#especially the kind where you’re working on a project together

[dozybeez]

Spin For Me (Pt. Two)

She's the quiet girl in class with a secret life after dark. He's the campus heartthrob who's used to getting what he wants-except her. When a class project forces them together, buried truths, blurred lines, and undeniable tension threaten to unravel everything they thought they knew.

→ part one

→ part three

pairing: college au! kim mingyu x exotic dancer f!reader

word count: 7.3K

content warnings: slowish burn, eventual smut, lap dances, adult club setting, derogatory language toward sex workers, internalized shame, emotional distress, subtle? size and innocence kink. MDNI

authors note: in no way do I think I'm a good writer. I wrote this a while ago just for self indulgence and decided to post it for fun, so please understand.

You always looked small compared to him. Not just short, but like a different tempo entirely. While he was all warmth and swagger and shoulders that barely fit through classroom doorframes, you were quiet and elusive. Like smoke you couldn’t hold in your palm.

He finally stepped forward. “Good morning, partner.”

You startled, tugging your earbuds out. “Don’t sneak up like that.”

He grinned, slinging his bag into the seat beside you, spreading his legs with the kind of ease that made the chair look too narrow for him. “You’re the one zoning out. What were you watching?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, closing your laptop. “Let’s just start.”

You worked in relative silence—him highlighting a section of the textbook, you typing notes. Occasionally, he’d ask a question he already knew the answer to, just to hear you talk. You always answered like you were trying to be as efficient as possible. Minimal words. Maximum escape.

Half an hour passed before he leaned back and stretched, his long arms brushing the edge of your chair. “You always look so tired during our sessions.”

You blinked. “I do?”

“Yeah. You ever sleep?”

You paused. “I have a job.”

He tilted his head. “Where?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He didn’t push. But he filed it away.

A beat of silence. Then—

“You know, most girls would kill to get stuck on a project with me,” he teased, clearly joking.

You gave a small, unimpressed glance.

Mingyu laughed, loud and bright. “You’re the only person I’ve met who looks annoyed when I walk in.”

“I don’t look annoyed,” you muttered. “Just…neutral.”

He didn’t tell you that “neutral” on you still meant that little furrow between your brows and a mouth pressed into a pout you didn’t know you had. Or that you looked especially cute today in your usual minimal makeup, your skin glowing beneath the lights.

Girls wandered past your table, lingering longer than needed—some even leaning down to say hi to Mingyu, hair flipped, lip gloss fresh. He was polite, charming, but he didn’t even stand up. Just gave them his usual smile and waved them off.

You stayed quiet through it all. Only once did you glance up from your notes.

When the last girl finally walked away, Mingyu let out a low breath and glanced sideways. “Sorry about that.”

“I don’t care,” you said, typing again.

But he caught the slight tension in your jaw.

He nudged your shoe with his. “You jealous?”

You scoffed, not looking up. “Of what? That your fan club follows you to our psych project meeting?”

“Maybe,” he grinned.

“You’re delusional.”

And yet—for the first time, he swore he saw a smile threaten your lips. You were still looking at the screen, but your fingers paused over the keys.

He leaned closer, voice quieter now. “So…what is your job?”

You closed your laptop with a snap and stood. “We’re done for today.”

He blinked up at you, surprised. “What—why?”

“Because I’m tired,” you said, throwing his own words back at him.

Then you walked out without saying goodbye.

He watched the door you disappeared through, heart thudding harder than he cared to admit.

Whatever you were hiding—it wasn’t just a job. And suddenly, he wanted to know everything.

⸻

Mingyu didn’t usually think about people this much.

He was popular, sure—he’d always been popular. It wasn’t something he chased. Things just happened around him: girls handed him their numbers, professors smiled too wide, strangers followed him on social media for reasons he didn’t fully understand. It was easy to coast through campus on charisma and height alone.

But you didn’t care.

And that made you impossible to stop thinking about.

He hadn’t seen you for three days—not in class, not at the café where you always sat with a tiny paperback and earbuds. When he walked into their Wednesday lecture, he instinctively scanned the rows for you—no messy hair, no oversized sweater or sunglasses perched on your head.

He texted you once. Just a casual:

u good? want to go over the next section early?

No reply.

He thought about texting again. Then deleted the draft.

⸻

You came to class Thursday. Barefaced. Wearing an old black tank top and sweats that swallowed your legs. You looked like you’d just rolled out of bed—but still somehow ethereal. Your long hair was pulled into a messy braid, but under your eyes, a faint shadow rested.

Mingyu didn’t sit beside you. He watched from a few rows back, not wanting to startle you again.

But halfway through the lecture, you turned. Just a glance. Almost like you felt him.

Your eyes met for a fraction of a second. Then you looked away.

And he couldn’t focus on anything after that.

⸻

You met again in the library two days later—your idea, surprisingly. You texted him out of nowhere:

Let’s meet. Need to finish the outline before Monday.

You didn’t apologize. He didn’t ask.

You were already seated when he arrived, same table as always, hair tucked behind one ear. Your laptop was open, tabs scattered across the screen. You wore a soft grey cardigan over a white baby tee. You looked tired again, but more alert this time—like you’d made peace with it.

He sat across from you. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

You didn’t look up at first. But when you did, it hit him again—that softness. Those big eyes. How small your hands looked compared to the laptop keys beneath them. He watched you tuck your legs up under your chair, posture shrinking inward like you wanted to disappear.

“Still not gonna tell me what your job is?” he asked lightly.

Your eyes flicked up. “Why are you so curious?”

Mingyu leaned back, stretching. “Because you look like you moonlight as a spy.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched.

“I’m serious,” he said. “You show up to class looking like you’ve fought demons and survived. Then you ghost for days. And I know you’re not sleeping because you always look like you drank six Red Bulls and cried.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s so rude.”

He grinned. “I’m just saying—whatever your job is, it’s intense.”

You clicked something on your laptop. “So is this psych presentation. Let’s focus.”

But he didn’t look away.

There was something about you today—an extra layer of tired around your eyes, the faint shimmer of body lotion on your collarbone where your cardigan slipped. Not seductive. Just…real. Soft. Almost heartbreakingly human.

“You smell good,” he said before he could stop himself.

Your fingers paused over your trackpad. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “I mean. That’s not—like, I wasn’t trying to be weird—”

“It’s vanilla,” you mumbled, suddenly flustered. “Body lotion.”

He nodded slowly. “Cool.”

The air between you shifted again. Unspoken tension settled quietly between pages and click-clicks of your typing. With you curled up in the chair, sleeves pulled over your hands, you looked like a girl trying to disappear.

But you weren’t invisible. Not to him.

He didn’t know yet that you had 200k Tumblr followers obsessing over your masked pole dancing routines or your artfully posted outfit photos—black thigh-highs, worn paperbacks.

He didn’t know you were a secret muse to an entire internet subculture.

But he didn’t need a Tumblr persona to show him your worth, because here he was, obsessing over the girl sitting in front of him.

⸻

The library smelled like pencil shavings and burnt coffee. You sat curled into your side of the study table with your legs folded underneath your oversized jeans, your laptop glowing dimly in front of you. A pen rested between your fingers, untouched. You chewed the end absently, eyes narrowed at the document on screen, though you hadn’t typed anything for five minutes.

Mingyu, across from you, was watching. Not obviously. He had his laptop open and his hoodie pulled halfway up his arms. Occasionally he tapped something into the shared Google Doc, but mostly… he stole glances at you.

You were quiet, but not cold—not really. Your voice always came out small and soft, your words clipped like you were used to being interrupted. But your brain worked fast. Your sarcasm was dry. You were the kind of girl who said smart things like she was afraid they’d make her unlikable.

“I can tell when you’re zoning out,” he said casually.

Your eyes flicked up. “I’m not zoning out.”

He smiled slowly. “You’re literally chewing on your pen cap like no tomorrow.”

You blinked, flustered, and dropped the pen immediately, sitting up straighter. “Shut up.”

He laughed. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

You shot him a look, but it lacked real heat. “And you’re loud when you breathe.”

“Damn.” He leaned back in his chair, hand resting behind his neck. “That’s the third time this week you’ve gone for me for no reason.”

You shrugged, but your lips twitched. The teasing had become something like routine now. It made the silence less heavy. Made the project slightly more tolerable.

Still, you didn’t offer much. Not about yourself. You showed up, you worked, you disappeared. No parties. No friends. No Instagram that he could find, not under your real name anyway. But you had that sort of… presence. That vibe that some people wore like perfume. Like you belonged somewhere else, like you knew something he didn’t.

“How’s work?” he asked suddenly.

You stiffened.

Shit.

You blinked, then looked down at your screen.

He waited, but you never answered. Just went back to editing the paragraph you’d worked on earlier, your nails tapping softly against the keyboard.

“Do you work late?” he added.

“Yeah.”

“Like… off-campus?”

You looked up this time. There was something unreadable in your gaze. Not fear exactly. Just… a line being drawn.

“Yeah,” you said again, quieter this time.

He nodded slowly. “Cool.”

You tilted your head. “Cool?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just never met someone who’s immune to small talk.”

“I’m not immune,” you said dryly. “I’m allergic.”

He grinned again. “Right. Of course.”

The moment passed. But it lingered in him long after—like a shadow stretched under the skin.

⸻

The library was almost completely silent except for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the scratching of your pen on your notebook. Your laptop was closed for once, a rare sign you were mentally drained. You sat slouched, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, lower lip caught between your teeth.

Mingyu stepped into the room carrying a brown paper bag and two drinks.

Your head lifted at the sound of the door.

“I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding the bag aloft.

You blinked. “What… is that?”

“Peace offering.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“I know.” He grinned. “But you looked like you were about to commit murder in the library when I passed by, so thought I’d try to de-escalate.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical but not rejecting it outright. He took that as a win and plopped the bag down on the table beside you.

“Grilled cheese,” he said. “And I got you that plain tea you always get from the café.”

Your expression faltered — just barely — like you weren’t used to people noticing things like that.

You eyed him, guarded. “Why?”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “You forget to eat when you study.”

“Do not.”

“You do,” he said, leaning against the desk beside you. “You get all shaky and mean.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched.

Mingyu sat beside you, close but not too close. “I didn’t cook it or anything. I’m not trying to poison you.”

You reached for the drink first, lifting the cup slowly and taking a sip like you didn’t quite trust him. Your expression softened at the taste.

“You really remembered?”

“I remember a lot of things,” he said, too casually.

You pulled a piece of the grilled cheese apart and chewed slowly, thoughtful. The silence stretched comfortably for a while — rare, but not awkward.

“You always do this?” you asked eventually.

“Do what?”

“Try this hard.”

Mingyu glanced at you. “Only when I want to.”

You swallowed. Looked away.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you added, voice quieter now.

“I know.”

“Or a savior.”

“I really know.”

More silence.

You toyed with the edge of the food wrapper. “Then why bother?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just watched you. The way you ate like you hadn’t in hours but still tried to be polite about it. The way your fingers curled tightly around the drink, like it was anchoring you in place. You weren’t the kind of girl who tried to be mysterious — you just were. You kept everything close to the chest, like you’d learned somewhere along the way that being open cost too much. But still, you showed up. Still, you were kind in your quiet way — bringing him notes when he forgot, correcting his grammar without making him feel dumb. You didn’t laugh to fill silences or flirt to get something. You just were. And maybe that’s what made you magnetic. He liked how careful you were with your words. How sharp your humor was when it slipped through. How you always seemed like you were halfway between running away and staying.

And he wanted — more than he probably should’ve — to be someone you stayed for.

But instead of all that, he just said, “Because I like being around you.”

Your eyes flicked up, startled.

He didn’t smile this time. He just held your gaze, gentle and serious.

You looked at him like he’d just handed you something too heavy to hold.

Then — without a word — you stood up.

“Thanks for the food,” you mumbled, stuffing the rest of the grilled cheese into your bag.

“I’ll finish the notes later. You don’t have to wait,” you added.

And just like that, the wall was back. Not slammed up — just slowly, quietly rebuilt, brick by careful brick.

Mingyu sat in the quiet for a long time after you left, your untouched drink sweating on the desk beside him.

⸻

You didn’t usually get nervous before going onstage.

Not anymore.

Your heart still pounded when you touched the cold brass of the pole — a mix of adrenaline and muscle memory — but that was part of the process. You liked the way the lights felt on your skin. The way the bass pulsed through the floor. You liked the way the crowd got quiet when you danced to something unexpected. Something slow. Heavy.

But tonight your hands were shaking.

Because he was here.

Kim Mingyu was sitting in the low velvet booth near the bar — the one that had the best view of the stage. Legs spread like he owned the world, head tipped back slightly as he sipped something dark from a tumbler, his eyes scanning the dancers with a casual kind of curiosity that made your stomach clench.

You hadn’t seen him when you first walked in. Your shift started later than usual, and you’d been rushing. The moment you caught sight of him in the dim light, you froze.

You ducked behind the dressing curtain, heart in your throat.

“Yo, Fawn.” One of the girls clacked past you in rhinestone stilettos, blowing a puff of glittery setting spray into the air. “You’re on in five.”

You nodded stiffly and adjusted the mask on your face — black satin, molded like a delicate masquerade cutout. It had become your thing. The mask. The mystery. The anonymity. No face. Just vibe. And it made the guests crazy for you.

You didn’t think anyone could connect the dots.

But now Mingyu was here. And he was looking.

Not like the other guys. Not like the regulars who stared with open mouths or tried to slip phone numbers under their drinks. Mingyu watched like he was trying to figure something out. Like he already knew something.

And it was starting to mess with you.

⸻

You stepped onto the stage barefoot today.

Tonight’s outfit was deceptively cute — a soft ruffled black two-piece with garters and sheer mesh gloves. It clashed with the track you’d queued: “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails — seductive, dark, hypnotic.

The club fell quiet the moment the lights hit you.

You let the music carry your body into the first spin, ignoring the weight of his eyes.

Don’t look at him. Don’t.

But you did.

And he was staring — not in recognition, but in something worse: fascination.

His jaw was slack. His brows pulled slightly together. His eyes fixed on your movements like he couldn’t look away.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood.

He didn’t recognize you. He couldn’t.

You moved like a ghost in the smoke — twisting, folding, slowly unraveling yourself with each beat. Every time your skin touched the cold metal of the pole, you grounded yourself. Every time the lights dimmed, you let the shadows swallow you.

When you finally climbed to the top and held yourself mid-air with just your thighs, the song peaking in slow ache, you made the mistake of glancing down again.

He was still there. Still watching.

But it wasn’t just lust. It was… something else. You knew that look.

It was the same way he’d looked at you earlier that week during your study session, when you’d accidentally fallen asleep with your cheek on the table and woken up to find a croissant and a hot tea next to you with a post-it note:

You were snoring. Kind of cute. – MG

It was a look that scared you more than if he had recognized you.

⸻

After the set, you fled backstage before the lights fully dimmed.

You yanked off your gloves, heart hammering. Your palms were damp. Your thighs ached.

A few of the girls were laughing and chatting behind you, fixing hair or changing outfits, but you didn’t join. You just stared into the cracked mirror above the vanity and waited for the burning in your chest to settle.

Mingyu didn’t recognize you.

But what if he came back?

What if he kept coming back?

You didn’t know what would be worse — if he kept staring at Fawn… or if one day he started staring at you that way, too.

⸻

Mingyu didn’t usually come to clubs like this alone.

The first time had been a birthday thing. One of his friends booked a table, ordered numerous bottles, and the rest was history.

He remembered the lights. The music. The haze.

And you.

He didn’t know your name. Just your stage one: Fawn.

Masked, and untouchable.

He hadn’t been able to look away the first time he saw you. Something about the way you moved — elegant but strange, like you didn’t belong here either. Your outfit had been soft. Innocent. Like something stolen from a doll and repurposed for war.

You didn’t dance for the crowd. Not really. Your music was weird — haunting. The way you clung to the pole was like watching a dream try not to fall apart.

You didn’t look at anyone.

Except once. When your eyes met for half a second.

And something in his chest went still.

So he came back. Just once, he told himself.

He thought it would help him get over you. The real you. That maybe watching an exotic dancer he was in awe by months ago would help him get clarity and stop his relentless daydreaming over his psych partner.

But now after seeing Fawn again, he wasn’t even pretending it was curiosity. He was obsessed.

Because every time he watched Fawn, he swore she looked familiar — not in the obvious way. Not like “I’ve seen her in class” familiar. No, this was deeper. A sort of ache in his teeth. A knowing without knowing.

Fawn reminded him of a girl — the one who always wore oversized clothes and weird Mary Janes. The one who glared at him when he complimented her hair and only laughed when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

The one who looked so small when she curled her legs under her during study sessions and chewed her pen when she was concentrating.

He hadn’t told anyone how into you he was.

Mingyu didn’t know when it started. Maybe the second study session, when you’d admitted you hated presentations and he offered to do the talking if you made the slides. Or maybe when you smiled at him, just barely, and your nose crinkled like it had never done that before.

But he was sure of one thing now: he liked both of you.

Fawn.

You.

And that was impossible.

⸻

“Your usual?” the bartender asked, knowing the tall man’s order after his frequent recent visits.

Mingyu nodded, keeping his eyes on the stage.

The lights shifted.

A figure stepped out from behind the curtain, and his breath caught in his throat.

It was her.

Tonight, Fawn was wearing something red and sheer, with off the shoulder straps and white thigh-highs. Her legs were bare, smooth, glowing under the blue light. Her long dark hair was loose, her mask tied snugly across her face.

She moved with slow, surreal purpose — not like she was trying to be sexy, but like she was trying to say something. He had no idea what it was, but he wanted to know. He needed to.

The music started — something moody and distorted. He didn’t recognize the song, but it felt like it was inside his bones.

His drink sat forgotten in front of him.

She spun once, slow, body arching like a question he didn’t know how to answer. When she caught the pole and flipped into a hold, her strength stunned him. He knew dancers were athletic, sure — but this was something else. It was art. Painful, beautiful art.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

And for a split second, he swore her eyes locked with his again.

The same jolt. The same flicker of panic and… recognition?

But then she looked away, and he shook his head, scoffing softly.

It reminded him of…

God. What was wrong with him?

He laughed to himself, low and dry. The idea that Fawn could be you was… insane. You, with your oversized sweaters and chipped nail polish, who scribbled your thoughts in the margins of your notebook like no one else would ever read them. You, who flushed pink when he held a door open too long. You who got flustered ordering coffee. He couldn’t even imagine you holding hands with a guy, let alone doing something like this. Not in a judgmental way — it was just… you were so mundane. Ordinary in the most oddly comforting, magnetic way. He kind of loved that about you. You were real. Tangible. Fawn, on the other hand, was a fever dream. A fantasy built of velvet and smoke. A current escape to get his mind off of you.

No way they were the same.

No. Fucking. Way.

He stopped the thought before it finished.

⸻

After the set, Fawn disappeared. No lingering glances.

Mingyu sat for another half hour, staring into his glass like it could answer questions he wasn’t ready to ask.

Why did she feel so real?

And why, when he closed his eyes, could he suddenly picture Fawn curled up in an oversized hoodie with chipped nail polish and sarcasm in her voice?

⸻

On the drive home, Mingyu pulled out his phone and opened his texts with you.

He hadn’t sent the last message. It was still sitting there:

you wanna get coffee after the next study session? just us? i won’t make any bad jokes (probably).

He deleted it before you could see it.

Then typed a new one.

Don’t forget your notes for Friday. I’m expecting color-coded perfection.

You replied five minutes later:

You’ll be lucky if I show up at all.

And yet… he smiled.

⸻

You could barely focus on the words on the page.

The letters blurred. Your pen tapped against the edge of your notebook in a restless rhythm, like your thoughts needed somewhere to go and your body was offering to help carry them. You sat cross-legged on the library chair , oversized jeans bunched at your ankles, an old sweatshirt tattering at the wrists — something you grabbed without thinking. It didn’t matter. You didn’t care what you wore right now. You were too busy watching.

Or… monitoring.

He sat across from you, back propped against his chair, hair still damp from a shower he must have took before he came, gray sweats, and his phone abandoned beside his open laptop. He looked relaxed. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t spent the night before practically drooling over you.

Fawn.

You swallowed.

He hadn’t recognized you. You knew he hadn’t. There had been no shift in his expression — no flare of surprise or knowing gleam in his eyes. Nothing in the way he greeted you today, casually tossing you a banana muffin and saying, “You didn’t eat last time. So. Here.”

Not even the way he sat closer today — like an inch closer — felt suspicious. It just felt… warm.

Still. You couldn’t help but test him.

“You looked tired this morning,” you said, not looking up.

He glanced at you, halfway through writing a formula. “Late night.”

Your stomach flipped. “Out?”

He shrugged. “Just a bar near campus. My friend dragged me.”

Your jaw clenched, just for a second. Liar. But maybe not technically — technically there was a bar connected to the club. Still, it stung. Not that you had expected him to admit it. You wouldn’t either.

He chuckled. “You’re still awful at pretending you don’t want to know.”

That got you. Your ears flushed. You wanted to snap back — I don’t care what you do, or God, you’re not that interesting. But the truth was you had cared. You cared the entire night, hovering on the pole with shaky legs and a stuttering heartbeat, eyes tracking his every movement like he was made of glass and you were the hammer.

But he had looked so… unbothered. Unchanged.

You almost wanted to believe him.

So you studied him carefully as he leaned over your notebook, pointing out a minor mistake in one of your citations — gentle and teasing. “You keep using MLA. It’s APA.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the twitch of your lips that almost turned into a smile.

He grinned. Wide and boyish.

Not for the first time, you found yourself melting a little at that grin. Too much teeth. Too much charm. Too goddamn easy.

And still, no sign that he recognized you.

Good. Terrifying. Confusing.

You picked at your notebook edge. “You ever figure out what you want to do after graduation?”

Mingyu looked surprised at the question, but thoughtful. “Honestly? Not really. I keep saying marketing or content creation because it sounds good, but… I don’t know. Something where I get to be around people. Make stuff.”

You nodded slowly. “You’re good with people.”

“And you’re not?”

You paused. “I’m good at faking it.”

He didn’t argue with that. Just studied you for a second too long, eyes narrowing the way they did when he was trying to piece something together. Your chest tightened. You rarely ever complimented him.

But then he smirked. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

You shoved your pen at him, deadpan. “I’d rather combust.”

He laughed again, and this time, something in you softened.

Because he really didn’t know.

And he really had started liking you before that night — you could feel it. In the way he watched you when you talked. In the way his leg always inched closer when you sat on the floor. In the way his voice got lower when he teased you.

Fawn may have intrigued him.

But you were the one he was falling for.

You just didn’t know if you could let him.

⸻

MINGYU’S POV

He noticed something off about you today.

Not in a bad way. Just... twitchier than usual. Your voice was quieter, your eyes flicking to his face more often than your notebook. You barely touched the muffin he gave you, which — for you — was saying a lot. You treated pastries like oxygen.

He caught you staring at him while he wasn’t looking once. Twice. Four times, maybe.

And yeah, fine. He was counting.

But still — weird.

He racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d said something off, or if he’d gotten too close the last time you studied. But he kept coming up blank.

You were just... different today.

He should’ve asked.

Instead, he cracked some joke about you asking him out — which earned him a well-deserved jab in the ribs with your pen — and you moved on.

But the truth was? Mingyu had a whole different problem he was keeping to himself.

Fawn.

Or rather — the idea of Fawn.

He hadn’t meant to go back to the club. Not really. He told himself it was a one-time thing — a distraction, that the drinks were good, that it was just something to do. But that was bullshit.

He went back to see her again.

The masked dancer. The one who looked like she’d been carved from something delicate and unreal. Her movements hypnotized him — slow and sinuous, not trying to be sexy in an obvious way. She didn’t do the crawling or the overt grinding that some of the other dancers did. She moved like water. Or smoke. Or a song he couldn’t name.

Every time she took the stage, he held his breath. Every time she left, he cursed himself for being that guy. A little obsessed. A little too into it.

The worst part?

She reminded him of you.

He’d been embarrassed by that at first. The girl was nothing like you — not in the way she moved, or looked under those low lights, or held herself with that kind of ease. Fawn had power. She commanded the room.

For one split second the night before, Mingyu had actually thought—

He’d said your name under his breath, not even consciously, and immediately laughed at himself for it. The you he knew was too awkward to even raise your hand in class without turning red. You flinched when people complimented your shoes. You looked like you’d burst into flames if anyone ever tried to hold your hand, let alone—

No. Impossible.

He liked your mundaneness. He liked your pale pink notebooks and your awful pen doodles and the way your lashes curled without mascara. You were ordinary in a way that made him feel normal again. Safe. And he loved that about you.

Fawn was a fantasy. You were... real.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Even now, sitting across from you, watching your mouth form words about random psych topics, he was hearing your voice echo in his head from earlier: “You looked tired this morning.”

Had you known?

Had you been there?

God, he was losing it.

⸻

You didn’t like the feeling creeping into your chest every time the velvet curtain parted and you stepped onto the stage.

Not lately, anyway.

There used to be a thrill — the subtle hush that spread through the crowd, the press of cool air on your bare skin, the way the bass from the Deftones track seemed to move with your limbs instead of beneath them. It was a strange sort of catharsis. Disappearing behind your mask, losing yourself in motion. You never had to be the quiet girl who couldn’t make eye contact in class or stumbled over her words when the guy next to you reached for the same textbook.

Up there, you were Fawn.

But now — ever since he started coming back — the stage didn’t feel like an escape.

It felt like a risk.

You saw him the second he walked in. It didn’t matter that the lights were dim or that you were already halfway through your routine, gripping the pole with one hand and spinning slowly downward like honey dripping from a spoon. You could feel him. His height, his presence. That confident lope in his stride that somehow made everything around him feel smaller.

Kim Mingyu.

God.

You nearly missed your landing.

You caught yourself — barely — before your ankle rolled on the final pivot, but it took everything in you not to look at him again. Not to freeze mid-pose, rip the mask off your face, and just run.

He was here. Again.

Three nights in a row now.

And always alone.

He’d sit near the bar, eyes low, pretending not to watch. But you knew he was. He wasn’t exactly subtle — not with how his gaze followed you like a second spotlight.

Your skin prickled.

Your routine ended slower than usual — maybe because you kept spacing out, maybe because you were stalling. You slunk into your final pose, stretching your back into a lazy arch, one arm hooked high above your head.

Applause.

A few cheers. Money flying on the stage.

A voice — someone called out your stage name — but you couldn’t even hear it over your own heartbeat.

You rose, mask still in place, and walked offstage in your heels, fingers trembling at your sides.

In the dressing room, you locked yourself in the tiny bathroom and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Sweat at your temples. Black smudge beneath one eye. That same little mole on your shoulder that he’d probably never noticed in class, even though you always wore tanks and tees when it got warm.

He doesn’t know, you told yourself.

He can’t.

The mask was simple — lace over satin, shaped like a tiny masquerade piece. You wore it every time. It was iconic now; the manager even bragged about it. The faceless dancer. The mysterious Fawn. No private dances, no touching, no exceptions.

It had been your idea.

A shield.

But nothing about tonight felt safe.

You pulled on your hoodie and slid into your flip flops, body still humming with adrenaline. Your locker door clanged shut too loudly. One of the older girls shot you a look from across the bench.

“Someone’s got you nervous lately.”

You blinked. “What?”

She gestured toward the curtain. “The tall guy. Pretty. Quiet. Keeps coming back.”

Your heart stumbled.

“I don’t— I don’t know him.”

She smirked. “Didn’t say you did.”

You turned away before your expression could give anything else away. You tugged the hood over your hair, pulled the drawstrings tight. You didn’t go back out to the floor.

Not tonight.

You couldn’t risk it.

Not when he was here, and watching, and — God, what if he did recognize you? What if that was why he kept coming back?

He doesn’t know, you told yourself again. He couldn’t possibly. You’re nothing to him but a group project partner. A girl who always smells faintly like vanilla and hides behind baggy clothes.

Not this.

Not Fawn.

Still, your stomach wouldn’t settle.

Even as you left through the back exit and slipped into the night, Mingyu’s eyes burned in your mind.

⸻

You felt it coming before he said a word.

Something in the way he kept glancing up from his annotated copy of your project outline, the way his leg bounced just a little under the table, like he was working up the nerve for something. You tried to focus on the page in front of you, but your stomach dipped the way it did before a test — that terrible, anticipatory flutter you couldn’t quite control.

You were at the café, late afternoon sun bleeding through the windows, casting golden light across Mingyu’s face. You hated how good he looked in it.

“I was thinking…” he began, trying for casual but missing by a mile.

You didn’t look up.

Mingyu shifted. “Since we’re basically almost done with the project in the next couple weeks… maybe we could go out sometime? Like—just us?”

Your hands stopped moving.

You stared down at the table. The air between you felt charged, like it was waiting for your next move.

“Dinner, or—whatever you like,” he added quickly, like he was trying to soften the edges of it. “Not as a study thing. Just… because I want to.”

You looked up at him then. His eyes were warm, a little nervous. Hopeful in a way that made something in your chest ache. You’ve never seen the campus’ most famous man ever look this uneasy before.

And for a moment, God, you almost said yes.

Because he was funny. Because he looked at you like you mattered, even when you were wearing your raggedy clothes and hadn’t brushed your hair.

But the feeling didn’t last.

That familiar, cold weight settled in your chest. A memory you kept tightly locked away — one that surfaced now like a bruise when pressed too hard.

You remembered the noise. The music. The flicker of lights. The sound of someone’s voice — sharp and careless. The way it had made your stomach turn. The way you’d wanted to disappear. The whole reason you’ve always tried pushing him away. Never letting the comfortability you felt around him truly develop.

“No,” you said, sharper than you intended. “That’s not a good idea.”

Mingyu blinked. “Oh. Okay.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Was worth a shot.”

You nodded, jaw tight. “I just… don’t think of you that way.”

That was a lie.

You were starting to. And that terrified you.

Mingyu stood, brushing cookie crumbs off his hoodie. He slung his backpack over one shoulder, not looking at you now.

“See you Thursday?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly.

He gave a little wave before walking off, the late sun catching in his hair like he was made of it. You didn’t watch him go, but you felt the empty space he left behind like a phantom ache.

You sat there for a long time after, hands clenched around your coffee cup, the laptop screen dimming in front of you.

You told yourself you were protecting yourself. That you knew better.

But it didn’t make the guilt sting any less.

⸻

Mingyu slid into the seat across from you, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. After everything—the rejection, the silence, the distance—this felt fragile, like the smallest wrong move could shatter it all.

You kept your eyes on your notebook, pretending not to notice the way his usual confident smile was gone, replaced by a shadow of disappointment. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Your thoughts drifted as you started to work, and you caught yourself wondering why Mingyu hadn’t been around lately—not just at the club, but anywhere. You hadn’t seen him in days. The thought prickled your nerves, but you quickly shoved it down.

He probably has a million girls lining up for him anyway, you reminded yourself coldly. He’s just a stuck-up party boy. Nothing to care about.

You forced your fingers to move across your notes, trying to focus on your project, but the tension between you was suffocating.

When Mingyu glanced at you with a tentative smile, guilt stung somewhere deep. But just as quickly, anger bubbled up. You weren’t going to be the fool who got hurt. Not again.

Suddenly, it became too much. The room seemed to close in, the weight of all the feelings you refused to face pressing down.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you said abruptly, standing before he could respond.

Your footsteps echoed as you hurried into the bathroom, the cool tile walls grounding you.

Leaning against the sink, you stared at your reflection, willing yourself to feel nothing.

He’s just some arrogant boy, you repeated silently. Not the kind of guy who’d want someone like me. I’m not that easy.

Your heart felt tight, but you forced the lie down deep, where all the other ones lived.

⸻

Back at the table, your laptop sat open — and with it, your carefully hidden secret.

You hadn’t meant to leave your Tumblr dashboard up. It was a dumb mistake, careless and distracted.

The moment you left the study room, Mingyu felt it — that flicker of unease. The quiet you left behind buzzed with everything unsaid.

His eyes landed on your laptop. The screen was still open, the page glowing softly in the afternoon light.

Curiosity tugged at him like a string he couldn’t stop pulling.

He leaned forward. Your dashboard loaded fully — dark, moody, carefully curated. The feed was full of grainy film stills, denim jackets, flickering motel signs, old books, scratched records. A world of aesthetic and emotion that felt raw and intentional.

And then he saw the number of followers.

His eyebrows rose.

Whoever you were in this corner of the internet, it was big.

He scrolled — and stopped on a video.

The thumbnail was dim and unmistakable. A masked figure, poised mid-spin, caught in shadow and light. Her silhouette fierce and fluid.

His stomach dropped.

He clicked play.

The music started low — a haunting familiar Deftones track that tugged at his chest. On screen, the dancer twisted and flowed, all grace and tension, spinning in perfect rhythm.

You.

He knew it before the video was halfway through.

Your body, your posture, the way your shoulder curved when you reached up — the same way it always did when you stretched in your seat in class. The small mole near your collarbone. The shape of your legs. Even under the mask, even under the light — it was you.

His breath caught in his throat.

The shy girl with ink on your fingers and holes in your jeans — the one who never made eye contact and bit your lip when you were nervous — was Fawn.

The mysterious dancer who moved like music. The woman who has been haunting his thoughts right next to you.

He stared at the screen, heart thudding against his ribs, mind racing.

It’s her.

It didn’t make sense, and yet it made all the sense in the world.

He watched the video again. Slower this time. Reverent.

He saw the artistry now — not just the seduction. The emotion behind every spin. The ache you carried in your body, how you held tension in your hands like a story.

You weren’t just dancing.

You were saying something.

He was still watching, stunned silent, when the door creaked open and he quickly shifted.

You stepped back into the room slowly, eyes wary, hands stuffed in your pockets.

You met his eyes. His expression was unreadable, his fingers tight on his notebook, eagerly looking at the pages in front of him.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

But you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

And he didn’t say anything else. Not about what he’d seen. Not about what he knew.

But you felt it hanging between you — heavy and fragile.

He’d seen behind the mask.

And now, nothing would be the same.

⸻

[whentherewerebicycles]

in my dream job era

[prettyboykatsuki]

BEND THE KNEE. | ZAYNE (LI SHEN)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, reader is not explicitly mc, established relationship, porn almost no plot, somewhat undernegotiated kink, brat-taming, dom!zayne, sub!reader, corporal punishment (spanking), praise kink, emotional catharsis disguised as smut, fingering, cunnilingus (f!recieving), unprotected sex, aftercare scene included, 18+

♡ wc ; 10.6k (in two days...im so cooked)

♡ a/n ; woman has completely lost her marbles. more at 8.

about the kink being under-negotiated. it's a little tricky but zayne kind of springs this on reader which is not good etiquette technically . but because they have such a strong rapport and so much trust in each other - i think it works out for them anyway. always discuss things like this properly with your partner properly. but in this case, these two have a long established dynamic and complete trust in the other so in no way does reader feel uncomfortable or coerced. she trusts zayne to lead and thats important.

♡ synopsis ; bend the knee (verb) (idiomatic, by extension) - to show undue deference, obedience, or support for someone or something

or when zayne sees you on the edge of tipping over and decides to get you to open up, one way or another.

crossposted on ao3

You need something. 

That’s what Zayne concludes after thinking it over.  

For the better part of the last month, you have been in a bad mood.  

It’s unusual for your off-days to last this long, or at least the kinds you’ve been having lately. Easily irritable, sighing and frustrated, receding into yourself. You’re as human as anyone else - but one of the things likes about you most is that even on your worst days, you seem to smile more often than not. It’s not that you’re happy all the time - but you’re prone to things like numbness and avoidance over sadness and projected anger.  

In layman terms, Zayne has never in your entire relationship seen you so frustrated.  

And, despite his best efforts to talk to you about it, you have swiftly avoided the conversation and insisted that everything is fine.  

Zayne is used to you being stubborn. He’s had to navigate that from the start of your relationship. Though you’re open-minded and often easy-going, there are certain intricacies and small details that you refuse to overlook. Always hard-headed about the strangest things and always trying to fix everything on your own in an attempt to ease his burdens.  

(The real problem is you viewing yourself as a burden in the first place but Zayne ventures that won’t be resolved in a weekend.) 

You’ve talked about this at length already. You and Zayne are in a partnership. He’s your lover, your companion - which means you’re in it together. He can’t, however, act like a proper partner to you if you refuse to co-operate with him on any and all levels. 

It’s not like Zayne is upset with you for it. He doesn’t think you’ve done anything wrong. It’s not even especially frustrating. Zayne is patient. He’s trained to be that way. So it’s fine if you need time, and it’s fine if you need a light push from him. He can throw whatever you handle at him, give you whatever you need.  

For Zayne, that’s where the real problem lies. Your sour mood, this odd sense of secrecy, this persistent sadness - Zayne wants to help you get through it however he can. But figuring out what will actually resolve all of that proves to difficult. Do you need a push? Do you need to be forced to open up? Do you need to get emotional release? Do you need a night out or a weekend away? Maybe a date night? 

Zayne has been sitting on this very question for the last few days determined. Any time he’s had a chance to think idly, it’s always drifted back to solving this mysterious puzzle and getting you back where you need to be. Safe, comfortable, and content. 

Zayne settles on this: ultimately, you need catharsis. An emotional purging - the sort of thing that makes you break down so Zayne can build you back up. It seems like an extreme course of action but given just how long you’ve been wading this storm, he thinks that level of emotional distress is only natural.  

After he figures that out, it’s a matter of how to achieve it.  

What will give you the biggest emotional release? He considers a number of things: going on a hike, watching a devastating movie in the theaters, going to visit some baby penguins and seals at the Linkon City Zoo. Things he know will get you worked up in one way or another. Things that will unravel you.  

But nothing he thinks of feels like enough. Whatever’s distressing you is distressing you enough to make you act out of character like this for weeks. His response to that needs to be just as able to carry the weight of it all, or else it might just make you bottle it up worse.  

You need something, Zayne knows.  

He thinks what you might need is to be punished.  

He comes to this conclusion after trying not to think about it all together.  

For Zayne, sex is an intimate affair. And between you, he is the less experimental. He has is moments, but most of your play that ends up being kinkier comes from your fantasies and daydreams. Zayne is happy to do these things for you and with you - and has learned a lot about himself in the process. Too much, maybe. He enjoys making you feel good. On the rare days off he has where you can have proper sex, he wants to give you as much pleasure as he can 

Most of the kinkier things you’ve done are limited to sensation play. Things that should still feel good or won’t strain you to severely. You have had a long time interest in the more masochistic, the more punishing - and it’s not like Zayne hasn’t entertained it here and there. But still, it’s limited. Rarely a properly thought out act and more an impulsive whim. He has those with you more often then he cares to admit.  

Things like temperature play, blindfolds, and minimal restraints. Nothing more than that, and never with consideration to a particular dynamic. How you have sex on a given day depends, the ‘control’ ebbing and flowing based on mood and circumstance.  

The point being: Zayne has never properly punished you, though you’ve asked him to do it before.  

You often make wry comments when he’s being especially firm with something (most often your well-being) about how he’d do it. He teases the idea lightly, but truthfully - teasing and experimenting are different from actually doing. Zayne has never considered it deeply outside of that.  

But when you mention things to him, Zayne always remembers - stows the information away for when he may need it like right now. He likes being well-informed after all.  

It’s all of these things combined that makes Zayne conclude that fulfilling your desire to be punished might actually be the most effective method of handling the state of affairs. It hits all of the marks providing emotional release, as well as physical release - and also gives you a reason to lash out in a controlled space.  

Zayne read a number of BDSM forums and browsed through several erotica novels to get a clear picture after forming the hypothesis - collecting as much information as he possibly could on what his role would be in the affair.  

As far as descriptions go, Zayne can self-report he fits the criteria for a ‘brat-tamer’ in essence. In a nonsexual way, disciplining you borders on second nature. Being firm is easy but so is being playful, and patient - since ultimately Zayne only whats the best for you. In the same vein, he thinks you fit the description of brat in your own way. A tendency to be fussy, a dislike for being told what to do, a playful mischief that he adores and only corrects as necessary.  

It’s only after the extensive amount of research that Zayne is beholden to, does he understand the dynamic and scene itself. When the play starts to make sense, he comes upon on specific conclusion that leads him to believe this answer to be the right one.  

Above all else, you really do want to be good, don’t you?  

This isn’t working for you either. You’ve been bottling everything up for so long Zayne can’t imagine it’d be easy to approach him now even if you wanted to. Fostering an environment for you to express your feelings and for Zanyne to receive them. To respond to them, and ‘punish’ you for any wrong-doing so that the guilt doesn’t weigh down you so heavily. 

Even through your month of bad moods, you sleep by Zayne’s side every night and wake him every morning. You tell him you love him and tell him when you’ll be home, even when you’re huffy and moody. You want to be good, so isn’t it only fair for Zayne to let you?  

Zayne considers it all carefully. He thinks to make it work, he might have to spring it on you. He’s relying on the rapport between on already having been dating a few years - and the preventive safety measures you’ve had in place for other, less severe play. A safe word and a hand signal. It needs to be timed right, needs to throw you so slightly off-center in order for you to be receptive.  

If you turn it down, Zayne will be back to the drawing board.  

But he has a sneaking feeling that this really might be the last of your bad moods.  

__  

It’s one of those weeks where both you and Zayne are off-duty.  

It’s rare that happens. Given your busy schedules and being in the midst of the busy season, you agreed mutually it’d be better to stay home and save your winter date for after the fog clears. Zayne was planning on having a day at home with you pleasantly doing nothing.  

You are decidedly in one of your moods, however. He really can’t pinpoint what triggered it since you seemed to be just fine this morning, almost back to your usual self. And then something in the afternoon flipped a switch and now you’re right back where you’re started.  

Zayne does not want to waste his day-off squabbling with you over something. So he decides today, he’ll try to get to the bottom of it once and for all.  

He approaches you while you’re in the kitchen of his apartment - quietly making yourself a glass of tea. Conversation first, Zayne always tries to talk to you about it. No matter how much you try to avoid it - he thinks you could solve a lot with a conversation. No drastic measures until he at least asks, though a small part of him is expecting the same answer as he received so many times before.  

He watches you in the kitchen, furiously making a cup of tea. In silence, contemplating if now is the right time. He wants to go about things the best he can. All he wants to do is help you. He sighs and then resolves himself.  

Zayne comes up behind you, soft and gentle. “Would you like to tell me what’s happened to spoil your mood, my love?”  

You pause and then frown, huffing - brows furrowed as you somewhat violently mix your sugar into your tea. “No. There’s nothing to talk about,”  

“Nothing? Even though you were just fine this morning,” Zayne says evenly, voice lacking accusation. Still kind and only gently probing. “It’s been a month now of this. Whatever it is don’t you think it’d be better if we discussed it,”  

You pause, a hand curled into a fist on the counter. “How many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing to say?”  

He gives you a long look. “As many times as I see your mood change at the drop of a hat without a single indication as to why,”  

Zayne can see it happen real time. A brief flash of some other emotion that’s followed up by anger. You let out an indignant noise, turning with your cup and looking up at him. Your lip is curled in anger.  

“God, would you just leave it? There’s nothing to talk about so stop wasting time on your day off,”  

Zayne looks down at you with an expression unreadable. And then, he makes a choice to keep his face even. This is normally when he would drop the conversation entirely. Soothe you a bit, and you’d apologize and hug him though you’d still not tell him a thing. But he thinks right now is the best time to enact his plan. He takes your mug from your hand and sets it on the counter behind you, sitting both his and yours besides each other.  

And then he cages you in, trapping your body between him on the counter while Zayne grips onto the marble edge.  

You look at him confused but Zayne remains calm and quiet until he leans down close to you. Almost eye-level, making sure to be far enough for you to look at his face and his expression.  

He lets the silence sit for a beat. He watches your expression change. But he waits - long enough for you to squirm before he breaks it again.  

“Watch how you speak to me,” He says. Your eyes widen in surprise but Zayne doesn’t waver. “Did you think I was going to tolerate this kind of behavior forever?”  

For a minute you’re awestruck. Well and truly surprised, which is all Zayne wanted to accomplish. You stammer. First upset, then a flashing bit of sadness, then anger all over again. You have something to say but you can’t find the right words to combat him. Zayne does this on purpose. He’s always gentle and soothing and easy with you but it’s not the time for it.  

He brings his hand up to your face, palm cupping your cheek - scrutinizing your every reaction under watchful gaze. It’s surprisingly easy to make you nervous - eyes flickering away from him. Zayne decides against forcing it, opting to continue his lecture.  

“Do you think it’s fair for you to speak to me that way?”  

You stutter again. “I already told you that it’s—“  

Zayne cuts you off. It’s unlike him. “I didn’t ask about that. I asked if you thought you were being fair speaking to me that way. Answer my question,”  

“Why does it need to be fair?” Your voice trembles. Zayne does not show you any reaction. It’s harder than he expects given how cute he finds you.  

“Is it unnecessary? Then, should I punish you according to how you’ve been treating me, rather then trying to be fair to you? Since it’s not important,”  

You look utterly bewildered. “Punish—?“  

Zayne holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up slightly.  

“Yes, punish. If we’re not basing it on fairness - then the only metric left is how you’ve been acting as of late,” Zayne says slow and deliberate. “On that basis, you deserve to be punished. Either you can admit to being in the wrong or be honest with me you can be punished accordingly. Do you understand?”  

A beat. Your lip trembles like you might cry but you seem to get on the same page quickly. You refuse him, but Zayne can tell this is having the exact impact he wanted it to. He knows you’ll keep being stubborn, is expecting it - so you refuting him does not surprise him at all.  

“I haven’t done anything wrong, I already—“  

Zayne shoves a thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You make a noise around him, words muffled as you attempt to pull away.  

There’s a long stretch of silence where Zayne locks eyes with you. Reaching out to you - affirming something. He leans on the rapport you have between you. The ability to withdraw from this if you wish. He stares at you as you crumple under the gaze but do not refuse him.  

“Assuming you still don’t understand, I’ll tell you.” Zayne says. His voice is soft, deliberately gentle all while holding your gaze. He presses down harder, feeling your bottom row of teeth at the knuckle of his thumb. “I’m going to bend you over my knee until you tell me in your own words that you’re sorry. Since you can’t be honest by yourself, I’ll help you. Now I’ll ask you again: do you understand?”  

You glare, and flinch - but you don’t back away. “I get it already. But that doesn’t mean—“ 

 Ultimately. It’s tiny, bordering on imperceptible but it’s there. A brief recognition of play, and understanding of whats going on. Zayne steps away from you, freeing you from his grip. His expression remains neutral now, less kind then before. You’re on the same page.  

“Do you want me to carry you to our room or can you handle walking on your own?”  

You look at him furious. “I can walk!”  

Zayne doesn’t say anything as he trails behind you.  

Once you enter the bedroom, Zayne steps in behind you and shuts the door. Your expression is interesting, he thinks. He’s never seen such a colorful array of emotions flash across your face in such a short time. Despite your attitude and your active grumbling, you almost seem timid to him now. You’re clearly protesting him in some way, acting out what he’s sure is your sincere frustration. But all Zayne can feel is pleased that you’re acting the ways he thought you would. It gives him a strange affirmation that he knows you as well as he thought, he’s satisfied with it. Directing it all towards him, all the frustration as you mutter under your breath.  

The words fall on deaf ears and after a while of him not responding, you snap.  

“What are you staring at me for?” You nip. Zayne looks at you unimpressed. He takes a seat on the foot of the bed, careful to leave just enough room for you as he does. He slides his robe off of his shoulders and carefully pushes up the white long-sleeves of the Henley he wears during the cold season.  

“Come,”  

You stand still and Zayne sighs.  

He’s gentler with you normally. Softer and more delicate. But soft won’t get you to listen to him so he opts to pull you closer by the wrist. It’s not often he feels any need to exert his strength over you this way. But it’s different now. It demands it of him, so he does. You struggle as you fall towards him - into his chest, caught off guard by the sudden movement.  

Zayne wastes no time - maneuvering, manhandling you to be bent over his knee. He uses one hand to slide your pants off completely but leaves your underwear as they are. You gasp under your breath in shock. You’re turned away from him, your cheek pressed to the sheets. Zayne takes a minute to drink you in, examining the white cotton with lace trim that you wear underneath your pajama pants, wearing white ankle socks with a matching trim that he finds remarkably cute.  

Your torso rests across his lap, pressed to the mattress with your arms folded in protest as your knees rest on the bed. You kick one of your feet up - Zayne thinks in a half-ass attempt at objection. He holds you down over his lap more forcefully then before, his arm around your waist. He bends down slightly and speaks with a slow, clear voice.  

“This is your punishment. Each time I spank you I want you to count. If you forget, we start over. I’ll stop when you make it up to me and say sorry. Is that clear?”  

“I didn’t even do anything!“  

Zayne uses his hand to grip your chin hard. A warning. “Enough. You had two choices and you made yours. I will not explain myself again,” Zayne says. You quiet at his tone - brattiness temporarily placated.  

It’s strangely natural to him to do this. Easier than he thought it’d be. He thought being so firm, so strict to you would feel awkward for the first time. But it’s easy to do when he thinks of the outcome he wants. Always the best for you - if this is what you need from him, then this is what Zayne can give you. He pulls back when you relent. No longer squirming away from him.  

“Repeat your safeword to me, love.”  

“Red,” You say through a huff.  

His hand rests on your lower back, tugging your panties up until they’re creased. “What do you if you can’t speak?”  

“Tap three times.”  

“Good job.” He says, soothing. It makes you pause in his lap. “Now, count,”  

Zayne uses his hands to grope and squeeze your ass gently before doing anything else. You take a shaky breath underneath him as he carefully measures the pressure. He lifts his palm high before coming back down - a resounding smack echoing through inside of the quiet walls of your bedroom.  

You let out a loud cry.  

You jolt - startling at the feeling. “That—It hurts!”  

“Do I need to remind you of what to do each time,” Zayne asks. You fuss underneath him, pressing your face to the sheets in what he recognizes as embarrassment.  

“Fuck. One,”  

“Good girl,”  

Zayne repeats the motion again. You whimper this time - clearly more prepared for that strike then the first. He stares, already noticing his handprint becoming visible. He waits for you to respond.  

“T-two,”  

Again. Zayne admires the way the fat ripples at his touch. You shift yourself away from him at the sensation but Zayne quickly pulls you right back down to your place. 

“Three,” You whine.  

Zayne touches your inner thigh soothingly.  

“If it’s too much to bear, all you need to say is sorry,” 

You scoff - showy, but your voice is wavering. “What do I have to be sorry for?”  

Zayne sighs. Again. “Shit, four.”  

“You don’t know what you need to be sorry for? Do you need me to answer that for you too?”  

“I don’t need you to—five,”  

“You kept it in for an entire month and took your frustration out on me. All you need to do is apologize and I’ll forgive you.” 

You sniffle, voice small and petulant. “I won’t.”  

Zayne hums. “Then your punishment continues,”  

Again. “Six,”  

Again “Seven”  

Again. “Fuck, eight,”  

You’re sturdy. Sturdy enough to handle a few hits with ease. Zayne knows because he accounted for it.  Your tolerance for pain, your ability to endure it. It’s why he doesn’t set a number though he has one. If he gives you an option to simply sit through a punishment , you’ll grit your teeth and bear it all the way till the end. You’re stubborn.  

You’re strong. Of course you are. He knows eight hits are barely doing much to you - even as he’s coming down on each strike so firmly. You’ve been training as Hunter for years and familiar with pain so much worse than this.  

But you’re sniffling underneath him, clearly holding in soft sobs despite yourself. He thinks it’s proof of the effectiveness but it makes Zayne feel sympathetic all the same. Zayne doesn’t think you’ll make it far past ten. But he keeps all of this to himself. He brings his other hand up to your mouth and rubs his thumb on your lower lip  - feeling for blood or indentations. He presses it to your lips.  

“Don’t bite your lip,” He says, forcing your mouth open with the digit. He presses his thumb against your tongue again as you protest it. “If you need to bite, use my thumb.”  

Where Zayne expects you to bite him sharp in retaliation, you simply close your mouth and suck. He feels his chest squeeze. Slowly but surely.  

Again and again and again. On the eleventh one is what finally makes you forgo trying to hold back your sobs. They’re quiet, almost meek - weakly protesting each one as soft tears roll down your cheek. Before the twelfth - Zayne takes care to remind you. He makes his voice softer on purpose. Makes his words kinder and less stern. 

“All you have to do is tell me you’re sorry. I’ll take care of the rest,” He promises, hand rubbing stinging skin. “That’s all. You can do it, can’t you?”  

You remain silent, hesitant. Zayne doesn’t scold you.  

Again. “Twelve,”  

Your voice is small on the last one.  A little more, Zayne thinks. “Afterwards, you can ask for anything you like.”  

Again. Your voice trembles. Thirteen comes out barely audible, but Zayne decides not to hold it against you.  

“I’m not punishing you because I’m angry, but because I want you to understand—because I want you to be good for me like I know you can be.” Zayne soothes, rubbing gently just where he hit before. “You don’t need to endure by yourself. All you need to do is remember that,”  

You’re quiet. Once more, but he does it softer this time.  

“F-fourteen,” You say. Your voice is wrecked with some unspoken sorrow.  

“Is there something you’d like to tell me,” Zayne presses, voice warm and soothing. “Or would you like to continue you being punished?”  

A pause. Zayne gives you time to respond. He takes a second to glance down further between your legs  - noticing an incredibly dark patch of wetness right at the seam of your panties. He uses his fingers to rub over the spot carefully, amused by the small gasp that leaves your lips. He only brushes it - not provoking you further. A little amused that you liked it despite yourself.  

You shift, clearly ready. Zayne takes the initiative.  

“Yes, my love?”  

Your voice comes out wobbly. Thick with tears and emotions - like you’re just about ready to shatter into a million pieces. It makes Zayne incredibly fond and incredibly heartbroken all in the same breath. He remains steadfast and waits for you as you take a deep breath and find the right words. You have something to say.  

Or you try too, but the words tumble out in a tearful mess anyway. “I-I’m sorrryy,”  

You wail. Zayne can’t help but be taken aback every so slightly by it. He was expecting it but he didn’t think it’d be so difficult for him to hear.  

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m not angry. Are you in pain? Can you sit?” Zayne asks. You sob, answering through tears. Your words are slurred, hiccuping. You cry a little longer before you answer him.  

“Is okay,”  

Zayne nods. He helps stand you up before he sits you back down on his lap - straddling him while he supports your weight. Your face is tear-stricken, eyes red-rimmed and still crying as he pulls you up. His expression warms , reaching up to brush his thumb underneath your eye and soothe your sobbing.  

And then he hugs you. Puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls you into his chest. Your face pressed into the side of his neck. He rubs slow, soothing circles into your back  - telling you to take deep breaths as he kisses your shoulder blades and whispers as many sweet nothings as he can think up.  

You’re a wreck in his arms. Wordless, helpless - your hands are fisted into the back of his shirt. All the fight has been wrung out of you. Limp in his grasp, you weep woefully and tell him you love him in thick tears. Zayne holds you tight, steady - nothing but the sound of your sobs to accompany you until you’ve let enough of it out to at least speak to him. You pull away - face messy and damp  from crying.  

Zayne cannot help but think about how much he utterly adores you.  

Your lower lip quivers helplessly. “I’m sorry, ‘m really sorry,”  

Zayne shakes his head. “That’s quite alright. I told you I’d forgive you, wouldn’t I?”  

You nod. Zayne looks at you warmly, thumb tracing the shell of your ear. “We’ll talk later. Tell me first - what should I give you for being a good girl?”  

You have a floatiness about you. Eyes glazed over just slightly - clearly comforted enough to release whatever you’ve been holding. Unburdened, it’s like you’ve become something else. Hazy and dependent - lashes fluttering and completely sincere. “I’m good?”  

“Yes. You did well. How should I reward you?” Zayne affirms. “Would you like me to take care of this?”  

He goes again to cup your clothed pussy. You rut into his hand - biting the inside of your lip as you nod. 

It’s something about you like this that sears Zayne’s subconscious like a brand. Unusually docile, vulnerable, needy. It’s strange. He didn’t think of himself as someone with such a strong desire to exploit. Or maybe this is an extension of something that’s already been embedded in him for a long time. To take something apart in his hands with precision and put it back together again. A life, a heart, a lover. You’ve been at the very front of the desire for a long time.  

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.” Zayne says. Soft and sincere and sun-warm just looking at you falling apart so easily. “Don’t be shy. You should be demanding like you always are.”  

You press your cheek to his shoulder, shivering a little in his lap. “Want it hard,”  

“Is that all the hint I get?” Zayne teases. You groan into his shirt as he bites back a laugh.  

“Yes,” You reply instantly. You’re being shy. It almost makes him laugh.   

“Well, if that’s all you want then,” He gropes you, his hands running over the soft curve of your ass  - marks still stinging underneath his palms. “I’ll have to stretch you open first. Make sure it’s soft enough for me to reach all the way in here,” He places a hand on your stomach and you shiver again. Zayne speaks against your shoulder - a smile playing at his lips.  

“Is that alright?”  

You nod. “Uh-huh.”  

You’ve been reduced down to something that Zayne should want to protect - but finds stronger the urge to experiment with. It is an unkind way of thinking after he’s already gone so far as to punish you. Wring your emotions out by force until you sob and shiver like this. But his eyes settle onto your face and the thoughts won’t leave him. They’re even more strangely persistent, even louder than usual - echoed with your wistful demand for him to give it to you hard - whatever that may mean. And Zayne intends to give it to you in the capacity in which he can.  

It means cruel, cutting precision when it’s him. Deft fingers, a sharp memory and endless amount of endurance. Zayne usually placates you, satisfies - gives you enough to make you contented, maybe refreshed, rather then wearing you down. He wants it to be something that you can unwind with.  

Despite all of this and all of the kindness he wants to show you, there’s something about your expression and how you’ve folded over yourself that makes Zayne want to ruin you completely.  

He knows he can. He knows you’d look good like that. He’d take good care of you. He has many useless, unending thoughts such as these until something in him boils over. He thinks about it with a furrowed brow and then when the silence is about to border on too long - he leans in and presses his lips to yours. 

Chaste but longing - clear intention. He eyes you and lands on only one thing to say.  

“I’ll take good care of you,”  

You blink. It’s something he’s said before - but you both know there is something different about how he’s said it. So you just… nod. Listen. Obedient like you never are and his lips tug ever so slightly at the corner.  

Zayne hauls you with him until you’re both able to lay comfortably in the middle of the bed. He lays you down carefully in the mess of sheets and pillows until you’re resting in them like a painting. You’re frayed at the edges, hands twitching at your sides. Zayne hovers over you until he’s close enough. All the air in the grows thick, hot - and he finds he can’t breath around him with the way you’re looking at him.  

There’s a reverence in your eyes. Fingers threading through his dark locks, squeezing at the base until you’re bringing him down nose to nose. Your eyes flutter back open. They’re wide and watery and beautiful—you’re really just looking at him.  

You look… grateful. Entirely grateful.  

Zayne is so hard it’s hurt.  

Zayne kisses you deeply - hungry with it. Suddenly feverish as both hands cup your face and hold you, tipping your head back so you open your mouth wide. He slides his tongue against yours, forces your mouth open deeper like he might try and eat you whole. But you relent - yield unusually easily to the demand of it as your arms go around his neck and stay there holding him close. 

The room fills with the sound of deep breaths. Wet noises that drown out the loud static threatening to render him something more beast then man. You moan into his mouth when you kiss, chasing him each time he pulls away with this little needy pout to you that Zayne adores.  

Zayne pulls away and presses his nose to your jawline. He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, to your chin, all the way up to the junction of your neck and shoulder. He whispers sweet nothings into the skin - repeatedly affirming only that he wants to make you feel good.  

There’s something about how good you’re being about all of it that feels enigmatic - so much so that it’s completely electrifying for him to witness. This kind of sweetness has a novelty to it that makes his heart pump hard. You’re never so pliant. So willing to give yourself. It’s not that it’s always a fight, but you’re usually so sober during sex it borders on steely. A catlike grin with an ironclad determination to never lose, not even to him.  

And Zayne loves that about you to. Loves being wrapped around your finger or tugged by your leash - loves that you demand things of him. He finds it a privilege to give it to you. This is just too new, too exhilarating for him not to be intrigued by.  

You’ve conceded now. Your body and mind have decided it unanimously and it’s why you’re melting so easily at his every touch. Like accepting a loss - some kind of complete and utter defeat, and accepting it so gracefully it makes Zayne wonder if it’d been your plan all along. 

(He isn’t arrogant enough nor clueless enough to believe that, but the thoughts sends shivers down his spine all the same.)  

Zayne traces kisses around the parts of your body he can reach. Down the slope of your jaw all the way down to the dip of your clavicle - the center of your sternum. Your skin runs warm under his touch - he can almost feel your pulse through your skin. He stops to leave small marks just underneath where your collar would sit. They come out a shade darker and a little bigger than they normally do. They look (read: are) deliberately placed. An intentional trail from neck down. A warding signal.  

He runs his incisors against your pulse, tugging at your earlobe as you shiver somewhat delightfully in response to him. The dull drag of his teeth seems to excite you. Your back curls up, goosebumps covering the surface of your skin.  

Reaching your chest, Zayne uses both hands to squeeze and push your breasts together firm. It’s lacking the delicacy he likes showing - a strong grip, almost bruising. Fingers squeezing the fat until it spills from between them, palms pushing lightly against hardened nipples as you moan out loud in reply. Your body is more sensitive than it is usually. Each touch makes you antsy. 

He ducks his head down deciding not to waste time - mouth closing around one of your nipples while his free hand plays with the other. He flicks and sucks with his tongue, using the blunt of his nail to copy the motion to the other, giving them equal attention.  

You moan, this part of your body especially responsive to touch. He can feel them each pebble with arousal. 

 “Hngh, fuck, fuck - feelsh good,”  

Your words come out slurred as you pant as Zayne pulls each sound out of you. You look blissed out, your hips canting where he’s slotted between your knees - rubbing up against him for friction like you’re in heat. Zayne only stops to switch side. He sinks his teeth at one point, long having lost his usual composure  - licking over the indentations when it’s over.  

“Hicc, more - please, more,”  

The desperation in your voice makes Zayne pull away. He rests his forehead against you, kissing the space above your belly and whispering sweetly. “You’re being so good for me,”  

Another whine. Zayne laughs audibly at it, affectionately - something overwhelming him. He picks his head up to look at you this time. “How can you be so sweet, hm?”  

You preen under the praise so visibly it makes Zayne  shiver. Such a stark contrast, such a receptive reply. Your lips pull into another pout, eyes sparkling with the greed of a lover and Zayne cannot imagine in a million years being seriously angry with you about a single thing. One look is all it takes to unravel him this completely. 

Zayne is reminded that he’s a warm-blooded, living thing laying in bed with you. Heart-beating hard, chest heaving, ears ringing. This animal desire that wells up in his gut and whispers to him to take you while you’re at your most vulnerable - mark you somewhere his fingers can’t reach and plant a seed where no one else can touch, is a loud one. It’s like he can feel how he’s hard-wired to want, and want, and want.  

But he loves you is the thing - so much that all of that desire becomes concentrated. Heavy like dark matter, atoms splitting endlessly as if it defies all known laws of the universe.  

He thinks one hundred thoughts at once and leans up to kiss you like he needs you for oxygen. You’re startled but give him a reply as he forces his mouth onto yours like he’s starving. Signaling it back to him, I love you, I love you, I love you.   

Zayne groans into your mouth before he pulls away and goes back down. He trails open, sloppy kisses down your chest - all the way down to your navel until he’s face to face with your clothed cunt.  

He uses his shoulders to nudge your legs apart even further and feels all the air rush from his lungs like he’s been sucker punched.  

You’re wetter than he thinks he’s ever seen you. It’s thrilling, tantalizing in a way that makes the last threads of his self-control shred themselves into nothing at the sight. He shivers, hands gripping at your thighs to push them even further apart. His lust suddenly feels bottomless - an empty void with a gnawing hunger.  

And then, the only word he can think to use spits from between his lips  - half way between curse and prayer. “Fuck, my love.”  

You jolt hearing it. Whimper so loudly and shamefully, reacting it to him in such an obvious way. Zayne gets the inkling then that you’re going to be spending most of your day in bed just like this.  

He touches first. Can’t help his curiosity. His hand resting on your sex  - thumb dragging against the soaked fabric of your panties. His finger comes away sticky as he rubs and strokes and examines. Burns it into his memory, each slight twitch. How you clench around nothing - slick flooding the material so unhelpfully. The distant thought bounces around in the back of his mind, that you got off this much on being punished. There’s so much.  

Zayne breathes. Has to remember to do it after he sees you like that. Legs spread, chest heaving, and so so eager. There’s a list of things he wants to do with you but he stills, and slows - and just over the unusual pull of his desires, focuses on just touching you. He fixes in on making you cum just like that. Slow easy strokes over the wet fabric. Circular motions that are precise even while each breath he takes is so uneven.  

You keen over him. Pitchy, high - legs trembling. Sensitive. You look down at him with wide eyes.  

“I’ll cum,” You say.  

Zayne realizes you’re even deeper into the head space than he thought. You’re so uncertain about it. He hums.  

“Ask for permission when you get close.”  

The instructions abate your anxiety and you nod, sink back, and let yourself indulge in the touch that Zayne offers to you unrestricted.  

This is driving him crazy. You are driving him crazy. So out of his mind that he can’t find his usual sweet talk. His restrained motions are all he can manage. He’s the one making you cum but for some reason it feels like he needs to sober himself more than you do.  

He kisses the inside of your thigh. “Just once like this, alright?”  

You nod. You’re out of it well and truly, hips meeting his touch. Moaning and breathing heavily, hands fidgeting. You lurch suddenly when Zayne seems to brush an extra sensitive spot and you gasp, eyes shut hard. 

“Wanna cum, please can I—“ 

“It’s alright. Go on,”  

You moan a little thank you without any reminder - your whole body curling in on itself as you get off for the first time in the evening. Zayne watches your panties soak with interest. Up close and personal. Fuck, they’re so drenched now, so wet. He watches cum drip down and soak the sheets underneath you as revel in post orgasm bliss and finds himself at least a little more content.  

He kisses your thighs again. “Good girl,”  

Zayne gives you a beat to breathe before he busies himself taking off your panties. Long fingers curling in the waist band. You lift your legs up helpfully, letting Zayne roll them all the way down until you’re bare. He tosses them along with the other stripped clothes laying in a heap near your bed before settling down again between your legs.  

Your cunt is splayed open. Wet and soft and inviting, he watches it pulse. You’re throbbing, heat radiating off of you in waves. He prefers to draw things out longer, but he feels particular impatient with the state of affairs.  

He pulls you down him close until his breath is just tickling your skin, kissing your clit affectionately before using his tongue to flick against the sensitive bundle of nerves.  

You shudder. Nearly scream. Zayne can tell he’s being impacted by this whole affair in the exact way he thinks he is because of how much it makes him want to keep going. You squeak over him, a hand in his hair.  

“Wait, wait—t-too much, just came it’s—“  

“Shhh,” Zayne soothes with false sympathy. “Be good and take it,”  

You relent. A little helpless whimper leaving your mouth as Zayne takes you into his mouth again. Your clit is throbbing so hard he can feel it on each pass of tongue. His mouth fills with the taste of you, heady and rich. Zayne’s eyes flutter back, pleased with it. He opens them back up to drink you in above him, flush. On your back, spread open and so aroused.  

He feels himself go slack, lust wrenching all the usual tension from him. He’d be fine to just do this until sunrise - and he would, if he wasn’t already feeling so out of sorts. He needs to open you up so he can do what you both want. Zayne closes his lips around your clit - giving you slight suction that he follows with tongue. Your mouth drops open in silent scream, over stimulation frying your nerves. Your jaw is dropped open, drool pooling at the corner of your lips.  

He knows your body like the back of his hand and has no trouble at all navigating the quickest route to make you feel good. The specific ways you need to be touched to loosen your limbs, make your insides soft for him. It’s not that he’s rushing. But he’s being even more particular about it then usual.  

It’s hard to ignore the growing tightness in his pants. He’s been ignoring completely for a while now so he can focus on you, but he’s so hard it’s straining him. Gossamer threads of pre-cum are pooling in the confinement of his boxers, only getting thicker as he ruts himself against the bed to ease the uncomfortable friction he’s feeling.  

He adjusts himself, bringing his fingers up to your core and gently nudging them through your folds as warning of whats to come. 

You let out a low sound. “Ooh,”  

He slides his middle fingers down until  there’s give. It’s easy to find your entrance and push with how wet you are. There’s barely an resistance him when he presses the digit inside and it makes his stomach flip. You’re so soaked it takes no effort - there’s not anything left of you to resist him and it drives him, truthfully, up a wall. Still, you’re clenching down hard on his middle finger. Wheezing quietly as he presses forward, slowly fucking his finger into you until he’s all the way down the knuckle.  

You collapse above him. Your body, a mess of tension and tight nerves,  gives under the weight of the pleasure and you slump back into the bed and take. Moan loud and unabashed, his name sweet on your lips. His favorite sound. If he wasn’t occupied - he’d praise you just for saying it.  

Your pussy feels so good to the touch. Always does. You’re so much more sensitive than usual it feels like you don’t want him to pull away. A whine leaves you at the loss of the stretch. Zayne looks at you from between your legs and sees a face that’s near begging to be filled up by something else.  

It takes every fiber of his restraint to not stop right there and fuck into you immediately.  

But he’s doing this for a reason  - he reminds himself.  

He adds a second finger and it slides in just as smoother. This is enough to prep you. If he stretches you out, scissors his fingers inside of you just right - you can take him easily without him having to worry.  

But he’s feeling especially relentless tonight. You’re still reeling and over sensitive, barely hanging on over him as his mouth busies itself. Two would be good enough to make you cum just like this.  

Zayne is a little out of his wits decidedly - but he gives you a moment to breathe before adding a third finger.  

You gasp. “W-wait, wai—nghh,”  

Goosebumps pebble your skin as Zayne meticulously adds in another finger. His middle, ring, and pointer all fit inside of you with more ease then he expects. He goes slowly on his pointer. Your body wracks above him at the stretch, nothing but mindless babble as you tuck your face halfway to the bed sheets and try to hold onto. 

Three fingers all the way down to base, Zayne curls them up with a cruel demonstration of precision. His hands are bigger than yours  - thicker and longer. There’s a real possibility that this is the first time anyone has touched this deep and the thought sends Zayne reeling.  

With his mouth lapping at your clit and his digits pressed up against your g-spot with such pinpoint accuracy, Zayne is not surprised to hear you above him wailing. Completely different to before, a pleasured sob almost like you’re going to heave. Your voice is raw with need.  

“Oh, please, please, please—can I please—“  

Zayne hums an affirmative into your pussy. It’s all it takes for you to cum for him again. Both of your hands fisted in the sheets as your buck up into Zayne’s mouth - soundless. He continues through it. Makes sure the ecstasy of your high lasts as long as he can draw it out and only stops when you’re desperately pulling him away to make sure you don’t die from the stimulation.  

He pulls off, slick running down his chin - all the way in little rivulets down his neck. He wipes carefully and licks it off of his hand - since anything else would feel like a waste. He sits up on his knees before crowding over you, pressing his forehead to yours as you blink away tears.  

“Still okay?”  

You make a garbled noise. Zayne laughs, a hand coming up to wipe some of the wetness away from your face.  

“Words, sweet girl.”  

“…’m okay.” You say after a while. You stare at him and then reach for his sleeve, tugging at it. “Are you not gonna fuck me?”  

Zayne feels a shiver run down his spine at how blatantly you ask. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to hearing you talk that way.  

“Would you still like me too?”  

You purse your lips. “Please? I was good,”  

Ah. His composure is truthfully already shred to pieces but he isn’t sure he can recover from that. He’s so painfully endeared. It tucks behind his ribs somewhere, makes him feel ridiculously in love and so turned-on it’s startling. He caresses your cheek, tenderly stroke the flush skin with his thumbs.  

“You were very good. So very perfect for me, always,”  

You beam at him. A slow blink followed by a sweet little smile that Zayne reads as bashful. He drops his head onto your shoulders and just sighs. 

He comes up to look at you. It’s not like you look innocent but you’re so completely trusting in him.  

“Come here,” Zayne says. He dips his head down to kiss you as tenderly as he possibly can. You sigh happily into his mouth and he just smiles a little. He feels especially helpless to this onslaught of affection but decides it’s not such a bad thing.  

He gets up again, just to get condoms but you’re tugging at his shirt before he gets a chance to move.  

“Where are you going? And… take this off,”  

“To get condoms.”  

You shake your head. “Just hurry,” 

You’re on contraceptives. You’re also in a long term relationship. But Zayne still tries to use condoms - mostly for clean-up so he uses them more often then not. Only goes without for an occasion.  

(Or for when his lover is laid out underneath, begging him without shame to fuck her already and Zayne really finds he has no other choice.)  

“Don’t whine later when I have to clean it,” Zayne says playfully. He slips of his shirt finally, feeling ten degrees cooler as it disappears with the rest of your clothes. He pushes his pants down just barely past his thighs - cock springing free. Just having the air touching it makes his stomach tighten.  

“You wanted it hard, right? Turn over. On your stomach,”  

You shiver but listen with ease - grabbing a pillow for security as you flip onto your stomach. 

Zayne likes missionary most of all  - but this is a reward.  Prone-bone is a good compromise for what you both want. You lay on your stomach underneath him, limp and focused on nothing but getting fucked and Zayne still gets to be as close to you as possible, bodies pressed together and all.  

You’re beautiful. Zayne won’t ever get over it. The sight of your spine covered in sweat, the slight raise of trembling hips, all the curves and scars and stretch marks he’s kissed over and over again. He feels absolutely besotted with you, entranced by the very sight of you in his bed like he hasn’t seen it so many times before. He’s like this even now, the weight of his own burning desire like a hit to his solar plexus.  

He feels at his wits end when he finally bends himself over you to fuck you. He kisses all the way down from the nape of your neck to the small of your back - the kind of worship only available to the holy thing that lays in his sheets, the deity of his very life. You push yourself up against him as invitation as Zayne lets his cock rest against the swell of your ass - still lightly red from  punishment.  

You spread your legs for him as Zayne slowly, carefully finds the right angle until the tip of his cock catches.  

Your pussy stretches for him like it was made to do exactly this. The ruddy, leaking head of slides into you with ease. Silken walls hugging him, enveloping him in an impossible warmth that makes Zayne feel completely out of his wits. He puts both hands on your hips - making sure to ease in slowly. Careful and kind  - trying his best not to hurt you.  

Zayne is wound tight. It’s a tremendous show of his patience that he’s being so gentle despite, despite, despite. Most of his thoughts feel concentrated in the one part of his body he shouldn’t think with and he wants to sink into you without a single care. His whole being thrashes against this feeling. He holds steady anyway s - until he bottoms out, his pelvis flush to your ass.  

You shudder beneath him. Your face is in a pillow, fucked out and drooling. All you do is moan, pushing yourself up again and wiggling your hips like you’re attempting to entice him into fucking you. As if it’s something he doesn’t already want to do.   

Zayne drops his head onto your shoulders. You whine, wanton and the last remaining pieces of his restraint fall out of place. He pulls out and pushes back in all at once, the both of you lost in the ecstasy.  

The bliss of it is unbelievable. Zayne can barely control himself, mounting you and relying on his memory of your body to fuck himself into the spot you like best. His forehead drops onto your shoulder and he lets himself go loose - kissing the back of your neck as he ruts himself into you again and again.  

“Oh, you’re so perfect. You feel so good. I love you,”  

It’s not fast, but it’s deep. In the way that’s more brutal then him fucking into you hard. Deep and calculated - measured thrusts that force you grind into the bed chasing the friction of your clit. Your legs kicking up from the pleasure, just crushed by the weight of him. Limp and spent from being strung out so far and simply taking what Zayne is giving you. He likes being able to feel you pressed, pinned underneath him. Crowding into your space with his chin at your shoulder, kissing the side of your neck and wherever else he can reach.  

Zayne could cum any second. He’s holding out until he feels that delicious squeeze that tells him you’re getting close again.  

It doesn’t take long. Each inch of his cock ravaging your insides, dragging against your walls on each thrust combined with all the sensitivity has you babbling within minutes.  

You pick your head up just to beg him for it, but Zayne doesn’t even give you a chance to speak. He can feel it while you’re wrapped around him, pussy trembling around the length of his cock - short panting breaths. He knows you’re close before you do.  

A hand cups your jaw as he whispers into your ear.  

“Cum.”  

You cum just like that, as if on command - your entire body seizing. Every muscle taut like a bowstrong. Your hands reach back for his arm - the one he’s leaning on. Nails digging into his forearms, you cum so intensely you gasp.  

“Zayne, zayne, oh fuck - fuck, please,” 

Zayne barely gets a breath before he’s following after you. He cums hard. The load is so thick it feels delayed even as he nestles himself deep into your cunt to finish. It goes on forever until it’s spill into you and clinging around the tip of his cock.  

The both of you lay there spent for a short while before you blink, lazily - and turn your gaze towards him from over your shoulder.  

“More?”  

Zayne laughs a tired, delirious laugh.  

“Anything for you,”  

__ 

You have sex until evening.  

Zayne doesn’t remember the last time you went at it like that. An anniversary he thinks, or some kind of special occasion. You haven’t had that much time. But two days off in a row was still good enough to have you rest.  

It felt necessary, in a way. Being so wrapped up in each other, a good reminder of your trust in each other. A good way for Zayne to cradle you. Carve the notion into you that all he ever wants to do is ease your burden and improve your life rather then make it harder. In between raw sexual desire and somewhat crass display of pent-up lust, is tucked a few years worth of loving.  

Zayne can only desire you this much because he knows you so well.  

After cleaning you up a bit, he let you lay and catch your breath while he went to run a nice bath with your good products, make you a cup of tea, and order takeout. You managed to not to pass out in the mean time which he’s thankful for - as it made the cleaning up much easier.  

The both of you now settle into the warm, soapy water - only after Zayne showers with you too. To get you properly clean and then help you relax.  

You sit with him now in the bath water. The pleasant floral scent of jasmine and lavender fills the bathroom, and you rest your head against Zayne’s chest as he sits comfortable behind you. His nose against your wet hair, he breathes you in and places a kiss to your bare shoulder.  

You stay like that for a long while until Zayne breaks the ice.  

“Is now an okay time to talk?”  

You stiffen, briefly  - dragging Zaynes hand into your lap and playing with his fingers.  

“Mm. Yeah,” 

Zayne waits for you. Patient and prudent.  

You sigh a little, head drooping down.  

“It’s not even—it’s just a work thing. There’s been an ongoing investigation about a group of Hunter’s from a different association. A Special Ops Unit that dissolved right before a series of protocore related incidents. Dissolved offiically but really more like completely disappeared. The problem itself isn’t really the investigation, but the team we’re working with. We’re collaborating with another association and those fucking,” Anger rises in your voice in a way that makes Zayne laugh lightly. You splash the water, taking a deep breath, pressing your thumb lightly into his wrist to distract yourself. “They’re incredibly incompetent and very combative. It’s been a huge pain to work with them, both tactically and on paper.”  

“It sounds incredibly frustrating.”  

You sigh.  

“It has been. One of the guys from the other association is an enormous jackass. He hasn’t done anything I can document on paper and submit to HR as harassment of evidence - but he’s bane of my existence. He’s actively getting in the way of investigation and he’s dead set on specifically scrutinizing my work. It’s been driving me up a wall.” You say, scrubbing your face. Zayne nuzzles into you sympathetically. “Normally I’d just report him immediately, or beat the shit out of him while we spar or something. But,”  

You take a deep breath. 

“If you need to stop here for because of disclosure or something of that nature, I understand,”  

You shake your head. “No, it’s—I haven’t been able to bring it up to anyone, but I think he’s played a role in the sudden disappearance. I don’t have any strong evidence to corroborate this. It’s just a gut feeling. Because of that, I also haven’t been able to bring it up to anyone either. We are constantly squabbling in the office. I worry if I mention it without something stronger to back me up - it’s going to look like I’m making a serious accusation over office politics and I just—”  

“It’s alright, my love. Just listening to you now is enough to make me exhausted. I can’t imagine what it’s been like living through it,”  

You sniffle, suddenly exhausted. Your voice cracks. “It’s been driving me nuts. I know it’ll blow over eventually one way or another, but it’s been such a constant burden. I kill Wanderers. This weird corporate charade is too much for me. It got to the point where just the mention of it was enough to make my blood boil.” You say, sighing. You turn your head and give him a small smile. “I’m really sorry for taking it out on you. It was almost too frustrating and too heavy to talk about - and you already have a lot on your plate so I wanted to just resolve it quickly. But I ended up making you worry and being unfair. I didn’t even realize how bad it’d gotten,”  

Zayne shakes his head. “It’s not as if I was angry with you at any point. Really. It’s so unlike you being that irritable, I was mostly just concerned. So don’t beat yourself up over it. If I couldn’t handle such mild tantrums, what kind of lover would I be?”  

You scowl at him, smiling betraying your features. Zayne just laughs.  

“I’m truly not angry so don’t beat yourself up over it. I do wish though you would depend on me more when you need it. Even if it’s just to vent. We’re partners right?”  

You nod. “…Yeah. Sorry.”  

“It’s really alright. Though I suppose I might’ve seemed angry or given that impression based on… earlier affairs,”  

You laugh. It’s a beautiful, lovely little sound. Like a wind chime. He’s happy to hear it.  

“Wait actually, I would like to talk about that. What was that?”  

Zayne’s turn to blush. He clears his throat.  

“Well… I was worried about you and I wanted to do something for you, somehow. After some thinking, I thought you would need some kind of strong emotional release. I considered going to take you to see the penguins and seals—“  

You interrupt him. “Oh, I would’ve sobbed like a baby,”  

“Right, exactly. But I sat on it for a while and felt like it wouldn’t be enough to break you out of your shell. And then I remembered we talked about this once a long time ago. So, I did some research and thought this would work out best,”  

You smile up at him. “You had a hypothesis didn’t you? Lay it on me, doc. What were you theorizing in that brain of yours that led you here?”  

“Well… sex is a good avenue for emotional and physical release. I thought the spanking aspect and ‘punishing’ you would help absolve some of your guilt as well. So at the time, it made the most sense to me.”  

You laugh under your breath. “You know me so well, huh? It worked great, actually. Better than I thought it would. And it was super hot when you were being all strict with me,”  

Zayne laughs. “I was worried about being so harsh but you really enjoyed yourself,”  

“I did. It felt good but after the crying, I just felt sort of floaty and drunk and pleasant. Like a weight lifted. Haven’t been in subspace like that in a while, but I felt really good.”  

He smiles. “That’s what I was hoping for,”  

“You’re so smart,” You praise, voice cooing and cloying. “Thanks for fixing me up, doc. I’m really indebted to you. I wonder if I’d be doing myself a disserivce to be all honest. It’d be a shame if I never got to see you like that again,”  

Zayne murmurs against your skin, smiling. “I could always punish you for doing less,”  

You grin at him. “See, that sounds wonderful.”  

Zayne gives you a kiss on the top of your head. You look back up at him warmly.  

“Thanks for thinking of me so much. And being so good to me,” You say, almost shy. “Means a lot,”  

Zayne has a million things he thinks of saying. That he’d do anything for you. Ultimately he settles on what he thinks most often.  

“Of course. Anything to make it all better, yes?”  

[ijustbewriting]

A man who yearns is a man who earns

Wolfstar X fem!reader

Summary - In which Remus and Sirius quietly ( not really) yearn for the reader

Warnings : none, (delusional Sirius), shy reader I guess

A//N My first Wolfstar fic !

Word count: 1.2k

“ I want her so bad” Sirius groans softly watching as you laugh along with Lily and Marlene. Remus who had been reading had promptly stopped as he had watched his boyfriend look at the girl who they had both been crushing on as of late. You were in the same year as them, a beautiful and smart Ravenclaw who just so happened to waltz in the boys life and change them forever.

“If you keep starting at her she’ll think you’re a creep” Remus tells his boyfriend

“She’ll think about me !” Sirius gasps, Remus shakes his head at his gasp

“ You really need to stop”

“Why won’t she look at us “ Whines Sirius sitting next down next to Remus who was quick to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him closer.

“Don’t know love” He plants a kiss on his neck making Sirius shiver.

“Do you think she even knows our names” The young Gryffindor pouts.

In all honesty Y/N did know Remus and Sirius, how could she not? The famous group, the marauders. Known for pulling pranks and bringing fun to Hogwarts, it was hard to miss such a group.

Remus and Sirius especially, god were they gorgeous. Remus with his beautiful brown eyes that seemed to be lit by the sun itself, his curly hair that was always curled to perfection, his old soul which was so kind and oh Merlin’s beard was he so smart. The few classes she had with him where she would hear him answer the professors question’s correctly and even sometimes add even more information made her Ravenclaw heart swoon.

Sirius Black, oh Sirius Black. He captivated everyone’s heart. His unique grey eyes and long hair, and that smile. That Sirius Black smile. Charming is what he is, suave with his words having anyone flustered and blushing when Sirius would flirt with them. Everyone wanted him or wanted to be him. But only Remus Lupin was lucky enough to have a slice of whatever Sirius was offering but god did he want top give a piece to you.

You the beautiful creature who captured their hearts when Lily walked into the common room that fateful day. You both were working on a project for Potions. Both of them were awestruck by you. Swearing they had never seen someone as beautiful as you. They knew then and there that they wanted you, the question was how?

It seemed like any time that they wanted to see you, you were scurrying away, off to the library, your dorm or somewhere else where they could not reach you.

One time when Sirius was walking with James after heading back from quidditch practice. Then a sudden figure zoomed right past them, it was you. Sirius blinked and he turned to look at you as you left, he wanted to say something but by gods were you quick. As you turned the corner and disappearing from his sight he promptly fell to his knees.

“Come back my love PLE-“

As you had turned the corner, you stopped swearing that you had heard something

“Must of been the wind” you muttered to yourself.

It was not in fact the wind but none other than Sirius Black dramatically on his knees clutching his chest, the other hand reaching out for you.

“Mate get up this is embarrassing” James muttered

Truth is- you’re painfully shy. Having a crush on Remus Lupin and Sirius Black the it couple right next to Lily and James was painful, for so many reasons. One being the most obvious, they’re both together and you were no home wrecker. Two you could not imagine even being friends with them. They were so different from you, in a good way.

While you were more quiet and reserved, staying in your dorm to read and study. You enjoyed your me time more than anything. Parties at Hogwarts were something you rarely attended, given the fact that you didn’t drink or dance. The few times you did go was because a friend’s or Lily had dragged you. You would see both boys at these parties and they were the life of the party there was no way they would look over at you and want you, at least that’s what you’ve told yourself thus far.

It was far from the truth. Remus and Sirius both yearned for you silently or at least remus did, Sirisu was alwasy loud about those he cared about.

But enough was enough, both of them decided that they were going to get your attention one way or another.

As you exited you class, you sighed as you slinged your bag on your shoulder, the bag was heavy a reminder of all the homework you had to do.

"Ok I finish reading chapters one through twenty and then I can start my essay and give my self enough time-" you muttered to yourself but promptly stopped as your eyes landed on two figures. Remus and Sirius. Quickly and without blinking you turned your heel and began to walk the other way.

"No wait- hold on love" you heard Sirius voice as he catched up to you, now this is the one time you cursed Sirius and Remus's great hieght becasue with a couple of strides they had already caught up to you.

"Dove please" Remus said almost pleadingly. The nickname made you stop walking. The boys both next to you.

"Merlin's beard, your worse than a snitch, I don't even think James would be able to catch you" Sirius huffed in light laughter, Remus smiled soflty.

"We've been looking for you " said Remus

"You have?" you responed in a quiet voice

"yes love, for what feels like an eternity-"

"two months" Remus corrected

"felt like forver to me" huffed Sirius his lips almost pouting

"what for?" you ask

"well we wanted to ask you something actually" Remus started

"We want you so bad" blurted Sirius, now that made you completely freeze up.

"Sirius we said we were going slow" hissed Remus, swatting his partner gently on the shoulder.

"I can't- this will not be a slow burn love, I will not allow it" He shakes his head before grabbing your hand.

"Love, please we've been going crazy without you, you drive us insane and we want you in all ways possible, please let us treat you right, we won't ever hurt you and your days will be filled with love and passion-"Sirius's love declaration was cut of by his boyfriend.

"Pads you're scaring her" He says as he had been wacthing your reaction and it was all wide eyed and he wore you had stopped breathing for a moment. Sirius quickly shut up, the quickest Remus had ever seen him. After a moment of silence you finally spoke.

"You want me- you both want me ?" you sputtered finally breathing again

"Most ardently" Remus answered. You look between both boys, whom you've had been crushing onf for so long, who you had never ever in your life believed that they would ever look at you in that way but here they were. Sirius basically on his knees begging you to talk and Remus with his beautiful eyes asking, no pleading for a positive response. You drew in a deep breathe before answering.

"I want you guys too" You confess

"Praise Merlin and David Bowie she said yes Remus!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Yes I heard her love thank you" chuckled Remus who was now looking you fondly. Sirius who was still holding your hand gave it a small squeeze.

"Did you hear how Remus pulled a Mr. Darcy on you "

[ssweetreveries]

Crush Catalog | The 𝒥 Files

introducing to you a 6-part series featuring nct’s ‘J line’

college au, interconnected standalones, afab!reader, will contain mature content (18+ mdni)

taglist (open!) @bluedbliss @rosakjs @lovesuhng @4nesu @skittyneos @yowmaman @luvlyrenwoo @wooyugta @yoonohswife @the-universe-in-you-jjh @wachimingox @ajaaaaayyyyy @jaemsprettygf @fancypeacepersona @hi00000234567 @cinneorolls @nctpjs

Part 1 | Where We Begin Again

☆ fwb!johnny x reader

trope → friends with benefits to lovers

synopsis You and Johnny are longtime friends who started hooking up out of convenience—no strings attached, right? Except now, you're both catching feelings but too scared to ruin the friendship. One night after an especially heated encounter, something shifts—a vulnerable moment slips out. Tension builds when one of you tries to pull away, but fate keeps throwing you back together.

Part 2 | Somewhere Between Us

☆ ex!jaehyun x reader

trope → exes to lovers

synopsis You and Jaehyun dated years ago—the kind of deep, youthful love that felt like forever—until life pulled you apart. Now you're back in the same city. A run-in at a mutual friend’s party reopens the door, and neither of you can ignore the tension. There's still hurt… but also lingering desire.

As you reconnect—cautiously, hesitantly—old sparks reignite. But there's pain buried under the surface. Can you forgive the past? Can he?

Part 3 | Underneath It All

☆ nerd!jeno x reader

trope → academic rivals/enemies to lovers

synopsis You and Jeno are friendly enemies—always neck and neck at school. You challenge each other, argue over ideas, and secretly admire one another, though neither of you admits it.

One night, you’re both stuck working late on the same project. Tension brews—academic snark turns into flirtation, and when you finally snap, it's a kiss… then a lot more.

After that, things shift. The teasing is more charged. You catch him staring. He lingers after meetings. But you’re both scared to cross that line again—is it just tension, or is there something real underneath?

Part 4 | Practice Makes Perfect

☆ fakebf!jaemin x reader

trope → fake dating/friends to lovers

synopsis You’ve been close friends with Jaemin for years— the kind who flirt without realizing, share late-night snacks, and never address the elephant in the room: you're incredibly compatible.

When a situation arises—your ex showing up in town—you ask Jaemin to pretend to be your boyfriend.

He’s way too good at it. Touches linger, pet names slip out naturally, and he looks at you like he means it. You both try to play it cool, but the tension builds until one night you can’t fake it anymore.

What neither of you expected? The fear of messing up the friendship… and how much it’ll hurt if this isn’t real.

Part 5 | Something Like Love

☆ bsf!jungwoo x reader

trope → best friends to lovers

synopsis You and Jungwoo have always had that kind of friendship—warm, easy, comfortable. You’ve been there through finals week breakdowns, bad dates, roommate drama, and everything in between. Everyone assumes you’ve hooked up. You haven’t. Not once.

But in senior year, things shift.

Maybe you're both single at the same time. Maybe one night, after a party, you end up in his bed—just to sleep, like always—but it feels different. The air changes. You start to notice the way he looks at you. How his hands hesitate when they touch your arm. How he doesn’t pull away anymore.

Then it happens. A kiss. A touch. A confession that slips out when you least expect it.

But it’s messy, because what if it ruins the friendship? What if it’s not the same after? What if he’s been in love with you longer than you knew—and what if you’re only realizing you’ve always loved him back?

Final part | Across the Hall

☆ neighbour!jisung x reader

trope → strangers to friends to lovers

synopsis You’ve just moved into a small off-campus apartment, and Jisung lives right across the hall. He’s quiet, polite, always wearing headphones, always buried in his own world. The two of you exchange casual greetings at first—but over time, that awkward “neighbor energy” turns into something deeper.

The first real shift happens one evening when you lock yourself out of your apartment—barefoot, holding laundry, feeling ridiculous. Jisung’s the only one home, and he offers to let you stay in his place while you wait for the locksmith. What begins as an awkward favor becomes a surprisingly easy conversation over ramen and reruns playing low on his small TV.

Slowly, you become friends. Shared study breaks, spontaneous grocery runs, nights spent half-laughing, half-whispering on the hallway floor.

He’s reserved, but you notice the subtle ways he starts opening up: leaving little notes on your door, offering bites of snacks he made too much of, brushing your hand and pretending it didn’t happen. It’s all unspoken… until it’s not.

an : spontaneously decided to start working on a series..! hehe, i’m excited to see how this goes!

probably will be slow updates—no fixed release dates yet!

[dior-luxury]

Hi! Could I request Jade Leech(and maybe one with Rook) and the reader in a kind of enemies to lovers setting, bit suggestive too if possible. How would this play out? Who would confess first and how? I really like your other work, such as the proposals! Thanks for the hard work!

Enemies To Lover

( ✧ ) ────── pre-boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] jade . rook

- [𝐩:𝐬] Suggestive Themes / Mild Sexual Tension . Minor Injury Mention (Jade’s scene) . Emotional Tension / Power Dynamics . Flirting & Verbal Sparring

Note: Yes, I WAS giggling to myself when writing this 😭. Also thank you so much for complimenting my work!! And your always welcome, I love writing honestly. Hopefully, these met to all of your expectations!!

Jade Leech

At first, you couldn't stand Jade Leech.

It wasn't just the calm, knowing smile or his cryptic metaphors that coiled around your patience like seaweed. It was how he always seemed two steps ahead of you—especially when you were most vulnerable. He had a way of cornering you in conversations that felt like traps, laced with double meanings and gentle mockery. You'd always leave flustered, teeth clenched, cheeks burning.

The tension began in Potionology, where you were inexplicably paired for a semester-long project. Jade was composed as ever, his voice dipped in cool politeness, but you knew he relished your irritation. Every comment he made was deliberately vague, every instruction laced with subtle barbs about your technique, your handwriting, your "charming eagerness to prove yourself."

But things changed the night you got locked in the botanical greenhouse together during a rare lunar bloom.

You had been arguing—again—over dosage measurements. Jade was annoyingly close, leaning over your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your neck as he "corrected" your notes. One word led to another until the heated exchange turned into silence, the tension hanging thick and humid in the air, laced with the scent of phosphorescent flowers and damp earth.

That’s when he said it, voice low: "You’re far more entertaining when you stop pretending to hate me."

You turned sharply, ready to bark something back, but Jade was already closer than you expected—closer than he should’ve been. His eyes, no longer mockingly half-lidded, held something sharper, darker. Something curious.

“You play your role well,” he continued, stepping just a little closer, “but I wonder what would happen if you stopped resisting. I think you'd find me quite... intoxicating.”

Your heart thundered, and your tongue stumbled. Jade smirked, but not cruelly this time—it was amused, hungry.

And for once, you didn’t pull away.

The tension that had defined your partnership slowly morphed after that night. The teasing didn’t stop—but it changed. Became flirtatious, laced with a promise. You caught him watching you from across the room with that unreadable expression, and your body would react before your brain could process.

He touched your hand longer during lab work. He began seeking you out under the guise of casual conversation. The tension was no longer frustrating—it was magnetic.

The confession came unexpectedly.

After a House of Heartsbanquet duel, you’d ended up with a shallow cut on your arm. Jade found you alone in the infirmary afterward, and the moment he saw the blood, his demeanor shifted.

“This would hurt less,” he murmured, wiping it with practiced care, “if you'd stop leaping into danger without considering the consequences.”

“And you’d care why?” you shot back, still trying to keep up the old defense.

His hands paused. His voice dropped.

“Because I hate watching you bleed,” he said. “And because, despite everything... I've come to care for you far more than I intended.”

You stared, throat dry.

He leaned in, fingers grazing your jaw, gaze devouring.

“Do I need to be plainer, dear pearl? Or shall I let you keep pretending you don’t crave the games as much as I do?”

Rook Hunt

Rook was a menace. A poetic, theatrical, irrepressibly present menace.

From the moment you crossed paths, he decided you were fascinating. "A mystery cloaked in fire!" he’d exclaimed once after you rolled your eyes at his compliments. “So much fury, and yet... such beauty in resistance.”

You hated it. You hated how he waxed poetic about your every motion. You hated how he always seemed to appear out of nowhere with a smile and an unsolicited metaphor. And most of all—you hated how a part of you thrilled at his attention.

You sparred with him constantly. Quips, eye-rolls, mock salutes. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a blush. But Rook never wavered. He treated your rebukes like gifts, each barb only sharpening his interest.

Still, things came to a head during the VDC preparation week.

Tensions were high. You were co-leaders on a choreography segment—Rook for his elegance, you for your sheer grit and precision. But rehearsal after rehearsal saw friction, each of you trying to pull the routine in different directions. He wanted grace; you wanted impact.

After a particularly heated disagreement, you stormed off, breath ragged, only for Rook to follow, not with scolding—but silence. You turned on him behind the training hall, furious.

“Why do you care so much about how I move?!”

He stared at you, expression serious—uncharacteristically so.

“Because you move like a storm, and I—I want to be the one to weather it.”

You froze.

“I do not admire you despite your fire,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I am entranced because of it. Your strength, your fury—they are beautiful. You do not see it, but I do.”

Your back hit the wall as he came nearer, gloved hand gently brushing your wrist. His lips hovered close, not quite touching.

“And the hunter,” he murmured, “only chases what he cannot forget.”

You trembled—not from fear.

The line between your hate and desire shattered that night.

Afterward, Rook’s pursuit turned softer. Less dramatic, more intimate. He started learning what quiet things made you smile. He touched your shoulder during idle conversation. He sought your opinion, not to challenge—but to understand.

And the night of the performance, when you both stood backstage, breathless from adrenaline, it was you who pulled him aside.

“I can’t stand you,” you whispered. “But I can’t... stop thinking about you either.”

Rook’s smile bloomed like sunlight through trees.

“Then the hunt was mutual all along,” he said, before leaning in and kissing you—deep, slow, reverent.

[haartemis]

BIG EGO | Kylian Mbappé

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: people say you and kylian are the perfect match; both of you confident, unstoppable, and drawn to each other like magnets. when one evening you loyally defend him against snarky online critics, kylian shows his appreciation by proving once again that while his ego might be big, there’s something else of his that's even bigger...

warnings: smut!!! its all smut

a/n: this song feels like kylian so much lol, i figured i had to write something based on it. writing smut is still so hard *no pun intended* 🥲 feedback is welcome

you know kylian better than anyone else.

he’s kind, funny, smart, but above all, he’s confident. he doesn’t downplay his talent or pretend not to notice the greatness everyone else sees in him. instead, he’s matter of fact about it, and you find that quality of his charming, magnetic, and infuriatingly sexy. why?because you’re the same.

you know your worth. why move through the world being fake humble? you’re aware of who you are, what you’re capable of, and you don’t see the point in pretending otherwise. there’s no reward in dimming your light to make others feel comfortable. it’s not arrogance; it’s confidence. but for many men, especially those you were romantically involved with in the past, your confidence often intimidated them, and they ran away.

not kylian, though.

when you first met him, a meddling stranger had warned with fake concern that kylian was 'too full of himself' and therefore bad news. yet from the very first conversation it was like seeing yourself reflected in someone else. the same drive to succeed in your careers, the same unwavering self assurance. where others saw you as a threat, he saw you as an equal partner, and he didn’t shrink away from you. instead, he was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. or more accurately, like fire meeting fire. together, you bring out the best in each other.

"what a beautiful couple!' people usually exclaim at weddings, birthday parties, or any social gathering. they admire the way you hold yourselves, the way your personalities mesh in such a perfect way. you understand why it works: you see the best in yourselves, and you see it in each other too. and sometimes you play up the cockiness people project onto you two, just cuz it's fun. especially in the bedroom, when its just you two and you can bask in each other's love.

but sometimes, that projection can get under your skin. tonight is one of those nights.

you’ve just gotten back home after an evening game at the bernabeu, a game the team won. it feels like he’s hitting his stride again, growing sharper and more confident in the white shirt he’s always dreamed of wearing. he scored a nice goal, yet the trolls online still seem determined to tear him down.

kylian has never really minded it. whether praise or criticism, he’s used to people talking about him. he knows football fans can be fickle and reactionary, so he usually doesn't put much weight onto whatever they say. in fact, he makes a point to stay offline most of the time, to disconnect from the craziness of twitter. but you? you're very online, and sometimes you can’t help but want to bite back on his behalf.

you’re scrolling through your twitter timeline, sitting on your bed waiting for kylian to come to bed so you can call it a night, when one tweet catches your eye: “the dictator is destroying the locker room”

you roll your eyes. you scroll down and find another: “he’s so arrogant, always calling himself one of the best players in the world”

the audacity.

before you can think twice, your fingers are already typing away. “he talks like this cuz he can back it up!” you hit send, satisfaction coursing through you at having shut up one more idiot spewing nonsense on the internet.

“what are you doing?” kylian’s voice pulls you back to reality.

you glance up, and your breath hitches. he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, having just emerged from the walk-in closet wearing his usual bedtime attire: absolutely nothing but a pair of tight black boxers. your gaze involuntarily slides over the sharp planes of his abs, to his bulging crotch where you can see a hint of a curve beneath the waistband, then finally to his powerful, sculpted thighs. you swallow hard at the sight.

“nothing” you say, a little too quickly.

his eyebrows lift, and he steps closer before sitting down on the bed beside you, taking the phone from your hands. his eyes scan the screen, and his smirk widens. “defending my honor online huh?”

you fold your arms, suddenly defensive. “they were saying ridiculous things and you’re too chill about it”

he shakes his head, chuckling softly. “ma chérie, people have been talking about me for years. i don’t care what they say. why do you?”

“because you deserve better” you say, your voice firm. “they act like it’s a crime that you're confident. it pisses me off”

his expression softens. he cups your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “i don’t need anyone to fight my battles” he says, his voice low. “but it’s cute that you want to”

you glare at him half heartedly. “i’m not cute. i’m right”

“you’re both” he says, leaning his head in the crook of your neck. “and just so you know, i love that you’re always in my corner. i think it's really hot”

he presses his lips to the soft curve of your neck, breathing you in before pressing slow kisses, lips dragging a trail of shivers in their wake. his fingers find the thin strap of your camisole, sliding it down your shoulder as his hands begin to roam from your shoulders to your waist, before tracing the curve of your hips and gliding over your thighs.

then his lips move to yours, his tongue slipping past your lips with ease. your hands move instinctively, one cradling the back of his head, while the other grazes the nape of his neck with your nails. you know exactly what that does to him, the way it sends a shiver rippling through his body. his sharp inhale against your mouth tells you you’ve hit your mark, and it only encourages you, pulling him closer as the kiss grows even more heated.

“that skirt you wore tonight…” he murmurs against your lips, his hands slipping under the hem of your pajama shorts and gripping your upper thighs. “you knew what you were doing, didn’t you? showing off these legs. in the tunnel when you were waiting for me, all the guys there were staring at you”

you break the kiss. “jealous?”

“no" he says calmly. “there’s no one better than me"

you know he means it. and it turns you on.

he continues, “they can try, but they’ll never make your head turn, because no one compares to me”

your hand wanders to his bulge, and you hear his breath hitch as you rub him through his boxers.

“such a huge ego” you tease.

he just shrugs in response, a proud smirk playing on his face. the same smirk he has in press conferences when he’s outsmarted a slick journalist fishing for a soundbite to twist out of context.

you lick the palm of your hand and slide it inside his boxers, eagerly pulling him out. his hips involuntarily jerk at the contact, and you smirk. you swipe your fingers over the fat, swollen head, admiring the sight of what's in your hand. he’s so warm, so so hard, so smooth. and all yours to play with.

“y/n” his voice comes out rugged. “fuck that’s good”

you like watching all of his control dissolve. love replacing that smirk on his face with an agonized look.

“tell me what else is good” you murmur as you slowly stroke him, tightening your grip.

kylian groans, his head tipping back. 

“being inside you. that’s the best” he breathes, his voice rough with desire. “but you already know that”

your smirk widens as you lean closer to him. “i do” you tease, your lips brushing against his ear. your tongue peeks out and sensually drags over his lobe before you bite it, eliciting a breathy sigh from him. “but I like hearing you say it”

you keep stroking him, and the faster you jerk his dick, the more he falls apart. soon he’s moaning, catching your wrist with one strong hand, begging you, “no more. don’t make me come before i get inside you”

you pout before slowing your movements, running your thumb over one thick vein running up the length of him. 

“y/n” he groans, his hips jerking once again. unable to resist, you press a chaste kiss to the place where the vein meets the head. your mouth is watering for him.

but just as you're about to get down on your knees so you can finally put him in your mouth, he suddenly moves, his hands slipping under your thighs to lift you effortlessly and laying you back against the bed. his body hovers over yours, and his gaze locks onto yours, intense and dark with arousal. 

“i was about to suck you off” you whine. 

he grins. "you'll get to, any time you want. its all yours. but i want to taste you tonight"

his mouth moves to your neck, his lips brushing softly before his teeth scrape against your skin. you let out a contented sigh, his words making you very excited for what's to come.

his hands slide under your camisole, pushing it up and over your head in one fluid motion. the cool air meets your heated skin, and his eyes lazily glide over your naked form. he tweaks one nipple, and you shiver.

his hands go lower, and he gently lifts you up by the hip so can he slide your shorts and panties off you. 

“no one compares to you either, you know” he says, his voice thick with meaning as he shifts lower on the bed, his broad shoulders spreading your legs with ease. he pauses, glancing up at you with that infuriatingly confident wink. “not in this lifetime. or the next. or ever. we’re the same. that's why we're made for each other”

and with that, he dips his head, his mouth finding its rightful place.

you let out a quiet yelp as his tongue slides through your folds inquisitively, as if it hasn’t been there a hundred times before. it's warm and probing, and almost reverent, like you're a delicious meal he's trying to savor. his beard that you make fun of serves its purpose in times like these; it rasps against the tender spot where your thighs meet your ass, and the friction amplifies everything, every sensation sharper, hotter, better. you can't help but arch into him, craving more.

and then there’s his hand, his fingers working your clit in such fast, insistent circles that if he stops you might kill him. the intensity builds so quickly it’s almost unbearable, and you grip the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring you. you’re lying on a bed, yes, but his tongue is making you so weak you’re sure you’ll fall apart if it wasn’t for one of his strong arms wrapped around your upper thigh  holding you in place. even then, you writhe and squirm, eyes shut in ecstasy, mouth repeating “yes, please”s and “oh my god”s and nothing else. 

when you finally come, the pleasure rolls through you in waves, leaving you boneless and trembling. still, he doesn’t stop. his tongue stokes you through the aftershock,  even as your muscles turn into liquid and your body feels like it’s floating.

he finally relents when you place your hand on his head and shake him slightly. he looks up, his lips and the tip of his pretty nose glistening from your wetness, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. he’s got a smug look on his face. “see? who else could do this to you?”

you don’t answer him with words; instead, you let your body speak for you. wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him down to you, drawing his mouth to yours. the kiss is slow and languid, your lips moving against his as you savor the taste of yourself on him. 

when your breath steadies and the aftermath of your orgasm fades into a warm feeling, you nip at his bottom lip, tugging it gently before pulling back. the smirk that crosses his face tells you he already knows what’s coming next.

because it’s kylian, and he knows you as intimately as you know yourself. because it always feels like he can read your mind, like your desires are two halves of the same whole. without a word, he rolls onto his back, sprawling against the sheets compliantly, leaving himself open for you to ride him.

you waste no time, sliding over him and straddling his strong thigh, the muscles beneath you flexing beautifully. his hands find your hips, steadying you as you position yourself. your bodies align perfectly, and as you sink down onto him, he slides home with ease.

there’s no painful friction, but there’s still a small pleasurable ache, the stretch that always comes with him. no matter how many times you’ve done this, your body always needs a moment to adjust, to accommodate him. the slight burn is part of the experience, a reminder of just how much of him there is. he groans low in his throat as you take him fully, the sound vibrating through your chest. "you're so big" you moan.

“you okay?” he murmurs, his voice rough but caring.

you nod, resting your palms on his chest as you steady yourself. “yeah” you whisper. "i can handle you"

his lips curve into a  grin, his hands tightening on your hips. “i know” he says, his tone shifting “we fit so good. i told you, we're made for each other”

his words send a shiver through you as you rise slowly and sinking back down on him again. the drag of his cock against your walls sends sparks shooting through your body, and you bite your lip, letting out a soft moan. kylian’s gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes filled with heat and something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

“fuck, you’re perfect” he breathes, his fingers pressing into your skin as you find your rhythm.

you move with deliberate slowness at first,  your hips rolling as you grind against him. the sensation is exhilarating, the way he fills you, stretches you, the way he watches you like you’re the only thing worth watching in the world.

leaning down, you press your lips to his ear. “you like watching me take you like this, don’t you?” you murmur, your voice dripping with confidence. “because I’m so fucking hot”

he groans, his hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, until they find your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you. “you're so fucking hot” he agrees, his hips bucking slightly, pushing even deeper.

you pick up the pace, riding him with more intensity now, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room. his hands guide your movements, helping you find just the right angle, and soon you’re both lost in the heat of it, in the raw, unending need for each other. from time to time you lean down to give him a better view of your breasts, the way you know he likes it.

when his hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, it’s almost too much. the added stimulation sends you over the edge, your head tipping back as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“ky” you cry out, your hands clutching at his chest as you fall apart around him.

“baby” he groans. he repeats his upward thrusts, holding you in place so you can do nothing but take it. again, again, and again, until you tighten yourself around him so much he has no chance of holding it off. his own release chases after yours.

finally he stills, his body tensing as he lets go, a deep, guttural moan leaving his mouth. 

for a moment, neither of you moves, your breaths mingling as you come down from the high. then he reaches up, cupping your face and pulling you down for a kiss. It’s slow and tender, a contrast to the fire that had just consumed you both.

when you finally pull away, his lips curve into a lazy smile. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

you smirk, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "of course i do”

you know he knows you mean it.

his laugh is soft, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. “god, i love you” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell.

you lean down, pressing your forehead to his. “i love you too, ky” you whisper.

slowly, you lift yourself off him, feeling the tender ache as you slide him out of you. you settle back onto the bed beside him, the sheets cool against your hot, sweaty skin. for a while, you both just lie there catching your breath.

“what was that tweet you saw about me earlier?” kylian asks a little later, after you’ve taken care of the mandatory post sex clean up routine and gotten back in bed.

“hmm?”

“earlier,” he repeats, turning his head to look at you. “i saw your reply, but I didn’t see the tweet you were replying to. what did it say?”

“oh that” you giggle. there’s still so much endorphins rushing in you that you can’t even find the anger you felt earlier when you saw the tweet. “it said you’re destroying the real madrid locker room”

kylian arranges his face into a mock scowl. “nonsense” he says, lips twitching. he pauses for dramatic effect, and you know what he’s about to say. “the only thing I destroy is this pussy”

you both burst out laughing. 

tags: @idontknowwhatthisvis555 @nowrosesaredead @iuoiyr @acarolnzinhaa-03 @ynkfreeastheocean @scottishthistle @user6373738 @loonworld @whateveryouloser @greyishbach @ajsboys @kyliansonlygf @lucysantos6-blog @tuliptopiasstuff @kennasutopia @cinderellawithashoe @akiracim @kymb-10 @germanapples @heartbreakylian @cleverwinnermaker @creampuff07

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

Shattered Silence

Jayce Talis x reader

Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2 , not connected to any canon plot

Prompt: An enemies to lovers story; “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Notes: I KNOW some people are absolutely hating this man now but I had this sitting in my notes app and just need to set it free. I hope there aren’t any mistakes , but once again it’s been written in my notes app-

Part 2

Jayce Talis was no stranger to the silence of late nights in the lab. The rhythmic hum of Hextech crystals, the faint flicker of blue light against metal, and the steady scratch of pen against paper were his constant companions. Tonight, like so many nights before, he found himself hunched over blueprints, mind locked in the methodical process of refining designs. It was easier to work late when there were no interruptions, no voices cutting through the quiet—especially not yours.

Jayce had never met someone more infuriating than you.

You were brilliant, there was no question about that. Your intellect had earned you a coveted place alongside him on one of Piltover’s most ambitious projects. But from the moment you two had started working together, it had been like throwing oil onto a flame. You clashed on nearly everything. You were methodical, calculated—always challenging his more instinctive, risk-taking approaches.

“I don’t see why you can’t grasp that stabilizing the core will reduce its volatility,” you had said during one of your many arguments.

“And I don’t see why you insist on slowing down innovation for the sake of caution!” Jayce had shot back.

The entire lab had been forced to endure your bickering. And it wasn’t just the disagreements over schematics that drove the wedge deeper. It was the way you two refused to back down, constantly pushing and challenging each other.

Jayce had always prided himself on being the best. He’d been driven by that mindset ever since he was a child, determined to prove himself worthy of his place in Piltover’s elite society. But you? You were a different kind of competitor. You weren’t driven by arrogance, as he had first assumed, but by a fierce need to prove yourself. You didn’t have his connections, didn’t have the same privileges. You’d clawed your way up through sheer talent and hard work, and you weren’t about to let anyone—even Jayce Talis—make you feel like you didn’t belong.

That realization had hit Jayce like a punch to the gut one night, weeks ago, after one particularly nasty fight.

** flashback a few weeks ago**

“I swear, if you could just stop bulldozing over my ideas for one second, you’d realize we’re trying to solve the same problem!” you snapped, slamming your notebook down on the lab bench. The room was empty save for the two of you, the other engineers having wisely fled after the first thirty minutes of bickering.

Jayce glared at you, jaw tight. “I’m not bulldozing—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was sharp, a warning edge in your tone. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you’re not dismissing everything I say just because you think you know better.”

Jayce’s fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect you; he did. But you constantly pushed him in ways that no one else did, constantly questioned him, and it made his blood boil. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this. Not by someone like you.

“Maybe if you’d explain your ideas instead of acting like you’re the only person in the room with a brain—” he bit out, stepping closer to you, his frustration bleeding into every word.

You met his gaze without flinching, that fire in your eyes blazing hotter than ever. “Maybe if you weren’t so full of yourself, you’d actually hear what I’m saying!”

Jayce had taken a breath to fire back another retort, but then he’d seen something flicker in your expression. For just a moment, the anger cracked, and there was something else underneath. Hurt, maybe. Vulnerability. It was fleeting, but it was there.

He didn’t say anything, and you had turned away, picking up your notebook with a quiet sigh. “Forget it,” you muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll just rework the damn equations on my own.”

Jayce had watched you go, something unfamiliar twisting in his chest. He’d thought about going after you, maybe saying something—anything—to defuse the tension. But his pride had held him back, and instead, he had let you leave.

That had been the first time Jayce had realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t angry with you because you were wrong. Maybe he was angry because you were right, and he hated that someone could challenge him the way you did.

From then on, the tension between you two had only grown. Arguments became sharper, filled with undercurrents neither of you acknowledged. He could see the way others noticed it, the way their eyes darted between you and him whenever a heated discussion threatened to boil over. They weren’t just seeing two colleagues who couldn’t get along. They were seeing the thin line between rivalry and something else.

But that something else was dangerous. It was a fire neither of you were ready to touch.

**end of flashback**

Tonight, Jayce had resigned himself to another long night in the lab, the familiar hum of Hextech energy his only company. That was, until the door burst open with a force that made him jump.

His irritation was immediate. Of course, it would be you, barging in without a second thought. “If you’re here to argue about the core stabilizer again, I’m not in the mood,” Jayce muttered, not even looking up as he continued scribbling on his blueprints.

But then there was silence. No sharp retort. No biting comment.

Frowning, Jayce glanced up—and almost immediately his stomach dropped.

You stood frozen in the doorway, but you weren’t your usual fiery self. Your hair was disheveled, the neat, professional attire you always wore was wrinkled and disordered, as if you had thrown it on in a rush or hadn’t cared enough to fix it and your face... your face was pale, eyes wide and rimmed with unshed tears. Something had happened.

“I... I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking in a way so unfamiliar to Jayce’s ears that it almost made him flinch.

“What—” Jayce’s brain stuttered, not understanding, confusion and concern flooding his senses all at once. He had never seen you like this—vulnerable, shaken. You were always the one with sharp retorts, the one who could throw him off balance with a single glance. And now? Now you were standing in front of him, broken, and he didn’t know what to do. But when he turned fully to face you and noticed the sheer panic in your expression, all of his irritation, all of the snide comments he had prepared, dissolved instantly. “What happened?”

In a heartbeat, he was across the room, standing in front of you, his hands hovering just above your arms as if unsure whether to touch you, whether you’d let him.

“They—” you started, then choked on the words, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, hands trembling at your sides. “Someone broke into my apartment. I—I don’t know what they were after. They tore everything apart, Jayce. All of it. All my work... it’s gone.”

Hearing the sheer devastation in your voice, Jayce felt a surge of protectiveness swell inside him, his heart pounding as he imagined the scene. The thought of someone invading your space, of you coming home to find it destroyed... it made his blood boil.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked urgently, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.

You shook your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself together. “No, I—I wasn’t there when it happened. But... everything was trashed. My work, my research, everything. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go back.”

Jayce felt a knot tighten in his chest. You—this person who was always so strong, always so put-together—looked like you were on the verge of breaking. And the fact that you had come to him, him , in this moment of vulnerability left him stunned.

Without thinking, he reached out, pulling you into his arms in a motion that was both instinctive and desperate. You stiffened at first, as if the idea of seeking comfort from him was the last thing you’d ever considered. But something inside you broke the moment his arms wrapped around you, and you let yourself sag against him, your hands clinging desperately to the fabric of his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Jayce tightened his hold, one hand resting on the back of your head as he cradled you against his chest, the other pressing firmly against the small of your back. He rested his chin atop your head, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. “I’m here. We’ll figure this out.”

Jayce could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface as he thought about what had happened to you. His hand that rested on your back clenched into a fist as he imagined someone rifling through your things, invading your space, and leaving you terrified. Jayce’s anger surged, hot and violent, but he forced it down, knowing that what you needed right now wasn’t fury.

It was comfort.

You sniffled against him, your breath hitching as you tried to calm yourself, and his fist slowly unclenched, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your back. He hadn’t realized until now how familiar you felt in his arms, how right it felt to hold you.

For all the biting words and harsh glances the two of you usually shared, this moment was startlingly soft, intimate in a way that left him feeling raw.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t say anything, but you leaned into him more, your face pressed against his chest, your body shaking as you let out a soft sob. The sound of it cracked something inside Jayce, and he found himself holding you even tighter, as if trying to shield you from everything that had happened.

When you finally pulled back slightly, you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, and Jayce’s heart ached at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Why did you come here?” he asked softly. It wasn’t accusatory—it was genuine curiosity. After all the arguments, the tension, he hadn’t expected you to seek him out in a moment like this. You let out a small, humorless laugh, your voice still trembling. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess... I guess because I knew you’d be here. And... you’re the only one who understands.”

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. You were right. Despite all the arguments, all the bickering, you and Jayce did understand each other. You were alike in so many ways—both of you driven, both of you fighting to prove something, both of you carrying more weight on your shoulders than you let anyone see.

“I’m glad you came,” he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

A few hours later the lab was quieter, save for the steady scratching of Jayce's pen as he continued to make adjustments to the prototype in front of him. The tension that had once filled the room seemed to have settled, softened by the rawness of the earlier moments. You sat on the edge of his desk, your legs swinging slightly as you watched him work, the weight of what had happened still heavy on your shoulders.

Jayce had been focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled out a few final equations. But every so often, his eyes would flicker up to you, checking if you were still there, still okay. The silence between you was no longer strained or uncomfortable; it felt like an unspoken understanding that neither of you was ready to address fully yet. It was comfortable... for now.

Still, Jayce couldn’t ignore the way you were sitting there, curled inward as if the weight of the night hadn't lifted. The quiet vulnerability that had cracked through your usual armor made something stir in him. And as much as he tried to focus on his work, he couldn't shake the need to do something more for you.

Without saying a word, Jayce rose from his chair, his footsteps soft as he approached you. His mind raced—he wanted to offer more than just reassurances, wanted to do something that would make you feel *better*, something that would let you know that you weren’t alone in this. But what could he do?

Without overthinking it, he took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

The gesture was simple, but it felt significant. The warmth of the fabric enveloped you, and for a moment, you were taken aback. Your eyes lifted to meet his, surprise flickering across your face.

“It’s cold in here,” Jayce said, his voice softer than you had heard it all night. There was no bravado, no teasing edge like before—only sincerity. “You should stay warm.”

You didn’t know how to respond to the unexpected kindness, especially from someone who had always been so frustratingly distant. You had been expecting everything but this. His jacket was heavy, comforting, and as you tugged it around your shoulders, you found yourself grateful, even though you didn’t quite understand why.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was something different in your tone now, a softness, something you hadn’t let him see before. You had always been so sharp, so quick to hide any hint of vulnerability. But in this moment, with his jacket around you and his unexpected kindness lingering between you, it felt harder to keep up that armor.

Jayce watched you closely, his eyes softening as you adjusted the jacket. "I mean it," he said gently. "You don’t have to go through this alone. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

You nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around you. It wasn’t just the warmth of the fabric that calmed you—it was the understanding in his voice, the quiet way he was trying to reassure you without making you feel like a burden. The connection between you, so fraught with tension and arguments, felt... different now. Maybe it was because of everything that had happened, or maybe it was because you could finally see a side of Jayce that hadn’t been so guarded.

For the first time, there was no bickering, no cutting remarks, just the two of you in the quiet of the lab, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t come here,” you admitted, your voice quiet but steady. Jayce gave a small, knowing smile, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a step back. “I’m glad you feel safe enough to trust me with this.” he said , voice sincere.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You didn’t know where things would go from here, whether the fragile peace between you would last. But for now, in this moment, it was enough.

[helslastangel]

Random Astro Placement Observations

Original individual posts combined into this single post. Based on personal interpretation. If it doesn't apply, LET IT FLY. Enjoy.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Uranus in Aquarius in 1H

-Free-spirited and eccentric with a unique way of thinking and inspiring change

-Does not care to conform to societal norms; wants to carve their own path

-Others associate their unconventional approach with leadership potential

-Highly innovative and good at communicating their ideas to others

-May endure setbacks and unforeseen changes in their life; unpleasant surprises

-Can fall into a rut if their progress is interrupted too drastically and too often

-Can appear to be attention-seeking at times, especially in dress and mannerisms

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Jupiter Sextile Neptune in Synastry

-These two dream together so well that they might as well be lost in Wonderland.

-The Jupiter person hates stagnancy and always wants to be growing, expanding outwards into who-knows-where.

-The Neptune person has a huge imagination and enjoys venturing into the unknown, even if only through the mind.

-When the Jupiter person gets stuck in a rut, unable to think of a path forward, the Neptune person floats in to whisper a little random something in their ear that revives the spark and saves the day.

-The benefits don't only go one way either, when the Neptune person gets lost in all the mist in their head, unable to act on anything, the Jupiter person can gallop in to hoist them up above the fog and carry them forward to a real destination.

-That is, assuming they both don't start having too much fun poking holes in the clouds instead.

-A risk with this aspect is that both people could end up enabling each other's inaction and being too content to build castles in the sky if they're not careful. But if they keep an eye on that, this can be an incredibly creative pair who will never grow bored with each other.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Pluto Trine Ascendant

-Projects a strong outer appearance even when feeling the exact opposite inside

-Charismatic people who others find attractive or at least intriguing

-Can be blunt but are perceived by others as charming and "just being honest"

-Shares what they want to; hides their life from the public eye without trying

-Can leave others feeling left in the dark or excluded from their inner circle.

-May be the subject of many rumors; some true, some false

-Others assume this person is healthier, wealthier, or more popular than they are

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Sun Sextile Mars

-With Sun Sextile Mars in your natal chart, you are brave, full of energy and often look young for your age. Some of you might be into sports or some kind of intense activities (dancing, martial arts, rock climbing, HIIT, etc.).

-If you’re more of a homebody, you could be the type to engage in causes online, standing up for endangered or marginalized beings.

-People might hit on you often or even if not, you might have a little trouble with the people who DO show interest in you mainly being interested in sex. At least, at first. Depending on your personal preferences and other placements, this may or may not be a problem.

- You’re the type of person who can work equally well alone or in a group, though you may prefer solo work if the groups you end up in can’t keep up with your energy.

-You’re usually popular and make friends very easily, though your direct way of speaking can rub some people the wrong way. However, people get used to you and quickly overlook this, as your honest nature and authenticity is very refreshing for most.

-The dynamic between you and your father/father-figure may be unique or just noticeably strong in some way. Others may often describe you as a “chip off the old block,” “Daddy’s girl” or some other phrase that highlights this connection.

-This can also go either way - You may have a positive or negative relationship with the masculine parent, it will just be a strong one regardless.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Neptune Trine Lilith

-Unafraid of things others find controversial, extreme or taboo

-Tend to be open (or at least comfortable) with their sexuality

-Highly expressive and does not bend to societal expectations

-Refuses to be controlled or held back by anyone but themselves

-Surprises others with their unconventional, free-spirited approach to spirituality

-Met with curiosity and acceptance rather than scorn for their views

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mercury in Libra

-You're diplomatic and fair, but also take forever to make up your mind.

-People love you for the way you consider everyone's point of view, but it's okay to have your own opinion and stand on it too.

-Your partners love you because you'll never embarrass them in public.

-You believe in a united front and will stand by those you love in public and correct them in private.

-Somehow you have the best advice. Even if you don't always take it yourself.

-One thing about you, you're gonna make a list of pros and cons.

-Your voice is so smooth and sexy. People fall in love with the way you sound and you don't even know it.

-Your friends call you when they can't sleep, and not in a bad way. You're just so calming to listen to that it takes their stress away.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Sun Trine Moon

-You are popular and generally likable, but may be somewhat private or secretive.

-Others see you as someone who has mastered the balance between showing humility and displaying confidence. This fact alone makes you so much more attractive to others.

-Speaking of attraction, people are often attracted to the sense of security they feel around you. You're generally easygoing, or at least you try to appear that way.

-Harmony is important to you and you'll go lengths to maintain it. It can be difficult for you to understand people who seem to be at war with themselves, because your own ideals and feelings are rarely at odds.

-If there aren't enough challenging aspects in your chart to make you more familiar with inner conflict, you could find yourself becoming avoidant and sweeping things under the rug or delaying tough conversations with others.

-People think you know what you’re talking about, even if you don’t. There’s an aura of “knowing” about you and may often be picked to lead teams or call the shots in some way. This can be either flattering or annoying, depending on whether you enjoy being in charge.

-You’re a friendly person and avoid conflict, but you can certainly defend yourself if necessary and others are sometimes surprised when a more firm side of your personality comes out. Overall though, you're most likely to live and let live whenever possible.

-You can be extremely accepting of others and yourself, but sometimes to a fault. It's a good idea to get in the habit of questioning things or seeking out perspectives on life that are different from your own.

-Family can be your Achille's heel as you’ll put up with things from loved ones that you’d never tolerate from anyone else.

-There are many things you’re good at, but you’re unlikely to brag. Your efforts may go unnoticed for a short time simply because you never bring them up and don’t point out anything you’ve done to anyone.

-You may embody the sentiment of “if it doesn’t affect me, then it doesn’t bother me." Can have an easier time achieving goals since emotions won't get in the way.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Sagittarius Sun in 11H

-Optimistic and freedom-loving; constantly seeking adventure

-May be a strong presence in their social circle, if not the leader

-Values friendship highly and wants to work/live/travel with friends

-Can be idealistic but surrounds themselves with people who think differently and can offer varying perspectives

-Could be involved in social justice matters and be a voice for change

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Sun Sextile Mercury in Synastry

-Conversations between the Sun person and the Mercury person are lively and extremely enjoyable for both of them.

-These are the friends or partners who can easily spend hours on the phone or facetime, talking about anything and everything under the sun from why humans speak so many different languages to what color socks goes with what outfit.

-The Sun person brings new concepts and raw perspectives to the conversation, which the Mercury person is all too happy to process and put into the best combination of words.

-This aspect is especially sweet for pairs who have compatible hobbies or skills/professions, e.g. a singer/musician and a writer/poet, or a web/software developer and a copywriter.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Ascendant Conjunct Uranus

-Original thinkers who can usually back up their ideas with actions

-Like to be around open-minded, progressive types of people

-Love to play the devil's advocate; can rebel or argue for the sake of it

-Others view them confident and creative, yet also eccentric

May sabotage themselves by constantly trying to shock people

-Looks for partners who need freedom and personal space, like them

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Moon Conjunct Neptune

-You are highly imaginative and creative. Possibly a great storyteller who can take the most mundane experience and recast it in an interesting and theatrical light. This can make you popular and very well-liked by others.

-You might make an exceptional actor, whether professionally or in everyday life. Though if overdone, this trait can backfire and lead to you being loved for who you are not.

-This is rarely malicious on others' part: Neptune's misty illusions, combined with the changeable nature of the moon cause you to unintentionally fool others and sometimes yourself.

-Internally, you could be quite sensitive, but whether you wear this on your sleeve or conceal it depends on your moon sign and other aspects. Regardless, you often absorb all the energies in a room and constantly process everything you see and feel.

-Sometimes, it could feel like you have no idea where you end and others begin. Struggling with emotional boundaries can be a negative theme in your life if not balanced out by other aspects.

-People who do not this (or similar) placements can find it difficult to empathize with you and might spread rumors or make your personality a frequent topic of their conversations.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Venus Trine Saturn

-Extremely loyal; can be reserved and controlled in social settings

-Not obviously introverted or extroverted; quiet but not shy

-Usually attracted to older partners or people with mature energy

-Afraid of rejection but will try to hide this from others at all costs

-Highly determined when their mind is set to achieve something

-Can be creative and will usually finish the projects they start

-Blends structures with aesthetics well; may enjoy interior design

-Extremely responsible people who others look up to and rely on

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Juno in Scorpio

-While Venus may show how we fall in love and what traits attract us most, Juno shows what we truly need to feel safe and secure in a marriage or long-term partnership, regardless of what we're attracted to.

-In my case, I have both Venus and Juno in Scorpio, so there isn't much difference between what I need and what I desire in a partner. But some may not be so fortunate and experience a war with themselves.

-Juno in Scorpio natives like an element of mystery around their relationships. The allure of having a whole other side to their lives behind closed doors that the public knows nothing about.

-Traditionally ruled by Mars, Scorpio approaches emotion with a lot of passion and a sense of urgency. When Juno is placed in this sign, the natives can experience intense power dynamics with the object of their affection. A fear of betrayal and obsession with loyalty is also present.

-Scorpio Juno people NEED depth in their relationship, otherwise they will fall out of love. If they cannot connect deeply with their lover for any reason, they will do everything possible to reestablish the bond.

-However, if their partner makes no effort to restore the connection, they can often grow to hate their partner just as deeply as they once loved them. Depending on the rest of their chart, they may either stay in the relationship out of obligation, but entertain secret affairs, or they may sever the relationship entirely and seek another, or become celibate and closed off to relationships entirely.

-Scorpio Juno people will not be happy with anything less than a true soulmate relationship. Despite being slow to open up themselves, they desire partners who are trusting, loyal and unafraid to show vulnerability.

-The ride or die type of relationship is usually the only kind of relationship these natives feel truly satisfied in. They can often find this kind of connection in people with whom they have Juno-Mars, Juno-Venus, Juno-Sun, or Juno-Sun synastry, or people with significant/many planets in Scorpio.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Ascendant Conjunct Mars

-Cares about others but does not over-identify with their emotions.

-Can spend hours trying to figure out why everyone else is so upset.

-Joyful (unless depressed) but also impulsive and easily angered

-Comes on strong, which thrills some and overwhelms others.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Venus Conjunct Jupiter

-You’re a gentle peacemaker. Aggression and conflict grieve your spirit in ways that words can’t express.

-Harsh personalities can drive you to step out of character yourself, so you tend to seek out agreeable people to be friends with. This isn’t difficult as you’re generally popular in your social circles unless other placements in your chart suggest otherwise.

-Anytime there is a dispute, you’re likely to walk away or try to delay getting into the argument.

-You may be physically attractive, but the brightest aspect of your appeal is how affectionate you are to those you care for. Unless depressed or otherwise weighed down by circumstance, your presence is naturally cozy and very soothing to others, even if you don’t quite understand why.

-Others can see and feel the warm aura that surrounds you and makes them feel like anywhere with you is a safe space.

-Another thing you may notice is that people open up to you very easily, telling you all about their dreams, hopes, aspirations and other things that you wouldn’t normally discuss with a stranger.

-You also may be extremely creative, whether in the way that you think and dream, or in the things that you do (music, design, writing, dance, poetry, etc). This is one of the more promising aspects for love and relationships, and these may come relatively easily without too much effort on your part.

-Of course, for every dawn there is dusk: you may be rather lazy, self-indulgent, and greedy, if not careful to keep your desires under control. However, with a bit of self-reflection and determination to improve, you will get along in life just fine.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Moon Trine Venus in Synastry

-If your Moon trines someone's Venus (or the other way around), you could have more compassion for each other than for other people.

-There will be a strong emotional connection between you.

-Others might complain that you let each other get away with everything, lol.

-There's an unspoken "handle with care" vibe between you that's very sweet.

-It can be hard to suppress this vibe if being close with that person is wrong or taboo in some way (e.g. coworkers, boss, etc.).

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mars Opposite Neptune

-May try to present an image that fits the social expectations of their environment instead of their current reality (esp. with 1H Mars).

-Tends to hide internal insecurities with external confidence that may seem unnatural or "fake"

-Depending on where Neptune is placed, certain people or places will appear to be safe, leading the native to reveal themselves more clearly, only to find out it was a trick.

-People who can see past their brave façade will either try to be safe space for then, or will study their insecurities to take advantage of them

-Can be a prime target for energy vampires, narcissists, etc., if unhealthy/unevolved

-They are a frequent topic of discussion in their social groups; can be positive in some cases or if other aspects outweigh this one, but with mars opposing neptune, these natives are usually gossiped about/slandered more than anything else

-Their morals/ethics can appear questionable to others due to Neptune's influence clouding the native's good intentions and honest motivations behind their actions.

-They may notice that people often accuse them of being sneaky or seeming "sus" without being able to give any real reason.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Venus Square Jupiter

-Highly motivated to create things, but often lacks the right skill set to do so

-May try to sooth their frustration by spending large sums to own luxury goods

-Draws others in with their playful, mildly risky sense of humor

-Makes friends easily but can lose them all to long periods without contact, irreconcilable differences in religion or politics, or generally drifting apart

-Charming and fun to be around, but can be extremely selfish in connections

-Often has lonely spells because their loved ones find them too demanding

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Saturn in Pisces

-You may be hard on yourself and not see your talents and abilities for what they truly are. Learning to trust your intuition and nurture self-confidence will help a lot.

-You could tend to hold on to the past and have trouble letting pain go. Often paranoid or defensive as a means of self-protection

-Highly compassionate and may be extremely practical too, Can struggle to draw the line where you end and others begin.

-You are patient and will often forgo your own comfort in the present to help others or to achieve a greater good in the future

-Usually artistic, or highly appreciative of artistic traits and creations from others

-Might turn to religion or some other kind of spirituality for structure and faith in life

-Your feet can give trouble, perhaps pain in the bones or issues with walking/gait

-You're sensitive and feel vulnerable or unprotected in life, even if you don't admit it.

-Victim or martyr complexes are common if not avoided through self-reflection and overcoming negative thoughts and emotions

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Mercury in Leo in 12H

-Can have a dramatic or over-confident way of speaking

-Very charismatic, enthusiastic; impossible for others to ignore

-Wants to be noticed and admired for the things they choose to say- May share their thoughts and opinions often hoping for feedback

-Sometimes aloof, reserved; struggles to express certain emotions

-Might keep part of themselves locked away from others at all times

-Tends to explore their environment more than their inner world

-Could have sporadic issues with short-term memory or comprehension

-Too much overthinking can lead to depression and self-imposed isolation

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Neptune Opposite Ascendant

-You might not have a set persona and will appear one way today and completely different tomorrow.

-It's possible that your appearance, mannerisms, and speech change drastically from one day to the next.

-Others may see you as a shapeshifter or even deceptive in some way. At best, you're generally unpredictable and confusing to those around you.

-Only a few can see clearly through the fog without you having to explain yourself. These people often become your best friends or even romantic partners.

-You give off varying auras at different times to different people so it's not uncommon people with this aspect to have one set of friends who know them to be one way, and others who know them to completely different.

-E.g. seeming reserved or shy in one friend group, naïve and innocent in another, mysterious and dark with a 3rd, outgoing and free-spirited with others, etc.).

-Depending on your personal tolerance for chaos, you may spend an enormous amount of time and energy keeping your friends/friend groups from ever meeting each other.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Sun Conjunction Mercury

-The self is expressed in a natural, flowing way; charismatic and a great talker

-May enjoy intellectual topics but struggle to be objective about them

-Connects well with other as they easily & quickly adjust their tone and delivery

-Talks more than listens, easily distracted unless others are equally engaging

-Great public speakers, writers, etc., but can be unreliable and procrastinating

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Jupiter Opposite Sun in Synastry

-This can signal a difference of opinion between you and your partner on key topics, such as religion, philosophy, politics, etc.

-This does not have to be a bad thing, but it can cause conflict between partners with strong egos who aren't so invested in making things work.

-But if both are committed to going the distance with each other, they should hear each other out and see their differences as opportunities to learn and grow together.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mars Trine Neptune

-Highly creative; can bring fantasies to life in some shape or form

-Usually cultured and can hold their own in a variety of environments

-Action-oriented, yet charming and persuasive; liked by others

-Quick to defend those who cannot defend themselves

-Has knowledge of theoretical things, but struggles in day-to-day life

-Could easily become a starving artist due to their impracticality

-May seek partnerships with people who possess life skills they lack

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Moon Conjunct Uranus

-Requires a lot of personal space and almost total freedom. Highly independent and hates relying on others for anything or being misjudged.

-Has a busy aura or a buzzing kind of underlying energy, even at rest, but is easily drained emotionally. People view them as unpredictable and hard to pin down.

-May be called energizer bunny or simply get lots of comments from people telling them to relax/slow down, even when they're not doing anything.

-Can inspire others easily, from the small things like getting chores/assignments done, to the big things like career changes, moving overseas, starting a business or relationship, etc.

-Lives life completely on their own terms; very unhappy if forced to submit to anyone else's agenda

-Has strong words for those who try to control or "fix" them; will only befriend the most open-minded people.

-May seem open and like the type to wear their heart on their sleeve, but are quite detached and show only what they want others to see

-Prone to conceal their true emotional state and convince themselves and others that they've said how they felt when they have. Hold things in until they inevitably explode.

-Can be stubborn or not like being told what to do, but makes up for it with their conversational charm and quick-thinking/problem-solving abilities

-Wants to be included and important to the family (biological or otherwise) but does not want to held hostage or smothered by others' emotional demands

-Can become very restless if life becomes too dull/stagnant. Needs constant stimulation and may spend a lot of time consuming media on the Internet.

-Might feel differently about things from one moment to the next. Highly impulsive

-Starts new friendships/relationships with a lot of passion and attentiveness; struggles to keep this up long-term; often accused of becoming nonchalant

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mercury Conjunct Pluto

-Seeks challenges; does not like to deal with anything that is too easy

-Persuasive speakers who convince others with flawless arguments

-Can be extremely stubborn and believe that they are alright right

-May study psychology or be more interested in the topic than most

-Highly diplomatic; they would rather sway than slay their opponent

-Quick, but chaotic thinkers. Others find it hard to keep up with them

-Naturally inclined to the sciences; easily notices causes and effects

-Leaves no stone unturned; will not try to escape their problems

-Can be somewhat overzealous in communication and alienate friend

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Chiron in 3H

-Might talk a little too much at all the wrong times. Even if the quieter type, they can end up oversharing without realizing it, which might not be the worst thing in the world if they are generally popular and well-liked, but it can be devastating if people already don't like them before they even open their mouths.

-Regardless of social standing, they can have problems in the workplace if they reveal the wrong things to the wrong people. Either getting into hot water with HR because of the way someone interpreted the things they said, or losing opportunities for promotion because something got back to a manager and ruined their reputation.

-Often, these people had social problems in childhood that never got resolved and continue to follow them into adulthood. A lot of it has to do with not being listened to and feeling ignored or like they had to outdo themselves constantly to be noticed. This often leads to people pleasing or becoming clingy with anyone who shows (or appears to show) genuine interest in them as a person.

-People with this placement can go from being the chatterbox or trauma dumping friend to being THAT person who everyone goes to for advice or even just to listen to because of the interesting stories and thoughts you have to share.

-People with Chiron in the 3rd house can overcome the negative aspects of this placement by becoming more mindful of how quickly one gets comfortable with others. That's not to say you have to be standoffish or aloof, but just consider whether something really needs to be said before saying it. With time and practice, you can become an excellent and highly empathetic communicator who knows what to say and when to say it.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Lilith Sextile Ascendant

- Can physically manifest in the native being extremely tall or short

-Often appears confident no matter how they really feel about themselves

-Usually gains genuine confidence and increased self-esteem with age

-Might enjoy saying or doing things that shock or surprise others

-Attracts sexual attention without intending to, or realizing others feel this way

-Can trigger very strong reactions in other people, especially if female/feminine

-May be shunned by the majority of women, or the topic of their conversations

-Misjudged by people who have no intention of getting to know them or the truth

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

↤ go back to the masterlist

[fairestwriting]

HI omg I love ur writing sm!! Also sorry im new to tumblr so im sorry if this is incorrect u can ignore it :)

I wanted to know if I could request Jamil, Azul and Leona with an S/O that barely sleeps because they stay up working.

Thank u sm!! :D

in celebration of me surviving my exams…… felt thematically appropriate to do this one (that i apparently had in my drafts for a while????

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

It’s one of those things he doesn’t really get. He knows you’re a hardworking person since well before you two start dating, and despite his own disillusionment on the matter… Yeah, he does admire it. You have more drive by yourself than most Savanaclaw students combined, he can’t say it’s not impressive in a way. But, the way you just give up rest time is…

”Did you really pull an all nighter for that?” He asks the first time he notices it, following a day where you’d been talking all the time about this one assignment. It comes out sounding very much like a joke, and a mean one at that… That’s not really what his intention was, his expression falters when you frown at it. Not sure how to follow it up.

He understands that your work is important to you, and he respects you too much to get aggressive over it, obviously, but… really, he can’t find this anything other than ridiculous. Is it even worth that much effort? What are you gaining from this? He doesn’t openly ask you the questions, Leona knows how biased he is when it comes to the topic. And, again, how important it is to you.

Settles for pestering you to nap with him, while he can’t wrap his head around how to approach the topic in a serious way. ”Come on. You turned it in, now you better get some sleep before you keel over.” He comes up to you whenever he finds out you’re done with your work, then straight up drags you off to bed. Yours or his, just whichever one is closest. And it *is* hard to resist falling asleep, when you’re already so tired, and everything is so cozy and warm… so his plan does work. And he’s pretty happy it does.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

No judgement, he’s done the same thing before. He kind of relates to it, to be honest. Maybe even a little too much— Maybe, so much that he’s a little bit of an enabler, at first. Though, of course, that’s not his intention at all. It just happens that he has similar habits.

It’s all lighthearted in the beginning. ”You didn’t get much sleep, did you? Not that I’m that much better off.” He jokes on some days, and asks if you want to come to the Lounge to get coffee or tea later. He asks you to let him know when you take your breaks when you’re working late, so you can commiserate over text or help each other or even just have a better spent few minutes.

He feels like he understands, whatever you reason for doing it all is. Even if it’s a lot different from his own, he still feels some level of kinship. Because you’re in it together, right? You don’t have to act like you’re not tired around him, he doesn’t have to act like he’s not tired around you. It’s comforting.

…It is also worrying after a while, though. There’s something about seeing your own bad habits reflected on loved ones that really gets to people, and Azul certainly isn’t immune to that. The texts during your shared breaks start turning much more caring, reminders for you to eat and drink water and at least not skip those breaks — Because he knows he probably won’t be able to convince you to just stop immediately. He knows it wouldn’t work with him, at least, and maybe he’s projecting a little. But it makes sense to him. And if you won’t take him up on his offer to call it a night yet, then he’ll just work with what he has. As long as it makes you feel a little bit better in the morning.

𐙚 Jamil Viper

Your hardworking nature is one of the things Jamil admires about you, maybe even one of the things that initially drew him to you — Especially considering how far you’re willing to take it. He does know that it’s not something to blindly admire, because, of course, there should be a limit to how much of yourself you’re willing to sacrifice for the sake of… excelling? Is that your reason to do it?

When he starts to see just how much sleep you’re skipping on, that dies down a bit. ”Not that I don’t think you’re doing a good job, but do you really have to stay up so late for this?” He questions you when it starts to seem like too much. It’s not that he changes his mind completely, just…

He finds himself conflicted on the topic, a bit similarly to Leona. A part of him wonders if you’re really doing this out of your volition, if there’s something that’s compelling you to be so willing to disregard your own health. Jamil will find himself wondering how to deal with that possible something, whether it’s your own thoughts tormenting you, or some form of outside force. Both options are pretty equally serious to him.

And Jamil isn’t really the most straightforward person out there, but… he really sees no way out of this other than directly asking you about it. You’ve been doing enough, more than enough, so why did you keep up with this awful routine? He’s not willing to argue on how damaging it is, he can see how vacant and honestly weak you look sometimes. And he doesn’t want that to continue, he wants to get to the bottom of the issue so it doesn’t have to continue anymore. Of course, he’s not so naive that he thinks he’ll totally change your mind with just one conversation, and if there’s really some outside force pressuring you, it’s even more complicated, but that’s not really the point— Before anything else, he wants you to know that you’re doing well, that he cares, and that he wants to help however he can.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[nevergonnaloveagain-hey]

Hozier Dating Headcannons

He would definitely love to date someone who is more of an old soul, someone who loves older literature or music 

Expect regular serenades after he writes songs about you and personal concerts when you ask to hear a certain song. These moments would probably be very intimate and would just happen in the comfort of your home together.

You would be the first to hear any new ideas he has for his music and would read you his lyrics, asking you what you think he should change. And of course, you can’t think of anything that could make it any better since it is already so beautiful which infuriates him to no end (he loves you tho)

He seems like the kind of partner to go all out for anniversaries or birthdays and would set up really special dates and surprise outings, always making sure that you are comfortable and having fun. He would probably take you to secluded places surrounded by nature where you can just enjoy each other's company with no one else around.

He would hand write you beautiful letters especially when he is going away on tour or if he is going to be having a late night in the studio and won’t see you for a while

He values his privacy and would most likely keep your relationship lowkey and private. He wouldn’t hide you and wouldn’t hesitate to talk about you a little every now and then but he also wouldn’t tell everyone too much about your relationship, he likes to keep certain things to himself.

He would support you in everything that you do, whether it’s just a project that you have taken up or if it is something for work, he would be right behind you at all times cheering you on. If you start to doubt yourself, he would be the one to tell you how well you are doing and would motivate you 

He has a lot of appreciation for you especially since he knows it can be difficult to be with him when he is really focused on his music or if he is touring. So he would always express how thankful he is that you are there for him, even during tough times.

Considering his love for art and literature, he would love to take you on little museum or gallery dates and would definitely tell you the backstory of certain pieces if you seemed interested. He would also take note of the kind of books, poems or art you like and would give you unique gifts inspired by this.

Despite his fame, he is very grounded and values his private time and time with family, so he would love a partner who listens and values your opinions and alone time together. He would love to see you with his family and is in love with how much his parents and friends adore you.

If you’re not Irish, he would love to introduce you to certain foods or traditions from Ireland. He is always really excited to see your reaction to trying Irish snacks/drinks and remembers what you like or dislike

He is a big ‘I remember you said you like this, so i got it for you’ partner. He remembers everything about you, from your favourite food to your favourite songs or movies and even your favourite piece of jewelry

He is a very emotional guy and at first he struggles to open up to you but as your relationship grows, he becomes more comfortable being himself around you and knows you would never judge him just like how he would never judge you. Once he becomes fully comfortable with you, there is not one thing he wouldn't tell you and never hides anything from you. He trusts you with everything.

As I said he is a very private guy, so he wouldn’t be a big fan of PDA but as your relationship goes on, he will start to be more open about it and will show you off whenever he can. He loves hand holding and will periodically kiss your temple and or the back of your hand when you are out

Part 2!!

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, Unprotected sex, SMUT, kissing, vaginal fingering, brief cum eating, tit sucking, giving Miguel a hand job while he explains the male anatomy 🫡 brief praises, body worship, eventual breeding kink, mentions of contraceptive pills, couple role play(?)

𝐀/𝐍: Is it me or has tumblr updated and it’s harder to use now?? Like I can’t move images like I used to?! Anyways this is inspired by my old mutuals fic (Salty if you see this, hey bestie!! That Doc fic examining player still lives rent free in my head!) Anyways, enjoy!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In an effort to make amends for neglecting Miguel, you dedicate a night to spend quality time together. However, Miguel has other ideas to make the evening unforgettable— using science.

Your joints clicked as you stood up from your work chair. You’ve finally finished your project that you’ve been putting your blood, sweat and tears into and sacrificed your sleeping schedule to complete.

Your body felt stiff and heavy from sitting in one place for so long. The apartment was quiet as expected to be at this late hour, amplifying the creaks of your joints.

You switched off the monitor before you left your office and plodded upstairs to the bedroom with heavy steps and slouching shoulders.

You found Miguel in the bedroom, engrossed in tinkering with his watch with only his sweatpants on and no shirt.

His eyes crinkled up as he sensed your presence. “There she is…”

You didn’t feel like you deserved his acknowledgment, let alone his affection, especially the way you’ve neglected him for your work the past few days.

He didn’t expect you to say anything back but he felt the weight of your solemn expression, “¿Estás bien?

You shake your head mutely in response, guilt washing over you. He stepped closer, closing the distance with a gentle stride. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Your mouth was dry from the lack of fluids you’ve been avoiding, making your voice slightly hoarse “I’m sorry, I’ve been pushing you away.”

He lowered himself and held your chin with his thumb to tilt your head up so you would look at him. The gesture made your heart ache.

“Is that why you’re upset? You know I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always come back to you mi alma,” he murmured.

Even if he did lower himself to be level with you, he still felt bigger. It made you feel protected, the way he towered over you with his large frame.

The holographic lamp illuminated the room, casting a gentle glow. With its subtle lighting you could see the crimson gleam from Miguel’s eyes, which melted the weight of your stress from the past few days and the newfound guilt.

You were glad the main light wasn’t on to flood the room with its sickening bright glow that would scream at you — your eyes needed a rest from the screen and the absence of flood lights gave that comfort you needed.

He leaned in to kiss you and you tiptoed to deepen the kiss. It felt refreshing, feeling his lips again— almost like an anchor that kept you grounded.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while he wrapped his around your waist. His tongue teased your lips before slipping in, tasting you and you let him take his fill of you before pulling away.

“Miguel…” you breathed, hesitant to break the peace in the room.

“How about we shift our focus on a different kind of study.” He suggested. There was a lighthearted undertone in his sentence that you tried to articulate.

You cocked your brow inquisitively until you remembered Miguel’s background in the science field. “Study? As in science?”

“Science is such a broad term. Let’s start with biology and anatomy,”

You heart stuttered in both anticipation and excitement along with your core already throbbing. You could already sense where this was going as soon as you heard anatomy. The atmosphere felt charged guided by the intimate spirit of Miguel’s proposal.

He lifted you up before gently placing you on the bed.

Being a skilled geneticist, Miguel seized every opportunity to share random biology facts, particularly in the most unexpected moments with you.

It was one of the many things you found attractive about him, especially seeing him being so engrossed in explaining things to you in a way you would understand. It made the complexities of biology feel like an intimate and shared journey.

But you’ve never seen him act like this before sex. Perhaps he was trying something new to keep the spark alive.

“How about we remove your clothes.” His hands hiked up beneath your shirt as he spoke.

“Is this part of the biology teaching?” You asked.

“Let’s just say it’s part of the more practical application.” He removed your shirt and your pants, leaving you in your panties and bra. “And you’re the specimen.”

You were amused with where this was going, seeing Miguel’s professional act starting to surface. A scientist eager to teach (and please).

You felt him run his hand over your neck. Spots of goosebumps rose on your skin from the cool air in the room.

“Your skin is so soft…” He murmured into your sensitive skin, making you shiver.

Another advantage of being married to a geneticist was that Miguel knew all the sensitive areas on the body and what made you tick. Even before you did anything together, he was aware of all the areas that could arouse a woman.

His lips grazed over your collarbone, trailing down to where it meets the shoulders.

“The collarbone is connected to your shoulders by the supraclavicular ligament,” he explained softly. He kissed the soft skin around the area.

“Suprac—clavic—ular ligament—” Each syllable accelerated in pitch as you tried to repeat after him.

His hand reached behind your back to unclip your bra before slipping them off, one strap at a time.

Your breasts were now fully exposed and he reached over and cupped one with his large hands.

“The breasts are a collection of organs that play an important role in the reproduction of human females, amor. They are key to producing milk,” He kissed along your chest until he reached the valley between the two breasts.

“They also serve to attract a sexual partner…which seems to be working on us.”

You didn’t expect him to lick the skin where his lips hovered over between your breasts. You shuddered in shock until he pulled away to look up at you again.

“They’re also erogenous zones, making them more sensitive to simulations. Would you like me to demonstrate?” You nodded in response.

You managed to catch the corner of his lips curve up in amusement, even if he made a concerted effort to conceal how turned on he was right now.

He wore the familiar analytical veneer he always carried when he was working in the lab, except this time you could see his excitement babbling beneath the surface.

He dipped his head until his mouth latched onto one of your breasts. Despite knowing this was going to happen, you couldn’t help the surprise whimper that slipped from your mouth.

His tongue lapped over your hardened nipple while his other hand still fondled with your other breast. You groaned out from his touches, running one of your hands over the locks of his hair.

It was flattering, seeing Miguel soaking in everything from you, even when you felt like you had little to offer. Miguel seemed to never get enough of you and to this day, your heart still leaped out of you chest with him around.

He released your nipples and you were met with hooded crimson eyes, dazed and awestrucked. You couldn’t stop your shoulders from bunching together in shyness at him.

He moneuvered you so you were laying your back on the bed. Two broad arms rested besides you on the bed with his abs displayed over you.

“Between the legs are the female reproductive system, we’ll be focusing on the labia minora and the labia majora for this lesson,”

He pulled your panties down, revealing your wetness between your thighs.

A sudden rush of cold air brushed against your folds, making you more wet and exposed. His hand reached over, extending out of your line of sight until his fingers were lightly stroking around the delicate flesh.

“The labia minora is a set of two fleshy folds that form around the inner portion of the labia majora. They are positioned around the vaginal opening to protect the urethra and…”

You gasped when you felt one of his fingers slip into your slick cunt before slowly moving in and out of you.

“…and the vagina.”

His sentence was finished off with the soft sounds of your slick from his fingers along with your breathy moans. Your walls fluttered around his finger while he slipped in another digit in, prompting you to grip onto the sheets tightly.

He moved to your ear and spoke in a lowered tone, his breath brushing against your earlobe. “Do you remember which hormones are released when a person is aroused?”

He rubbed his thumb over your swollen clit while watching you fall apart from his touches. You couldn’t fully process the question in your head, let alone form a coherent response.

“God— Miguel-!” You babbled out.

“Come on amor, I know you know the answer,” he coaxed, having the audacity to continue teasing your cunt with his fingers.

He was going to keep teasing until he got an answer from you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he refused to let you come too until you responded to him with the right answer.

“O-oxytocin and…hm-m…serotonin?” Your words came staggered and breathless. You were fighting the urge to rock your hips further to ride on his finger but you knew better not to push your luck. This was for science after all.

“Such a smart wife. Are you feeling it, amor? The euphoric feeling and the release of the hormones throughout your body?” Miguel was still near your ear as he asked.

You were so drawn into bliss, you almost forgot about the whole biology lesson and the practical demonstration.

You could tell that watching how responsive you were to his touches excited him, especially if it included him talking about what he knew best.

He withdrew his his hands away and curved his finger so none of your slick slipped away. He spread his fingers apart, watching the string of your fluids clinging onto the pads of his fingers.

You felt your face heat up in astonishment, you’ve never seen yourself leak that much before.

You weren’t surprised to see him stick his fingers in his mouth to clean himself up. He ate you out before so this was nothing new to him.

Once he was satisfied, he manoeuvred himself to remove his pants along with his boxers, freeing his aching cock. Despite the low lighting, you could still see it throbbing and the veins lining on the skin.

You sat up enough so you could reach to his cock. You wrapped your hand around his length, earning a low groan from him. “Since we covered the female, do you wanna walk me through the male anatomy now?”

You swiped your thumb over the tip where his pre-cum was leaking from. You were purposefully tormenting him now.

“You’re unbelievable,” he grunted, but you could clearly see he couldn’t stop the grin tugging on his lips.

“Come on Mig, do it for biology,”

You started stroking his length, making sure you touched every part of his skin from the base to the tip.

His breathing became shallow with low whimpers stringing out but he tried to compose himself before he spoke.

“The penis and the testicles both….have a lot of blood flow to them but— hmm.. the main purpose of the testicles is to produce testosterone and—” He couldn’t help the low moan that came out when he felt you increase your pace, but he was still determined to finish.

“Go on…” you prodded.

“…produce testosterone and sperm cells…dios— the penis….the penis is the biggest part of the male anatomy. It allows urination, ejaculation or urine and semen, shit! It also helps the male with erection-!” He finished off the last sentence in one shaky breath. Your hand came to a halt around his tip.

“Thanks for the clarification…” You released his dick swiftly, satisfied by his explanation.

After catching his breath and recomposing himself, Miguel positioned himself so his dick was near your opening. His tip nuzzled against your folds with you silky walls clenching desperately onto nothingness.

You were ready for him, even your clit was throbbing in anticipation, and there was nothing you wanted more than to have him inside you right now.

“Now that we’ve completed the preliminary, I think we should come to the conclusion,” he said.

You couldn’t help the breathy giggles from your lips. He was really immersing himself in the role, playing the part of a tutor with dedication and charm.

He pushed himself inside of you. You haven’t done anything in a while so you had to allow yourself to readjust to his length again.

You fleshy walls struggled to open up but eventually you did accomodate to his size, feeling the familiarity of him.

Once he was all the way in, he came to a halt. Feeling yourself stretch out for him was dizzying. But sudden realisation hit you.

“Miguel, I might be on my fertility window…” you interjected, a tinge of nervousness in your voice.

While you and Miguel have discussed growing a family together in the past, the timing never felt right, and you weren’t ready for the responsibility of motherhood yet.

You’ve been taking birth control pills for your peace of mind. However, with the onset of your work project, you’ve stopped taking the pills and your body was still adjusting to the withdrawal— including your accelerated libido.

Miguel’s face didn’t falter but you could practically see the gears turning in his head from your statement. Everything felt more apparent, especially now with his dick buried inside of you.

“What are you trying to tell me, amor?” You could feel his cock twitching in anticipation inside of you and touching your cervix, almost making you lose your bearing.

“I’m off the pills Miguel. So there’s a chance that I might get knocked up after this…but it is part of biology, right?”

You ran your hands over his broad chest and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch before resting his forehead on yours.

“You wanna be a mami?” He asked, assuring full clarity and consent from you.

Miguel, a devoted lover, would do anything to make you happy and would give you a family if that’s what you wished for. You nodded and that’s when you knew, he was ready for fatherhood too.

Your hands now wrapped around his naps, fingers lacing together. His gaze dropping to where you bodies joined.

He dragged himself out, feeling the suction from your walls, before snapping his hips back in again. The friction against your walls forced a whine out of you.

He began rolling his hips repeatedly against you in a steady rhythm, each slap ending in a jolt of overwhelming ecstasy. Your fingers were losing their grip around his neck and your hands slipped, with your nails now pressing onto his back.

Your mind and senses started to evaporate and all you could think of right now was chasing your high and Miguel filling you up with his cum, staining you and finally getting you pregnant.

You wanted to feel him for weeks, feel how much he stretched you and filled you. Your nails were digging further into his back as he thrusted deeper into you, hitting your cervix with each snap of his hips.

“Gimme a baby, Mig.” You moaned out, the mere throughly of him breeding you drove you insane. You needed his fill, you needed him to knock you up.

“Sí amor, I’ll give you as many babies as you want,”

His thrusts became more sporadic and you sensed he was lost in a haze too. A few strands of his hair stuck to the moisture that developed on his forehead. You were sinking further into the sheets, taking in everything he was giving you.

The room filled with the bed creaking in protest and the slap of his hips into yours. Soon, his pace became sloppy and uneven.

You watched the familiar trence of your husband’s climax unfold. You always felt a sense of pride knowing that only you could see him so scattered outside the composed and stoic demeanor that everyone else was used to.

His brows furrowed in full concentration and his words came out messy and slurred along with strings of your name.

He finished off with his cum pulsating inside of you in thick loads. He didn’t pull his his hips back until both balls were drenched into you. You felt your walls clenched from the withdrawal as he pulled out.

Immediately, Miguel grabbed one of the pillows and positioned it beneath you, elevating your rear.

“Keep it in there,” he instructed. He didn’t want any of his cum to go to waste and leak out.

He starts to massage your thighs to sooth any aches you were feeling. You mind drifted back to the birth control pill that you still kept in the cabinet. There was still another box left, yet you knew that you weren’t planning to take them anymore.

You mentally reminded yourself to dispose them in the morning. You looked up at Miguel again, who was still massaging your thighs.

You sighed. “You know there’s a chance I might not get pregnant the first time…”

In that moment, vulnerability wrapped around your words which connected the both of you in shared acknowledgment.

You let your mind wandered about finally getting pregnant, with Miguel praising you and kissing your swollen belly. You imagined all the appointments you’d have to attend to, leading up to the day of your baby’s arrival.

“So, does that mean we’ll be having more biology classes?” Miguel stopped massaging and spread you legs again to display your slick core.

“I think so…how about another round?”

He leaned into kiss your forehead. “I’m down if you are.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @slootbear @thealleydog @huniedeux @lazy-idate @club-danger-zone @blankknsfww @ivory3577 @spdrwdw @migueloharasoulmate @ednaaa-04 @miguelbaby @alyeskathewave @r7yirr @palesatan @keigoloveminty @krentkova19 @laysmt @daisy-artfield @famouscattale @fairywitch2000 @lazyjellyfish300 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

Does anyone recognise the banner I used at the top of the post??

Part 2

[novlr]

Is there a process for writing a novel, or does everyone just figure out what works for them? I feel like I’m making it up as I go and wondering if that’s normal.

This is a question that writers, especially new writers, ask across the board. Is there a process, a right way of creating the story, and am I doing it the best way possible?

If you’re interested in efficiency, you might hate the idea of moving full steam ahead on a project without knowing whether you’re using the best process for writing. So many writers provide “helpful” tips like “write every day.” When you think about it, that’s rather a worthless bit of advice, isn’t it? So what if I write every day? Am I writing in the right order? Will it all flow together in the end? What if I write every day, but none of it makes sense?

Well……

I’ve read a lot of books about writing and tried a lot of different processes. I’ve come to the conclusion, based on both research and practice, that there is no specific process for writing a novel. The number of workable processes is as abundant as the number of novels that exist. 

But this is no reason to get discouraged!

We can still glean some wisdom from other writers who have finished novels and use their knowledge to help us finish our own. I love reviewing the details, however great or small, that other writers give to offer glimpses into their personal writing processes. These are some of the quotes that have helped me create my own personal process. I tend to operate in a more intuitive style than a direct, organised approach, feeling personally that a story must unfold naturally in order to flow in a way that makes sense to me. And I personally love the sandbox imagery! It makes the idea of a process seem more playful and far less serious and rigid.

What we can learn from other writers

The beauty of writing is that every author’s journey is unique, yet we can all learn from each other’s experiences. Some of the most insightful wisdom about the writing process comes from those who have walked this path before us. These writers don’t just tell us what to do, they share their personal relationships with the process, their struggles, and their moments of revelation.

What’s particularly striking about these perspectives is how they embrace the messiness and uncertainty of the creative process. Rather than prescribing rigid rules, they offer metaphors and frameworks that can help us understand our own approach to writing. Here are some particularly illuminating quotes that capture different ways of thinking about the writing process:

“I’m writing a first draft and reminding myself that I’m simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.” —Shannon Hale

“I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for the written word. Literature is my sandbox. In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious time.” —Rabih Alameddine

“I write just about everything piecemeal…It’s effective because it works; I’m never held up stewing about What Comes Next— I don’t care what comes next, I just care about something I can see happening. The order of the happening has a logic to it (often, more than one), and that will become clear to me as I work.” —Diana Gabaldon

“I think there are two types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof they’re going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing there’s going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don’t know how many branches it’s going to have, they find out as it grows. And I’m much more a gardener than an architect.” —George R. R. Martin

Common writing processes

While there’s no “right” way to write a novel, there are several common approaches that writers tend to gravitate toward. Understanding these can help you find or develop a process that works for you:

The Plotter

Creates detailed plot outlines before writing.

Develops character profiles and backstories.

Maps out story beats and major plot points.

Researches extensively before drafting.

Works from a structured chapter plan.

The Pantser

Starts with a basic premise or character.

Lets the story unfold organically.

Discovers the plot through writing.

Makes notes about story elements as they emerge.

Revises extensively after the first draft.

The Plantser

Combines planning and discovery writing.

Creates loose outlines that allow for flexibility.

Plans major plot points but discovers the connections as they write.

Develops some characters fully while letting others evolve organically.

Adjusts the outline as the story develops.

Finding your process

The key to developing your own writing process is experimentation. Try different approaches and take note of what works best for you:

Start small

Test different methods on short stories.

Try writing scenes both with and without outlines.

Experiment with different planning tools and software.

Practice different prewriting techniques.

Observe your natural tendencies

Notice when you feel most productive.

Pay attention to what blocks your progress.

Identify your preferred writing environment.

Recognise your natural storytelling style.

Adapt and combine methods

Take elements from different approaches.

Modify existing processes to suit your needs.

Be flexible and willing to change methods.

Create hybrid systems that work for you.

Remember, your writing process can and should evolve as you grow as a writer. What works for one project might not work for another, and that’s perfectly fine. The goal is to find methods that help you tell your stories effectively and enjoyably.

[mischievousmoony]

hi i saw your request were open, and i really love you’re work and i was wondering if you could do something with james where the reader talks very quickly and quietly and often is told that she needs to speak up. and james always knows what she says and its kinda just fluffy? no worries if you don’t want to write!! have an amazing night/day

- 🪷

is this my first emoji anon? 🤭 thank u love, i had a lot of fun with this request

𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚞𝚙

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: not bully per say but other students are rude, fluff

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Miss. Y/L/N, have you found a group to work with?" Professor McGonagall asks as students around you huddle in groups of four whilst you stand alone at your desk, packing your things.

You mumble a response as you stuff your books into your bag, attempting to flee the scene as fast as possible. It wasn't anything to do with Professor McGonagall, but rather the fact that you always felt a little scrutinized when talking to anyone in a position of authority.

McGonagall squints as she tries to decipher your words. She finds herself having to make a guess.

"If not, I am more than happy to assist in finding–"

"She's with us, Professor!" James jogs over, returning from enlisting members for your group. As you straighten out your leafs of parchment, James starts packing away your ink and quill for you.

"And 'us' entails?" Professor McGonagall questions.

With a casual flick of his thumb over his shoulder, James gestures to a pair of Ravenclaws standing by the door.

"Very well," McGonagall hums in approval before walking off to ensure any other stragglers have found a group before they depart.

James would prefer to have Sirius and Remus as the other half of your group, but McGonagall has permanently banned James and Sirius from working together ever since they turned a simple demonstration into their own personal stand up comedy gig, resulting in some arguably intentional mishaps in their spellwork.

You've just latched your bag closed when James takes it from you and slings it over his shoulder without giving it much thought. He’s always absentmindedly doing you little favors, like it's his second nature.

"So, Cody has nothing better to do on a Friday night, why am I not surprised?" James says teasingly. "He’s insisting we hit the library and get a head start on the project. You free right now?"

"I'm free," you confirm, looking over James' shoulder at your group mates.

You hate group projects for a multitude of reasons. At least with most Ravenclaws— especially the two you're partnered with, Cody and Isla— you don't have to worry about them not carrying their weight.

This makes your main concern having to work with people you don't know that well. All you did know about them is that they're the kind of Ravenclaws that other Ravenclaws say give them a bad rap. They have a raging superiority complex, and you’d be surprised that James is okay to work with them if you didn't know him. That boy thinks he can make a friend out of anyone, save for some rivals he has in Slytherin.

So, you’re mostly surprised that they want to work with the two of you, but that probably has something to do with James being at the top of the class. Otherwise, they wouldn't normally branch out to students outside of their house.

You suddenly feel uneasy, realizing that for this project, you’ll be the student that the others are weary of not pulling their weight. You feel your hands get clammy over the potential judgement running through Cody and Isla's heads as James leads you over to them.

"Are we going or what?" Cody asks rather unmannerly.

James opens the door for everyone, "Lead the way."

You filter out into the hallway. Soon, the four of you fall in step with each other as James throws an arm around your shoulders.

"How long are we planning to spend on this today?" Isla asks.

"Well, if we dedicate the afternoon to it, we could get all of the research out of the way in one go." Cody responds.

James meets your eye with a sideways glance, and an entire conversation is shared through a couple facial expressions.

His lips curl into a knowing half-smile, See? No plans.

Your eyes twitch with amusement before they shift toward the pair. A microscopic scrunch of your nose conveys, I don't want to spend the whole day with these people.

His face contorts, Me neither, and he shakes his head, we can't anyway.

Your head tilts curiously.

"We have plans later," James verbalizes.

"We do?"

“Sirius got his record player repaired.” James smirks, “And I may have some butterbeer and a certain record waiting for us back at my dorm.”

Your eyes widen with excitement, “James, you didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did.” James says proudly.

“Sorry,” Cody interrupts, “you can’t work on the project tonight because you have to go listen to music?” Cody asks, and the rhetoric nature and judgmental tone are lost on you.

You dive into an explanation on how it’s not just any music, but your favorite band’s brand new album. And not just that, but the limited edition record complete with bonus tracks not available anywhere else.

The record was wildly out of your budget and although record stores far and wide all received copies, they didn’t receive very many. You had accepted that you would likely never get your hands on a copy, but you hadn’t accounted for James’ readiness to move mountains at your whim.

You excitedly speak about your favorite band and everything you know about the new record, and it’s like you can’t get the words out fast enough. James listens intently, grinning widely and nodding along with your every word, interjecting occasionally with commentary of his own. You're too busy raving to notice the shared look between Cody and Isla.

"Is this supposed to be a private conversation or are we expected to understand you?" Isla sneers as the four of you reach the library doors.

James' grin falters as watches your excitement fade. You mumble out an apology, which James found completely unnecessary.

His tone flattens out from amused to deadpanned as he addresses Cody's earlier question, both to alleviate some attention from you and to deliberately ignore Isla, "We'll stay for an hour, maybe two. But after that, yeah, we're going to go listen to music with our friends."

Ever the gentleman, even when annoyed, he holds the library's door open for everyone. He eyes the back of Isla's head with offense as she passes, but his eyes soften when you walk through next.

The four of you quickly find a table, as not many are occupied to begin with.

James musters up a semblance of professionalism as he forces himself to stop glaring at Isla as she and Cody begin to discuss a plan for the project. Cody takes it upon himself to divide up areas of research without consulting the rest of the table.

"Hold on," James' brows furrow at his audacity, "What if I don't want to be in charge of researching the wand mechanics? And Y/N has an exceptional understanding of magical theory, she should be in charge of the magical formulas."

Cody and Isla's eyes fall on you and this time you don't miss their criticism.

"You have an exceptional understanding of magical theory?" Isla's face contorts into that familiar sneer.

James doesn't try to hide the way he rolls his eyes. He nudges you, "What was it you were saying earlier? The idea you had for the project?"

You gulp before you dive into an explanation. It feels like Cody and Isla were burning holes through you with their stares, so you try to distract yourself by gazing down at your hands as you them wring together.

In the middle of your explanation—

"Couldn't you at least look up so that I might have a chance at reading your lips?" Cody grumbles.

If looks could kill, James Potter would be a wanted man.

"S- sorry," you practically squeak. You do look up, but the glare on Cody's face intimidates you into mumbling even more. Even the most skilled lip reader wouldn't have a clue as to what you are saying.

"Merlin, could you just speak up?" Cody snaps his fingers in your face and your words die in your throat.

James suddenly wishes he had a beater's bat handy.

"Oi! Get your hand outta her face!" He raises his voice to levels that would surely attract Madam Pince's shushing any minute.

Cody retracts his hand but stands by his actions, "We'll hardly get anything done today if she can't even speak clearly. How do you expect me to deal with this?"

"Alright then, new plan," James says through gritted teeth. He stands abruptly, and his chair scrapes loudly across the floor as it shoved back by his sudden ascent. "The two of us will research the wand mechanics and magical formulas on our own, you two can have the rest. I'll let you know where we'll go from there next class."

James' hand finds yours in a grip that is surprisingly gentle considering the way he is currently conducting himself. He tugs on your hand, prompting you to rise from your own seat.

"You're just going to leave?" Isla asks.

At the same time, Cody protests the plan, "There's no way that I'm accepting that."

"Well, Cody, if you wanted to be in charge, then I guess you shouldn't have been such a cun–"

"James!" This time you're loud enough to speak over James' biting words.

"See you in class" are James' parting words to the very stunned Cody as he pulls you away from the scene.

Once in the hall, James can't help himself from raging over Cody's behavior.

"What a slimy git! Who does he think he is?"

You squeeze the hand that James still has wrapped around yours as he tugs you through the halls.

"James," you call gently.

"Don't know why I said yes to working with them. They basically cornered me, I'll have you know! I should've ran the other way when I saw them–"

"James," you try again, more firmly.

"Maybe if we talk to Minnie on Monday we can get our group switched. You don't suppose we can work with Sirius and Remus considering these extenuating circumstances?"

You dig your feet into the floor, "James!" you call out one last time, finally earning his attention.

James spins to face you, his hold on your hand not letting up.

"Yeah?"

"Calm down, would you?" You're voice comes out tinged with laughter.

James' troubles melt away at the sound of your laughter. His eyes search your face for any sign that it's false.

"You're not upset?" he asks, knowing you've been sensitive in the past to people's commentary on the way you talk.

"No, the look on Cody's face when we stormed away was healing enough."

This earned a laugh from James, "It was pretty satisfying."

James gives your hand another tug so that you fall into step with each other again. He only drops his hold on you to sling his arm over your shoulders.

"Dunno why people become such dunces around you." A playful smirk dances on James' lips, "Distracted by that pretty face, maybe, whereas I know how to multitask."

You shake your head at his antics, but your lips can't be stopped from curling into a grin.

"I can't deny the fact that you're the only one who seems to always hear me."

In the past, you've considered the possibility that James can always tell what you're saying because you feel more comfortable around him than anyone else, prompting you to speak more clearly. In actuality, James doesn't even need your words to know what you're thinking. He's known you for a long time, and he's spent every minute of it learning everything there is to know about you. By now, he might know you better than he knows himself.

"I guess I just might be the luckiest guy around, then, that I don't have to miss a second of your charm."

You sigh at his teasing and knock your shoulder into his, completely missing the genuine adoration in his eyes as he studies the way you smile at his words.

He can't wait to see how your smile looks when you find out that record he got you is signed.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[trulyhblue]

STARGIRL

Georgia Stanway x Reader

Warnings — smut 18+, buildup, mean! Boyfriend! Kind of toxic! Georgia, dom/sub dynamics, drinking, partying, jealousy, strap, millie bright hate but not hate but pls I love you millie bright so flirt with me x, kind of dumb reader but like she actually doesn't know, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink.

_______________________

Your dress had hitched to an unethical height, but the state of your tipsiness provoked a desolated ignorance accompanied by the thunderous beat of the club. Grace was behind you, swaying her hips with yours, the two of you celebrating your most recent win with the Lionesses.

The room was crowded with dancing bodies, mashed together with the concoction of sweat, alcohol, and oblivion. You had seen Less, Ella and Niamh nearby only a while ago, and an ample group of your teammates were sitting in the back corner surrounded by a booth, projecting their triumph in the form of the burn down their throats, the drinks they nursed holding to a product of victory.

“Ugh, I'm so sweaty,” Grace whined, loud enough in order to be heard over the booming rave. “I need a drink.”

“Same, let's go.” You nodded, feeling the girl’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to her figure as the crowd collapsed further into your figure.

The two of you sauntered through the crowd, giggling at the mob of people struggling to find enough space to properly function. Your cheeks were stained a vibrant pink from the flush of adrenaline. Grace was humming along to the tune in your ear, her arms still holding onto you tightly so that you wouldn't lose each other.

It wasn't often that the team went out for drinks, especially not the likes of such a mix of the different friend groups. Lucy and Keira weren't set to go back to Spain for another three days, and most of the girls would seek refuge in the comfort of their own beds tonight, as the match held in Wembley sought itself in the midst of the WSL.

Georgia and you were set to leave for Munich two days from now after spending the last two weeks preparing and playing for your national team here in England. While Gee had transferred from City a while ago, you had only just moved to Bayern from Chelsea, where someone like Grace had become your closest friend in the WSL. As one of the younger players on the team, you wanted to make sure the debutant felt welcome and comfortable in the senior squad, despite her training with the team long before her match debut.

Over the last couple of months, you had been working really hard in order to aid your club to victory, but after the nasty blow in the Champions League, and some defeats sprinkled here and there throughout the season, this night was long awaited.

Once Grace and you had finally woven your way through, you were quick to find refuge on Georgia’s lap, leaving Grace to sit on the opposite side of the booth next to Mary. Gee found her hands secured on your waist, ignoring the way your hips wiggled in her lap.

“Having fun, are we?” She asked, watching as you hummed in reply, taking it upon yourself to take a sip of her drink. You failed to notice your girlfriend's fimble hands tugging down the fabric of your skirt, hiding the notion by massaging your thighs and kissing your exposed shoulder.

The enriching taste of lemonade made you turn to straddle her, holding the drink up to her lips while the straw was still lingering close to yours.

“You’re not drinking?”

“I’m driving us back, baby.” Gee shook her head. “Do you want me to get you another drink?”

You thought to yourself before slowly reaching down to where your girlfriend’s collar met her throat, toying with the cloth in your hands before pressing your lips to her pulse point, letting her take the drink, placing it back on the table as you ran your tongue along the column of her throat.

“Y/N, baby.” You heard Gee mutter. You lifted your hips off her lap, combing your hair out of your face as you counted to speckled freckles on Georgia’s cheeks. She took out her wallet, handing you her card. “Do you ‘wanna go buy yourself something? The girls and I were ‘gonna go play pool over there if you want to meet us there.”

“Do you want anything?” Shaking her head in reply, keeping a prolonged stare down the trajectory of your low-cut top. You tugged at the bottom of her shirt, letting your hands roam freely across the waistband of her trousers. Rocking your hips, you found Grace already standing behind you, grabbing your hands and leading you over to the bar.

It wasn't unusual for Georgia to brush off your public affection like that, especially when you were obviously tipsy, and the lingering eyes of your friends were all at your disposal. If you had kissed her in a secluded corner of this club, she would've taken you up against the nearest wall as fast as she could. She had been eyeing that dress — or moreso the skin it was hardly concealing — and wanting so desperately to take you home and show you how much she loved you.

The games against Sweden and Italy were both masterclasses on your behalf, and Georgia was merely waiting for the right time to reward you for scoring in both of them.

“You need to get a room.” Grace teased, her eyes peering back to where Georgia shamelessly looked at your arse. “No wonder the fans found out so quickly.”

You turned to face the younger girl, a smirk adorned on your face. “Two months was a struggle in itself.”

Gee and you had tried to keep your relationship well out of the media. But after your move to Munich, and a few too many proper English celebrations, the media had caught on to your affection and adoration for each other far too quickly than what you had hoped. Nevertheless, both of you sprinkled your private lives into your Instagram every once and a while. Save some photos of you that Georgia was not willing to share with the world.

“No, I know.” She replied, pivoting through the crowd. “But it's cute. Traumatic for me… But cute.”

You used Georgia’s card to buy yourself and her two lemonades and Grace a drink of her own. Grace’s regard for your relationship was an unusual sentiment because while you strived to hold your private life out of the fame and publicity of football, there was an inevitable spark between the two of you that fans caught onto long before you ever thought of Georgia in the way you do now.

Despite what is displayed, you were two very reserved people, with Georgia being the more talkative of the two of you when it came to interviews. You loved your social life — your friends both at home and away. However, there were many differences that distinguished a shift in personas.

You liked to push the boundaries. If you could test your luck, it was impossible to tempt you otherwise. Georgia liked routine. You didn't mind testing the waters and going with the flow. Life was more enjoyable that way.

At least for you.

Georgia had watched you make your way to the bar, hoping you’d return with something a lot less strong than what you had been downing previously. Grace was hung by your side, the younger woman holding onto your arm with giggles leaving her lips. Gee waited for you to inch down your skirt before following Mary and the others over to where Leah was lining up for a game of pool.

“Any reason you're easing off the drinks tonight, Stanway?”

Millie was lingering by the group, nursing her own drink while Rach and Lucy talked beside her. Georgia shrugged, moving her hands to her pockets as she watched Leah take the first shot against Keira.

“I'm driving home.”

Millie snorted. “Will you make it home?”

If Gee was drinking, she would've choked. “What?”

“Well, you were pretty much eating each other’s faces off just before. Figured you couldn't wait.”

Georgia shrugged again. She wasn't too keen on the conversation, especially when the topic didn't deem either you or her in the highest regard. Everyone knew that Georgia wasn't into that type of PDA, but it was also noted that given the right reasons, she’d be worse than you.

“You’re a lucky one, Gee.” The Chelsea Defender clapped the Midfielder on the back, downing the rest of her drink. “Enjoy your night.”

Millie left Georgia to stand a few feet away from the rest of the group — leaving her to mull over her teammate’s words. For some reason, she couldn't shake Millie’s comments off. What did she mean — enjoy your night? What was she implying? Of course, she was going to enjoy her night with her girlfriend. Of course Gee was lucky, but why was Millie saying that? Normally, these comments were used as a compliment, and with Millie’s best intentions, everyone knew she was only pure. But when Georgia saw the way the Chelsea player flung her arm over your shoulder upon your return, talking down at you amid the booming music, something in Georgia flicked.

Everyone had gotten progressively more drunk as the night went on, but you were fully immersed in the way everyone was interacting, holding your own conversation with Millie, who was going on about some football thing happening at Chelsea.

Leah was swearing at Keira, who was cheekily laughing away at the ratio of her balls to Leah’s left in the game. You had left Georgia’s drink in front of you, and you continued to keep it by your side as you watched the bickering between Lee and Keira transpire.

“You're a right cheat, Walsh, go home.” Williamson quipped, shoving Keira playfully by the shoulder. The Barcelona player poked out her tongue, jabbing the Arsenal protege's side. “Oh, cry me a river, Leah. You're just a sore losers who’s downright shit.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You first.”

“Right give someone else a go!” Lucy called, her accent slightly rasped and slurred. She scanned the room, looking straight across to where you and Millie stood. “Go on, you two. Show ‘em how to play normally.”

You felt yourself sober up a little from the attention of everyone’s stares. You felt your ears go a bit red, shaking your head by the time Millie had already picked up her cue.

“I'm no good at it.” You spoke.

Georgia watched you saunter over to the side of the table, using your arms to lean, stabilising your ditzy figure. She could tell by the blush across your face that you had sobered up significantly, but she knew that the alcohol still held a prominent hold over you.

“It’ll be an easy win for me then, gorgeous.” Millie taunted, readying herself for the first shot. You shook your head, caving by grabbing the spare cue Keira was holding, all while Georgia looked on with her hands fisted in her pockets.

She wasn't usually the type to get like this. Georgia and you held great independence in your respective lives. Both of you enjoyed letting the other do stuff without the prodding of the other. You trusted each other too much to breach any boundaries, but if there was one thing Georgia had trouble keeping to herself, it was her jealousy.

Millie took the first hit, causing the object balls to cascade across the green fabric. Leah was standing behind you, muttering something into your ear. You stood there with your figure half leaning against her, the other half fidgeting with the cue.

“Wait, so, I don't remember-”

“Well, don't be asking Leah for advice,” Keira’s teasing voice came from nearby. “She’ll just tell you how to lose.”

Leah looked utterly exasperated, glaring at her best friend with annoyance plastered across her face. “Oh, give it up, Walsh, will you?”

“Alright, Milton Keynes, it's okay to admit defeat, y’know.”

The England Captain marched over to a laughing Keira, punching the girl’s shoulder. Everyone watched in amusement when Keira retaliated, using her arms to poke Leah in the ribs.

You were left fiddling with the stick, laughing along at the sight in front of you while internally pondering. You had never properly played pool before — obviously with friends, of course, but never taking it as far as playing by the rules. You had no idea what strategy to use, or what ball you were meant to hit. It wasn't like anyone cared, but the perfectionist in you just couldn't wrap your head around it.

“Give it here.”

It wasn't until you felt familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you instantly closer to her hips. You let yourself fall limp against her, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at the game you were clueless at.

“I don't know how to play.” You spoke, handing the cue to your girlfriend, who took the stick from you, moving her head down to your shoulder, letting her breath fan over your neck as she spoke.

“How ‘bout I show you then, hm? I’ll teach you.”

You sighed at the goosebumps running down your neck, nodding as Gee kept you in front of her, maneuvering the two of you in a way that made it possible for her to play while keeping your arse against her hips. You watched as Millie made the next move. Georgia waited for a moment, letting everything station before proceeding. With one arm circled around your waist, she bent over to make the next move. You felt her body press into yours, stuck between the table and her.

After her shot, she slotted back upright. She leant down once more, combing back the loose hairs that framed your face.

“How are you feeling, Baby?”

Her voice was deeper, more grounded by the time of night.

You couldn't help but look up at her, licking your lips as you nodded. “Good, why?”

Georgia held your hips, moving them so that they were glued to the table. “Just wondering, pretty girl.”

Her body loomed over yours, her arms sanctioned on either side of you as Millie thought through her next move. You tried to conceal your neediness, the feeling of Georgia’s body pressed against yours sending heat down your spine. “Gee.”

“What is it, baby?”

You struggled to focus, hoping Millie would hurry up so that Georgia would move away from her unrelenting pressure.

You managed to swallow your whine as her hand moved to fondle your thigh. “Nothing.”

It was soon Georgia’s turn, the game becoming more fluent as both sides successfully slotted in balls left and right. Though, as the game went on, you could feel your girlfriend grow more and more handsy. After every shot, she’d kiss the alcove of your neck, whispering a sweet nothing about how you looked, or the way you felt against her, that was borderline testing the innocence she often preserved out in public.

“Looking so good tonight, darling…”

“Can't believe you're all mine, babygirl…”

“So perfect for me, all to myself…”

In between turns, Georgia let you lean on her, loving the way you sighed at every ounce of affection she would give you, making sure it was obvious enough for Millie to catch on, while discrete enough for you to not feel like it was truly public for anyone to actually notice.

You nearly lost it when she slotted her hand in between your thighs and squeezed them while you kept a watchful eye on the game in front of you. Her body covered your back, hiding her obvious display of desire by letting you push your arse against her front.

“Feel so good, don't you?”

“Georgia, please.”

“You're doing so well, baby. Might have to reward you for being so good.”

You should've known that she would keep a straight face the whole time, refusing to give you the reaction you so desperately hungered for by the ache between your legs. You had tried everything as she massaged your shoulders, and whispered passive teasing that sent shivers down your neck. Despite your honest belief that Georgia was unfazed by your antics, she made it clear that your actions were heard when she dug her hands into your hips.

She had beaten Millie by an easy mile, though she did not bother to make any celebration, instead looking down at you, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you softly.

“Can we go, Gee?”

“Why, baby?” She asked, a knowing smirk plastered across her lips.

You whined for the first time that night, making sure Georgia heard it by lifting yourself up to her height. “Just want you right now.”

“Want me? But I'm right here.”

“Georgia, please. I need your help.”

That was enough for Georgia to bid everyone good night, sending farewells as quickly as she could while you tried to forget about the growing arousal in your core. By the time you had both gotten into the empty car park, your lips had started to attack hers. Georgia pretty much coerced you into the car, moving the driver's seat all the way back so that you could sit comfortably on her lap.

She shut the door promptly, knowing that her tinted windows were enough to hide the way her hands played with your arse, your clit immediately rubbing against her hips.

You started tugging off your shirt, leaving your breasts on full display. Georgia couldn't even register the sight before you grabbed one of her hands, pulling it towards your nipple, groaning at the way she pinched it.

“Where is your phone?” You uttered, moving your chest closer to Georgia so that your tits were pretty much in her face. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, moaning when you moved your breasts around her face, making them bounce erratically with the lack of bra you had worn. She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, handing it to you without a second thought. You didn't waste any time in pushing back, opening the device before swiping to the camera, hastily pressing play on the video, and moving the phone so that it showed your tits in Georgia’s mouth on full display.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” She groaned. “So thoughtful, aren't you? Gonna watch this when you're not with me. Need to see these tits every day, don't I? Gonna watch you every day.”

“Need you to fuck me, baby. Need your cum in me so bad.”

You grabbed the top button on her shirt, moaning out when Georgia grabbed both of your tits, sitting upright and playing with both of them with her mouth and hands. Her cold rings pressed into the delicate skin of you nipples, the distant pain of her pinches making you squirm irresistibly in her lap. Your skirt had ridden up to your hips, where your g-string went exposed to the camera’s lense.

You moved across to the console, using your spare hand that wasn't tugging Georgia’s hair to find a hair elastic, though you graw impatient when Gee stopped kissing your breasts for you neck. Instead, she found the all-too-familiar toy hidden neatly underneath the lube you definitely wouldn't need, and you moaned as your hand squeezed around the strap that you pulled out once Georgia pinched your nipple once more.

“Haven't used this one before.” Your girlfriend whispered, nibbling dark, callous marks across your neck. “Bit too big for your small little hole, darling. It can't fit, can't it?”

“Try it, please.” You muttered, unbuttoning the woman’s pants and letting them fall to the floor. You buckled the harness around her waist to the best of your ability, giving up when Georgia took over, letting you discard the short, flimsy fabric of your skirt. “Make it fit.”

“You're so desperate for my cum, aren't you darling?” She rutted, fastening the harness so the strap only just missed your folds. “Want me to fill you up with kids so bad, don't you? Want me to make you full and pregnant, yeah?”

You moaned. “Want to have your babies inside of me. Fill me up, please. So bad, baby. Need your help cause it aches.”

Georgia bunched your hair up into a makeshift pony, pushing you down so that your mouth hovered over the strap. Your arse in the air, your tits kneaded by your own hands. Georgia moaned at the sight of you so desperate, the notion of the camera recording making it all the more sporadic.

You wasted no time licking the dick, holding the base of the silicone toy with one hand, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked the tip and first quarter of the strap in your mouth. Gee pulled your hair, letting you move up and down on her dick. The vibrations of your gagging mixed with moans made her sigh at her newfound, growing release.

“Fuck, keep going, Y/N.” She groaned. “Just like that.”

You continued until tears pricked your eyes. You could tell by the way Georgia’s grip on your scalp tightened and your tongue flicked along the tip, your cheeks hollowing and allowing more of the strap to fill your throat. It didn't take long until Georgia’s breathing had staggered. Short, uneven breaths mixed with erratic sweet nothings. You pushed yourself down her dick one last time, feeling Gee’s body collapse from all tension as her orgasm washed over her. You pulled yourself up, wiping the spit and cum off your face with your fingers, prodding them towards your mouth. Georgia watched you lick them clean, rolling your head back at the taste alongside the subtle pang of your throat.

The car windows were not only tinted but misted due to the humidity inside the vehicle. Your hips shadowed the strap, Georgia falling back into the rhythm of toying with your hips, kneading them as she kissed your neck.

You could feel the ache between your legs grow at the sight of your girlfriend beneath you, maneuvering you to where she wanted you most, giving you incredible amounts of pleasure at your disposal. You were starting to moan at the simplest of movements like the way she gripped your hips, or the way she licked over the bruises down your neck and chest. The last piece of clothing you had on was your underwear, Georgia now discarding her shirt so that you were both in states of nudity. Sweat beaded from your forehead.

Your legs started shaking from the mere want for the woman below you. It didn't take you long for your desire to take over as you grabbed one of Gee’s hands, slipping it down your stomach and along the fabric of your underwear. You painstakingly pushed her hand underneath, letting her move her fingers up and down your folds. The slick covered them instantly, and she rolled her head back when you began to rock on her hand.

“Do you feel how wet I am, baby?” You asked, Georgia nodded. She watched you bounce up and down, grateful at the way Gee pushed one of her fingers into you, letting you ride it in short pulsates. You whimpered when she entered her second finger, crying out when she entered her third. Georgia took one of your breasts in her mouth, groaning as you bobbed up and down. You felt your pussy clench around her, your arousal coating her fingers each time you pushed deeper into your strategic strokes. Georgia continued to hold one of your hips, helping your shaking legs hold yourself up as you neared your climax.

“Fuck, you're such a slut, aren't you?” Georgia uttered, her fourth finger nudging your clit as you sunk in once more. You rocked yourself back and forth now, relishing the way your nub ran itself over her hand, the coil in your core tightening as your climax neared.

“Grinding on me at the pool table cause you're so needy for me… everyone could tell that you just wanted me inside you. You made sure to show everyone who you belonged to.”

You were a blabbering mess. Your stokes became sloppy, your legs non-stop shaking as your body tensed at the pleasure running through you. Georgia curled her fingers inside of you, assaulting your clit as you struggled to keep your pace. There was no way you could reply as all your thoughts were focused on the sounds of your juices being leaked out from your hole, Georgia’s fingers forcing them in and out as she spoke to you in rasps. Your noises became pornographic, and you no longer cared about the thought of someone hearing you.

“Need me to do everything for you. I didn't even need to fuck you dumb. All I need to do is bend you over.”

You could finally feel your orgasm washing over you when Georgia pulled her fingers out, laughing at your instant cry out.

“Aw, baby.” She muttered, wiping your sweaty flyaways out of your face, tears fell from your eyes, your cheeks reddening as you fell onto her lap, your legs no longer able to hold you up. You looked down at your girlfriend, finding no remorse on her smug face.

“Why didn't you cum, pretty girl?” She tutted, pulling your body up from her chest so it was exposed to her view. You shook your head, fully dumbfounded at her actions. It wasn't like you had done anything wrong.

“I— Gee— I’ve been good.”

You sounded pathetic. Normally, if you had been a brat, you’d have said that as a joke to put on an innocent facade and get the sex you had desperately craved. You would pretend to be nice and suck her dick or eat her out just because you had done something to provoke it. There were countless times when Gee had edged you for doing something provocative, but tonight you had no idea why she had done it.

“Really, baby? You think so?” You looked at her with the saddest eyes you could muster. “You sure you've been good all night?”

In terms of your sex life, you had your fair share of dominant and submissive moments, but with Georgia, you found yourself subbing out to new extremes. Your girlfriend would do anything for you, on and off the pitch. You could act dumb and she’d fuck it out of you. You would fall over on the pitch, cry out even if it was a fair play, and Georgia would be the one receiving the yellow for defending you. When you were at a bar, or anywhere for the matter, and felt someone look at you in even the slightest wrong way, Gee would hold you in front of her and make sure you were always safe in her arms.

But Georgia could be mean, even if you hadn't necessarily done anything to make her mean. She usually got like this when you had hugged someone for too long, or made a joke about yourself that she thought was too far.

That made it all click.

“Are you jealous?”

Georgia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You can't flirt with Bright then bend over for me two minutes later.”

She grabbed your waist and lifted you, switching positions so that you were lying in the driver’s seat and she was hovering above you.

“I wasn't flirting. I was talking.” You moaned at the contact of the strap’s tip brushing against your folds, moving up and down as Georgia’s hands massaged your arse.

“She called you gorgeous, you know.” You felt her breath fan over your face, her lips ghosting down your neck. “Said I should enjoy my night with you.”

“She did?” It was probably not the right way to phrase that response, but it didn't seem to phase Georgia anyway. “We were just talking, Geor-”

“I bet she wouldn't fuck you as good.” Georgia spat, using one hand to circle your clit. You threw your head back, moaning at the small discomfort from your prior denied orgasm, writhing at the sudden pressure on your sensitive nub. “If I showed her all the videos of you screaming my name I doubt she’d try that shit again.”

“Georgia…”

“What videos would I show her, hm?” Georgia started dragging one of her fingers into your pussy, beginning with slow, painful strokes that squelched with the sound of your juices. “Maybe she’d like the mirror one. Y’know, when we won against Wolfsburg and I fucked you in the bathroom?”

“Fuck, please Gee.”

“You were so hot in that one… bent over like the slut you are… came three times for your three goals.” She added the second finger in now, speeding up just a smidge all while kissing over your chest. “Do you think she’d like if I sent that one?”

You moaned at the third finger, tears pricking your eyes as Georgia entered your pussy hard and fast, enjoying your pleas and begs through mindless mumbles. You were so far gone that everything she was saying was only making you closer. The sound of her voice was enough to help you closer to release.

“Or maybe I should send the one after your first game with Munich.” She snarled, admiring the darkened marks on your neck. “Do you remember who we played against that game?”

Of course you did, you thought. The game has been one you were stressing over for weeks in advance. You and Georgia had only just moved in together, and there was significant pressure on you to succeed and prove to everyone that you could perform under intimidation.

“Chelsea.”

“Good girl, baby, that's right.” She cooed. “Scored in the first fifteen minutes, and I had to reward my Stargirl for that. That's what they all used to call you, didn't they? She called you Stargirl back then, now it's me who says it, isn't it?”

That was enough to push you closer to the edge. You gripped hard onto her shoulders, crying out as you felt your climax rush over you.

“How bout I send both those videos… show her who I enjoy my night with. Fucking you for being mine.”

“I— I'm yours, Gee. Fuck, please, I'm-”

The release left you reeling. You felt your orgasm leak out all over Georgia’s hand, your head falling against the headrest as you rode out your high with her consistent deep strokes in and out of your pussy. You didn't care about the mess you were making, nor the inflammatory noises you had been making as soon as you felt Georgia touch you. Your body shook from the much-needed release, and by the time you had somewhat caught your breath, the familiar pressure on your nub resurfaced.

You cried out, whining when the silicone dick entered your folds. Georgia looked down at you, kissing you passionately to silence your post-orgasm conscious. She made sure that you didn't push her away before moving the tip of the strap into your hole, smirking when you stretched open for her like you had been calling for it to be filled.

“Gee, its too big, I can't.” You whined, squirming as your hair stuck to your skin. Your girlfriend held your hips down, lowering herself down to where your pussy clenched around the toy as it moved.

“You’ll take it.” She growled. “You said it before. If you can suck me off I can fuck you with it.”

She kept an even pace as her hips finally reached yours, the strap filling your pussy with your slick. Your eyes were firmly clasped shut, your whines filling the car as the aching pain slowly turned into lust. Georgia waited for you to start rocking on it gently. The way you rode her dick so desperately turned her on to extreme lengths. She was somewhat surprised that you could take the length as well as you were, and when your hips met hers, and she felt the toy being bounced on, she realised that she had been still for a few minutes. She wanted to feel bad, but she knew that teasing was good for your ego.

“Gee, can you move?”

Georgia caught sight of the camera, the video still recording the vulgar sight. She groaned at the sight of your shaking legs, and the way you could go longer see the strap that was filled in between your legs. The camera showed the way your tits bounced so perkily every time you tried to gain friction. Your body was enclosed by Georgia’s arms, her thighs overlapping yours, her muscles on full display. Sweat beaded off both of you, moans cascading from your puffy red lips.

With one hand holding her up, she grabbed her phone that was sitting by the console. Her sudden movement sent shockwaves through you, causing you to scream out when the strap pushed into you impossibly closer. Georgia positioned the phone so that it was leaning on the seat, right where the strap was. When she knew that the angle caught all of your body, she lifted her lips slowly before pounding into you.

Your cries were music to her ears, and she thought it sinful to cover them with her hand in fear of being heard. If anything, people would be blessed with the sound, for she thought if heavenly. Your sounds mixed with her groans mixed with your slick against the strap. If any other size, Georgia would move even faster, but her pace was already hard, and you struggled to keep up as your pussy clenched around her.

“So gorgeous.” She uttered, feeling you near your climax for the third time that night. “Such a good girl for taking it.”

“Fuck, Georgia-”

“Gonna fill you up so that you get pregnant, baby. You tell me when and I’ll fill that beautiful body with a baby of our own. Fuck, you’d look so hot with our baby.”

You couldn't even begin to speak, your moans now babble, your speech completely incoherent. Georgia could feel her own release overcoming her, but she waited knowing that you were only seconds away.

“My pretty girl.”

You cried out her name for the last time, your cum coating her cock as she rode out both your high with sloppy deep strokes. You were in a state of pure bliss that you didn't even have the energy to push her off your overstimulated clit. Though, from all the times before, Georgia knew you would be sore, and after keeping still and waiting for both of you to even your breathing, she began to pull out.

You winced, waiting for Georgia to discard the toy and hakt the video before pulling her body into yours.

“I love you, Gee. No one else, baby.”

“I know, my pretty girl. I was only joking.”

You couldn't help but laugh, finding that statement ludicrous. “Yeah, alright, Stanway.”

“Okay, touche.” She replied smugly.

Maybe Millie was right — Georgia couldn't wait till she got home. And she did enjoy her fucking night.

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