your head gently.

You stilled. Zayne’s touch was light but steady, fingers warm against your scalp. You let yourself settle into it for just a second, your cheeks heating.

Then, with a soft ding, the doors slid open. The moment was gone.

You followed him out quickly, slipping into his car. The silence was thick but not uncomfortable. Still, you were the first to break it.

“So… where are we going?” you asked, anticipation bubbling beneath your skin.

Zayne’s grip tightened subtly around the gear shift, veins visible against his skin. His lips curled into a faint smile. “You’ll see.”

—

You hadn’t expected this.

The setup was breathtaking—candles flickering softly, a picnic blanket spread on the grass by a lake, and wildflowers scattered around like nature’s own confetti. The crisp spring air carried the scent of earth and blooming petals, a reminder that winter’s grasp was finally loosening. The sun had just begun its descent, casting everything in golden light.

Zayne stood behind you, watching. He caught how your breath hitched and how awe softened your features. The faint flush that always seemed to bloom when he was near. He reveled in it.

“Lesson one,” he murmured. “A date.”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Zayne, this is…” Your voice wavered with something close to wonder. “This is perfect.”

A small, knowing smile touched his lips.

You hesitated. “I’ve never really—” You exhaled. “So… what do we do now?”

He motioned for you to sit. “First? We eat.”

You obeyed, watching as he unpacked the meal. Your gaze flickered over the assortment of sweets tucked beside the entrees, and you bit your lip. He remembered your sweet tooth.

Your heart squeezed.

He handed you a sandwich—one of your childhood favorites. You took a bite, savoring the familiar flavors and the quiet thoughtfulness behind it.

The evening unfolded like something out of a dream. The conversation was easy and flowing, as it always was between you two. You talked about everything and nothing, letting the city fade away, and the wine in your glass disappeared far too quickly.

At some point, you made the mistake of looking at him.

The sunset bathed him in amber light, the gentle hues accentuating the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint green specks in his eyes. He looked beautiful—effortlessly so. The sleeves of his powder blue dress shirt rolled up, revealing strong forearms, veins pronounced as his fingers idly toyed with the rim of his glass.

His gaze lifted, catching yours.

You panicked. Tipped your head back, draining the last of your wine, pretending to admire the sky.

And so the night went on.

Laughter. Warmth. The kind of company that made the world feel a little less lonely. It had been too long since you’d felt this way.

Maybe that was why—

—why you ended up tipsy.

The last thing you remembered clearly was Zayne’s hands on your waist, steadying you as you stumbled at your door. His voice, amused and gentle, coaxing you inside.

And then—

"You're drunk."

His voice was strained.

Your skin burned. “N ‘m not,” you murmured, reaching up, fingers clumsily ruffling his hair. “I w’nted to kiss you, Z-Zayne…”

His breath hitched.

You wobbled onto your tiptoes, pressing a sleepy, featherlight kiss to his cheek. “G’night, Zayne~”

Darkness.

And then—morning.

Your head throbbed. You groaned, pressing your palm to your forehead, and then—

The memory came rushing back.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.

What did you do?

You kissed Zayne—just a kiss on the cheek, but no less a kiss. And you didn’t know how you felt about it. Maybe you liked it. And when you checked your phone, your heart skipped a beat. 

Zayne:

“Are you feeling better?”

It was a simple question, but your body felt warm, and a smile tugged at your lips as the cold metal burned your hand. 

You:

“Yes, I’m still a bit warm, but much better :)”

And from there the conversation flowed. 

Zayne: 

“So you’re ready for your next lesson?”

You:

“Duh.”

☆

This lesson was set up differently—as a more casual experience. Zayne held the door open, allowing you to enter as the scent of perfumes and faint traces of liquor—something you planned to avoid tonight—filled your senses.

Zayne trailed closely behind you, his eyes drawn to your fitted black dress. It hugged your curves just right, and while you were always beautiful, tonight, you looked divine. His gaze lingered, but he didn’t say a word, instead committing the image to memory.

You settled into the plush velvet seat, crossing your legs as you waited for him to join you. The slight pressure of the fabric against your skin and the low hum of jazz music set a tone of subtle sophistication.

“Lesson two,” he murmured as he sat beside you. “Body language.”

A sly smile crept onto your lips. This time, you were ready. Beyond your carefully chosen outfit, you had mentally prepared to hold your ground. Tonight, you would stay in control.

“So, what’s the plan today, Zayne?” you drawled, leaning forward as your fingers lightly brushed his bicep. You pretended it was a casual touch, but the way his muscles flexed beneath your fingertips sent a jolt through you.

Zayne tilted his head slightly, studying your face. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “You’re already ahead, princess,” he whispered, his voice low. The words felt like a direct hit to your resolve.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, your lips parted as you scrambled to regain composure. “Head start?” you echoed, tilting your head and trying to sound nonchalant.

"I want to see what you've learned—think you can charm me?" he said simply.

The lounge was an upscale dream: dimly lit, lined with high-end paintings, and filled with the smooth rhythm of jazz. The swaying figures on the dance floor moved in tandem with the music, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the scene.

Leaning in closer to Zayne, you brushed your lips near his ear. “Should we dance?” you whispered, your hand steadying yourself on his knee.

The scent of his cologne—clean with a faint hint of jasmine—enveloped you. You felt his gaze sharpen, and when you pulled back slightly to meet his eyes, the faint green specks in them seemed to glow under the low light.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice smooth, as he stood and offered you his hand.

On the dance floor, your movements flowed easily, the music guiding you. You pulled him closer, and your body pressed flush against his. His hands rested on your lower back, firm and grounding, while your fingers trailed up his chest. The hard muscle beneath your touch sent a thrill through you.

“You look so handsome tonight, Zayne,” you said softly, your lips curving into a small smile.

“Only tonight?” he teased, the corners of his mouth lifting.

Your finger traced lazy patterns on his chest. His heartbeat was steady initially, but you noticed the slight quickening as your touch lingered. You looked up at him, your gaze filled with something unspoken but deeply felt.

“You always do,” you whispered.

The air between you was charged, the tension pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, grounding you while simultaneously making you feel like you might float away.

When the tempo picked up, you spun away from him, creating a bit of distance as you swayed more freely. He matched your rhythm more stiffly than anything. You couldn’t help but smile—this was fun.

“You’re way too stiff,” you said, getting close to him. Watching him try to whine his hips to the upbeat tempo was amazing. A laugh left your lips as your hands gripped his hips. “Why are your feet so close together?!” you choked out. 

“I was never a dancer,” he said flatly, unamused by the tears in your eyes. 

“Move to the beat,” you said again, trying to show him the way, but he didn’t get it. If you asked him, he’d rather watch you move your body. You moved beautifully, rolling your hips with precision.

When the lounge prepared to close, your cheeks ached from grinning, and your legs were deliciously sore. You shivered slightly as you walked side by side through the chilly night air.

“You look cold,” Zayne said, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders before you could protest.

The warmth of the fabric—and his scent—wrapped around you. A soft, rich aroma of jasmine and something distinctly him made your heart flutter.

You nudged his arm, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “You know… I think this was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

“I haven’t danced like that in forever.” you said.

“How could I forget?” he replied, his eyes briefly flicking to the stars above. “It’s your favorite thing.”

His fingers brushed against yours, tentative at first. You took the leap, intertwining your fingers with his. The warmth of his hand sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you caught the faint blush dusting his cheeks.

This man was everything.

☆

Later That Week

You had agreed to meet Caleb for a more eventful hangout—to meet downtown and do whatever caught your eye. 

You spotted him easily. His tall figure towered over most people. You walked up to him, and he hugged you tightly. The warmth of his body covered yours, but it didn’t raise your heartbeat. 

When he loosened his grip on you, his hands rested on your shoulders, “Long time no see, pipsqueak,” he said, his voice full of joy. 

Your cheeks felt tight from smiling—you were happy to see him, but not for the same reasons as before.

“I know, it’s been a few weeks,” you said, pulling back from him and looking into the purple of his eyes. “Let’s get back on schedule,” you breathed, a light smile plastered on your lips. 

Work had been busy, but the truth was that your lessons with Zayne had occupied your thoughts—and your time.

While you started your walk downtown, plenty of things caught your eye. The first thing you did was enter a record shop. The store was in the basement off of a side street. It was a little creepy, but it looked like an underground studio once you got inside. Records were all over the shop, on the wall, and in little baskets stacked in rows. 

He browsed next to you, shuffling through the records occasionally showing you one he thought you’d like or an album you’d enjoyed. And in spending this time with him, you realized that you enjoyed this. 

The simplicity between you, the light air, and the lack of expectations for anything more was all you needed. Caleb’s fingers softly brushed yours as he placed a vinyl behind the one you held up for him.

“Find anything good?” you asked, your feet planted evenly on the ground as you turned to face Caleb. 

His eyes bore into yours, something flickering over them before he answered you.

 “Nah—let's get some food,” he said quickly, his demeanor suddenly returning.

Exiting the store, you joined in step beside him, exploring the city's night scene. Your options were endless as you scanned the shops that lined the streets. You spotted a food truck and the smells coming from it were amazing. 

Altering Caleb, you both sat at the outdoor seating, waiting for your orders. The chill of the evening air seeped through your clothes, making you shiver slightly.

“Do you want my jacket?” Caleb asked, his tone playful. “You look like you’re freezing.”

“Only if you have an extra,” you said, bouncing your leg under the table to keep warm.

With a smirk, he reached into his bag and handed you a spare coat. “You’re my best friend, You know I always do.”

You slipped it on, grateful for the warmth but… that was it. There was no spark, no flutter of excitement. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, adjusting the collar and wrapping it tighter around yourself, but it felt like just a jacket.

In the quiet moment that followed, your mind drifted back to Zayne. His jacket had enveloped you in warmth and scent, and your heart raced when he was near. You glanced at Caleb, who was busy watching the street outside.

Nothing. That kiss was—just a kiss. Years ago, you wouldn’t have believed anyone. Not even Zayne could have convinced you it was a fleeting crush. But it really was. You felt proper chemistry, companionship, and care and wanted to keep experiencing that with Zayne.

The weight of your realization was crushing. All the time you spent—wasted on this man. You cared for him, you truly did. But, what about you? Why were you so pent-up and focused on this person you didn't even really like? Was it really him you missed? Or just how he filled your time and made you feel small—safe, even?

That's the point. You’re not small. You're a grown woman who can stand independently, make her own decisions, and provide her own entertainment. Relief washed over you in waves because what were you even doing? Holding onto a version of the past that no longer fits?

But right behind it, sadness crept in. Not for Caleb, but for the time lost—chasing something never meant to be yours. But you didn’t truly waste time if it led you here—to someone real. To Zayne.

You forced a smile, staring down at your lap, and tried to push away the sinking feeling in your chest. You used to admire Caleb. It should feel special, especially his attention and time, but—it doesn’t. 

Caleb was the person you had wanted—the reason for the lessons.

The contrast was stark, undeniable. And for the first time, you realized the answer had been clear.

☆

You had admitted to Zayne that you wanted a cozy evening. Work had drained you, but more than anything, your recent realization had knocked the wind out of you. It wasn’t just an idle thought—the truth that settled deep in your bones, undeniable yet terrifying.

You knew what you needed to say and do, but the effort of voicing it—of being honest with Zayne—made your nerves coil tight.

Your lessons have helped. You felt more confident, more self-assured. You understood what a date was supposed to be now, what it meant to be courted and wanted. But more than anything, you wanted something real.

With him.

So, he invited you over after work.

Zayne:

"How about I cook you dinner, and we watch a movie?"

You:

"How do you always know exactly what I need?"

…

Zayne:

"Make yourself at home. I just finished setting up."

When you arrived at his house, the living room instantly warmed you. The room glowed softly from the candles he had lined along the tables, their flickering light casting gentle shadows against the walls. The scent of something rich and savory drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint traces of his cologne.

But the sight of something familiar made your heart catch in your chest—small plushies, the ones you had won years ago, still resting on the couch.

He had kept them.

Your fingers grazed one absentmindedly as you took it all in, a lump forming in your throat.

You didn’t miss the sound of the shower running from the other room, and heat bloomed across your face. The thought of him stepping out—steam rising, droplets tracing the planes of his skin—sent your mind spiraling. He had just gotten off work, yet he still made time to set everything up for you.

As if on cue, the water stopped. A moment later, the door cracked open, and Zayne walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, another in his hands as he ruffled it through his damp black hair.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “Have a seat.”

Then, as if completely unaware of his effect on you, he strode into his bedroom and shut the door with a soft click.

You swallowed hard. That lasted less than a second, but it was enough.

His physique was unreal—his lean yet defined frame, the way his skin still glistened slightly, the tantalizing trail of hair disappearing beneath the towel… and God, you wanted to know where it led.

This was new. You had never felt this way before.

And he was making you crazy.

You forced yourself to move, settling onto the couch, trying to calm your racing heart as you waited for him. You distracted yourself with the snacks he had spread across the table, but your mind kept replaying that brief glimpse of him.

When he finally reappeared, dressed in a fitted shirt and sweatpants, looking effortlessly breathtaking, your breath caught in your throat.

Something about this moment—the candlelight, the scent of dinner lingering in the air, the sheer intimacy of being here with him—felt so real. So domestic. So much like something you wanted forever.

Zayne disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you in the glow of candlelight. A few moments later, he emerged with two plates in hand, setting them down on the dining table before motioning for you to sit.

“Did you make all of this?” you asked, raising a brow as you took in the spread before you.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, settling across from you. “I figured you’d appreciate a home-cooked meal after the week you’ve had.”

Your heart ached at how thoughtful he was.

The meal was warm and comforting—just like him. You took a bite, letting the rich flavors settle on your tongue and savoring the moment. Zayne watched you carefully, his gaze flicking to your lips before he took a bite of his own food.

“This is really good,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “You’re full of surprises.”

He smirked slightly, tilting his head. “You act like you don’t already know I’m good with my hands.”

Your fork stalled mid-air. Heat crawled up your neck as your eyes snapped to his.

Zayne smirked slightly, taking another bite as if he hadn’t set your whole body on fire with that one sentence.

Your stomach twisted, and it had nothing to do with the food.

“I—” You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure. “I suppose I do.”

His gaze flickered with amusement before he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood. Something was intoxicating about the way he watched you. It was like he was reading every thought running through your head.

The tension built slowly, lingering between every glance, every soft smile exchanged over the rim of your glasses.

At some point, his foot brushed against yours beneath the table. It was barely a touch—so light it could’ve been an accident. But when you met his gaze, you knew it wasn’t.

Neither of you spoke on it. Neither of you moved away.

It was almost unbearable, the weight of the moment, the way the air grew heavier, tighter.

After dinner, you both moved to the couch. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more devastatingly handsome than usual.

You curled next to him as he flipped through the streaming options before settling on something. Not that it really mattered—you could barely focus because of how close he was.

The movie played, but you weren’t watching.

You were too aware of Zayne’s presence, the warmth of his arm resting along the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder. Every tiny touch sent a current through you.

Then, in the middle of a scene, Zayne suddenly reached for the remote.

Click.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

Your phone started ringing, now of all times, and you dropped your gaze to the device at the same time as Zayne. 

Caleb calls all the time, but the timing of this was just—it couldn’t be a coincidence. And you weren’t sure if you should answer. 

“Don’t pick it up,” was all you heard, as you gripped the metal of your phone tighter. 

“Why,” you whispered, your voice small now. The confidence you had before flickered, unsteady—like a candle caught in the wind. You felt tender, exposed. Unsure if you had the strength to do what needed to be done.

“I know you wanted lessons, because of Caleb,” he started, his eyes meeting yours. The air felt cooler now, and goosebumps ran over your skin. 

"I can’t do this if you’re still holding onto him," he murmured, his voice steady—but stretched thin, like he was barely holding himself together.

“I can’t bear to see you with him—now that your presence has graced me, I see small pieces of you everywhere I go,” he admitted, his voice soft and tortured. 

Zayne exhaled through his nose,  running a hand through his dark hair before finally speaking.

“I don’t want you to want Caleb—I want you to want me” he breathed.

The screen froze mid-ring. A silence stretched between you—thick, suffocating. Heavy with everything left unsaid.

Your brows furrowed as you turned to him, only to find his gaze already on you—serious, searching.

Your breath hitched.

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, heavy and unshakable.

You swallowed. Say it.

“I thought I wanted to be with another man, Zayne…” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He tensed slightly, his jaw tightening, but you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“But I don’t,” you continued softly, eyes searching his. “I want this. I want you.”

The words left you in a breath, raw and real.

Zayne didn’t move, didn’t speak right away. But you saw how his eyes darkened, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Please, Zayne,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as you leaned in.

Your breath stilled, heart hammering. He was too close—his scent, the warmth radiating from his skin, the slight tremor in his breath. And then… finally, you leaned in, and he met you halfway.

You pulled back slightly, your breaths intertwining in the room's dimness. Your eyes opened tentatively, and you saw Zayne staring at you, his chest heaving from the kiss you had just shared. 

“Again,” you murmured, a silent plea because now that you were here you couldn’t let this pass. And Zayne obeyed, kissing you again. You could feel him shifting your position. His hands found your back, and he briefly disconnected your lips to lay you on the couch. 

His knees straddled your hips, as he just watched you, “Beautiful,” he whispered before tasting your lips again, the weight of him on top of you was not only delicious but welcome. You gasped at the pressure, and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. A groan escaped your mouth when his tongue entered your lips. 

“Wait,” you said, your hands resting on Zayne’s chest as he lay on you. 

“I’ve never done this before,” you said, noticing the clench of his jaw, flushed face, and swollen lips. 

He waited for a beat, watching you silently, “I’ll take care of you, princess,” he exhaled.

“I don’t have much experience,” he admitted, his gaze shifting from yours.

Your eyes widened with shock at his admission. You had assumed he was experienced, and that was part of the reason you asked him for help. 

You took a breath, smiling at him. " Let's learn together,” you whispered in his ear before leaning your head back and resting it against the pillow. 

You pulled him flush against you, his weight pressing you into the couch. He began his thorough search kissing your temple, to the crux of your ear, “Another lesson, …hm?” he whispered. And that caused you to writhe beneath him—the sound of his voice in your ear, and the soft vibrato of his confirmation. 

He began his steady exploration with his lips and hands. Stroking up and down your body, though most of it covered, the cool of his hands made your skin get chills when he touched you. 

“Can I take this off?” he asked, gesturing to your t-shirt. 

“Yes,” you said too quickly, embarrassed by your eagerness. 

You adjusted your body, allowing him to pull the fabric over your head. You lay there sitting up on your forearms, just watching his explorative touch. His pointer finger traced the outline of your bra, hovering just above your skin. 

“You—” you started, biting the fat of your lip, “Zayne, I want you to take this off too.” 

And those emerald eyes watched you. In his head, he couldn’t believe you would be his—already prepared to memorize your every reaction. His hand trembled before steadying against your skin. The contact of his hand caused you to arch away from the couch. Click.

The bra fell forward as you shrugged it off your arms. Your whole body felt warm as you guided Zayne’s hands to hold your breasts. Your hands rested on his before you moved them back to the couch. His thumbs felt the hardening peaks beneath his hands, and he gave them a tentative flick, watching your face. You squirmed beneath him. 

Sensitive here. He made a mental note, before rubbing the hardened nub against his thumb at a steady pace. 

He moved his mouth to your other breast kissing it, before watching your face as his tongue made contact with it. Your hips jerked forward gently when he flicked it with his tongue. You bit your lip watching him play with your nipples. 

“Can—you touch me there?” you whimpered. His lips parted from your nipple. 

“Where?” he asked, and both of you just looked at each other. 

Before you took his hand and brought it between your legs. You held it there rubbing yourself on his hand through your pants, but you didn't miss the way Zayne trained his eyes on you. Watching each little reaction you had when he touched you. Even the lightest of touch made his lips part slightly even with the furious flush of his skin. 

His cock was straining in his pants, but he waited, wanting to learn you first.

He laid you down, your hands threading into his hair. Pulling him close to you he buried his face in your neck. The smell of jasmine filled your senses, as he groaned beneath you, breathing in your scent. You leaned back into the couch, shaken by the idea of him on top of you.

Your breasts pressed against his chest, the cool fabric causing a shiver to roll through you. He ran his face up and down your neck leaving a trail of light kisses. It was as if he was savoring you, imprinting your smell, your presence in his mind—as if you’d be done with him after this.

“You’re beautiful,” he groaned against your throat.

Zayne steadied himself on his hands on either side of your head, his gaze trailing over your body to where he would find himself next. His eyes stopped between your thighs, he watched intently as you squirmed beneath him, your body shifting under his gaze.

Your heartbeat felt loud in your ears, and the cold stillness of the air sent a shiver through you. His lips found your jaw, kissing a slow line tracing to your throat. Each touch of his lips sent heat between your legs, and you tilted your head to give him more access, a whimper escaping your lips. 

Zayne was just a friend, someone who supported and loved you but someone you felt you couldn’t have. Your change of heart made you act on a whim to take advantage of your time with him. You wanted him, and no one else could have him but you. He was a high you couldn't—didn't want to get rid of. 

You grasped the blankets on the couch, trying to ground yourself somehow, while he worked slow kisses down your chest with light scrapes of his teeth.

His hands ran down your sides, caressing your breasts to your hips, his thumbs brushing the naked skin beneath your sweatpants. It was a maddening sensation, and you only wanted him to keep going.

You could see his erection pressed firmly against his pants, and you felt tempted to reach forward, to touch it. To pull him closer firmly against you, to feel him where you needed him most. 

One of his hands left you cupping you over your pants. The pressure against your clit stole your breath. A quiet groan of approval left his lips, while you felt a pulse between your legs.

You ground your hips upwards into his hand. A breath left your lips as you moved your hips. 

“Touch me, Zayne,” you breathed, you felt like you were in a dream. 

He paused, his breath hitching at your words. His gaze darkened, the green of his eyes barely visible, as he searched your face. His jaw clenched, his voice dropping, rough with restraint. “Say that again.”

You observed him, grabbing the drawstrings of his pants. “Touch me Zayne, …Please” Your voice came out small, pleading. 

He exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching against your skin. He traced your pussy through your pants, his fingers burning through your pants—that you wished he’d taken off already. 

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his thumb brushing over you, his touch reverent, like he was memorizing you.

You had never been undressed like this. And you wanted it, you wanted to be touched by him, to feel him grabbing you.

He gripped the waistband of your pants, adjusting his position to push them down your thighs, dropping them to the floor. You sat there in only black underwear while he sat across from you, still in his t-shirt and sweats. 

His attention was all yours, and it was thrilling. 

Your hands still gripped the blanket beneath you. Your feet were tucked next to your bottom. 

“Let me see you.” His voice was low and deliberate. His fingertips grazed your knee before applying the faintest pressure. His eyes searched yours, waiting. “Spread your legs for me.”

You took in an unsteady breath, and you did it. 

His hands ran up your legs, his fingers pressing into your thighs, making your stomach tighten unexpectedly. The cool of his hands felt good against your soft skin. 

The cool air brushed against your panties making you aware of how wet your panties were. Zayne’s gaze met you there, shooting warmth through you.

Your breath hitched when his thumb pressed down on your clit through the fabric. His other hand was steady on your thigh, pressing your thighs open wider. The brush of his thumb up and down sparked a heat in your lower stomach.

You leaned your head back and started to rock under his touch. And then he kissed your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He groaned, licking and sucking your breasts with a slight scrape of teeth. A high-pitched moan escaped your lips, one of your hands gripping his hair. 

His mouth was so hot, and he kept licking you, how you’d never felt before. You felt like you could die. So, when he removed his mouth from your breasts, you thought you were going to scream. 

He removed your underwear, leaving them in a pile with the rest of your clothes, spreading your legs once more as his gaze fell between your thighs. 

His fingers glide gently along your inner thigh, his touch warm and deliberate, but never rushed. His gaze softens as he takes you in, his breathing slow, controlled—like he’s memorizing every part of you.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice hushed, almost reverent. His thumb stroked lazy circles against your skin, a silent reassurance, a quiet promise that he won’t rush you.

When you nodded, his lips part slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, searching—making sure.

"Let me take care of you," he breathed, his hands smoothing up your thighs as he leaned in closer, pressing a lingering kiss just above your knee. "I want to make this good for you."

He wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and his head lowered between them. You shuddered at the first touch of his tongue, pleasure running through you. Each soft lap of your clit rolled through you. 

His arms held you so securely that you couldn’t move your hips while he licked you. As much as he said he wanted to take care of you, it felt like he was doing this for himself. 

“Zayne,” you moaned, digging your hands into his thick black hair. 

He swirled his tongue over your clit before sucking. His eyes were on you, watching you writhe beneath him. His finger filled you, sending a tremor through you, with his mouth on your clit, licking and sucking, while his fingers moved in and out of you. And he did it with such ease, deep noises of satisfaction falling from his lips. 

He was taking his time, slowly working you out and the pressure was building up in you. You bucked your hips, feeling the heat growing throughout you. 

“Zayne…I need more,” you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered it with slow, calculated movements—his pace steady, yet devastating. He added another finger, stretching you further, his touch unrelenting as he pressed deeper, curling just right. The pleasure was unbearable in the best way, a wave crashing over you with no hope of escape.

Your breath hitched as his dark, heated gaze met yours, watching, reading every reaction like it was the only thing that mattered. His free hand smoothed over your thigh, grounding you, soothing you—only to bring you higher moments later.

A choked-out plea left your lips, your body arching, back curving as the heat coursed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach. You clenched around him, muscles tightening as that sharp, dizzying pleasure built to a breaking point.

“That's it,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable, something possessive yet achingly tender. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the soft skin of your inner thigh, his breath hot and teasing, sending shivers up your spine.

And then—release.

Your body trembled, pleasure crashing into you in relentless waves. He didn't stop, not right away, working you through it, coaxing every last aftershock from your sensitive body until you were completely spent.

You collapsed against the couch, fully fucked out, limbs heavy, your mind hazy with bliss. 

A shaky breath left your mouth, as you sat up slowly running your fingers through his hair.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

The air between you was charged, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous. Something real.

His jasmine scent invaded your senses as his body wrapped around yours. You closed your eyes, surprised by the sudden upward jerk of him holding your naked body. You held him close as he carried you to the closed bedroom door. 

He laid you on the bed gently, holding your stare, he slipped off his shirt and sweatpants, your cheeks growing warmer even as he stood before you in his briefs. You glanced at his erection pressed through the fabric. He was so hard, and it was hot. And all for you. 

Goose bumps spread across your skin, as he opened the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom. 

“Do you want me?” he whispered, his gaze meeting yours, as he dropped his briefs. 

“Yes,” you breathed.

He crawled over you, kissing your stomach and breasts as he did. His body covered yours, so heavy. It made your skin sing with satisfaction. He kissed your neck, bracing his hands beside your head. 

Your fingers trailed the line of hair, you'd been desperate to touch. You hesitated, unsure how to touch him. 

Zayne felt your hesitation, and meeting your gaze, he whispered, “Your touch… I need it.”

Your heart fluttered with uncertainty, but you slid your hands down gripping his erection. His forehead fell on the side of your neck, encouraging you further. 

You wrapped your hand around his length. And he groaned. You ran your hand down to the base and all the way back up. 

"Don’t make me wait…please" you whispered in his ear, placing a kiss there.

"Tell me how much you need me,” he rasped, nipping at your neck.

"I’ve always needed you, Zayne," you said softly, dragging your hands through his hair. "I need you in every way… not just tonight."

His eyes met yours before kissing you while you stroked him again. Your breasts brushed against his chest, sending pleasure through you. 

“...Please” you breathed. 

He rolled onto the bed next to you, slipping off his briefs, the sound of the wrapper crinkling in his hands drawing your attention. You watched as he poised to tear it open, his gaze flicking to yours for confirmation.

“Wait,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute. He paused instantly, his eyes searching yours.

“I want to feel all of you,” you said, vulnerability lacing your tone, the weight of your trust hanging in the air.

His expression softened, his brow furrowing with both tenderness and concern.

“If it’s too much, just say the word,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, a promise woven into each syllable. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering as though to reassure you. Positioning himself at your entrance, his movements were deliberate, his focus entirely on you.

He took the head of his erection and rubbed it against your pussy. The tip caught your clit, causing your breath to hitch. He started to slip the head inside you, and it stung. A shudder rolled through you as you exhaled. Your fingers curled on his chest as he stayed still inside you, watching your face. 

He pushed deeper into you, his gaze dark and unwavering as he watched the way your lips parted, a soft whimper spilling free. The sound sent a shudder through his body, his breath coming out ragged as he struggled to hold himself together.

The stretch burned—a slow, intoxicating burn—one that sent heat rolling through your veins. You felt so full, every inch of him fitting into you as though he was meant to be there.

When he finally bottomed out, a cry tore from your throat, your back arching, pressing you flush against his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, his weight solid, grounding, overwhelming in the best way.

He didn’t move right away.

Instead, he stayed buried deep, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him. Your arms wound around his neck, and he exhaled against your skin, his breath warm and uneven.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your mingled breathing, the slow rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch air. He was everywhere, his presence consuming, intoxicating.

And then, he moved.

A slow, deliberate roll of his hips.

You gasped at the sensation, at the way he dragged against your walls with aching precision, each thrust filling you completely. Your nails raked down his back, and he shuddered at the sensation, his control fraying at the edges.

“You take it so good,” he praised, his voice thick, rough with something raw, something reverent. 

Every time his pelvis ground against yours, his head spread throughout you. The friction sent sparks up your spine, every movement of his body against yours pulling a new sound from your lips.

He was watching you, utterly captivated by the way you unraveled beneath him. His thrusts remained slow, deliberate, as if savoring every reaction, every little gasp and moan that escaped you.

His fingers traced down your side, over the curve of your waist, gripping you tighter as his pace deepened, intensified. His gaze burned into yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

His eyes locked onto yours, his thrusts slow and deliberate. “So beautiful for me,” he rasped, his voice low, dripping with need.

The words ran over your skin, filling you with warm satisfaction, your head tilting back as another moan escaped you. Zayne’s lips hovered above yours. With each slow thrust, they brushed yours lightly. 

His pace faltered, his rhythm stuttering as he fought for control, his breath ragged against your skin. But he didn’t dare rush—he wanted to feel every second of this, every shudder, every tremor that wracked your body beneath him.

“You’re mine… all mine,” he groaned, voice thick with possession, his body tensing, muscles drawn taut as he drove his hips deep one last time.

A choked moan escaped you as you shattered beneath him, pleasure crashing over you in waves. His grip on you tightened as his own release followed, a deep, guttural sound leaving his lips as he buried himself fully, claiming every inch of you.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, your hearts hammering in sync as he collapsed against you, his weight a comforting warmth pressing you into the mattress.

Neither of you spoke right away.

Zayne traced slow, lazy circles on your bare skin, grounding himself in the feel of you, the reality of you. His forehead rested against yours, his breath still uneven but calming, syncing with yours.

Then, in the quiet, his lips tipped into a smirk against your temple.

“So… does this mean I can finally call you my girlfriend?” His voice was lower now, teasing but laced with something real—something hopeful.

He pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours in the dim light. “Or do I have to seduce you all over again?”

His grin was cocky, but there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you—like he needed this answer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, a slow, tired smile spreading on your lips as you exhaled softly.

"I think you already have," you whispered.

The tension broke as he let out a satisfied hum, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you closer, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

And you didn’t want him to.

Not now.

Not ever.

[wcters]

𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘

pairing: max verstappen x fem!leclerc!reader

word count: 1.6k+

summary: the story of how you and max met . . . and how protective he and your brothers can be

request: max verstappen and leclerc!reader : overprotective charles and carlos, very domestic and protective max while theyre int he paddock during race, maybe hes also very affectionate. just some fluff and comedy

warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos, established relationships | maybe took it too far with the beginning but i couldn’t help it, plus that’s something that max would do

As the youngest sibling and only girl, you knew your family would be protective ━━ especially your brothers. Sometimes you liked it, and used it to your advantage by scaring off random guys at parties and being a little less afraid of walking home at night with them there, but you also hated it sometimes. You knew they just wanted you to be okay and not have to experience the same things they did, but it still sucked. Your parents stuck up for you when they could, but when you first moved out and stayed with Charles there wasn’t much they could do.

They had managed to scare off almost every guy you liked or started a relationship with, saying they were ‘too mean’ or ‘impolite’ or just little things like they didn’t like the way he dressed or how he talked. The longest you had been with a guy was two weeks before he got annoyed at your brothers and left. You ignored them for a week as you only went to school, your job, and hid in your room when you were home. And you bet the got a stern talking to from your parents ━━ especially your mom.

That was the longest you had been with someone . . . Until you met Max. You had heard , and knew of, Max Verstappen as him and your brother did karting together as kids and Charles joined Formula One only three years after, but you had never interacted.

The first time you met was in 2019. You had moved to Monaco for university and were living with Charles. Though Charles had invited you to races before, you always declined busy with school work or your job, where Charles would respond with something along the lines of ‘i don’t know why you have that job anyway’ which you would roll your eyes and flip him off. It was the Austrian Grand Prix that you finally agreed to go, one of the races that Max had won that year. You had gotten some time off from your job and you didn’t have too much work so you agreed.

When you arrived, you were a little overwhelmed so you mostly stayed in the Ferrari garage, talking to Charles and sometimes Sebastian, though they were pretty busy. The next couple days you didn’t have too much time to go out and explore, to worried about watching free practices and qualifying, and you didn’t even think about leaving during the race until it was over.

It wasn’t until the after party that you actually talked to him. You originally weren’t going to go, you were going to stay in and work on homework, until Charles begged you and you agreed . . . but only because he came second and you were proud of him. You were nineteen, so you were legal, but you were sure even if you weren’t you’d be allowed a few drinks, albeit with Charles hovering over you more than usual.

It was about twenty minutes into the party ━━ with you and Charles getting drinks and being introduced to other people ━━ when you got introduced to Max. “Max!” Charles had called over the thumping bass of the music. At first, the Dutch man didn’t hear until your brother yelled right into his ear. He turned around, surprised, before calling a ‘Charles!’ and congratulating him. He didn’t see you until he pulled away from the hug, turning to see you. “This is my sister! Y/n!” He told Max, again yelling. You loudly introduced yourself as you put your hand forward. “Max! You came to watch Charles karting when you were younger right?” You nodded. “I recognize you!”

Max eventually got pulled away by some people, you assumed technicians or mechanics as you don’t recognize them as drivers, and didn’t see each other for another hour. You had stepped outside for a minute, overwhelmed, though you made sure to tell Charles where you were going. When you had, he immediately became concerned but you waved him off, telling him you were okay and just needed some fresh air.

You were leaning against the wall of the building, bottle of water in your hand as you heard footsteps. You quickly turned your head, though calmed once you saw it was only Max. “Scare you?” He asked. You got to hear his voice clearer now, taking in his accent slipping out due to the alcohol. “Can never be too careful. Dangerous for women.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a little. As you were taking a sip of water, he started to speak. “First race?” You nodded, “yeah. I’ve watched, obviously, but I’ve just been too busy with school that I haven’t had the chance. It’s been a little overwhelming at times ━━ hence why I’m out here.”

“I get that. It was for me too.” You turned to look at him. “You were seventeen, right?” He looked surprised that you knew that. “Yeah . . . I was.” You could see in his eyes that remembering that was heavy. “That must’ve been hard.” You told him but didn’t plan on talking anymore about it. “It was, but that’s life.” You nodded. You offered him a sip of your water bottle, knowing he must be getting thirsty. He replied with a small ‘thank you’ before taking a sip. “Want to get out of here? I’m done for the night.” You raised your eyebrow, “wow. What a gentleman.” He must’ve realized what that sounded like before he started to sputter, apologizing and saying that’s not when he meant. He look confused when you started to laugh. “I know what you meant. But you are drunk and I don’t have a car.”

He lowered his eyebrows. “Right.” You pulled out your phone, getting ready to call a cab. “I’ll call you a cab and get you one while I tell Charles where I’m going.” “You’re coming with me?” You nodded, “yeah, I’m don’t for tonight too. I’ll help you to your room because you are not as sober as you think you are and then I’m heading back to my hotel.”

You went in, telling Max with a stern finger in his direction to ‘stay where he was’ while you went to grab a bottle of water and tell Charles where you were going. He didn’t approve, warning you to be careful and not fall for anything, but you assured him you were fine.

That night you helped him to his hotel and to his room, finding a bottle of water and aspirin that was in your purse to set on his beside table. While you were leaving, he grabbed your wrist. “Will you take up my offer? Dinner sometime?” You smiled at him. “Sure, but ask me again when you’re sober so you know what you are doing.” The next morning on the plane, you got a text from Max, letting you know he got your number from someone and that he still wanted to take you out for dinner. You agreed, setting a time and place.

That eventual dinner date led to now, almost five years into your relationship. Charles was a bit upset, but after a ‘talk’ with Max, he felt a little bit better about it, and he warmed up after awhile. Your brothers didn’t manage to scare him off. You had warned him, and talked with them about it, so that helped a little.

It was the 2024 Bahrain Grand Prix. You sat in the Ferrari garage talking with your brother and Carlos while also keeping track of your boyfriend during the free practice. You were sitting down in one of that chairs with the two men standing. You didn’t even notice something was happening until you felt something hit the back of your head. You let out a small ‘ouch’ while rubbing the back of your head. You tried not to make a scene, but the mechanic who had hit you let out a big ‘oh shit!’ which pulled everyone’s attention. I

Immediately your brother was on you making sure you were okay while Carlos went to chew out the mechanic. Through the pain in your head, and Charles calling for ice and a medical staff, you heard a mix of fast English and Spanish. It wasn’t until the ice was placed on your head that you started to refocus. “Est-ce que ça va (are you okay)?” You nodded, though regretted it immediately. “Ouais. Tout va bien (yeah. I’m fine).” Carlos eventually came over and pulled Charles away to let the doctor examine you. You told them you were fine and that Charles was exaggerating ━━ which they laughed at ━━ before checking you out anyway and clearing you.

Though you know better, you thought that Charles and Carlos would leave it, but you were wrong because later when you got back from the bathroom, you saw the two men talking to a very angry looking Max. When Max saw you, he left the boys and headed straight for you, using his hands to bend your head down and check the back of your head. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?” You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “I feel like a monkey being inspected by another monkey.” He pulled your head back up so your eyes met his.

“Schatje.” “Max. I swear I’m fine, it was a mistake.” It was his turn to roll his eyes, “a mistake that shouldn’t happen.” You stars at him, unimpressed. “Max Emilian Verstappen if you do anything I’m not scratching your head tonight.” You told him as you walked away.

“Liefje! That’s not fair!”

[457gf]

hwang inho who . . inho x fem!reader

₊˚ʚ warnings : smut, dark content, age gap, naive!reader, manipulation, sexual coercion, dubcon / noncon, slight somnophilia, inho being a creepy old man for you, use of the word 'rαpe'

hwang inho who loves taking advantage of innocent naive girls, practically drooling when he spots you nervously fidgeting with your fingers, eyes squeezed shut as you silently begged for others to vote x. you wanted to go home so bad, but of course inho couldn’t let that happen.

hwang inho who can’t help but throb in those stupid cheap sweatpants when your smile drops even further from the result of him continuing to stay. obviously you didn’t know the real reason he said yes, though thinking of the look of betrayal that would form on your face after he tells you makes his grin that much wider.

hwang inho who approaches you gently, almost as if you’re a porclein doll who could be broken at any moment. you’re understandably weary because of the blue O stuck on his chest for the time being, almost as if a mockery. he’s the one that sealed your fate of staying here, after all. instead of bothering you like you initially thought, he politely invites you to sit with him and a few other people, under the ruse of “you look like you needed a friend.” in actuality, he just wanted to make sure you didn’t stray from his sight.

hwang inho who does everything in his power to get close to you. promising he’ll protect you, stick by you during all of the game, and put your safety well above his own. not like he was in any real danger with the guards on his side, though those words did give him a few brownie points from you for his generosity. it wasn’t really a lie, because he would protect you through all of the games, and he had no doubt about that.

hwang inho who watches you at night, promising to keep lookout for the whole group, though he spends most of his time staring at you. pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, pushing your hair out of your eyes so he’s able to see your pretty face better. inho can’t help but run his hands over your body, feather light touches across your perky tits and your hips, careful not to wake you up. you’re so god damn beautiful, you could be classified deadlier than the games because of the way you make his heart stop.

hwang inho who quickly pulls his hands away when you start to blink awake, eyes heavy with sleep. he’s a bit embarrassed he let himself be so reckless, but there’s nothing a little lie won’t fix. “oh, you kicked your blanket off so i was making sure you were cozy again.” “you were squirming so i thought you were having a nightmare. are you okay?” “i’m just checking on you, i’m sorry if i scared you.”

hwang inho who runs to the bathroom shortly after, unable to take more of the aching caused by your precious eyes. he’s pressed up against a stall, hand working fast over his thick cock as images of you flood his mind. you’re so cute and naive, he wants nothing more than to break you. you’re so stupid, you believed his little lie, not even questioning any further. and god, the way you called him “mister young-il” in that tired voice of yours before flopping back down, a sigh of relief escaping, made him feel even more perverted. you were so young and truly trusted him to look after you. he couldn’t get the thought of you underneath him, begging him to keep using you like a fleshlight out of his gross head.

hwang inho who can’t decide if he finds the idea of you crying out for him to stop and get off you hotter than you asking for more. definitely the former, he thinks. he wants to rαpe you, to sneak his hands underneath your pants in the middle of the night and play with your sopping cunt, the idea of your own body betraying you and giving into his sick desires and love for you makes his head fall back, roughly hitting the stall door in the process. he couldn’t care, he’s too far gone thinking about you.

hwang inho who can’t help but plot when the best time to take advantage of you will be, finally coming to the conclusion of mingle. the guards take a few minutes to clean up the bodies and some of the blood of each deceased after each round, leaving the players trapped in the locked rooms whilst doing so. all he had to do was wait for two people to be called out, tell the guards to take a little extra time, play your knight in shining armour, then push you against the wall and make you squirm.

[atrwriting]

terrible company — logan howlett x reader

secret time i never used to like wolverine because i thought i was cool and then i saw deadpool 3 and my jaw dropped and i watched most of the x men movies in like three days and now here we are

side note the tiktok edits went absolutely crazy with this scene

back at school needed to write something to keep me sane enjoy

barely edited we die like overworked students men

minors fuck off plz n thnx

as always, warnings: smut smut smuttt, enemies to lovers, fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk, light face slapping (trust me!), logan's a dick

—

“what, sweetheart? — afraid you might like it?”

you rolled your eyes at the man before you: logan howlett, the most obnoxious and formidable man you had ever met. his eyes twinkled with mischief, but his smirk hinted at so much more. this was the fifth or sixth time or so that he had flirted with you outright since you had first met him, and you had still found yourself being caught off guard from his honesty and lack of embarrassment.

he was an enigma to you — such terrible company, always brooding over something. then, randomly, he would see you and his eyes would get that look — as if he forgot what made him so miserable — and flirt with you so inappropriately that you didn’t know what to do, nor feel.

you sighed, staring at him. “can always count on you for shock value, can’t it?”

he smirked then, and you rolled your eyes. continuing, you spoke, “i’ll never get you. you are so mean to everyone — besides the people you want to fuck, of course.”

you turned away then, shaking your head. you didn’t hear him follow you. you grew angry after that realization, causing another sharp breath of air to leave your nostrils in a huff. you weren’t sure if you were angry at the fact that he didn’t follow you and immediately apologize even though he would never do that, or if you were just angry at how you were upset he didn’t follow you.

you tried not to think about it. you had work to do.

your next mission would be based out in the north somewhere — cold, dark, barely any service or electricity, and horrific weather. all of that would’ve made anyone groan, but none of that was the worst part.

not even close.

the worst part was that logan was your partner.

it made bile rise in your throat at the thought.

you generally didn’t mind him — he was grumpy, sure, but someone like old yeller would be grumpy after how many years he’s been alive and after what he’s been through. what pissed you off and what you couldn’t forgive — is how he treated different groups of people. he picked on a lot of people, and even if it was just “harmless hazing” — you didn’t care. it wasn’t cool and it definitely wasn’t hot. it was hurtful and you didn’t like it. he made fun of your friends, and that was where the hate began — and there was no end in sight.

but the best part? oh — the fucking cherry on top? his endless flirtation. he flirted with you shamelessly as if he wasn’t ruthless with your friends moments prior. did he think you void of loyalty? did he think you would sleep with him after he roasted your friends just because he threw a few sleazy comments your way? how little respect did he have for you? or, worse — how little respect did he think you had for yourself?

made your fucking blood boil.

that no good, rotten, fucking —

“hey, sweetheart —“

when you were within fifteen feet of him, it felt like all you did was roll your fucking eyes and bite back a quip. all you wanted to do was put him in his fucking place, or stay as far away from him as possible. however, with a mission so important — so dire — you couldn’t ask for a reassignment and make the team succumb to immature whims. you put up with logan because neither you, the team, nor the government had more options or time.

“what, logan?” you spat, pursing your lips as you turned around to face him.

fuck, he was so goddamn handsome. his skin was tanned from constantly being outside, looking perfectly aged. his facial hair and hairstyle were out of the ordinary as well, but it only kept your attention on him longer. he was strong — so strong. his muscles could kill in mere seconds, and you realized you hated yourself for thinking this way. for falling into the trap of a man so annoying — so undeserving of your attraction — your only response was to clench your jaw and fucking glare at him.

he raised his eyebrow at your attitude. “others already took the cars and helicopter. looks like we’re takin’ in my chopper.”

he didn’t wait for you to disagree. in fact, as you were winding up your “aaaabsolutely not” he immediately turned around and left towards the front — where his motorcycle was parked outside.

you stared at him as he walked towards the bike — broad shoulders clad in the leather jacket he always wore. his legs, even covered in jeans, were so trim and muscular that you could see the power behind each stride. when he swung one leg over the seat, and two hands gripped the handle bars — you would’ve said he was attractive if it wasn’t for how horrendous he was. you would’ve bit your hand at how broad his shoulders were and the strength behind them. you should’ve torn your gaze away from him — because at that moment, the moment where you were contemplating your attraction towards him and how it worked with your hatred for him — he caught you staring.

he caught you staring — and the fucking bastard smirked.

you cursed then, and then started towards his bike. like he once did, you swung your leg over and wrapped your arms around his midsection.

“hold on tight, sweetheart,” he spoke, the vibrations of his deep voice felt against your chest. “can’t say i’d let anything bad happen to you, though.”

“just drive, logan,” you spat through gritted teeth.

he chuckled darkly then, revving his engine. “yes ma’am.”

with his back to you, unable to see his reaction — it was the one moment, the one fucking time that you didn’t roll your eyes at him. your reaction to his words — yes ma’am — was raw and surprising, unsettling almost. you shifted in your seat and adjusted your grip on him as a warmth settled in your stomach, and on the apples of your cheeks. your breaths turned shallow, too, as your whole body succumbed to the blush that overtook.

no, you thought. you think he’s hot. that’s fine. assholes can be hot — we just can’t act on how hot they are. that’s fine. it’s fine. everything is fine —

but the way he smelled? oh god, the way he fucking smelled? logan was what bath and body works modeled those mahogany or whisky or leather or whatever-the-fuck candles after. part of you wanted to curse him out, making up something to be mad at him for — but the other parts wanted to wrap your arms around him tighter and stick your nose in the back of his neck like a depraved lunatic.

but you couldn’t. you wouldn’t let yourself. you sat up straighter then — trying to put as much space as possible between you and him on a vehicle that was not meant for a rivalry between driver and passenger.

you were disgusted with yourself. so, so disgusted with yourself.

fuck, you thought. this is going to be a long night.

when you reached camp, you immediately began setting up. you set up shelter and got your supplies in order, and logan went out looking for food. that was logan’s one quality that not even you could take away from him — he was an excellent hunter. you tried to busy yourself as best as you could — setting up the tent, starting the fire, the works. the sun would almost be down before logan came back.

when you heard his footsteps, your head immediately flicked up towards him. there he was — dinner thrown over his shoulder, clad in a white tank top, and cigar in his mouth. a cloud of smoke followed behind him as he walked towards where you had set up camp.

“showing off?” you cast your gaze down, putting another log on the fire.

“…is it working?”

you couldn’t help it. you let out a small laugh.

fuck.

you cleared your throat immediately, hoping he didn’t hear it. unfortunately, there was no use in that. fear struck you when you saw the tiniest smirk on his face. you brushed it off, leaving him to go get a sweatshirt as he dressed and cleaned the animal.

“scared of a little blood, sweetheart?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his comment. “it’s an animal, logan. not our enemy.”

“…fuckin’ vegans.”

“okay, old yeller —“ you quipped, poking at the fire. “you don’t feel a drop of sadness when you go after bambi?”

“it’s meat,” that was all he said on the subject, and you didn’t feel like poking the bear.

you ate in silence and went to bed in silence. actually — you went to bed. logan stayed out by the fire until you retreated to your tent. you left him with a bottle of jameson on his right, and a cigar in his left hand. his eyes were trained on the fire.

you didn’t like the look on his face. it was either an expression of zoning out, sadness, or a mixture of both — you couldn’t be sure. any time someone had asked logan what was on his mind, it was usually met with some rude or mean insult from logan. old yeller didn’t like feelings, and that worked out well for you — because you didn’t want to hear about his feelings.

you thought he would stay out all night if he could, never sleeping. however, he did end up going to bed — but you only knew that because he woke up screaming from a nightmare.

him yelling was extremely inconvenient and frankly dangerous — it could blow your cover. in your exhausted state, you sprung up and out of your tent and dashed over to where logan was curled on the ground. he was thrashing at the air — knocking over his bottle of whisky and kicking at the fire.

“logan!” you hissed, trying to force yourself out of your discombobulated state. the thrashing continued, and in a moment of desperation — you got on top of him.

straddled him, to be more exact.

in a moment, his eyes snapped open. your back was on the ground and he was above you — one of his claws at your jugular. logan’s instincts woke up before he did as he laid on top of you and over you, breathing heavily as he kept his blade drawn at your neck with his eyes blown wide.

“you were having a nightmare,” you choked out. “you’re okay —“

he was still staring at you and breathing heavily. it was like he was in a trance — unaware of how to navigate the feeling of peace and a fight or flight response. his pupils, blown wide, showed no sign of calming down.

you reached both hands to grasp at his cheeks, feeling the tickle of his beard on your palms. “you’re safe — it’s alright.”

he dropped his head then — on your collarbone. it hung in shame, guilt, and exhaustion. the unholy trinity that followed logan howlett around for his entire life. one of your hands slid to the back of his neck, cupping the base of his head as his thumb stroked his skin.

“i’m sorry,” was all he said, head still in the crook of your neck.

“you’re good — i get them, too.”

“i’m not looking for a pity party, alright?” he snapped, pushing himself up.

that was it. the final straw.

you reached forward them, yanking him by the shirt so you were nose to nose — tongue on fire, throat hoarse with anger and tight with sadness. “you’re such an ass, you know that? all you do is insult my friends, expect me to sleep with you, and then the moment — the one fucking moment — you show any sign of humanity, i extend a fucking olive branch, and you snap at me? — the fuck is your problem, logan?”

he raised his brows then, almost in a beckoning fashion. “you think i need a shoulder to cry on, huh, sweetheart? — that’s the thing with you young people, why your friends annoy me so much — there’s no fucking time to spend whining when there’s a fucking job to do.”

“jealous, logan?” you spat, still gripping his shirt. “can’t stand the fact that i would rather console the people you insult rather than let you fuck me?”

“what you do in your spare time is yours, sweetheart —“ he scoffed. “if you want to spend it with people who don’t respect you, fine by me.”

“don’t respect me?!” you spat. your face was red and hot now, burning with rage. every word that left your mouth was coated in venom hoping to strike him like his words struck you. “you’d fuck me, leave, and then probably treat me with as much disdain as you treat everyone else — how the fuck is that better?!”

oh — you shouldn’t have.

you really, really shouldn’t have.

you felt the regret as soon the word “better” left your mouth — only a moment before you saw something switch in logan’s eyes. the switch was followed by a twitch in his jaw, the movement he makes before he basically uses someone’s spine as a tooth pick. you knew he wouldn’t hurt you — he couldn’t, he wouldn’t — but damn, the realization of how much weight your statement held in his chest concerned you.

you watched his nose crinkle in anger.

he let out a frustrated, slow breath.

another.

and another.

and then another. he was still on top of you then — staring down his nose at you. you were cocky, cocking your chin up at him — trying to feign looking him in the eyes despite your lack of height. you didn’t want to be a sexual object, there for his free use. you didn’t want to be something he could discard, worthless. you didn’t want logan to give you the same treatment he gave your friends — because that would mean you were no longer worth anything to him.

you braced yourself for his words — what you always thought would come, sooner or later. the end of flirting, and the beginning of rejection and hatred.

“that’s it, huh?” he spoke low then, fighting back anger. “the princess thought i’d leave?” his lips were barely touching yours then, threatening the barrier and final boundary of air between you two. your chest was rising and falling with every word, unable to keep your cool. he continued, “maybe i should — since now you sound like your friends — bunch of fucking whiners.”

you slammed at his chest then, trying to push him off for his hurtful words. he didn’t budge — he was the fucking wolverine, what could you do that would get him to actually move?

“the problem is, doll —“ he took both of your hands and pressed them down next to your head. “i know you’re not like them — and i like you too much to leave.”

you scoffed, gritting your teeth. “stop fucking —“

he let go of one of your wrists and grabbed your chin in his strong hand, silencing you. he stared down at you then, and no words had the chance to leave your lips. anger sent daggers from your eyes to his, but something swirled within his irises. something worse than anger — darker. stronger. harder.

“are you going to stop fucking whining and let me kiss you?” he spat. “or are you going to crawl away with your tail between your legs and be forced to use that stashed vibrator you keep in your bag?”

you sucked in a sharp breath then — eyes going wide as your lips fell open in surprise. he smirked then, obviously pleased. your chest was still rising and falling, but now it was with shallow breaths as something else filled your lungs and abdomen.

heat. pure heat. warmth spread throughout your ribs, abdomen, and core once you absorbed logan’s words. he was so mean — so fucking rude and mean — but his “no bullshit” attitude forced you to keep out of your own way in a way you didn’t want to admit you liked. you were still then — and all you could do was stare up at logan with your big, dark eyes as a smirk crept onto his face.

“that’s it, baby,” was all he whispered before he kissed you.

the hand that once held your face slid around the back of your head, holding the base of your skull up and out for him. he planted his spread knees in between your thighs, cementing himself in place as his other arm held himself up.

logan kissed you with demand in every movement. his lips lead you in a fashion that so passionate and so dominant that your brain and body were fucking putty — his to mold in his hands as he deemed fit. you should’ve been disgusted, tormented by the fact that he would do such a thing — but you couldn’t keep up the act any longer. having logan so close, so warm — it was the ultimate act of comfort.

men had kissed you before — but no man from before could kiss you like this. this. no man had the power to claim you in the open, dangerous air while on top of you and still making you feel so safe and protected. you didn’t feel the need to go out of your way to show dominance — and it felt so fucking good to turn your brain off, even for just a moment.

and logan? fuck — logan? he had wanted nothing more for months than to be exactly where he was now; on top of you, tongue exploring the mouth that loved to insult him. he knew how on edge you were, how you were always caring about everyone but yourself — he just wanted to see what you were like when you could only think about one thing, and one thing only: your own pleasure.

it started with his fingers tightening on the back of your neck ever so slightly. your throat let out a quiet sort of mewl — like he had squeezed the last shred of focus out of you. he wanted you out of focus — not necessarily under his control, he just wanted you to lose control. crying, screaming, taking out your anger on him for all he cared — but he just wanted to be the one that made you forget about everything for a little while.

…so when he felt your hands running up and down the length of his upper body, curious as to the muscles of his shoulders — he knew what to do. he couldn’t help himself, should’ve asked —

he lowered his lower body down and ground against your clothed core.

instinctively, your legs tried to wrap around his — trying to bring him closer. you were struggling, it was so cute to him. he thought about how mean it would be to tease you, even if it was for a little bit — but would quick fun honedtly help you? the stick up your ass would probably never leave, he thought — he had to do this right.

and when he did it again — the smallest whine built in the back of your throat, sending vibrations throughout your body and senses. logan’s hyper sensitive hearing sent shivers — actual shivers — up and down his spine, and right to his cock as his strained against his zipper.

he felt you clam up then, tighten — insecure. he could sense it. smell it.

“don’t you dare —“ he breathed, demanding another kiss from you. he would swallow you whole if given the choice. “those whines you make? those sweet, little noises? — they’re mine, doll. mine. you don’t get to take what’s mine, do you?”

“no —“ you whimpered, shakily. “but — i — i thought —“

he let your neck go, much to your dismay, but that empty feeling was replaced by his large, flat palm pressing against your clothes core. you jumped for a moment, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you peered up at him through your lashes.

“thinkin’ i hate whiners?” he laughed, biting on the skin of your neck as he kept palming you. “not when they sound as pretty as you, doll. ‘m so hard for you — gotta know you want this as much as me.”

you almost let out a struggled gasp then, close to tears. he was so mean. the stress and pain of waiting could be felt all over. he was being so sweet — so generous with his touches — but you wanted more. needed more.

“wan’ it so bad, logan,” you gasped, almost hiccuping. “don’t fuck with me anymore, please — no more games.”

you felt his hand slide your zipper down its track, smirking. “no more games means you’re mine, doll. i don’t fucking share.”

you watched as his large hand — calloused from years of war, labor, and pain — found its way under your pretty, lacy thong. he wanted to rip it off you, free you from the tight clothing — but he needed you now. you needed him now, and he wouldn’t deny you any longer.

you were soaking wet when you felt two fingers slip in between your folds, sending a sharp breath to be sucked in between your lips. logan watched in awe as the flames of the fire caught the glistening wetness on his fingers, illuminating the reflection for both of you to see and witness.

it was obvious to him now — you wanted him so badly, for longer than you had ever let on.

he should’ve been slow, loving, maybe even tender — but that wasn’t him. never was, and never would be. your grip tightened on his as he slipped two fingers inside your pussy, sucking him in desperation.

you immediately tried to bite back a squeal when you felt his fingers finally slide all the way inside you, leaving no space undiscovered. the pads of his fingers were nudging at the roof of your pussy as the meat of his fleshy palm rubbed against your lonely clit — pink, puffy, and pathetic. so desperate. you were biting your lip now, screwing your eyes shut — trying to fight the urge to scream his name.

“oh, i don’t think so, doll,” he grunted. “look at me.”

you tried to look at him. you really did. when you couldn’t manage it, your eyes blurry — you couldn’t believe it: he lightly smacked your jaw.

it should’ve sent you reeling, absolutely fuming — but it only caught your attention. he was glaring down at you, fuming, with a pink hue on his cheeks. “what did i say, huh?”

you couldn’t respond. he had halted his movement, leaving you to buck into his hands.

“those moans are mine,” he spat. “you’re goin’ to be loud, and you’re goin’ to let me know exactly how it feels, alright?”

“okay,” you whimpered. “please just —“

“fucking christ —“ he spat exasperatedly. his movements were rougher now, more than ever — sending you closer and closer to the edge. “your wound so tight, you know that? so fucking concerned and always thinking — you’re goin’ to let go for me, doll, and i’m not taking my eyes off this pussy until it sings for me.”

“fuck, logan —“ you threw your head back, screwing your eyes shut.

“you wanna close your eyes, baby, huh?” he grunted with cockiness in his voice. “too much for you?” his voice was low and guttural, turning you on more and more. “need to see what it’s like when you break for me, baby. — lose it for me, yeah? come on — that’s it — that’s a girl —“

every muscle in your body was tightening with every word. you were straining against him — wanting to pull him close and push him far away at the same exact time. you wanted your orgasm, he wanted your orgasm — and you both fought the other for it. you were grinding your hips up to meet his hand — and he was pushing you back down to the ground so you’d sit-the-fuck-still and take whatever he gave you.

logan hovered over you, knees still planted between your thighs. he still worked at your pussy, still forcing it to consume everything he had to offer. his free hand grabbed at the hair at the top of your head, pulling it back so you were at his complete and total mercy, gasping and whimpering for him — and only him.

“yeah, baby — get lost in it. show daddy how much you needed this.”

you couldn’t take it anymore. you couldn’t. you just couldn’t. the relentless need to stay strong, to keep your cool, always remain calm — gone. all of it — gone. shockwaves went up and down your body, every muscle now taught. your neck stretched back and your back arched up into logan’s chest as your orgasm ran up, down, and through every vein. your throat was dry and cracked — as were any and all coherent words that left your mouth. gasps, cries, whimpers — they all went straight to logan’s cock the minute he smelled the sweet and tangy scent of your juice flowing onto his hands and palm. he wanted to lick you up and down, swallow you whole — but logan wasn’t a patient man, no — never.

and there he was. smirking, above you — not even slightly tired.

he kept up his torture — hand still working at your pussy.

“that’s it, baby — ride out that high,” he grunted in your ear, biting at your shoulder. “nice and easy. come down for me, sweetheart — daddy’s not done with you yet.”

you fell back against the dirt, gasping — wondering where the fuck you were and how logan got you there. everything about you — blurry. your eyesight, your hearing, your sense of smell — all of it: blurry. numb and tingling. you could feel everything and nothing all at once, all while trying to catch your breath.

the only thing you could do, the only thing — was reach for logan’s belt buckle, whining for more.

he smirked down at you then once more, taking his cock our for you to wrap your small, weak hand against its girthy base. you were still reeling from the orgasm, but he didn’t mind.

“greedy girl.” he kissed you, mouth hot and demanding. “pussy feels empty without me, huh? gotta change that.”

he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, your muscles stretching and conforming to his will. you pulled him close to you, whining into his kiss. he swallowed every feverish moan with everything he had, his mind now also buzzing with pleasure.

“bet your pussy feels so warm and wet —“ he breathed. “gonna let me use you, baby? hmm?”

you shook your head feverishly, tears coming to your eyes. “please, logan — please use me.”

that’s all he needed. he slid his long length inside you, and he felt every stretch. your pussy was so sweet — ready to mold to whatever he gave you. he heard your head fall back in pleasure, a loan erupting from your chest — but logan couldn’t care about that right now. all he could focus on was how your pussy opened wide for him, sucking him in like if needed him as much as he needed you. he felt himself grow longer and thicker inside of you, almost painfully.

“jesus fucking christ —“ he hissed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and shoving his face into the crook of your neck. his guttural, deep moans were sent straight through your ear and down every nerve in your body. he grunted, “gonna let me take what i need, baby? let daddy use you?”

“yes, please —“ you cried. “need it so bad.”

he bent your leg back to your chest now, and suddenly the head of his cock was hitting a spot you had never felt before. so deep, so hidden — hot tears sprung to your eyes when he found it. every part of you was sensitive, buzzing for his touch — and all you could think about how there was more and more to give to him, only his to take.

“right there —!” you sobbed.

“that’s your spot, huh?” he spat through gritted teeth. “no boy has found that, i can tell. i can fucking smell it. you want me to pound into you there, baby? gonna let a real man show you how he fucks his girl?”

you were sobbing at this point, pulling him closer and closer into you if there was any space. you couldn’t respond. you didn’t have the strength or the brain to do so. all you could do was bite down on logan’s shoulder as he fucked into that spot — that one fucking spot — as he let out animalistic groans in your ear.

“all mine.”

“my fucking pussy —“

“good fucking girl —“

“gonna cream in this pussy until you can’t take it.”

your second orgasm ripped through you then as tears leaked from your eyes. your teeth broke logan’s skin, blood flooding your mouth as he moaned. the pain coursed through him with the pleasure, mixing within his veins until everything else and around him was forgotten. the only thing that mattered was the greedy pussy sucking him in, and the sweet girl beneath him.

logan was a fucking animal with how he chased your high. he ripped and clawed at the dirt as he drank in your second orgasm, feeling you go limp beneath him. the adrenaline coursing through his veins had a mind of its own — he wrapped your arms around his neck as he took your hips in both of his hands. he held you both upright then — smashing your hips down to meet his as you hung on for dear life. deep, broken grunts were pushed through his gritted teeth as he fought tooth and nail for his orgasm. he dove head first into it, letting you both fall to the ground.

you felt logan’s body shake — fucking shake. you had never known him to succumb to something so peaceful and powerful — so demanding of him. his muscles strained against the control like they were chains and he needed to break free. he groaned into the crook of your neck and tresses of your hair as he fucked himself into your puffy pussy, your cries mixing with his groans. logan’s thrust were desperate as he fucked his cream inside you, part of it coming out and leaking onto his cock as it mixed with your juice. the sight of it ripped through him as the want to claim you again and again took him too. he found your lips once more, both of you gasping into a kiss as you both settled back into the dirt.

it was going to be a long, long night...