#every fucking story sounds just like this

[ylangelegy]

it’s kind of a funny story 🫧 seungcheol x reader.

just when you think your walk of shame couldn’t get any more shameful… 

★ word count: 1.1k ★ genre/warnings: 18+ content. no explicit smut, but implied sexual content told through flashbacks so! mdni! + romance, humor, fluff -ish. alternate universe: non-idol, mentions of alcohol. ★ footnotes: this is for the loml, @heartepub! (prompt was also from her) nooo viv don't die from thesis you're so sexy aha... 💙

There are three things you register when you wake up.

First: It’s cold. There’s sunlight streaking through the windows and you’re under a blanket— which is decisively not yours, by the way— yet you’re freezing, chilled to the bone. The answer to that question brings you to realization number two. 

You’re stripped down to your underclothes. Every inch of your body is rebelling at you for your mistreatment. The copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed the night before, the consequences of that raging bender. All of which leads to the last but not the least of the facts— 

There’s an arm around your waist, a solid weight pressed against your back. It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to put a name to the body curved around you like a parentheses. 

Cheol, he had told you on the dance floor, his eyes glinting under the low lights. Seungcheol, if you want this to be more than a one-time thing. 

It’s ridiculous, how that sad excuse for a pick-up line had drawn you in. Your memories of last night are a blur. Flashes of hands, of lips, of Seungcheol’s low voice coaxing you apart like a prayer.

Carefully, you peel yourself from the bed. Your body aches in seven different places. Inasmuch as you want to blame all the Long Island iced teas and Cuba libres you’d downed, you know it has less to do with that and everything to do with the man you’re about to walk away from. 

Seungcheol is still asleep, his face buried into his pillow. His chest rises and falls with a kind of steadiness that makes it hard to believe how utterly reckless he’d been with you just hours ago.

All of that blurs together, too. There’s bits and bobs of it in your mind’s eye: His hand in your hair, your knees on the carpet. You wince.

You try to not make any noise as you clean up. This was the name of the game, after all. This was going to be a story you tell your friends on your way home, a tale regaled via a long-winded voice note. An uptick in your body count. Another reason why you should never drink beer before liquor. 

Your dress is crumpled on the floor. You go to pick it up—

The zipper is shredded.

The seam, split clean down the back.

What the fuck. 

Your pulse hammers as you hold up the ruined garment, blinking like that’ll somehow fix it. It’s not like the dress holds any sentimental value. You’d bought it online specifically for your night out, had prepared to outgrow it in a year or two. You didn’t think you’d only get one wear out of it. 

The dress’ demise comes back to you slowly. Seungcheol’s impatient hands, the desperate way he had tugged the fabric when it wouldn’t come off fast enough. 

You remember the way his muscles had rippled underneath the low light. The faint sound of tearing. His muttered curse, his half-hearted apology said right before he dove in to relish in the newly-revealed skin. You’d been too far gone to care, then. 

Now, though? Oh, you care.

You’re still gaping at the dress when you hear the bed creak. “Good morning, beautiful,” the culprit grouses. 

You can tell that it’s his usual pleasantry, his typical cheeky greeting to all of his conquests. All that bravado fades, though, when you face him with the tatters of your dress still in your hand.

“Ah, shit.” Seungcheol’s voice is raspy from alcohol and sleep. He props himself up on his elbows, and— to give him some credit— he looks genuinely repentant. 

His hair is a mess; his face, already a deep red as he registers what you’re holding. 

“I— I can pay for that,” he stutters.

It’s almost comical, really. This is the same man who had you writhing underneath him, who had whispered pure filth into the crook of your neck. Now, he was blushing like a kid caught stealing from a cookie jar. 

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, like you haven’t quite decided if you’re going to be angry or laugh. “I don’t even think a tailor could save this.” 

Seungcheol rubs his face with both hands. “I don’t know what came over me,” he groans.

One of your eyebrows cock upwards. “I think you do.” 

He peeks at you between his fingers. You watch the way his throat bobs as his gaze flickers over your bare legs, the marks he left blooming across your skin. Claims he shouldn’t be able to make, and yet he’d gone and taken all the same. 

“It’s not funny,” he says into the heel of his palm, but he’s already grinning despite his voice remaining low and rough. 

“It’s kind of funny,” you counter. 

You let the ruined dress drop to the floor. It looks even more pitiful as it pools around your feet, and Seungcheol’s jaw ticks at the blatancy of his misgivings. 

“That’s never happened before,” he notes. Despite the fact he looks worse for wear, you can decipher the sincerity behind his words. 

This was not part of the plan, not a plot point in the usual story. Both of you were far more accustomed to clean cuts. One-night stands with no promises; quiet come-and-go’s. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he says, fingers curling in the sheets. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you just know he’s contemplating his next course of action. Loaning you some of his spare clothes would be the way to go. He could also—

Seungcheol’s voice drops like a weight. “You could… stay a little longer.” 

Until what, exactly, you’d love to know. Is he planning a same-day delivery for a replacement dress? Does he intend to hold you hostage until he’s a little more willing to send you off in a shirt he can bear to lose? 

You should be pissed. You should scold him, should rummage through his cabinet yourself and be on your merry way. The name of the game. 

But the way he’s looking at you— wrecked and wanting, like he might split apart if you walk out his door— makes it impossible to do anything but crawl back into his bed. 

He’s still embarrassed. You can tell from the way he tenses when you kiss him, the way his fingers barely ghost over your hip. Seungcheol tastes like cola, like something distinctly him, and like The Biggest Mistake You’re Ever Going To Make. 

To hell with it. 

“Try not to wreck the only clothes I have left,” you say against his mouth, “Seungcheol.” 

You feel his smile instead of seeing it. The way his lips curl around yours, pleased at your choice.

He tugs at the waistband of your underwear, his touch a lot more gentle than last night. As he pulls it off, he mumbles, “No promises.” 

[kazumist]

SWEETLY BAKED WITH LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — in which zayne finds himself in a problem with his older patients relentlessly introducing and telling him about their daughters and granddaughters to him because he's single. what's a good way to shoo them off? perhaps wearing a keyring and fake dating your friend would do the trick!

✩ — includes: zayne x f!baker!reader. fluff. fake dating trope (not executed properly sorry i dont think i gave it justice), not much drama and confession scene is a bit boring imo :/, pace is a bit messy, based of that one part in the cdrama "the best thing", cw: food mentioned (baked sweets and wine), they're both idiots in love, wc: 7,166. i went insane Yes so what.

✩ — note: hi babes @koiukiy-o it's finally finished like can u believe it. i finished it in one fucking day initially but i woke up at 6am in the morning today (its around half past 7am by the time posting this) and added a bit more.

for zayne, being a young, famous, and favored doctor in akso hospital isn’t as pleasing as it sounds. only because the majority of his older patients try to match him up with their daughters with every given chance during their appointments scheduled with him. 

at first, it wasn’t all that serious. zayne even initially thought that maybe elderlies these days have started to grow accustomed to sharing stories of their children—of their daughters, specifically, who are coincidentally in the same age range as him. perhaps it was a new thing; yeah, that was probably it.

until the introductions became more frequent. 

ONE: AS SURPRISING AS A SUDDEN BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE AT YOUR DOOR.

from a father whose daughter is a successful certified public accountant (CPA) to a mother whose daughter is currently a cardiology resident in a nearby hospital, the names and positions of these women have started to jumble in his head. all zayne could do is take a deep breath and smoothly deflect the questions of his patients regarding his current relationship status.

“dr. zayne, you know, i have this daughter..." here we go again. zayne tunes out whatever the old woman was saying, nodding every now and then to convince her that he was interested. the old woman’s daughter was something of a business owner, though it’s not like zayne is actually paying that much attention to the description his patient was giving him. his focus is solely on the results that are in his hands.

“do you have someone special in your life right now, dr. zayne?” zayne pauses; the shuffling of the lab reports in his hands stopped as he processed the question. 

does he?

zayne doesn’t think that he does.

he has a few people that he cherishes in his life, yes. but does he think of himself settling down with someone by his side? well… not really—not yet, at least. zayne hasn’t given it that much thought himself. “before i answer that question, let’s discuss what your results have given us…” this method of zayne changing the subject works like a charm every time he does it. and with a blink of an eye, the old woman forgot her question and left after getting her new prescriptions from him.

zayne leans back on his chair, taking off his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. he takes a deep breath, until his peace is interrupted by a knock at his door. the old woman should’ve been the last one; yvonne just came in and told him so not so long ago. he sits up right, fixing his posture as his professionalism starts to take over.

yet when the door creaks open to reveal you, zayne’s shoulders relax as he sits back once again.

maybe his peace wasn’t interrupted after all.

“what brings you here?” he asks you, eyeing you suspiciously as you’re obviously hiding something from him behind your back. “i come bearing gifts—one sweet little blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery! tadaaaa!” you say, revealing the little box to zayne and settling it on his desk, hoping he’d also envision the imaginary jazz hands you were doing before putting a plastic fork on top of it for him to use.

zayne has a sweet tooth and that’s practically common knowledge to you. and with you owning a bakery... well, let’s just say that the youngest heart surgeon in linkon city plays his favorites when it comes to shops that sell sweet pastries. 

a smile cracks onto his face as he sees the box. gently removing the fork on top and opening the box, zayne inspects the blueberry cheesecake before him as if contemplating if he should eat it now or save it when he gets home. “you don’t have to eat it now, silly. i just wanted to drop it off before your work ends today,” you say.

“no, it’s alright. i’ll eat it now. the toppings could get ruined when i travel back home.”

as he starts taking a few bites, you propped your chin onto your palm and lean on it, staring at the sweet dessert that’s slowly being consumed right in front of you. “sooo, do you have someone in your life right now, dr. zayne?” you asked him, putting emphasis on the way you called him as a sign of mockery.

zayne deadpans at your question, suddenly stopping himself from getting another bite. his expression is clearly conveying a message to you wordlessly: are you being serious right now? but zayne just sighs and continues on getting another bite before replying. “how did you know about that?”

“i heard you two through the door. and when your last patient came out—she was a delight, by the way, greeting me so kindly—she suddenly asked me if i was your girlfriend! i obviously didn’t answer her properly and good thing yvonne came in to save the day and escort her out of the cardiology department.” you told him.

the sweetness of the small piece of blueberry glides across his senses as he listens to you. zayne finds himself sighing deeply for what seems like the nth today, twirling the fork in his hand as he thinks. he doesn’t like burdening this problem of his with you, especially when you have nothing to do with it. “seems like you’re thinking about a lot there. are your thoughts being consumed by the numerous names that got mentioned to you?” you teased.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i was only kidding! you looked so deep in thought there. is everything alright?”

zayne doesn’t know either. he doesn’t know how long he could keep deflecting and changing the topics when his patients try to pry into this part of his life. he has a soft spot for his patients, sure, and he’s satisfied with his job. though zayne didn’t know that he would be signing up for this when he became a cardiac surgeon.

“yes, my apologies. i seemed to have spaced out for a moment there.”

you glance over him, observing his mannerisms and his habits. whenever zayne twirls or plays with the item in his hand, it means he’s thinking. whenever he sits back on his chair, that means he’s relaxed. yet you never seen him space out—not until now, at least—and that’s what’s different.

odd.

but you didn’t push the topic further, as you’re well aware that zayne isn’t the type to express himself so freely. and as if a light bulb literally just gained it’s light inside your brain, the gears inside your head started turning as you suddenly got an idea. “i think i just got the greatest idea of my life.” you asked him.

“and what would that be?” he asks back. should i be scared? he thinks.

“you’ll see! just you wait and look forward to the next time i’ll drop by and visit.” you flash him a grin as zayne finishes the last bit of the blueberry cheesecake.

TWO: AS ENTICING AS SIX MACARONS SERVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

the next time you saw each other, you didn’t visit zayne. zayne visited you, striding towards you sitting behind the counter. today was a saturday. and during saturdays, you open your shop a bit later than your usual opening time during weekdays. 

seeing the doctor visit your shop sometimes gives you a pinch of nostalgia coursing through you. you never would’ve expected to form a connection with a praised doctor in linkon in your life. but you don’t really have any regrets about it. you enjoy the surgeon’s company and he seems to enjoy yours.

“and what brings you here today, dr. zayne?” you say, greeting him as his eyes scan the pastries displayed before him. “please, refrain from the formalities. do you have anything new to recommend?” he replies.

your gaze follows his as you join him in looking for a pastry to offer. “hmm… oh! i know! you could taste test a new macaron flavor i’ve been trying. would you mind taking a seat while i got get them for you?” zayne nods before finding himself a seat and you take that as your cue to start running towards the kitchen located at the inner part of your establishment. 

when you got out, you joined him at the two-seater table he decided on, sitting across from him. “lately, i’ve been indulging myself in making macarons, right? and i wanted a different flavor for a change so i paired two ingredients together! take a bite and guess what it is.” you said, pushing the box of macarons towards him.

zayne inspects the macarons in front of him, attempting to deduce the flavor. it has a light brown color, with the filling having a deeper shade of brown. could it be two types of chocolate? he thinks. 

“staring at it will get you nowhere if you don’t actually taste it, you know.”

he snaps out of his thoughts at your words. he awkwardly coughs into his fist, avoiding your gaze. you stifled a laugh at him but zayne noticed it, feeling his ears grow hot. “ahem. pardon me for that. i’ll taste them now.” he says, grabbing a piece of the pastry. as soon as he takes a bite, the familiar taste of coffee beans (perhaps roasted?) and nutella washes over his tongue.

you were right; this was a different flavor that you don’t see often. “it’s delicious. were the coffee beans roasted? or were they grounded?” a small gasp escapes your lips at his question. “it was roasted, yeah! i’m surprised you noticed that; i didn’t think anyone would.”

“i felt the small chunks of the coffee beans as i chewed. and nutella as a filling balances the taste of the beans. i’d say it’s a good product to endorse.”

“really?”

zayne hums in agreement, finishing the macaron in his hand before grabbing another one from the box. “i recall that you haven’t told me your “idea” yet since the last time we saw each other.” he says, before taking another bite.

“oh! sorry about that; i keep forgetting to stop by akso hospital lately. but worry not—i didn’t forget about my idea!” you replied, fishing something out of your pocket. it was a keyring, though it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. “your idea is... a keyring?” he asks.

“wrong, the keyword is ring!” you say, grabbing his hand to check if it fits on his ring finger.

you seemed unaware of the effect of your actions, suddenly taking zayne by surprise by your sudden touch. he feels the cold metal wrap around the ring finger of his dominant hand. “look, it’s a perfect fit! just remember to always have it on, especially when you have appointments and surely those introductions would be gone, right?”

zayne inspects the keyring around his finger, flipping his hand as he takes it in. “i never would’ve expected that a keyring could act as a marriage ring.” he states. “m-marriage ring?!” you exclaimed. i never really thought of it as that. you thought, mentally sweatdropping. “is it not supposed to be?” zayne’s gaze at you shows obvious confusion. “well… i guess it could serve as that. i just thought of it as some fake promise ring that you could use at most.”

“the purpose is the same. i don’t think it matters what it stands for—the main purpose of this is to show my older patients that i’m taken, right?”

“yup! it’s nothing much, really, but i feel bad for what you have to endure when you have your appointments. do you think it would work?” you reply.

“we just have to play our cards right and then we’ll see.”

“mhm! wait—we?”

“yes, we. did i say something wrong?” there he goes again with the confused look.

“what do you mean… we?” this better not be what i’m thinking. you hoped, bracing yourself for whatever bomb he was about to drop.

but just as your luck to that runs out, zayne replies. “i thought we were both going to be wearing keyrings?” fuck, i knew it. you thought. inside your head, you can envision yourself on all fours, punching the ground as you also try to think of something—anything to reply with. 

“but you’re the only one who has this... conflict. what use would it be if i also wore one?”

before zayne could even realize it, he already took a step and started sailing in dangerous, uncharted waters. “you told me a few times, including the time that you last visited, that my patients have wondered and asked if you were my significant other. wouldn’t it be more convincing if we were to uphold that sentiment?”

you swore you could feel your soul drain itself out of your body.

“so you want us to... fake date, basically? so we could stop your older patients from introducing their endless amount of daughters and granddaughters? did i get that right?” you ask again, just to be sure if what you’re hearing is actually right and real.

“yes, you’re quite spot-on.” 

“you’re lucky that i have two keyrings by coincidence.”

well, it’s not like it’s going to be anything serious. and it’s also beneficial for me because they also pester me with their questions every time i visit. the offer is way a bit enticing for it’s own good—but everything should be fine.

with a soft sigh and one macaron left on the box (you and zayne were snacking on them as you had your discussion), you spoke again. “you’ve got yourself a deal. you better start wearing that keyring, dr. zayne.”

“i don’t think you should be calling me that when we’re supposed to portray ourselves like a couple.” he remarked.

you choke on your own saliva at his statement. “w-we’ll talk about the other details another day! how does the next time i visit—which i actually promise to do now—sound?” cursing yourself for stammering (but how could you not when he caught you so off guard?), you try your best not to embarrass yourself any further. “that sounds good.”

as the last macaron on the box you served gets consumed, you find yourself securing a peculiar deal with a certain heart surgeon.

THREE: AS SOUR AS A BITE OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MELTING ON YOUR TONGUE.

staying true to your promise, you visited zayne a few days after his visit to your bakery. you had the same keyring wrapped around your ring finger, hoping to find zayne the same. “are you busy?”

he glances at you from his monitor and you notice that his shoulders relax again when he realizes it was you in the doorway. “what pastry do you have in store for me this time?” he asks you as you approach to have yourself a seat on the small couch.

“sadly there’s no pastry today; i accidentally forgot to grab one from the bakery’s fridge before i left but next time i’ll bring you some strawberry shortcake!”

“i’ll take note of that.”

zayne then continues to speak. “about where we stopped our discussion last time... would it be okay with you to completely drop with the formalities in general? you don’t have to call me dr. zayne, especially when we’re in the hospital.”

“what do i call you then?”

“zayne would be just fine. almost no one calls me that here.”

“zayne, huh… zayne, zayne… zayne.” you repeat his name to get yourself used to it. “alright then, doct—i mean, zayne.”

he nods at you in acknowledgement as you shift your gaze at his dominant hand. surely enough, you saw that keyring on his finger. “i see you’re wearing the keyring. did it work so far?” you ask him. “actually, yes, it did. the introductions lessened and i found myself at peace with most of my appointments today.”

“so my plan does work. huh, i never would’ve thought.” zayne takes this as an opportunity to reply. “how about you? did your keyring work?” 

“not yet, i guess? when i arrived, yvonne told me that your appointments and checkups were done for the day. so i didn’t really encounter any of your patients today. maybe next time.”

-

zayne visited your bakery during the weekend again. although unfortunately, you weren’t there. one of your employees said that you were busy with an errand today so zayne just got a slice of yet another blueberry cheesecake on the go and quickly made his leave.

(he doesn’t see why he would stay when he isn’t sure of what time you’d return.)

-

the next time you and zayne saw each other, you had forgotten to bring the strawberry shortcake you told him back then. but what did happen is that you encountered a few familiar patients of zayne’s. they were all women who looked like they’re in their mid-sixties in a group of three. they were chatting nearby the entrance to zayne’s office when they spotted you.

and apparently, one of them recognized you.

“hello, dear. you’re the one who brings dr. zayne snacks, right? i remember seeing you here before.” she says, approaching you. “ah, yes! that would be me.” you let out a soft chuckle at her. “how kind of you to do so! are you perhaps his girlfriend?” another woman asks. the woman who approached you (who introduced herself as violet), shushes her friend. “don’t throw sudden questions at the lady! sorry about her, dear.”

the third woman in their group suddenly perks up and points at your hand. “look violet, her ring looks familiar... where have i seen it before, i wonder?” as soon as she said that, all three of the women’s attention was now all on your hand with the keyring on it. 

“isn’t that like the ring on dr. zayne’s hand?”

there was then a moment of silence before they all realized what that question meant. 

after escaping the clutches of their neverending queries (that you tried to answer as much as you could, and you never could’ve escaped without yvonne’s help of escorting them out), you finally got to knock on zayne’s office.

“come in.” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

once you settle down yourself inside, you let out a huge and relieved sigh. “was there a commotion outside? i heard multiple voices through the door, one of them being yours.” zayne asks.

“ah, well it turns out that your patients are really observant. did you know i had to make up some fake story on the spot of how we met?”

“is that so? do you mind telling me what this story is? they might ask about it the next time they come for a checkup.” he replies. 

the actual story of how you and zayne met wasn’t really that far off from the one you told the small group of old ladies. 

(it was dusk when you encountered zayne on the sidewalk; you accidentally bumped into him and he noticed you were seemingly in a rush. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was running.” zayne waves his hand dismissively. “it’s alright, are you hurt?” 

“not at all—” you checked the time with your wrist watch. “crap! uhm, excuse me, sir. do you know if there’s a flower shop nearby here? i’m in a terrible need of dried flowers at the moment.” you ask him.

zayne thought about it for a moment, trying to recall if there is one. he then tells you the directions to the flower shop he has seen in the area and you immediately thanked him. “thank you, thank you so much! feel free to drop by the cozy oven. my treat for helping me! thank you again, kind sir!” you say before running off in the direction he told you.

that was first time you met him and you were sure that was also the first time he met you.

but what if it isn’t?)

“oh, you know, i just told them some silly old cliche where i bumped into you while holding two bouquets of flowers and decided to treat you to some coffee as an apology. nothing that out of the ordinary, really.”

“noted. they’ll probably ask me about which bouquet it was next time.” this time it was his turn to let out a sigh.

“oh yeah! one of my staff members said you visited the bakery last weekend. sorry, i was busy that time. my friend ordered a cake for this event and i was also invited to it so i had to leave the job of handling the bakery to my employees.” you told him. “it’s alright, don’t fret.”

that day ended with zayne offering you a ride home.

-

the next few times you and zayne were together after that, you swear something was changing.

you never thought zayne could be the touchy type; he grabs ahold of your hand, going as far as interlocking your fingers together. hell, he even puts his hand on your waist when you’re walking in public.

you knew what you were getting into when you both agreed on that deal. but it’s just so... strange. scary, if you think about it.

how is he so good at this? no, more like—

why does it feel so real?

zayne is an attractive man, and that was certainly a fact. smart, rich, handsome, and well-mannered—he’s even soft spoken for goodness sake! that man has got it all, which is no wonder why some of his patients would want to set up their daughter with him. any woman would be lucky to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

but is this what it feels like?

perhaps.

that was all you could say—after all, this is all just a fake setup so you both could shoo away his patients.

yet if it was all fake, why were your faces suddenly so close to one another right now? your lips were close to brushing against each other; one small nudge and you’d find out what it was like to kiss zayne.

the sudden phone ring echoing somewhere in the room snaps the both of you out of it.

as you both pull away out of surprise, zayne picks up the phone. “this is zayne speaking.” he says.

you just sat there on his couch, wondering many things.

it’s just a fake stunt. don’t get sidetracked, (y/n).

but why is it that whenever you remind yourself that it is fake, an uncertain pang hits your chest? you never could tell zayne this; he might think you suddenly have a heart condition and be concerned (and you wouldn’t be surprised because he is someone who is under cardiology).

this could be nothing. no, scratch that; it is nothing. zayne is an impossible man to reach, and he is only a friend to you.

nothing more, nothing less.

-

the next time you visited zayne at akso hospital, you finally had a slice of strawberry shortcake stored safely in a box for him.

you were still distracted by the time you two almost kissed, but you couldn’t let zayne know that for obvious reasons.

at this point in your fake dating plan, his patients are all convinced that you both are together, finding it cute and squealing in awe when you see each other in the hallway where his office is located. you were surprised at how well you and zayne were pulling this off. 

“special delivery for dr. zayne?” you say, peeking through the door to check if he’s busy. “and what did i order this time?” he asks back. you take that as your cue to step inside. “one slice of a promised and long overdue strawberry shortcake!” you told him, setting down the small box and another plastic fork on top of the box.

“about time you remembered.” he says, taking the fork and opening the box. the familiar scent of strawberry shortcake then circulates around the two of you, which made zayne take a bite almost immediately. “are you planning on visiting the bakery this weekend?” you then ask him.

zayne swallows before he speaks. “i have thought about it, yes. and i was actually planning to ask you about your weekend plans today actually.”

“oh? why?”

“i was just wondering if you’d like to make plans with me since i’m usually off-duty during weekends.”

you become a bit awkward as soon as zayne says that. and zayne, being as observant as ever, obviously noticed it. “is there something wrong? it’s okay if you’re busy.” you waved your hands at him, “no, no! it’s not like that. well, kinda i guess? ugh, it’s just that…”

“i may or may not have agreed to go on a blind date this weekend.”

if zayne hadn’t listened that carefully, he would’ve missed it. but no, he caught every single word that slipped out of you. the sour taste of the sliced strawberry, along with the spongy texture of the cake, suddenly felt like sand in zayne’s mouth. and as ironic as that, he suddenly feels iffy as soon as you say that—like he was also sour. “is that so… that’s alright. you should enjoy your plans instead.”

“wait. you’re not mad?”

am i mad? zayne mentally asked himself. he doesn’t think he is, but he does somewhat feel disturbed by the idea of you going on a date with another man, and that doesn’t feel right to him either. “i’m not. why would i be mad?” a lie.

you stiffen at your seat, trying to come up with an explanation. that question just slipped off of your tongue; you didn’t mean to ask that. “well, uhm.. you know, because we’re in this fake dating thingy, i just thought it would be weird to you if i were to go see someone else and all that, yeah.”

“you said it yourself; this is all fake. so i’m not stopping you if you want to do that.”

ouch? why does his confirmation that it’s nothing serious get a kick to it? you thought. “really? okay then, thanks for letting me know.” 

zayne couldn’t shake off the sourness of the strawberry from his tongue. and the thing is—the strawberries that you use for your products aren’t even that sour. it was more sweet than sour in the first place. so why? why can’t he get the sourness off?

why does he suddenly feel so bitter at the thought of you seeing someone else?

the rest of the hour felt a bit suffocating after that.

FOUR: AS BLAND AS MISSING THE DELECTABLE TASTE OF YOUR COMPANY.

when the weekend rolled around, zayne didn’t visit your bakery. he didn’t find a need to because you weren’t there. he wasn’t close to your staff and he doesn’t really want to get close to them. and zayne isn’t that close with a lot of people in general, so he decided to spend his weekend at home.

he thinks about the conversation he had with you when you brought up the topic of having a blind date scheduled today.

and he still feels sour about that. he doesn’t know why. 

then he suddenly remembers the one time when he was so close to feeling your lips on his. zayne hoped that he wasn’t obvious but this moment had perhaps made him short circuit. your face was so close—he could take every little detail of your features with the distance.

but you just had to have this blind date today.

zayne feels even more sour after that.

he was a doctor, yes, but he obviously isn’t an expert in psychology or emotions. so as he unlocks his phone, he opens the web browser installed and types in the search bar.

now, jealousy was a foreign concept for zayne. 

he stares blankly at the results his search shows him, a part of him refusing to believe that what he was feeling was jealousy and the rational part of him telling himself that if this isn’t it, what else could it be?

but another question puts him in a dilemma. why is he even jealous in the first place? 

of course you can go see other people. he doesn’t have the right to be mad about that. zayne didn’t own you, and you didn’t own zayne. if he were in your position, you’d just let him go on that blind date.

yet the idea of you falling in love with another makes him uneasy.

oh.

oh.

zayne wasn’t stupid. he didn’t need to drown himself in any more thoughts on this matter to realize what was happening to him.

he was falling.

falling for you, to be specific.

and there’s nothing that could help him.

-

being forced into a blind date never goes well. and you swore that you'd strangle your friend who forced you into this in the first place.

“so, what do you do for a living?” your date asks before sipping from his glass of red wine. “oh, i’m a baker. i run a bakery, actually. it’s located nearby akso hospital.” 

“is that so? what do you usually bake?”

“i bake all sorts of things! from cakes to macarons—“ you pause when you say macarons. you suddenly recall the day when you asked zayne to taste test your new macaron flavor. you cleared your throat to regain composure.

“sorry about that; something just came to mind. but like i said, i bake a whole lot of cakes and pastries. i like to experiment with new flavors, you see. what about you?”

“oh, i’m currently a resident at akso hospital actually!” the man before you says. “really? under which department?” you ask him. “cardiology. i always found the heart a fascinating thing to study.”

you tried to hold yourself back from choking on your wine. “c-cardiology, you say…?” hearing the term come out of your date’s mouth has something uncomfortable bubbling up inside of you. your mind finds itself drifting back to zayne—

what am i even thinking? get a grip (y/n)! you’re on a date for fuck’s sake!

“mhm. one of my mentors is really nice, a bit cold but i know he’s just really like that. his name is dr. zayne, by the way.” and as if the universe is mocking you right now, your date just had to say that his mentor was zayne of all people.

“i think i’ve heard of him once or twice, yeah. he’s a good heart surgeon, right?”

as time seemed to pass by, you could feel yourself feeling more distracted. when the waiter came to ask if you’d like any dessert, your mind immediately thought of zayne.

while looking through the dessert menu, you wondered if zayne would like what this restaurant is offering. what would zayne’s opinion be on this? 

and your date continues to speak, the sole fact that he’s a resident under zayne, was enough to sidetrack your mind towards him. 

zayne, zayne, zayne. this whole date has done nothing but remind you of the doctor.

by the time the date was over, you entered the door to your apartment complex (which is located above your bakery) and slid against the door as soon as you closed it.

removing your heels as you were on the floor, you let out a sigh. “what the fuck is going on with me tonight?” you asked no one in particular.

the date wasn’t even bad but nothing about it felt right for you. like there was something clearly wrong with the whole principle of you going on a blind date in the first place but you didn’t know what it was.

you try to recall what happened before the blind date happened, trying to see if something would have triggered your current state.

your recollection brings you to the time you told zayne about the blind date a few days ago. 

something felt off about him when you dropped the bomb on him that time. it’s as if something shifted in the air when you revealed your plans for the weekend to him.

“oh, god. you have got to be kidding me.” you facepalmed when the realization dawned upon you.

your thoughts were running. how could’ve i been so stupid? it was written all over my face in the first place! i like zayne. holy shit i actually—

but it all stops there when you then realize what you just said. 

-

you didn’t visit zayne after your blind date. and when he visits your bakery, you hide yourself from him in the kitchen (and you also told your employees to not spill a word about your actual whereabouts, making them form excuses on what you’re up to). 

simply to say, you were avoiding zayne.

it scared you. you didn’t know what to do with your new feelings, especially when the whole fake dating thing was still ongoing for the both of you. 

how can you keep faking it all up when everything just feels so real? when you couldn’t help but wonder if you’re still friends after everything you’ve done?

zayne: Are you going to visit today?

zayne: I miss getting my special delivery.

you stared at his message, trying to process it. why did he have to say it like that? what does he mean by that? you thought.

(y/n): sorry, i can’t. 

(y/n): i need to prioritize some cake orders for now. maybe next time.

zayne: Oh, alright then.

you know full well that there most probably won’t be a next time. you’ll just keep denying and deflecting as much as you can—and as long as you can.

however, zayne knew you were avoiding him and he most definitely didn’t need to be a genius to notice that. 

but he doesn’t know why. was it something that he did? were you alright? perhaps you haven’t been feeling well as of late. were you overworking yourself lately?

zayne thinks about the time you two almost kissed again. maybe he should’ve gone for it. maybe he shouldn’t have answered that goddamn phone call. maybe—

maybe he shouldn’t have let you go on that blind date.

your phone vibrates against the pocket of your apron. you pull it out to check the notification and go blank at the sender.

zayne: Have you been well?

zayne: We haven’t seen each other lately.

his clinic hours are not the same as of late. zayne got so used to you visiting him at akso—to seeing you in general—that it just feels... bland now that you’re not present.

zayne misses you. and he wonders if you miss him too.

FIVE: AS SWEET AS KNOWING THAT I WASN’T TOO LATE.

(before you bumped into zayne on the sidewalk, you two had actually met.

once in a cafe, and once in the grocery store... zayne had noticed that since you two lived in the same community, it was bound that you’d encounter each other a lot—although you don’t really seem to notice him.

when zayne met you in the grocery store, the first thing that he noticed about you was that your shopping cart was halfway filled with baking ingredients. there were at least three (or was it four?) dozen of eggs stacked, two packs of all-purpose flour, a small bottle of sprinkles (both the colorful and chocolate ones), and a whole lot more.

at first glance, any other person would ignore you. zayne would be one of them—he had no clue why he noticed you and your shopping cart. he was only in the aisle because it’s the way to where the bread was located.

that was the first time zayne sees you.

the second time he saw you, zayne encountered you in a cafe this time. weeks passed since he saw you while he was out for groceries and you had papers sprawled all over the small table in front of you. zayne didn’t really get a good look at them but he assumed that it was all sorts of cake design from the single glance he got to have.

wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes. there were a whole bunch of designs. perhaps you baked for a living.

again, at first glance, any other person would ignore you. and zayne would still be one of them—though would this become a lie because isn’t it strange that it has happened twice? not like there’s anything bad with noticing you. it’s just... out of his character, per se.

the third time zayne meets you, it was the time you also recall—the encounter on the sidewalk. now, what were the chances that zayne would meet you there that late afternoon? he didn’t know. 

and with that small conversation between the two of you happening, zayne’s assumption was correct. the baking ingredients, the cake designs, and now you telling him to visit your bakery—

maybe he should visit the cozy oven during the weekend.)

around three weeks have passed since you started ignoring him. you were surprised at how well you were doing so far. not like it was hard doing so. the real challenge was to ignore his texts and make yourself reply late. 

and when he visits the bakery, which is what’s going on right now.

it was almost nine in the evening when you finished closing up your bakery. you heard footsteps getting louder, signaling that someone is walking towards you. 

“there you are.” you knew that voice anywhere.

“zayne? what are you doing here at this hour?” you ask him out of surprise. “well, a certain someone seems to be hiding from me, so i thought it was time to change my strategy and do a surprise attack. it looks like it worked.”

“ah. sorry about that... work has been a bit busy. you know?” you take in zayne’s appearance before you, eyes slightly widening at the keyring that is still on his finger.

(how ironic because you were also wearing yours at the moment. your excuse would be “it was out of pure habit.”)

“so busy that even when i visit you hide yourself from me?”

he got you there. “i—no, no! it’s just that—“ zayne cuts you off with another question. “did i do something wrong?”

“what?”

“you heard me. (y/n), did i do something wrong? i understand that you’ve been busy but something feels different. like there’s something more to it than just you being busy.” he then says. why does he have to be always so observant?

the guilt of your decisions as of late started to eat you up inside. “i… i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” zayne asks again.

“i mean, it’s not like i literally don’t know but it’s just... did we even do the right thing? you know, fake date and all of that.”

zayne could feel the unease creeping up on him with your question. “the plan worked, did it not?”

“no, zayne. what i mean is that did we do the right thing with fake dating in the first place? because for the love of god, we almost kissed! and—and we’re both old enough to realize that friends don’t just... kiss.”

“is this about your blind date a few weeks ago?” you don’t know what he means by that. because you never met up again with that blind date, telling him that as much as it was nice to know him, you’re not really interested in giving romance a whirl for now. 

you didn’t know what to answer to that. “so it is.” he then says. you wanted to say no, but no words came out of you. it was as if your lips felt like they were sewn closed. “i guess i was too late then.”

too late?

“wait—what do you mean too late?”

zayne’s look in his eyes confused you. you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were present in his gaze. “aren’t you still seeing your blind date nowadays?”

then it all made sense to you.

zayne thinks the reason you started avoiding him was probably because he thought you hit it off with your blind date. before you could answer his question, he speaks again. “to be honest with you, recently, especially during your absence, i have come to the realization that i like you, (y/n).”

wait. what?

too speechless to cut in, he continues. “i felt off when you first said that you agreed to that blind date of yours. i just brushed it off back then but later i realized that it was because i was jealous. i soon regretted not doing anything about it—and when you started ignoring me, i couldn’t help but think that maybe you didn’t want to visit me anymore in my office as a sign of respect to your new lover.” in other words, i missed you.

you try to process everything that he just came clean about. but there is only one highlight in everything he said—he likes you. zayne likes you.

and you like him too.

“first of all, i’m really sorry for ignoring you, zayne. i honestly only did it out of fear because i recently realized that i like you too.” zayne was about to speak up when you raised a hand to shush him. “let me finish first. i never met with my blind date again after our first meeting. i told him that i kindly told him that i didn’t want to try romance for now—though that was partially a lie because i only find myself wanting to try romance out with you.”

zayne also only got one highlight out of that—you like him too. that’s all that matters to him.

“so i wasn’t too late?” he then asks.

you take a few steps closer to him. “no, zayne. you’re just in time.”  zayne’s hands find themselves on your waist. “then can i kiss you?” you shoot him a playful glare. “are you sure a phone call isn’t going to interrupt us this time?” you then say, arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

“i’m sure.”

“then you can.”

and without hesitation, zayne leans in to capture your lips with his. he could feel you smiling in the kiss, and zayne savors the faint taste of your lippie—not minding that it might have smudged on his lips now.

when you both pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle. zayne’s lips were covered in some of your tinted lip gloss. you reach out a hand to smudge it away before pecking him a quick kiss to his nose and asking him, “do you want to come inside? i have a new macaron flavor for you to taste test.”

“is that so? what is it this time?” he replies, hands not leaving your waist.

“salted caramel! but not the ones that are sweet; i made sure that this one actually has a salty kick to it!”

zayne definitely has a sweet tooth.

yet there’s nothing more sweet than knowing that you like him too.

[rin-eko]

Take Care of You - Caleb x Reader

Desc: Caleb taking care of you when you're feeling anxious and overwhelmed

Content/Warnings: light main story spoilers, non-sexual nudity, reader feels overwhelmed, comfort

WC: 2.4k

The silence was worrying.

Not a soul was in sight on the rumbling train speeding toward Linkon, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the track accompanied by the drizzling rain hitting the windows.

Caleb was the only one in this train cart this evening, and the dark grey sky seemed to match his mood just as the lack of the train’s usual noisy chatter from the public seemed to match the dead silence in his inbox.

He checked his phone again, where several messages still sat, bereft and unanswered.

4:05pm

Me: Pipsqueak, can I come to Linkon this weekend to visit ya?

4:15pm

Me: We can go to the old markets you love tomorrow and pick up some dinner ingredients on the way home. I’ll make your favourite :)

5:10pm

Me: Are you off work? Be safe on your way home. 

5:31pm

Me: Hellooo? 🤨 Earth to pipsqueak..

5:32pm

Me: There’s no way an addict like you has lost her phone. What’s up?

5:35pm

Me: Is something wrong? I tried calling you. Call me back, I’m starting to get worried.

The messages continued until 7pm, at which point Caleb had just decided to get on the bullet train and head straight to Linkon, continuing all the while to text and call you. With every missed call and message left unanswered, the suffocating feeling in his chest continued to grow, his fingers fiddling as he stared at his phone, willing a message of… literally anything. A full stop would do at this point.

Another minute changed on the time, mocking him.

7:46pm

Me: I’m on my way to Linkon now. Call me.  

His thumb scratched the furrow between his brows. Sure, your relationship had been… less than perfect since you the two of you reunited, but you always answered his messages, even when you were angry with him. This radio silence was agonizing. Flitters of panic seized his lungs as long minutes continued to tick by.

He forced himself to take a breath. You were most likely fine. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had just lost track of time while hanging out with your friends, or if you were currently collapsed in your bed after a hard work day, not bothering with either dinner or a shower. You were fine. You were fine.

He took another deep breath. His hand flexed.

Should he just put a tracker on you?

…

Caleb’s strides sounded a lot more relaxed than he felt as he made his way to your apartment door, casually rapping on the door in his usual rhythm.

Silence.

His jaw tightened as he knocked again. And again.

Fuck, this shit isn’t funny.

He picked the lock and entered, greeted by more of that damned silence along with the dark living space. You were nowhere to be seen.

It wasn’t until he heard a small noise coming from the bedroom that his chest loosened slightly. He made his way there, pushing open the slightly ajar door.

You were in your room, dusting your shelves when you heard your name in that familiar, steady voice.

Your head snapped to the doorway, where he was leaning, arms folded across his chest. His hair appeared slightly messy, as if he had been running his hand through it, and his deep purple eyes held an intense glow you almost felt compelled to look away from.

You took out the one earbud you had playing classical music and frowned.

“Caleb, what are you doing here? You can’t just enter someone’s apartment like that.”

As soon as he had seen your face, the tightness in your jaw and your tired eyes, Caleb had recognised that something was wrong, but your harsh tone confirmed it.

That, and your death glare that would have anyone else shaking like a leaf.

But he only felt relief that you were okay, at least physically. He knew you well enough to know that glare was only a surface-level protection, like a cat arching its back with its hair standing on end in attempt to make itself look bigger.

But beneath that he knew something was wrong. Even when you tried to be strong, you always appeared so vulnerable to him.

“You weren’t answering my texts or calls, I was worried,” he kept his tone soft and soothing, but you were having none of it, your frown deepening fiercely.

“Do you seriously think that’s enough of a reason to just show up here and barge into my home without permission? What is wrong with you?” you were snapping at him, hissing at him, looking so, so pained and exhausted to him.

This was different to the petty fights you had occasionally been instigating with him since you reunited. At those times, he could tell you were just struggling to find a place for him in your life again. You wanted him close, but he had also hurt you. Perhaps your instincts were telling you he wasn’t what was good for you.

He didn’t mind when you snapped at him, recognising you were desperately trying to regain some semblance of foothold in your strange relationship neither of you could really put a label to anymore, so he rarely commented on it or argued back.

But this was different. You just looked exhausted, filled with a tension that didn’t allow you to rest.

Your head hurt.

It hurt, but it wasn’t a physical pain any amount of paracetamol could fix.

You didn’t understand. You rarely felt like this, so when you felt the lowness creeping in throughout the week, you figured it was manageable. Nothing a good meal and some rounds on the claw machines at your favourite arcade wouldn’t fix.

But now, you didn’t even feel like leaving the house.

Maybe it was harder for you to handle precisely because you rarely felt this this. You were at a loss. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you also didn’t know how to fix it.

And your head continued to throb, anxiety clouding your mind, only heightened when you started to worry that you would never be able to stop feeling this way.

Why had this happened? These pressures you couldn’t even name kept piling up. You were on the verge of tears from thinking and thinking and thinking some more, and yet unable to come to any solutions. You just wanted to stop thinking, for your mind to be quiet once more.

You wanted to scream into your pillow to drown out the noise in your mind. Scream until you faded into particles, peacefully floating around. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel this awful disquiet.

You cracked a half-smile. Were you reverting to your angsty teen years or what?

You sighed and dropped the cloth you were dusting with, muttering as you walked past Caleb toward the bathroom.

“Whatever, I’m having a shower. I don’t think I need to tell you to make yourself at home considering you’re already acting like this is your home.”

He stayed silent, watching you disappear into the bathroom and hearing the shower turn on.

Looking around, he decided to clean up a bit and make you dinner. Your apartment was as messy as ever, and after peering into the fridge and taking note of the minimal ingredients, he made a mental reminder to go out the next day to buy your groceries. You were always telling him not to worry and to stop treating you like a kid, but how could he when this is how you took care of yourself?

He sighed and grabbed some ingredients from your freezer to make you a simple hotpot, perfect for the rainy day.

However, when the hotpot was bubbling and ready, and you still had not emerged from the shower, his concern grew once more.

In your room again, he could hear the shower still running. He waited ten more minutes before deciding to knock on the door just in case you had… he didn’t know, drowned yourself in the shower, maybe?

His overprotective imagination knew no bounds when it came to your safety.

You didn’t respond so, despite your earlier scolding, he decided to enter the bathroom.

His heart dipped.

Through the condensation clouding the glass shower door, he could barely see your small figure, curled up in a ball in the middle of the shower. You held your head as the water pounded onto your back.

You didn’t see or hear him, focused on having the scalding water pummel you so you had no room to think. You didn’t want a relaxing, soothing shower, but one that would silence your mind because you couldn’t do it yourself.

He went to you, unable to do anything else. He couldn’t stand to see you like that. You looked so lonely and lost. He wanted to be your anchor. As many times as it took, even if it took forever.

You didn’t notice him even when walked further inside the bathroom, quietly grabbing a towel and opening the shower door.

You only looked up through wet, blurry eyes when he reached in to switch the shower off, wincing at the searing hot water.

“Staying in a hot shower for so long isn’t good for you,” he murmured, not an ounce of scolding in his voice. He stood tall above you, wearing a loose white tank tucked into faded jeans, white socks on his feet and his silver dog tag gleaming as if reminding you of something.

What? That he would always come home? That he would always be there?

You didn’t say anything, your wet hair sticking to you as he held out a hand to help you up before holding the towel open and looking to the side, considerate of your nudity.

You walked straight into the warm, fluffy towel, and he immediately wrapped it around you, holding you steady.

Still seeing you were dizzy from the hot shower and steam, Caleb picked you up, bridal carrying you into the cooler air of your bedroom.

There was no room for anger in you anymore, only pure exhaustion. Though you expected you wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight, just as you hadn’t been for the previous few nights.

You sighed and rested your head on Caleb’s shoulder, tucking your hands to your chest and quietly enjoying the little comforts such as the familiar rhythm of his confident yet relaxed stride. He gently deposited you on the bed before making his way to your closet to find sleepwear for you.

You remained lying down, head turned to the side as you blearily watched his figure.

He returned with an oversized shirt that could well have been his, and a pair of comfortable underwear, leaving to the bathroom while you dried and changed.

He returned with your hairbrush and dryer, gently helping you sit on the floor next to the bed so he could sit on the bed and dry your hair.

It was a routine the both of you were very familiar with, and for the first time in days you felt a tiny semblance of yourself returning.

Since you had reunited with Caleb, you had become reluctant to rely on him as had become second nature to you growing up. As for Caleb’s second nature, it was taking care of you as well as everything you yourself should be taking care of.

So having you finally rely on him for something again, even as small as drying your hair, sparked a new light of hope and affection within him.

The only sound in the room was the comforting whir and hum of the hairdryer, sending waves of warmth to your head and skin. His legs remained comfortingly on either side of you, and you rested against one, hands fidgeting in your lap.

After a while, he switched the hairdryer off and used the towel to gently dry the water in your ears. He smoothed your hair up into a loose bun before helping you up onto the bed once again.

You immediately burrowed into your pillows, kicking the blankets over yourself.

He sat beside you, stroking your hair.

“I made food, do you want to eat?”

You shook your head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispered. You sensed he was about to get up and quickly grabbed his hand.

“Caleb,” you croaked. “Don’t go.”

What anyone else may have been annoyed with, or held against you, he never did, taking your quick-changing attitude in stride.

He smiled lightly and tightened his hold on your hand for a brief moment. “Don’t worry, pipsqueak, I’m just turning the lights off.”

He returned to the bed once the room had darkened, only the glittering city lights outside providing small light grids around the room.

You both lay under the covers, facing each other. His arm loosely wrapped around your waist, your hands tucked against your chest.

He stroked your waist soothingly and started, “I… know I am the reason for your stress and sadness and-”

You immediately shook your head and buried tighter to his chest, speaking muffled into his shirt.

“No. I mean, yes, but not this… usually I’m fine, but just the past few days I’ve been feeling… I don’t know… and I don’t know why, either. I just want my brain to be quiet.” You were so tired, and it reflected in your hoarse, forlorn voice. You were desperate for some peace, were helpless against this thing that had gripped and trapped you. You felt blocked from any good emotions, wanting to recover them but unable to feel them as you usually could.

You held your head. “It’s so noisy,” your voice cracked, broken. Tears stung your eyes, running down your temples as you peered up at him.

Hold me tighter, and his strong arms immediately squeezed you.

His chest tightened painfully. He wanted to protect you from everything, but how could he solve what you were feeling?

“Can you… stay the weekend?” you murmured.

His lips brushed your forehead. “Of course. I won’t go back to Skyhaven until you feel okay.”

He wanted you to need him, to rely on him, but not like this. He detested this invisible cause of your pain. Hated that he couldn’t see it and feel it in his hands as he rid you of it so you could return to your bouncy self. He would take any arguing over this, would rather be Caleb-the-Loathsome so long as you didn’t lose the spark in your eyes.

Your eyes were already dipping when he spoke again, with a quiet conviction you somehow caught between dreams and reality, his breaths comforting against your hair.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he murmured. “Relax and let go for as long as you need.” You felt the whisper of a light kiss press to your head.

“I have you, always.”

You drifted to sleep.

[abslvrs13]

camp counselor!reader x camp counselor!jj

cw: swearing, smut 18+, p in v, mdni, fluff, soft sex.

THE FIRE CRACKLED SOFTLY IN THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT casting a warm glow over the group of kids huddled around it. the scent of toasted marshmallows and melting chocolate fills the air as you carefully assemble s’mores for the little kids, their sticky hands eagerly reaching for their treats. JJ is sitting beside you on a worn log, leaning forward slightly as he tells a very fake ghost story, his voice dipping low and dramatic for effect. the kids are wide-eyed, hanging onto every word, though a few are clutching their blankets a little tighter, inching closer to one another. "and then," JJ says, pausing for emphasis, "they heard the sound of footsteps… getting closer… and closer…" he tapped his fingers lightly on the log, mimicking footsteps, and a couple of kids jump letting out startled gasps.

you glance at him, holding your laugh as you notice the mix of fear and fascination on their faces. “JJ cut it out,” you say gently, nudging him with your elbow. “you’re scaring them.”

he turns to you with a grin, mischief glinting in his blue eyes. “what? they love it" he says, gesturing to the group, though one of the younger campers is now burying their face in their hands.

“not the ones who are about to cry,” you reply, giving him a pointed look.

JJ holds his hands up in mock surrender, laughing softly. “okay, okay, no more ghost stories. we’ll stick to happy endings and burnt marshmallows from now on,” he says, leaning back and stealing one of the s’mores you just finished making.

“you’re impossible,” you say with a smile, shaking your head as he takes a big bite, crumbs dusting his chin.

as the kids relaxed again, chatting and giggling while they roast their marshmallows, JJ leans closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “guess I’ll just have to make it up to you later,” he says softly, his voice teasing.

...

Thats how you ended up pushed up against the wall of the inventory closet filled with camp supplies, legs wrapped firmly around jj's bare waist. his hand on the soft flesh of your sides. his cock buried deep inside you while he slowly thrust his hips to yours.

"shh..ah, y're so beautiful, gotta be quiet though" at this point, he felt like he was in some dream, he's wanted this for- what? ever since the camp began in june. you whined when he sucked on your pulse point, arching your back when he hit a good spot. "jayjay, hmph.."

"hm, here, here" he lifted his finger, placing the pad of it on your bottom lip, bringing it down before putting it into your mouth. the two of you could not get caught, it'd be a nightmare. you clenched around him, making him groan into the crook of your neck, "gotta stop- doin' that, i'm gonna lose it" his breathing got faster, lower but raspier. you opened your mouth and moaned onto his thumb when he pulled out and slammed back in with more force.

"fuck, fuck-" jj closed his eyes, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead from the tension and force. you shook your head, moving his thumb from your mouth. "m'gonna cum jay!" you nearly shouted but it wasn't loud enough to wake the whole damn camp. "s'okay, s'okay, come for me baby" he cooed, bringing his hand to the top of your head, gently moving his thumb across your sweat forehead.

"hm, c'mere" you spoke softly, reaching your hand to his cheek and connecting lips with his. it was soft, softer than before when it first started. he hummed into the kiss, stilling his cock inside you before he filled you with hot, warm loads of his come, leading you to come all over him while the two of you just kept kissin' and kissin'.

he gently, slowly pulled out before pulling his lips away but not his face. his eyes opening. "y'did so good.." he panted out, reaching down and grabbing the hem of your underwear that was discarded to the floor, lifting it and gently putting them back on. you giggled breathlessly, "thank you, thank you"

he smiled, his bare and sweat glistened chest still slightly heaving with pants. "uhh huh," he cupped your cheek, leaning in to eye level with a deep look in his eye, "i love you, m'kay?, that wasn't a little thing, i don't want it to be little, i really love you,"

you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. "i love you too, jay" he smiled softly, pecking your lips once more before moving away to put his clothes back on. jesus, jj was so so glad john b showed him that camp counselor application.

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART TWELVE

a/n: this is a long one because i realised i accidentally skipped a few chapters of the story, so ive put all of them together 💋

summary: thanos was supposed to ruin you—not fall for you. what started as revenge turned into obsession, jealousy twisting in his gut every time you went back to myung-gi. he doesn’t want to share you. he wants you to be his. but when you finally ask him what he really wants, for the first time, he doesn’t have an answer.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: cheating, swearing, oral (thanos receiving), p in v, car sex

bad investment masterlist

Thanos had seen you that night—pressed up against the car, letting Myung-Gi take you right there, out in the open, where anyone could see. And worse? You enjoyed it.

The way your body arched into him, the way you moaned for him like you meant it—like you actually fucking wanted him.

It pissed Thanos off in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Why the fuck did he care so much? He knew what this was. Knew he was technically sharing you with your boyfriend.

But fuck that.

He didn’t want to share you. Not anymore.

Not with him. Not with anyone.

You weren’t supposed to be letting that loser touch you—not after the way Thanos had touched you. Not after the way you had melted for him, moaned for him, let him ruin you.

That shit was his.

But what did this mean? Thanos had never cared this much about a fucking girl before.

It was annoying. Frustrating. A problem he didn’t know how to solve.

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” Nam-Gyu snorted when Thanos brought up his tangled mess of feelings.

Thanos scoffed. “Jealous of MG Coin?” He let out a sharp laugh. “Why the fuck would I be jealous of him when I fuck his girlfriend?”

Nam-Gyu exhaled a slow stream of vapor, unimpressed. “Because she’s his girlfriend,” he said, like it was obvious. “You’re pissed that you have to share her.”

“I’m not jealous. I don’t get jealous.”

Nam-Gyu raised an eyebrow, taking another drag from his vape. “Then what the fuck are you?” He leaned forward slightly, studying Thanos. “Because last I checked, you were supposed to record a video of you slutting out his girl, but instead, you’ve been dragging it out—fucking her over and over like you don’t actually want to let her go.” He tilted his head. “So if it’s not jealousy, then what is it?”

Thanos clenched his jaw.

Fuck.

Maybe it was jealousy.

“What the fuck do I do then?” Thanos muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Nam-Gyu exhaled slowly, leaning back. “I don’t know, bro,” he shrugged. “What do you even want from her?”

Thanos let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t fucking know.”

Nam-Gyu studied him for a moment before asking, “Are you mad that she’s fucking Myung-Gi? Or would you be pissed if she fucked literally anyone else?”

Thanos paused, rolling the thought around in his head. He knew the answer immediately, but saying it out loud felt like admitting something he wasn’t ready to.

Still, he gritted his teeth and said it anyway.

“Nah. I don’t want her fucking anyone but me.”

Nam-Gyu smirked, tapping his vape against the table. “So… you wanna keep her?”

Thanos scoffed. “She’s not a fucking pet.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nam-Gyu muttered. “You’re acting like some territorial motherfucker who just found out his toy can be taken away.”

Thanos didn’t argue. He didn’t have a defense.

Because he did want to keep you. Maybe not in the traditional sense—not in a boyfriend-girlfriend, let’s-hold-hands-in-public kind of way. But the thought of anyone else having you made his blood fucking boil.

“She wouldn’t leave him for me,” Thanos muttered, almost to himself. “She’s with him for a reason.”

Nam-Gyu raised a brow. “And what if that reason disappeared?”

Thanos looked up. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Nam-Gyu exhaled a slow stream of vapor, watching Thanos with amusement. “I’m just saying… We could kill him.”

Thanos shot him a dry look. “Yeah, genius plan. And then what? Rot in jail?”

Nam-Gyu chuckled. “Relax, man. I’m joking—kind of.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “But for someone who doesn’t do relationships, you’re taking this shit real serious.”

Thanos clenched his jaw. “I never said I wanted a fucking relationship. I just don’t want her with Myung-Gi. Or anyone, for that matter.”

Nam-Gyu let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re gonna steal a girl from her boyfriend, refuse to date her, and still expect her to stay loyal?” He shook his head, smirking. “Yeah, let me know how that works out for you.”

Thanos stayed quiet, jaw tight, Nam-Gyu’s words rattling in his head long after they left his friend’s mouth.

Was he being stupid? Maybe.

But the thought of you with anyone else made his skin crawl. It wasn’t even just Myung-Gi—though that pissed him off the most. The idea of some random asshole having you, touching you, hearing the sounds you made when you came—fuck, it made him sick.

And that was a problem.

Because he wasn’t supposed to care this much. You were just a means to an end. A way to get under Myung-Gi’s skin, to remind him that he wasn’t untouchable. But now? It wasn’t about Myung-Gi anymore. It was about you. About the way you let Thanos take you apart like you were made for him. About the way you looked at him, like you knew exactly what he was doing but still wanted more.

It was fucked up. It was possessive. And it was only getting worse.

If he was smart, he’d record the damn video, drop it in Myung-Gi’s lap, and be done with it.

But Thanos wasn’t feeling very smart these days.

———————

Thanos’ text came through at the worst possible moment. You had been trying to keep it together with Myung-Gi, pretending everything was fine while your mind raced with thoughts of him. The last thing you wanted right now was to face what you were about to do, but there was no avoiding it.

The message was simple: “I’m outside, quickie in the car?”

Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and dread flooding your chest. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before, but this time it felt different. You’d been spending more time with Myung-Gi lately, trying to make the relationship work because, well, you didn’t have much of a choice. Not after he didn’t let you break up with him a few nights ago.

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull towards Thanos. There was something about him—something dangerous, raw, and irresistible.

“Hey,” Myung-Gi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing? You seem kinda off.”

You looked up at him, forcing a smile. “Nothing, just tired. I’m fine.”

But the lie didn’t come as easily as it once did. He didn’t seem to buy it either, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you.

“I don’t know…” He hesitated, but then continued. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Is it because of what happened the other night? Are you thinking of dumping me again?” His voice was low, almost playful, but you knew him too well. His paranoia was surfacing.

“No, Myung-Gi,” you said quickly, a little too quickly, even to your own ears. “It’s just work stressing me out.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he shrugged it off. “Alright, but if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, and his attention returned to his phone as he laid back on the couch. Your eyes flickered back to your phone screen, and there it was again—the message from Thanos, blinking in your notifications.

“I’m outside, quickie in the car?”

You wanted to say no. You should say no. But you could feel the temptation gnawing at you. You had told yourself before this—Thanos—was just a phase. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You were craving something more, you had been long before you met Thanos. Craving something Thanos could give you, and Myung-Gi never would.

You glanced over at Myung-Gi, still distracted by his phone. He hadn’t looked at you the same way in a while. Maybe he knew you were pulling away, maybe he didn’t. Either way, you had a chance—just a little one.

You stood up, pulling your phone out of your pocket, debating what to do. You didn’t have an excuse prepared. He’d never let you leave this apartment without a reason.

Think fast.

But then, in the back of your mind, you knew what to say. The lie was simple, easy enough to sell.

“I’m just going to grab something from my car,” you said, your voice casual, as if you did this every day. “Be back in a minute.”

Myung-Gi barely looked up. “Alright, just don’t take too long.”

You nodded, relief flooding you. You grabbed your keys and slipped out the door before he could say anything else, the weight of the moment settling in as you made your way down the stairs.

By the time you reached the car, your heart was racing, but there was no turning back now.

You opened the door to Thanos’ car without hesitation. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed you. No words were needed. You didn’t even need to say anything—he already knew.

The second you slid into the passenger seat, Thanos could already see it in your eyes—you needed it.

“Lock the door,” he muttered, barely getting the words out before you were climbing over the console, straddling his lap like you had no time to waste.

“Missed you,” you whispered, lips grazing his neck as you rolled your hips against him, and fuck, he could feel how warm you were even through your clothes.

But all he could think about was what he’d seen the other night. You against Myung-Gi’s car, letting him fuck you right there in public like you didn’t have a damn ounce of shame.

It made his blood boil.

“Yeah? You missed me?” He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you back so you were looking him in the eye. “That why you let him fuck you against his car like some cheap slut?”

Your eyes widened, lips parting like you wanted to deny it, but you didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, you just whimpered, your thighs squeezing around him.

Thanos scoffed. His other hand slid between your legs, pressing against your cunt through your shorts. “Bet you didn’t suck him off first, though. Bet you don’t get on your knees for him.”

His fingers curled, dragging the fabric tighter against you, making you gasp.

He smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He let go of your hair, pushing his seat right back, shoving you down onto your knees between his legs. The car was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, but he could still see the desperation in your eyes as you fumbled with his belt, like you were starving for it.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, leaning back as you freed his cock, your breath warm against his skin. He grabbed the back of your head, guiding you down. “Come on, señorita. Show me how much you missed me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

The second your lips wrapped around him, he groaned, his grip tightening in your hair.

“That’s right,” he murmured, watching as you took more of him, your tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. “Bet you didn’t look this pretty for him, huh? Bet you didn’t let him fuck your throat like this.”

You moaned around him, sending a shiver up his spine. His jaw clenched.

He hated the thought of you with Myung-Gi. Hated the way he saw you against that car, taking him like you liked it. Like you actually enjoyed letting that loser use you.

But this? Right here? This was his.

He tugged you off him, your lips glossy, your breath heavy. “Look at you,” he sneered, thumb swiping at the spit on your chin. “So fucking eager. Do I make you feel that good, baby? Or do you just like being treated like a slut?”

You licked your lips, eyes hooded. “Both.”

His cock twitched. “Fuck,” he exhaled, tilting your chin up.

He fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a condom. “Come here.”

He pulled you back onto his lap, yanking your shorts to the side, not even bothering to take them off. He was too impatient for that.

He lined himself up, teasing your entrance, making you whimper.

“Go on,” he rasped. “Show me who you really belong to.”

Thanos barely gave you a second to adjust before snapping his hips up, burying himself deep inside you. You choked out a moan, hands flying to his shoulders as you tried to keep yourself steady.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands gripping your waist, forcing you to take every inch. “You take anything I give you with a smile on your fucking face, don’t you?”

You could barely respond, your mind clouded with pleasure as he fucked up into you, the car rocking slightly with each thrust. Your fingers dug into his arms, nails raking over his skin.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as he watched your face, loving how wrecked you looked already. “Tell me, baby—am I better fuck?”

You whimpered, nodding your head.

“That’s what I thought,” he sneered, smacking your ass, making you jolt. “Poor guy probably thinks he’s got you all to himself, huh? Thinks you’re his loyal little girlfriend while you’re down here letting me fuck you in my car.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the sheer filth of it making your walls tighten around him.

Thanos smirked. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He pressed his forehead against yours, hips snapping harder, making you cry out. “Fucking whore, getting off on cheating on him.”

You barely had time to react when he suddenly stilled. His grip on your waist tightened, and his eyes flicked past you, narrowing.

Then, before you could even ask what was wrong, your phone lit up on the dashboard.

Where the fuck are you?

Your stomach dropped.

Thanos exhaled a sharp laugh, nodding toward the window. “Look who’s looking for you, señorita.”

You twisted your head, heart pounding as you saw Myung-Gi wandering around the parking lot, his phone in his hand, his head on a swivel.

“Shit,” you whispered, ducking down, pressing your forehead against Thanos’ shoulder.

He hummed, smug. “You gonna sneak back upstairs, or risk getting caught with my dick inside you, hmm?”

You cursed under your breath, snatching your phone off the dashboard, fingers flying as you typed out the first excuse you could think of.

‘Went to grab a coffee, be back soon.’

You hit send, praying he wouldn’t question it.

Thanos chuckled darkly, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you back up to look at him.

“You really think he’s gonna buy that?”

You swallowed, feeling your phone buzz again. Myung-Gi’s reply popped up.

‘Hurry up.’

You sighed in relief.

Thanos smirked. “Guess you got away with it this time.”

Then, before you could even breathe, he gripped your hips and thrust.

You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he started fucking up into you again, harder this time, his grip bruising.

“But next time, baby?” His lips brushed your ear, his voice low and full of promise.

“I might just want you to get caught.”

———————

The bass thumped deep in your chest, neon lights flashing overhead as you weaved through the packed bodies of Club Pentagon. You could already feel the heat of the night clinging to your skin, your blood buzzing from the drinks you’d downed, the energy in the club electric.

But none of that had you on edge.

No, it was him.

Thanos had been watching you since the second you stepped inside. His gaze had burned through the crowd, dragging over your body like a physical touch, making you hyperaware of every inch of skin your dress left exposed.

And the best part?

This time, you told him you’d be here.

It wasn’t like the other nights where he just showed up out of nowhere, finding you when you swore you’d been careful. No, you sent him the text. You told him Myung-Gi wouldn’t be here.

And Thanos had made damn sure to take you up on the invitation.

Now, he leaned against the bar, watching you from across the room with that lazy, half-lidded look that made your stomach twist. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t flirting with anyone else—he was just standing there, waiting.

Waiting for you.

Your fingers tightened around your glass, your pulse hammering in your throat as you turned back to your friend, pretending like you weren’t about to do something reckless.

But you could feel him.

Feel his gaze tracing the hem of your dress. Feel the way his jaw tensed when you laughed at something your friend said. Feel the heat of his stare as you threw back the rest of your drink, a silent challenge sparking in your chest.

You ran a hand through your hair, tilting your head just enough to catch his eye across the dance floor. Your lips curved into a small, knowing smirk before you turned away, pushing deeper into the crowd.

It didn’t take long.

Within seconds, you felt him behind you.

His chest brushed your back, his hands sliding low over your waist, fingers pressing into your hips as he leaned in close.

“Real cute,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm. “Trying to make me come find you.”

Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you rolled your hips back against him, feeling the sharp inhale he took behind you.

“Didn’t have to look very hard, did you?”

His fingers tightened, and you barely had a second to catch your breath before he spun you around, pressing your back against the wall beside the DJ booth.

His hands flattened against the wall on either side of your head, his body crowding into yours, and suddenly, the music felt muffled.

All you could hear was him.

“You did this on purpose,” he said, his voice low.

Your lips parted, heat curling in your stomach at the intensity in his eyes. “Did what?”

His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he glanced down at your dress. “This. Wearing that. Telling me you’d be here.”

You exhaled a slow breath, tilting your chin up. “Maybe.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. “You know I can’t keep my hands to myself when you pull shit like this.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Thanos cursed under his breath, his restraint snapping as he grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your breath hitched, your hands sliding up his chest as he dipped his head, his lips ghosting over yours. “I should make you pay for that little stunt you pulled at the bar,” he murmured. “Acting like I wasn’t gonna come claim you the second I saw you.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt, heart racing. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His smirk was downright lethal.

Then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

His lips crashed into yours, all tongue and teeth and need, and you gasped, your back arching against the wall as his hands gripped your ass, lifting you just enough to feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh.

It was reckless. It was stupid.

And you didn’t give a single fuck.

Your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer, drinking in the way he groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just how he liked.

The music pounded around you, the crowd oblivious, but you could feel eyes on you.

And you liked it.

Thanos broke the kiss just long enough to nip at your jaw, his teeth grazing your pulse. “Tell me to stop,” he muttered against your skin.

You didn’t.

Instead, you rolled your hips against him, chasing the friction. “I don’t want you to stop.”

His breath hitched, his grip tightening. “Fuck,” he growled. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, angel.”

A shiver ran through you at the pet name, but before you could respond—

A movement caught your eye.

Across the room, a familiar face turned in your direction, his brow furrowing.

Your stomach plummeted.

One of Myung-Gi’s friends.

Fuck.

Thanos followed your gaze, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Who’s that?” he murmured, his tone suddenly sharp, all the teasing from earlier gone.

You swallowed hard, trying not to panic. “One of Myung-Gi’s friends,” you whispered, your nails digging into the front of Thanos’ shirt. “I’m so fucked.”

Thanos’ jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the guy’s movements.

The friend wasn’t looking directly at you anymore, but he had definitely seen something. He wasn’t heading for you—not yet—but he was still in the club, still close.

“Is it bad that part of me wants him to find out?” you said, voice barely cutting through the pounding bass.

Thanos’ brows pulled together, his grip on your waist tightening. “The fuck are you talking about?”

You exhaled, glancing away. “I tried to break up with him.”

His expression shifted, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Figured if I’m cheating on him, I shouldn’t be with him, right?” You let out a humorless laugh. “But he wouldn’t let me.”

Thanos’ face hardened. “What do you mean, wouldn’t let you?”

You swallowed, shrugging like it was nothing, even though you could feel the way Thanos’ body tensed. “I don’t know… he just talked me out of it. Made me feel bad.”

Thanos scoffed, shaking his head. “He talked you out of it?” His voice was laced with irritation. “So what—you tell him you’re done, and he gives you some sob story, and now you can’t leave?”

You stayed quiet.

That was exactly what had happened.

Thanos let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “That’s fucking cute.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a goddamn idiot.” His hand slid lower on your waist, fingers digging in possessively. “You think he gets to decide whether or not you leave him? That’s not how this works, baby.”

You exhaled sharply, glancing around, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were to him, how easily his body caged you in. “It’s not that simple—”

“It is that simple,” he interrupted. “You don’t want him? Fucking leave him.” He tilted his head, eyes flicking down to your lips before dragging back up. “You wanna keep sneaking around with me, or you wanna be mine for real?”

Your stomach flipped, pulse hammering in your ears. You knew he wasn’t asking because he was some lovesick fool.

You didn’t answer, and Thanos exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s what I thought.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Then at least act like you belong to me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

“So what?” you challenged, crossing your arms. “I dump him, and then what? You gonna play boyfriend? We gonna play house?”

Thanos tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You wanna play house, baby?” he hummed.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I want to know what the fuck you really want from me.” Your voice was sharp, demanding, but beneath it, there was something else—something unsure. “Because I know you don’t actually care about me, so what is it, Thanos? What do you really want?”

Thanos looked at you—really looked at you.

This was supposed to be for revenge. That was the whole fucking point. Get close to you, fuck with Myung-Gi’s head, then ruin him. Simple.

But staring at you now, with that fire in your eyes, the way you challenged him like no one else did, he didn’t know what the fuck this was anymore.

This was messy. He was messy.

Because if this was just about revenge, why did it feel like his stomach was in knots every time you spoke? Why did he hate the idea of you leaving Myung-Gi only to be with someone else? Why did he keep pushing, pulling, keeping you close instead of just taking what he needed and leaving?

Why did it feel like no matter how much he touched you, it was never enough?

Thanos exhaled, his jaw tight. He wanted to say something cocky, something smooth, but the words didn’t come. Because for once in his fucking life, he didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know.”

[youbitchuh]

Ridin Hamzah’s In Hawaii

fluff fluff and fluff :)

There is swear words tho!

(obviously theres gonna be smut in future stories i mean the title)

Hamzah x Reader (no mentions of y/n)

9:34am

The sound of Mandy constantly turning and sighing next to me was getting exaggerating, I know that this is just her way of asking me to get up without actually asking. I turn and face her and stay silent, she gives me a grin

“Hamzah was talking about you to Martin last night…i heard him” she says as her voice gets higher pitched with her last couple of words.

“Was he now…cool” I pretend to be cool by shrugging it off, “no big deal” I say as I sit up next to her. Pretending to not be absolutely in love with your best-friends boyfriend’s best-friend is so so hard and so draining..especially when you spend basically every minute together.

——————————————————————10:46am

I pop my lips and fix up my hair before exiting the bathroom. “how is my outfit?” I ask Mandy as she spins around on her heels to face me. I watch as her face lights up.

“Girl you look so cute” She exclaims as she walks closer to me, “and what about mwah” she says placing her hands on her chest to show off her outfit.

“You’re so gorgeous Mandy” I say with a pout.

*knock knock*

“Ill get it” Mandy says as she walks past me darting for our hotel door, “Oh hi Hamzah” She says almost upset that it wasn’t her boyfriend. My eyes dart up at the name “Are you two almost ready?” He says in a low tone, Mandy looks back at me sitting on the bed and nods. I grab the rest of my shit and start making my way to the door. I take in Hamzahs features, his curls, his smile, his nose. I smile at him awkwardly and stand with him. I clear my throat as I try to ignore the fact that I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face.

———————————————————————1:57pm

I take a sip of my cocktail as I look over the bars balcony view of the beach, Mandy and Martin fucked off to God knows where and who the hell knows where Hamzah is. My trance is suddenly disrupted as a figure sits next to me. Its Hamzah.

“Hey” he says in a cheery tone watching me immediately straighten my posture.

“Oh hi..” I say trying to act unbothered, in reality im really nervous i mean ive known this guy for over a year and we have barley exchanged words with eachother but i still feel like i know everything about him. I face him and give him a soft smile.

“Where were you?” I ask curious of his were-abouts.

“Why did you miss me?” Hamzah jokes with a slight teasing tone, “Nah im kidding i was just walking along the beach it is very beautiful” he says as he grabs his hat and places it on his head. Who does that? He looks so beautiful like that.

“Ohh nice nice, I mean I haven’t really left the bar because I’ve just been alone” I look at him as he lets out a stiff laugh at my comment.

“I might go down to the beach again though.. you should come with me” Hamzah suggests as he puts his pointer finger on my shoulder acting like he just changed the way the world moved.

————————————————————————

2:30pm

“Oh my God” I say loudly with a loud laugh as I trip on the sand for the fifth time. I fix myself up and continue to laugh as Hamzah cant seem to stop. I hit his shoulder “Its not that funny…stop” I say in between laughs. We take a deep breath and continue walking in silence just taking in the view, over time we got closer together his arm brushing against mine and our shoulders kept bumping into eachother. I feel him look down at me as he grabs my hand and puts it in his. A flush of red rises on my cheeks as I look up at him and give me a smile. “You know I was talking about you to Martin last night?” He says almost like a suggestion, he purses his lips as he waits for my response.

There was now a sudden thick tension in the air. I don’t know what it was but there was something there. I mean there always is for me anyway but now I feel like that barrier of not being able to be on him is gone.

“Yeah I do know actually” I laugh, hes pulling me away to go sit at some chairs that overlook the beach. “Mandy told me this morning” I say as we sit down. My heart is racing I mean this is the first time I have ever been alone with him.

“I told him how I think you are beautiful” I look at him and smile at his words. He gives me a smile as I watch him take in my features. “I also told him how I think you’re really cool… and funny… I was gonna say smart but that would’ve been a lie no offence” I look at him and place my hand on my chest and scoff.

“Wow im offended” I say as I roll my eyes but laugh at his comment. I look back up at him “I think you are beautiful too”.

————————————————————————

10:06pm

We are all sitting on the beach having a bonfire, Mandy and Martin keep telling some story on what happened while they went off for the day, I didn’t care I was so focused on how beautiful Hamzah looked with the fire glowing onto his face.. he looks so different in this light and im not complaining.

“Hes so beautiful” Mandy snaps her head towards me “Who is?? huh??” I look back at her “What do you mean?” She leans closer to me “you didnt say that in your head..” I widen my eyes and look at Hamzah whos running his hands through his curls, his face is flushed almost like he was happy I said it.

Me and Hamzah didn’t speak to eachother since we went for a walk together, it would’ve been awkward if we did. My feelings towards him are becoming so much more noticeable and I hate it.

————————��———————————————

12:26am

Ive been sitting in the hotel room for over an hour now, I excused myself because me calling Hamzah beautiful out loud made me feel sick,but why? I said it to his face, was it the fact that I’ve now let myself feel vulnerable because I said it infront of my friends?

*knock knock knock*

Im suddenly disrupted out of my thoughts

“Hold on im coming” I say as I straighten my outfit and walk towards to door. Its Hamzah, I clear my throat as I look up at him.

“Uh hey..can we talk?” He motions towards me and lets himself inside. I shut the door behind him and follow him over to the bed.

“Look I don’t know why I said that out loud, I feel so stupid and I looked vulnerable I never meant to say it, I felt like I embarrassed you more than I did myself and I just wanted to say Im sor-”.

My word were cut off by Hamzahs soft lips attaching themselves onto mine.

“Dont”

“Worry”

“About”

“It”

He says inbetween kisses, his hand makes his way to my face, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear not breaking the kiss. This was so passionate every single second of it felt like heaven, my hands started wondering over his body landing on his chest, hot and flushed. The feeling of his chest rising and falling between every kiss was magical. My face becoming more flushed as our tongues danced together. I start pushing on his chest as a sign to stop. I look at him taking in deep breaths. No words exchanged. Just living in the moment.

————————————————————————

2:45am

Deep breaths and slight snores fill the room. My hand lays on Hamzahs chest as he sleeps away, my eyes suddenly dart over towards the door as Mandy makes her way through it…loudly and clearly drunk. She spots me and Hamzah cuddling on the only bed in the room.

“Awww so cute” she slurs as she points to the two of us. I put my finger up to my lips at an attempt to silence her as she walks closer to the side im lying on. “Im just gonna go sleep in Martins room..” She whispers in my ear. I nod her off and watch as she walks away, “Use protection Mandy!” I whisper shout as she gets closer to the door, she turns around “you too!” I chuckle to myself.

Well this is gonna be awkward when he wakes up..

————————————————————————

Tags:

[the-most-humble-blog]

Female Hypergamy 101: Why Women Go for the “Misogynists” They Claim to Despise

It’s not misogyny if she’s into it.

Modern feminism has a huge problem—and it’s not misogynists.

It’s the women who secretly (or blatantly) want them.

For all the outrage, pearl-clutching, and Twitter thread dissertations about men like Andrew Tate being “dangerous,” women keep proving, time and time again, that they want exactly this type of man.

And not just want. Chase. Obsess over. Fight for.

Because here’s the truth they don’t want to admit:

👉 Hypergamy runs the show.

👉 Women date up, not down.

👉 And they don’t give a fuck if that "up" comes wrapped in a leather jacket of blatant, unapologetic misogyny.

📌 The Hypergamy Effect: Women Date Up, Not Down

First, let’s define hypergamy for the chronically uneducated.

💡 Hypergamy is the biological and social tendency of women to seek men who outrank them in status, power, and resources.

It’s not a choice. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s evolution.

📊 David Buss, a leading evolutionary psychologist, found in his 2019 study that across all cultures, women overwhelmingly prefer men with: ✔ More money ✔ More social dominance ✔ More ambition ✔ More physical presence

Not "equal." More.

Sound familiar?

Why do you think women flood Tate’s DMs despite his reputation?

Why do you think feminists cry about him online while secretly watching his videos in the dark like it’s porn?

It’s because hypergamy doesn’t give a fuck about ideology.

It only cares about status.

📌 The Data: Women Are Attracted to “High-Status” Men—Even If They Hate Them

If hypergamy wasn’t real, we wouldn’t have study after study proving it.

📊 A 2012 study by Fieder & Huber analyzed the dating preferences of thousands of women and found that:

✔ Women consistently rated men with high status, wealth, and dominance as more attractive—even if their personalities were “problematic.” ✔ They found high-status "assholes" more desirable than low-status "nice guys." ✔ Women repeatedly rejected men who had lower incomes or weaker social positions.

Translation? They can call it misogyny all they want. Their biology doesn’t care.

Even better? They are sexually aroused by it.

🧠 A 2008 study by Rupp & Wallen found that when exposed to dominant, "socially aggressive" men, women experienced higher physiological arousal than when exposed to "kind, nurturing" men.

You read that right.

They get turned on by the men they claim to despise.

📌 Tate’s DMs: The Leaked Receipts of Female Hypergamy

Still skeptical? Let’s talk about the actual receipts.

📂 Leaked screenshots from Tate’s personal messages—while he was actively being accused of misogyny and human trafficking—showed women flooding his inbox begging for attention.

Not just fans. Not just “lost, brainwashed” women.

We’re talking: ✔ Self-proclaimed feminists asking for his approval. ✔ "Anti-Tate" women secretly flirting with him. ✔ Women offering themselves up, unprompted, despite “hating” him.

So tell me again how “no woman wants a misogynist?”

Because Tate’s inbox tells a different story.

📌 Why Women Love What They “Hate”

💡 Women don’t actually want equality in dating.

They want status, power, and the thrill of dominance.

✔ They call Tate misogynistic, yet can’t stop talking about him. ✔ They say they want a “nice, emotionally available man” while chasing the very men they complain about. ✔ They "despise" male arrogance while drooling over men who treat them like an afterthought.

Hypergamy is undefeated.

And every outraged feminist tweet about Tate? Every think-piece about why he’s "problematic?"

It’s just free advertising for the exact type of man they can’t resist.

📌 Final Thought: The Lie of "Nice Guys Finish First"

Feminists say they want a world where men are gentle, kind, and respectful.

Yet they date the opposite.

They hate the men they want.

They date the men they claim to hate.

And when the receipts come out? They scramble for excuses.

Because no woman wants to admit that biology will always outrank ideology.

💀 REBLOG if the truth burns. 🔥 LIKE if you see hypergamy play out in real life. 💬 COMMENT if you’ve watched women contradict themselves like Olympic-level gymnasts. 🚀 FOLLOW for brutal, fact-driven breakdowns that hurt the weak.

[zourrystylinson]

28th february fic rec!

so very excited for the 28op drop!!!!

i miss you, i'm sorry (2K) by leivol6

Louis spends some time with zayn in his hotel room after his LA show. they smoke. they fuck.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

love of my life (80K) by likelarry | @likelarryfics

Harry is 36 and recently divorced after he's finally come to terms with his sexuality.

Louis is the 28 year old who helps him find his way and is everything Harry has ever dreamt of.

The one where Harry struggles to really accept who he is and Louis is there every step of the way.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wildflower (112K) by blueskiesrry | @blueskiesrry

“You look like a wildflower,” Louis comments, shielding his eyes from the sun, the crinkles near them even more prominent in this light.

“What?” Harry’s words stumble over a surprised laugh.

“With your hair all fluffy like that.”

Harry’s fingers automatically find their way into his hair as he silently curses the humidity out on the water.

“He kind of does, doesn’t he?” Elizabeth adds.

Louis tilts his head to the side, smile softening and blurred around the edges. “Our very own long-stemmed wildflower.”

-

or: a 1950s hollywood story spanning half a decade where harry and louis are constantly growing towards, away from, & around each other and everything harry wants are things he can’t have.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tattoos and Temptations (67K) by refusethyname | @gonebylouist

“Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.”

Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck.

“You’re the one winding me up.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Can we please get back to Loving (5K) by umbroshirt

Harry's mad and Louis doesn't know why.

Or, the silent treatment fic I thought of the second Written All Over Your Face came out

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Remember Me Before You (293K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

Desperate to find a new place to live after he comes home to find his boyfriend cheating, Harry moves into a loft with three strangers.

A New Girl AU.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Fragments of Forgotten Lives (160K) by freakingmeout | @freakingmeout28

Louis has been missing for over a year, but the first thing he remembers is waking up just a few weeks ago. Everything before that is a blur - no memory of where he’s been or who he was. Now, trying to rebuild his life in Manchester, he finds solace in therapy and a deepening connection with a fellow survivor.

When Harry, a stranger to Louis but someone from his forgotten past, recognises him on the street, everything shifts. Despite the amnesia, something about Harry feels familiar, like a lifeline. As fragments of his lost memories begin to resurface in vivid, unsettling nightmares, Louis clings to the comfort Harry brings. Together, they embark on a journey to uncover the truth of his missing year, unlocking hidden secrets, unspoken bonds, and a past that refuses to stay buried.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

[series] such a beautiful dream (112K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

“I had a sex dream about Harry.” Louis slapped his free hand over his mouth after the words slipped out.

Zayn paused, his hand freezing as he was about to take a bite, his head snapping up to look at Louis. Louis could relate, it’s how he’d felt that morning after he’d woken up. He’d laid in bed for fifteen minutes trying to figure out what had happened, why it had turned him on so much, and then patiently waiting for his erection to go down.

“Like… my Niall’s Harry? Harry Styles?” Zayn clarified, his face bewildered as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. “Do you even like Harry?”

“His last name is Styles?”

or Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

I Could Fall In Love With You (55K) by tippitytap

If Louis were asked to describe Harry's role in his life, the answer would have always been quite simple: best friend.

Since last year, the answer might have also been: housemate and co-parent to the cats.

What Louis didn't think would ever happen was that the answer would one day change to: the man he was falling deeply in love with.

or: Right at the beginning of a nationwide lockdown might be the worst time to fall in love with your childhood best friend and housemate. But if Louis knew one thing, it was that Harry and he would always find a way through life together.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

I Can Pull It Together (6K) by louislittletomlintum | @louislittletomlintum

Harry's eyes drifted to where Louis’ arms were slung over the back rim of the spa, exposing his underarms again. This time his fine hair was more apparent, wet from the spa and curling a little where some droplets of water hung.

Harry wanted to lick them.

He blushed almost instantly when the thought came through his brain, hoping it wasn’t obvious and that the general heat on his face would disguise his embarrassment. He’d never thought anything like that before.

or the one where Harry accidentally discovers a new part of Louis he really, really loves.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Le Sol De La Chambre (60K) by Fandom_Larry

Louis owns a boudoir business. Harry wants some pictures. What happens when an innocent omega ends up posing for an overly handsome alpha? They end up on the bedroom floor.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

💸 -> visual of my wallet after this 28op drop

stat time!

1,095,493 words read (-35% than last month)

19 fics read (-21% less than last month)

19 authors (-5% less than last month)

feel free to send me an ask if you have read a fic ive recommended! i'd love to talk about the fic with you <3

[syrma-sensei]

→ Godless.

Pairing: William “Billy” Butcher x Fem!reader.

Summary: In his godless world, he yearns for something divine.

Rating: Mature.

Setting: Season 4.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional agnst.

The night shift at Starlight House is supposed to be quiet. Kids are already asleep, the halls dimly lit, and the only sounds are the occasional creak of the old floorboards. You are just finishing up—shutting off lights, making sure everything is locked up—when a familiar knock echoed through the front doors. Hard. Impatient.

You already know who it is before you open it.

Billy Butcher stands there, looking every bit the man who doesn't belong in a place like this. He smells like whiskey and gunpowder, his knuckles bruised, his jaw clenched tight like he’d just come from a fight. And, as always, Terror is right beside him, wagging his tail.

You crossed your arms. “Jesus, Butcher. You could’ve just texted.”

“Ain’t got the patience for that.” His eyes flicked over you, taking in the soft Starlight House sweatshirt you wore over your tank top, the hint of warmth and comfort he probably can't stand. “Terror needed a walk. Figured I’d let ‘im see his favorite bird.”

You roll your eyes but reach down to scratch behind the dog’s ears anyway. “You mean I’m your free dog sitter.”

Butcher smirks, stepping inside without asking. “That too.”

You shake your head with a small smile.

You've known Billy for almost five months now. You met him at the Filtatron Building when you had to drop by to give Annie some paperwork for the shelter’s funding. He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, looking about five seconds away from bashing someone's head. You hadn’t thought much of him at first. Just another gruff asshole with a chip on his shoulder. But you're nothing if not curious. So, you asked Annie who the hell he was when she visited the House the other day, and she told you his miserable story.

You still get sick in the stomach when you your mind puts you in his shoes.

You sigh. “You wanna tell me why you’re really here?”

You know why he is here.

Butcher gives you a look—half amusement, half something else you couldn’t quite place. “What, a bloke can’t drop by for a friendly visit?”

You snort. “You don’t do friendly visits. Are you here to help?”

Terror woofs at you, demanding more headpats which you give him. Butcher, meanwhile, scans the quiet, dimly lit space from his spot.

“Still reckon this place is a waste of time,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes, already used to his shit. “Because helping kids is such a terrible thing?”

He does answer right away. Just shrugs, stepping closer. “World’s fucked, luv. You can’t save ‘em all.”

“Maybe not,” you shoot back. “But I can damn well try.” Like how you're trying to save Ryan. You think but you bite your tongue. You learnt to. It gets ugly when someone reminds him that his wife's son prefers Homelander over him. The boy is oblivious to his father's true nature, and Billy wasn't really kind to him the last two times he saw him. The first he told him to fuck off for killing Becca, and the second he literally was going to kill his fucking dad in front of his eyes. Which didn't settle well with the kid.

“Be that as it may…” Billy clicks his tongue, “Can we skip to the part where we fuck eachother’s brains out, luv?”

In another time, his crass words would've made you flinch. But not anymore. You’ve grown accustomed to his rough edges, even found a strange comfort in them. There’s something about the way he says it, something in his voice that makes your pulse pick up, makes your skin tingle with that mixture of irritation and desire you can never quite shake when he’s around.

So, you comply. You check on everything before you're off with him to your place.

Sex with Billy Butcher is never sweet. He fucks you with raw, desperate, almost angry need. When he manhandles you, his touch is rough and bruising and demanding like he's taking it out on you as if you're the one who killed his wife.

Why do we do this if you love her so much? You want to ask him, but you never do. Because you know that would screw it up on you.

Afterwards, Billy lays on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it had all the answers to the shitstorm in his head. You can still feel his heartbeat slowing beneath your palm, his skin warm from the afterglow.

For once, he isn't in a hurry to leave. He doesn't usually stay after sex. But you won't complain.

Billy keeps his gaze on the ceiling, his mind drifting away from the intimacy of the moment though he grows to love it.

God, the fucking cunt. Did He really place you in his way to discourage him from pursuing his path of vengeance any further?

He scoffs, well He’s doing a shitty job of it. Because he doesn't, by any chance, harbour any ounce of emotions for you. Aside from your sex appeal, he has nothing to do with you.

Then why do you keep wanting to see her?

A voice akin to Becca's taunts him.

Well, I'm fucking dying anyway. He tries to justify. Might as well fuckin’ enjoy the hell road.

But a knife of guilt stabs his chest. He uses you for pleasure but he knows you're more than that. He finds serenity within his soul when he's with you. For brief, fleeting moments, the searing fire in his heart that urges him for a revenge smoulders away when you beam at him and he hates you for that.

He gazes down at you while you trace lazy circles over his chest.

Such a sweet little thing, he thinks. But sweet things break easily in this world. Like it did his brother. Like it did his wife. Like it did him.

He doesn't deserve you. He isn't worthy of an angel, a goddess like you.

Then why am I here? He asks himself.

“Do you ever think the big cunt is somewhere up there?” He mutters absentmindedly.

You chuckle, looking up at him, “I don't know…”

He snickers, “You don't believe in the invisible cunt, I take it?”

You snort, “I don't really care if He or She or They exist.”

“Then why do you have a kind heart and do what you do?”

You prop yourself up on your arm, “I do it because I believe it is the right thing to do, not because some bearded old daddy in the sky says what I should do.”

He raises a brow, “Well, here's what I think, luv—”

You silence him with a finger on his lips, “I know that the world is cruel and meaningless, but it is also…” You smile, eyes holding his, “A beautiful place…”

Mine was beautiful when I had Becca. He muses, and an inner voice adds, Is beautiful when I have you.

He shakes his head.

“Might as well you enjoy the ride, Billy.” You pat his chest gently.

Before he can push the subject, a wet, sloppy sound fills the air, followed by a familiar snuffling noise.

You both turn your heads toward the bedroom door—where Terror is sitting, watching you with his big, dumb dog grin, happily licking his own balls.

Butcher groaned. “Christ, mate, bit of fuckin’ privacy?”

Terror, completely unbothered, lets out a contented huff and plops onto the floor, still going at it.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a laugh. "You sure know how to ruin a moment, huh?"

Butcher grumbles something under his breath, shoving a pillow over his face. "Next time, we’re locking the bloody door."

Unable to withhold it, a roaring chortle bursts out of your lungs. Your lilt sound caresses Billy’s ear like a feather.

You sigh against his chest, your body warm and relaxed, but he feels anything but.

He should leave. Should throw on his clothes, mutter some half-assed excuse, and get the fuck out before this turns into something it shouldn’t.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets his fingers trail absentmindedly down your back, feeling the slow rise and fall of your breath.

“You always this cuddly after sex?” you murmur, voice teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Butcher snorts. “Yeah, ‘m a real softie.”

You hum, tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Silence settles between you, heavy with unspoken things. He can feel you watching him, waiting for something he can’t give.

So he does what he does best. He deflects.

“Reckon Terror’s traumatized now,” he grumbles, jerking his chin toward the dog, who has finally abandoned his self-care and curled up on the floor.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You think this is the worst thing he’s seen? He lives with you.”

He smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You notice. Of course, you do. You always fucking notice.

“Billy…” you start, voice softer now, like you’re stepping carefully around whatever mess is inside his head. “Why do you keep coming back?”

He stiffens.

Because it’s easy? Because you’re good at what you do? Because he likes the way you feel, warm and alive beneath him?

All bullshit.

The real answer sits heavy on his tongue, bitter and unspoken.

Because when he’s with you, the fire in his gut—the one that’s been burning ever since Becca died—dims just enough for him to breathe.

And that scares the fuck out of him.

You let the silence stretch between you, waiting, hoping he’ll say something. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls you closer, his breath warm against your temple, his arms a little too tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.

Your fingers skim lightly over his side. “You never answer the hard questions, do you?”

Butcher huffs, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Don’t see the point, luv. Ain’t gonna change a damn thing.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chin resting on his chest. “You sure about that?”

His jaw clenches. He hates when you do this—when you peel back the layers he’s spent years building, exposing the raw, ugly things underneath. But he can’t bring himself to push you away.

Instead, he sighs, his fingers trailing up your spine, slow and deliberate. “What d’you want me to say, huh? That I like this?” His voice drops, something dangerous curling at the edges. “That I like you?”

Your breath catches. You weren’t expecting him to say it, not out loud, not like this.

And for a second, you see it—the truth he’s been trying so hard to bury.

But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. His expression shutters, that familiar guardedness slipping back into place.

He shakes his head, scoffing at himself. “Don’t mean a bloody thing.”

You exhale sharply, rolling onto your back beside him, staring at the ceiling. “If it doesn’t mean anything, then why are you still here?”

Because you're a good fuck and I'm much of an arsehole to take advantage of it. He wants to crudely tell you, to convince you, to convince himself that you're nothing but that.

But the words don’t come out.

Instead, Billy lies there, jaw tight, staring at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers he doesn’t have. He wants to say it—wants to be cruel, to shut this down before it turns into something he can’t control. But when he glances at you, at the way your brows pinch together, at the soft rise and fall of your breath, something in his chest pulls tight.

He swallows hard, lets out a low, bitter chuckle. “Fuck if I know.”

You huff out a laugh, but it’s humorless. “Bullshit.”

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to smirk, but the weight in his chest is too heavy. He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow, watching you. “You really wanna have this chat right now?”

Your eyes flick toward him, searching, challenging. “I just wanna know why you keep coming back.”

Billy looks at you for a long moment, like he’s trying to piece together an answer that won’t make him feel like a fucking idiot. He could lie. He should lie. But something about the way you’re looking at him makes it impossible.

Finally, he sighs, running a rough hand over his face. “You make me forget.” His voice is quieter now, like he hates admitting it. “For a little while, anyway.”

You hold his gaze. “Forget what?”

His throat bobs, his expression unreadable. And then, finally, he mutters, “Everything.”

The weight of that single word settles between you like a heavy fog. You should say something, maybe press him for more, but you don’t. Because you get it. Maybe more than he realizes.

So instead, you shift closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart beats strong beneath your palm, steady but guarded, just like him.

“You don’t have to forget,” you say softly. “You just have to stop running.”

Billy scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah? And what happens when I stop?”

You give him a small, sad smile. “Maybe you finally start living.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming up to wrap around your wrist, holding you there against him. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you, the way his fingers tighten just slightly—it says enough.

He’s not ready. Maybe he never will be. But for now, he stays.

By morning, the world outside is just as godless and fucked as ever. And yet, you both step back into it, knowing full well that Billy will find his way back to you—sooner rather than later.

⚜ The Boys Masterlist

Read more:

⚜ Main Masterlist

→ Read on A03

[heretical-cogitations]

Chairon x gn!reader

Word count:  ~880

I haven’t seen too much written about him and think he deserves more love, so have this: how I can see yours and Chairon’s relationship starting and how you end up convincing him to bed you. Once again, I already have more, I could write about….

Warnings: MDNI 18+, intercrural sex (thigh fucking), Chairon being the most loving and sweet man, very brief mention of oral and fingering.

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

I can see a relationship with him starting surprisingly naturally, he is the type to always greet the baseline around him and strike up small conversations, he is aware of how in awe they are of him, but he just likes yapping.

Then he meets you and you both just seem to click together. Chairon finds himself actively seeking you out, wanting to know more.

He starts looking for little things to bring back to you when he is deployed, little gifts that come with stories he can share.

Eventually this leads to you forming a romantic relationship in private, both sneaking around, to not get caught. Despite him being so careful, his brothers can tell something has changed. Chairon can’t really school his expressions well especially in the eyes of fellow astartes, and so when he is pressed about why he has been creeping away in the night he crumbles pretty quickly, gushing about you.

He is so much larger than you in every way and could so easy kill or seriously injury you without even thinking about it. So, he is petrified of being intimate in anyway with you in the beginning, it’s not at all for lack of want.

Numerous innocent kisses turning into soft moans, roaming hands and heavy petting before he abruptly stops, apologising that he can’t continue.

No matter how much you protest he won’t hear it, so you have to get creative.

Your first attempt is suggesting oral, which Chairon is excited to give but refuses once again to receive. More of your little meetings go by tension twisting tighter and tighter until you mention intercrural sex. That seems to snap that rising tension weeks if not months of skirting around what you both want crashing down full force.

He has you on your back ankles grasped in one hand, pulled to rest on his shoulder, hips held suspended in the air to be level with his own as he lathers his cock in lube before slowly inching it into the smooth embrace of your thighs.

Breath stuttering as he feels his length grind against your sex. Eyes fixated on the apex of your thighs, watching the head of his cock appear with each thrust precum smearing across your abdomen.

He realises this is close to how deep he would reach if you took all of him inside you, the revelation causing a deep groan to rumble out from him spare hand roaming the expanse of your chest to rub a thumb over that spot.

“S So beautiful, my sweet, I have craved this for so long, thought about you for so many nights.” Interrupting himself every few words with soft moans thrusts gaining speed and force, eventually bouncing you up with each slap of his hips against your arse and thighs.

Your own moans growing more needy and erratic only encouraging him to continue at tis punishing pace.

“O oh C Chai p please, I It feels so good, need more.” You sound angelic to him, hips bucking up against him.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”  hand travelling up roving over and up your body ending at your cheek cupping it, thumb rubbing lovingly over the skin beneath. Hips still grinding pace unfaltering.

Your legs are pushed closer and closer to your chest as he leans down, body curling under him to

“N need you i inside me p please.” You moan out arms wrapping around this neck pulling him as close as you can your plea repeating over and over as he pushes you closer and closer to your climax.

A low growl emitting from him, his head knocking forward forehead resting against your own. The deep timbre of his voice cut through your begging “My light, there will be time for t that in the future… I I can tell you are close, so am I.” hot breath fanning across your cheek. You pull him impossibly closer head nodding, moaning into the crook of his neck.

Your hips crashing together, as you buck up uncontrollably against his as you cum, a series of pitched moans of his name spilling out of you as you bit down into the skin of his neck. Legs trembling with each white-hot jolt of pleasure that burst through you.

He’s quick to follow hips press yours down squashing you under him as he spills his seed across your stomach, pooling where you are folded, face nuzzling into your hair as he sighs out your name.

You both stay tangled for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.

Sitting up Chairon unlatches your arms from his neck before gently removing his grip from your ankles pressing soft kisses against them. “You were amazing, as always my dear.”

“As did you, my lord.” You hum in return serene smile spread across your features.

After this, it is less of an uphill battle to get him into bed, than it was before.

Able to coax him into fingering you with 1 then 2 and ultimately 3 of his fingers over multiple different occasions each followed with him fucking your thighs.  

He has developed a bit of an obsession with your thighs because if this.

Eventually, you convince him to actually fuck you.

But that is for another day…

[radsoldier]

you're a bad idea - Part 2

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N tries to avoid Cairo while the latter finds herself falling deeper.

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: cursing

a/n: hi guys, sorry for the eternal delay but a lot of shit happened and i'm not sure how i made it out alive but hey! i'm back! anyway, hope you enjoy :)

(poem's "did you think i was a city" by rupi kaur)

part 1

You were never one for gossip. You were simply not interested. Being the center of rumors for as long as you could remember was no fun at all so when all the stories about Cairo hit your ears you were annoyed. You didn’t really care if it was true or not, it was none of your business. But you knew she was bad news and that’s why you chose to let things cool off and tried your best to ignore her. 

You moved here to avoid drama, to start fresh or however your old therapist would like to call it. You knew you were just running away from it all. 

_______________________________________________________________________________ 

A week later, soft rain was pouring as you got off your bike, some students scrambling to get to class before getting soaked. 

You opted for lighting up a cigarette under the small roof right at the entrance. You were already late, might as well enjoy the little time you had outside of the college halls.  

Wishing you had stopped for some coffee, you started walking towards the library, not feeling like enduring another creative writing lecture. It felt like the perfect excuse to keep avoiding Cairo. And you also had to rehearse your piece for the poetry reading later today. 

“Fuck me” you thought. 

________________________________________________________________________________ 

Cairo was annoyed. No, she was outraged. You were ignoring her yet she couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting to you. It was torture, you were pestering her mind like she had no control over it. She hated it. She hated how you seemed unfazed every time you caught her staring while she had to hold her breath as if even the smallest movement would make you disappear. She had replayed your interaction over and over in her head getting little to no answer as to why you could go from hot to cold just like that. It made no sense to her. 

That’s why when your professor asked for someone to deliver some notes on your most recent work, she volunteered to be the one doing it. 

He told her where to find you, given that he knew about your poetry reading and she began to gather all her things and started walking toward the auditorium. 

She hesitated at the slightly open door, the dim light making her unsure but the sound of your voice coming from the inside was enough to shake her doubts and stride into the room. 

“Did you think I was a city 

big enough for a weekend getaway.” you paused. 

“I am the town surrounding it 

the one you’ve never heard of 

but always pass through.” 

“There are no neon lights here 

no skyscrapers or statues 

but there is thunder 

for I make bridges tremble. 

I am not street meat, I am homemade jam 

thick enough to cut the sweetest 

thing your lips will touch.” you glanced around the room, letting the words sink in. 

“I am not police sirens 

I am the crackle of a fireplace. 

I’d burn you and you still 

couldn't take your eyes off me 

cause I’d look so beautiful doing it 

you'd blush.” Cairo was taken aback by the emotion in your voice. 

“I am not a hotel room I am home 

I am not the whiskey you want 

I am the water you need. 

Don’t come here with expectations 

and try to make a vacation out of me.” 

you finished as the few people in the room stood up, clapping. 

“You never cease to amaze me, Y/N” a young professor started. “Can’t wait to read your small piece for your assignment” he smiled like you were the only one in the room. 

Cairo watched as you exchanged pleasantries with a few peers, looking relieved when someone else took the spotlight. And then you saw her. Doe-eyed and slightly parted lips, she looked like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. 

“What are you doing here, Sweet?” you spat.  

She tried to hide her disappointment at your cold demeanor but you could see the small changes in her face even if it was just for a split second. 

“Professor Brooks wanted me to give this to you” she said, gesturing towards the folder she held out. “You know, since tomorrow is the deadline and he left some corrections and notes for you” 

“Fuck” you sighed. 

Only then did she look at you, a teasing glint in her eyes, the ghost of a smile over her full lips. You took the folder from her, your hands barely touching. The moment felt charged, none of you ready to break the eye contact. It was almost like both of you were fighting to see which one would cave in first. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Thank you” 

She nodded, not saying a word before leaving the room as you stood there, still reeling from the tingling sensation you felt when your hands touched. 

‘Did she feel it too?’ you thought. 

________________________________________________________________________________ 

Cairo laid awake well past midnight. Her laptop long forgotten on the side of her bed, a cigarette on her lips. Her thoughts kept drifting towards a certain someone. 

You were right: you had burned her, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off you. 

Your eyes haunted her, that piercing stare that made her feel like she couldn’t hide from you even as you were a complete mystery to her. It was unnerving. 

She remembered how your hands moved during your reading. The same hands that held her waist and throat just a week ago. The very same hands she couldn’t stop dreaming about, doing unholy things to her. 

She kept thinking about your low, rough voice and how good it would sound moaning her name. 

God, she needed to get laid. 

It had been a while since she felt this kind of obsession over someone. Last time didn’t end well. It kind of scared her, in retrospective, the lengths she was willing to go in the past. But this time it was different, she could feel it. Or maybe it was just a stupid white lie she told herself so she could avoid the guilt that was slowly eating her up. 

That night Cairo dreamt about you. 

[eebeewrites]

Elf Teacher x !Band Director Chubby Reader: Part 1 (18+)

This is my OC Eldrin in a more modern fantasy setting. If you’d like to read his original story, you can find that here.

After three years of playing for a professional orchestra, teaching band in the middle of bum fuck nowhere was far from ideal.

You failed to earn tenure after three years at your old job, and were removed from your position. Instead of getting back on the audition trail, you decided to try something new. You figured with your qualifications, finding a teaching job would be easy. If you had been fired at a more convenient time, maybe it would’ve, but finding a teaching job in January felt impossible.

Still, you had student loans to pay, so you took the first job you could; teaching band and orchestra at an elementary school in a town you had never heard of. It was a small school, around 300 students; maybe not entirely in the middle of nowhere, but still a far cry from the city.

You had been given two keys; one for your classroom, and one for the instrument closet. You opened up the closet, only to see the small amount of instruments at the very back of the closet. The first thing you saw on the shelves was bins of magical components, alongside sets of textbooks with glossy spines; despite the dust in the room, they looked fairly new. You skimmed the titles.

Everyday Magic: PreK-2nd

Everyday Magic: 3rd-5th

4th Grade Mathematics

Life Science: Level 4

You looked out in the hallway; your room was sequestered at the back of the school, only two other classrooms close by. One was another music room, dark and locked away, likely unused for years. The other was a lively 4th grade classroom; perhaps these books belonged to that teacher. You didn’t want to make enemies your first day, but…surely, you’d need the space.

You found the roster of students taped to the wall. You had six students. Not six violins, or six trumpets, or six clarinets, but six students overall. Two violins, a clarinet, a trumpet, a trombone, and a flute. Finding music for an ensemble like this would be an impossible task. You moved towards the stored away instruments. Every single instrument had a name tag and an ID number on it, meaning it belonged to the school. It wasn’t that only six kids had signed up; the school only had six instruments. If you could get permission to order a few more, and get whoever stored their shit here to move it, maybe you could get a few more students.

You heard a door open, followed by the sound of a child trying to stifle tears. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to help.”

“I know, I know,” said a man in a gentle tone; that had to be the fourth grade teacher storing his stuff in your closet. “But it’s alright. Are you hurt?”

“No…”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, but…I looked stupid.”

You were nosy; you poked your head out the closet door, seeing a tall, Elvish man leaning against the wall.

“No, you did not. I promise you no one thinks that. As you said, you were trying to help. You’re still learning, but spells like that are hard. Although…did it work?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then that’s something we should celebrate! Healing spells like that most mages don’t learn until middle school. We’ll sweep up the dandelion petals, and that’ll be that. Alright?”

The boy nodded, “okay.”

“Good. Now head back inside, and we’ll talk more about that when we meet on Wednesday.” The boy walked back inside, and as the man went to follow him, he turned around. You weren’t fast enough, locking eyes with him.

He looked you up and down, his eyes narrowed. “…who are you?”

You realized you had left your badge on your desk. “Oh, sorry, I’m the new band teacher.”

His demeanor shifted once you introduced yourself. “Oh! That’s great, no one thought they’d be able to fill that position. Two of my students were in band, and they were devastated when the last teacher quit.”

You skimmed the name on the bottom of his badge;

Eldrin Fairwind

“I’m glad I’m here then,” you smiled. “What did they play?”

“Eliseph played violin, and Alex, the student I was just talking to, played clarinet.”

“Is…everything alright with him?”

“He’ll be okay. Very talented mage, just…a bit unpolished with his magic, as all young mages are, I’m sure you know how it is.”

You didn’t, but you nodded along anyway. You looked at him a little closer; glasses that perfectly framed his face, a soft smile, and kind eyes, you could listen to him talk all day long.

Wait. Was this the guy using your closet?”

“Could I ask you something?”

“Of course. I’m sure it’s quite intimidating, a new school halfway through the year, I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, I…the instrument closet, I need the space there. Are the bins and books in there yours?”

His eyes widened, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I’m in charge of the Young Mages Program here, and I’m a little short on space in my own classroom.”

‘So am I,’ you thought.

“I get it. I just wanted to see if I could get permission to purchase a few more instruments, and they’d need a place to go, so…”

“Oh, that’d be great! The old teacher didn’t seem particularly interested in growing the program, so I doubt you’ll have issues with that.”

“She didn’t want to grow the program? Why?”

“Well-” he was interrupted by a girl walking towards him. She said something to him in Elvish, but he responded in common. “It’s on the board. We’ll sound it out.” He turned back to face you, “I need to go, but I’ll tell you after school if you’re still here.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you get back to it. It was nice meeting you.”

He smiled, “likewise.”

————

You spent the rest of the day getting your room set up and cleaning what you could in the supply closet, kicking up dust with every movement. Despite having the whole day, you were still cleaning and cataloguing supplies in the closet by the time 3:00 arrived. After the rush of dismissal was over and quiet returned to the hallway, you heard the door across the hall open.

“So,” he started walking towards the closet, “how was the rest of your first day?”

“Dusty,” you joked, patting the dust off your pants. “But other than that, I think we should be good to start tomorrow.”

He looked around, “impressive. Getting a classroom set up and cleaning a closet all in one day is quite the feat.”

You smiled, “thanks. So, what’s the deal with the teacher before me?”

“Well, she was quite old, for one. Even when she started, she was already 700 years old. I heard she requested all sorts of instruments, and that’s what she got.”

“Just six instruments?”

He nodded, “arts budgets in places like this are quite small, usually. This was the first time we ever had a band teacher, so the principal didn’t question it. She kept asking, but kept getting denied. I think after the first few years, she just…gave up, and made do with what she had. We’ve had plenty of new principles within that time, but,” he shrugged. “She had given up at that point.”

“How long was she here for?”

“A hundred years or so. Something like that.”

You nodded, “what about you? How long have you been here?”

“This year will be fifty, I believe.”

Your eyes widened, “that’s…a lot. How long have you been teaching?”

He paused, looking to the side. “A hundred and fifty years, I think? Honestly…I don’t remember. What about you?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “this is my first year, actually.”

“Oh. Well, there’s certainly worse places to endure your first year of teaching,” he laughed. “You’ll be alright. You seem excited to be here, and that’s already an improvement from the last person here.”

You weren’t excited about the job. But you were excited to talk to him. “I’m glad. I’ll do the best I can.”

“Well, if you ever need help, I’m right across the hall,” he smiled. “Did you just move here too?”

You nodded, “just a few days ago, yeah. It’s quite different from the city, but…I like it. So far, at least.”

“Wait until it snows. Then you might change your mind,” he joked. “But if you don’t have anything planned after school on Friday, I could show you around. I like to think I know my way around after fifty years,” he smiled.

Your face flushed; was he asking you out on a date, or was he just being friendly? “I’d like that,” you said before you could think anymore about it.

His face lit up, “I look forward to it. I’ll-” he cut himself off, looking back at the bins on the shelves. “I’ll move my things now.”

“Actually-”

Were you seriously going to put up with him keeping his things in your supply closet? Just for the chance of seeing him between classes more often?

“It’s alright. I might need you to move some things if I can get more instruments, but…it’s alright for now.”

Yes. Yes you were.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

————

You couldn’t help but be a bit nervous. Other 4th and 5th grade teachers had stopped by, telling you how excited they were for band to get started again. From the sound of it, even if there were only six students, they were six dedicated students. After all, in a town like this, there wasn’t much to do.

You learned even more from Eldrin the next day. “It’s not that there isn’t interest,” he shrugged as you spoke in the hallway. “It’s that there just weren’t enough resources. The way they decided who got to do band was based on academic performance.”

You raised an eyebrow; you knew plenty of people that struggled in school but were great musicians. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

He sighed, “it’s not. But…it is what it is, I suppose.” He looked towards you with a hopeful smile, “perhaps you’ll be able to change that.”

Each day was different than the last. Admittedly, with such a small program, there wasn’t much for you to do outside of teaching the six students. Still, you were required to be there the whole day With how much time you had, it made sense to meet with them individually, seeing two of them on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. When you weren’t teaching, you kept looking through the supply closet. While you had catalogued all of the supplies, there were still several file cabinets you hadn’t touched. So, you started going through those, making a database of all the music the school had, and what it was for. You managed to keep yourself busy, the week passing quickly.

Yet despite all the time on your hands, you still weren’t sure if your outing with Eldrin was a date or not. Maybe he was just being nice, maybe he was interested in you. Although, if it was the latter, that wouldn’t be wise, would it? You had already hit rock bottom losing the job of your dreams; you didn’t need to add insult to injury by fraternizing with a co-worker you had only known for a week.

When you checked your mailbox after lunch, you found a sealed, unaddressed envelope. You opened it up, a message written on a folded up piece of notepad paper.

I’ll pick you up at 5:00. Let me know where.

-Eldrin

You realized you didn’t even have his phone number. Once the school day started, it was hard to find time to speak to him. You could wait until after school, but you wanted to make sure you had enough time to get ready. After all, if it was a date, you didn’t want to still be in your teacher clothes.

That’s when you got an idea.

You grabbed one of the mailing envelopes from the copy room, and wrote a message of your own. You wrote down your address on a piece of printer paper, and contemplated writing something else. A heart? A flirtatious message? You kept it simple, writing only ‘looking forward to it :)’

You sealed the envelope, and waited for your second student of the day. Despite it being her first lesson, Kiri had made a point to find you in your classroom before school and introduce herself.

“My mom works here, so if you ever need help, I can help you! I know how to use the copier. I can even put staples in it,” she had said. She was always enthusiastic about running errands for teachers, and you hoped this would be no different.

As she packed up her violin, you stood up and walked back to your desk. “Could you do a favor for me?”

She smiled wide, “yeah!”

You handed her the sealed envelope. “Could you give this to Mr. Fairwind for me?”

She took the envelope, giving you a little salute. “Yep!”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Hopefully that worked.

————

It must have, because he was at your door right at 5:00. You had changed into an outfit that made you look good, but wasn’t too revealing. Even if you wanted to wear something a bit showy, it was far too cold for that.

Although, you had worn a cute set of underwear. Just in case.

It was a bit strange seeing him in a more laid back ensemble, but you figured he might’ve been thinking the same thing of you.

A drive around such a small town might’ve been boring for some, but he managed to make it interesting, regaling you with all sorts of stories about the town. You quickly learned where to go, but more importantly, where not to go.

“Admittedly, there’s not too much to see,” he laughed, starting to take you home. “But…it’s enough. With the chaos everyday brings, boredom is a breath of fresh air.”

“I get that.” You looked back out the window, the stars clear and bright in the night sky. “I haven’t seen stars like this in awhile. It was always too bright in the city.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Sometimes you don’t realize what you were missing until you see it.”

“It is…” you trailed off, looking back at him. You noticed he was looking over at you, stealing brief glances whenever he could. You wanted to ask him to take you home, or to come back to your place, but you still weren’t sure if that’s what he was after. He’d been friendly, he’d been sweet, but…he wasn’t that flirtatious. No placing his hand on your knee, no risqué remarks, just camaraderie. Perhaps that was a good thing, but it didn’t fill you with confidence. “Where do you live, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“About half an hour away, why do you ask?”

You bit your lip. It was a risky move; this was someone you worked with. You had known him for a week. Yet his politeness made you want him more.

“I was just curious. Why is that?”

“This is a small town. People talk. I don’t think I do anything that scandalous in my free time, but…” he grinned, “I like not having to worry about it.”

“So you occasionally do things that are scandalous?” You joked.

“Occasionally. No more than the average person, I’d like to think. I might occasionally drink after work.”

“The horror,” you said sarcastically.

“They’ve fired teachers for it before. I don’t think they’d do that here, but I’d rather not take the risk. Besides, it’s nice to not have to worry about running into someone wherever I go.”

“That’s true. I’m sure people would have something to say if they saw you at my door,” you giggled.

“I’m sure they would. If anyone did see me, we’ll hear about it soon enough.”

You saw an opportunity and took it. “Maybe it’s better for the both of us if we went back to your place.”

You heard a quiet laugh under his breath. “Maybe you’re right. I think you spending the night with me would certainly minimize risk.”

“That seems like a good idea. Wouldn’t want anyone to see me walking inside in the middle of the night,” you watched as he drove out of town, the road empty and quiet.

“Oh no, we definitely can’t have that. We wouldn’t want people to think you were doing something obscene.”

“I’d never,” you decided to be bold, setting your hand on his leg. You looked back at him, unsure if it was alright to go further.

He smirked, “oh, I’m sure you’d never.”

You moved your hand further, feeling the outline of his hard cock. You moved your hand back and forth, teasing him as you listened to his breaths start to slow. You leaned over for a moment, undoing his pants and taking his cock out as he continued to drive. You started to stroke his cock slowly; it was hard to see with how dark it was outside, but touching him quickly showed you he was fairly well-endowed.

You started to move faster, listening to him quietly moan from your touch. You slipped out from under your seatbelt, leaning over and resting your head on his lap, his cock resting on your face. You started to lick his cock, starting from the bottom and working your way up until you tasted his precum. You spent some time just licking the tip, sucking on it as you listened to his moans get a bit louder. He took one hand off the wheel for a moment just to pet your hair, before you started to lower your mouth down onto his cock. You took your time, getting it wet before you started to move faster.

You took his whole cock in your mouth, moving your head up and down as you sucked him off. All you could hear was the hum of the road, his soft moans, and the sound of your spit coating his cock.

His breaths started to quicken, and you soon realized the car wasn’t moving. You had arrived, but you were determined to make him cum before he even brought you inside. He parked the car, and rested both hands on your head, savoring the feeling of your throat and tongue. “You’re so good at this,” he moaned, feeling himself getting close. “You-You don’t have to-”

He was cut off by another moan as you made an effort to deepthroat him, fucking your throat with his cock. His breaths got quicker, and he gripped your hair just a little tighter; not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice.

He couldn’t help himself. He came down your throat, tasting him on your tongue. Every time you were about to stop, you tasted his seed yet again. When he finally finished, you pulled yourself off, licking one last bead of cum on the tip of his cock. “I’d never do anything so obscene,” you smiled, looking up at him.

He was still catching his breath, mindlessly petting your hair as he looked down at you. “No, of course not.” He put his cock away, taking one last moment to come down from the high of his climax. “Well…shall we?”

————

You both walked inside his home, and he led you to the bedroom. You stood close to his bed as he gently held your face.

“May I kiss you?” The request felt so innocent after you blew him in his car.

You smiled, “please do.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, taking his time even though it was clear he wanted more. “No need to rush. We have all night, after all.” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you, or himself.

You both moved onto the bed, him continuing to kiss you as he hovered on top of you. You watched as he sat up, starting to undress. You started to pull your shirt off, but he stopped you.

“Let me.”

You weren’t going to tell him no. He pulled off your shirt, running his hands down your curves as and belly before pulling your pants off, admiring your body. He ran his hand over your wet, covered pussy. “It seems you had a plan.”

“I might’ve,” you teased.

“Well, I’d say you’ve been successful,” he started to pull your panties off, taking a moment to admire your pussy before unclipping your bra, freeing your breasts. He grabbed both of them, gently groping and caressing them as you watched his cock start to harden once more. His hands wandered, touching your thighs as he spread your legs further. “Let me return the favor,” he said as he touched your bare pussy.

You nodded your head, eager to feel his tongue. He took his time, licking your cunt eagerly as he held your thighs. He started to suck on your clit, your moans only encouraging him further. He moved faster, his tongue moving in and out of your wet pussy. At one point, it sounded like he moaned; “you taste so good,” he mumbled, lapping up your juices with pleasure.

You couldn’t help but hold his hair, wanting more and more of him as you pushed his head down. “I-I’m gonna cum,” you cried out.

He devoured your pussy, gripping your thighs faster as he felt your body shake. “Fuck!” You cried out as you came all over his face.

He came up for air, looking back at you as he wiped your cum from his face. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Quite the compliment from someone who was three centuries old.

“Thank you. I…I wanted you ever since I saw you, to be honest.”

He smiled, “likewise.” He moved between your legs as you held them in the air. He leaned down to kiss you once more before slowly pushing inside you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as he started to move. He moved slowly, you could feel every inch moving in and out of you. He kissed your neck, looking back down at you. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels so good!”

It was romantic, the way he took his time, but you wanted more. You locked your legs around him, forcing him deeper. He moved faster, groping your breast as he fucked you. He kissed you again, this time feeling his tongue against yours. He pushed your legs back further, getting even deeper inside you. You cried out in pleasure as he hit your g-spot, his balls slapping against your wet cunt.

He pulled out of you, not wanting to cum again so fast. He pulled your body next to his, and you moved your leg up for him to slide back inside. He held you by your side, leaning over to kiss you again as he fucked into you. He was struggling to hold back, enthralled with your face, your body, your pussy. The sight of your plump ass bouncing against him as he fucked into you was incredible, making him only want to move faster.

He had started off so romantic, and while that hadn’t faded, lust had started to take over. Soft kisses turned to biting at your neck. Gentle strokes turned into pounding into your pussy. Careful touches turned into a tight grip. Still, you loved it. Watching someone so gentle and sweet devolve, fucking you like crazy and becoming hypnotized by your tight cunt; that was almost just as hot as the sex itself.

You could feel yourself getting tight again, feeling yourself getting close. As you gripped his cock tighter, he couldn’t hold back. As you came, you milked his cock for all it had, another thick load shooting inside you, coating the wet walls of your pussy.

Both of you breathed heavily, looking back at each other as you tried to catch your breath. He held you close to him, his limp cock still inside you as he kissed your neck again.

Maybe it wasn’t the wisest option, sleeping with a co-worker you had only known for a week. Yet as you laid in his arms, you didn’t feel a single ounce of regret.

I love him so much

I’m still kinda burnt out on his other story but I’ve had this idea for awhile so. Fuck it we ball. Will prob continue this one but I just. Aaaaa. He’s so. Hhhh. I also think we just need more teacher x teacher stories in general.

Also if you read my other stories, yes, it’s the same Alex. I was writing out his backstory for another project, and he was also mentioned growing up in a small town in the middle of nowhere so. Why not. Obviously this is like, 12 years before tali’s story so yea. L o r e. Also, there was a line that got cut in his last chapter about how he played clarinet in high school. Yippee my universe grows. He’s not gonna be like a main focus here though, I just thought it’d be fun. He might punch a kid idk

Made reader a band director tho just because. That’s all I taught when I was in K-12 LOL. I write what I know, and I will probably end up giving my critiques on the American public school system throughout this. Whoops.

Anyway. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Header by @/strangergraphics

[on-wine-dark-seas]

Palate cleanser because that anon was stupid: Tell us about your inspiration for The Invitation!

Honestly?

I just wanted to fuck Sukuna [like everyone else], but it turned into so much more than just nasty smut...because of who I am as a person [demisexual]. Sukuna has become a comfort character to me for whatever reason, and I think it's because I'm dealing with a season in my life where I have to be in constant survival mode, which requires a tenacity that would make most people balk. And Sukuna is a survivor, and tenacious.

I was also tired of every Reader-insert being very white-coded to the point where some of the fics outright made the Reader a whole ass white European, effectively alienating me from the story. I'd also wanted to try something new with my writing and a self-insert sounded like something that would be fun.

And it has been. Probably some of my best writing I've ever done in fic and it's about myself. It's kind of freeing in a way. And I've apparently inspired others to give selfshipping a try. It really is a challenging way to write too.

[insert--coffeebean]

Imagine being dropped into a fantasy land, just out of nowhere. Everything seems normal, pretty usual, actually, until you notice one crucial thing.

People own monsters. And not like Pokemon-type shit. People own carnivorous, dangerous animals, everything from small dog-like to big, lion-like creatures. Some use them for hunting, some just carry them around like property, a lot of people own multiple ones.

You're a little freaked out, walking by someone with a gigantic lion with red eyes and the sharpest teeth you have ever seen. They're just walking around with them like it's normal! That thing could kill someone! But okay, you think, hey, I'm sure this is fine, I'm sure this is all regulated and cool.

You look into the media, wanting to learn how this weird world operates. You learn that it is not unusual for people to use their monsters as property control, sicking them on whoever steps a foot in their yard. You dig deeper. You find that a lot of people actually use their animals to attack and kill each other. There are thousands of reported cases of people murdering others with these animalistic weapons. Cases of random attacks, people killing their spouses and partners. You find murders, but you find accidents, too: a kid playing with the monster of his dad, losing control of it. It never should have been left alone with it. A stray monster picked up by some rando, who has neither the tools nor the mental stability to not use it to hurt anyone. You start to feel really uneasy. But you dig deeper.

People use their monsters freely. Some hunt other normal animals for sport with them. The license that one needs to get one is easy to acquire and very often left unchecked. Its super easy to get one. You think to yourself, shit, I need one, don't I? What if someone attacks me with theirs, what am I supposed to do then?

You find cases of people running rampant with their monsters. In malls, in banks, in cinemas, even in schools. Thousands of people die every year from people sicking their monsters on them.

And then you find something else. In a lot of other countries of this strange, twisted world, these animals are banned. Normal people, regular citizens, are prohibited from owning them. They cause too much violence, too much death, they're too easy to use to hurt. This is almost relieving, but you think to yourself, wait, why aren't they banned here?

The best thing you can find is that people believe it is their right to own whatever they want. They should be able to own their killing machines because otherwise their freedom is infringed. You just sit there, mouth agape. This doesn't feel like a good enough reason to let thousands of people die every year. To make violence so easy and accessible to everyone all over the country. To make children die in schools, teens in the mall, adults at their workplace, or in their own home, anyone and everyone constantly open to being attacked in the street, dead within seconds.

Why would they let people own killing machines? Talking about freedom, while people die day by day, and the system of banning them works so well in dozens of other countries. But no. They just won't. They pride themselves on their right to earn monsters. They think it makes them great. They harass anyone who dares question it.

Who wouldn't want to go home? Who wouldn't question this? Who wouldn't want to change this, open people's eyes?

Sigh, folks. This post is about firearms.

[fromtherift]

To say I’m heartbroken by what happened with BioWare and EA regarding dragon age would be an understatement- however, at the same time, I saw it coming a million miles away.

From the development hell DA was put through, to the final result not having DLCs, to the final result also being a shadow of the previous instalments in the series in terms of writing and gameplay- it was clear to me they wanted dragon age done and finished as fast as possible.

I’m sorry, but I really didn’t like Veilguard. I loved it at first play through, and my opinion sharply declined on my second. It felt like a shadow or a mockery of the games I love. It felt like the equivalent of giving your kid sibling an unattached game controller and letting them play just to shut them up.

The game spent so long trying to be cinematic that it forgot to be good- or rather, it never had a chance to be good. It just needed to be shiny and it needed to sell. That’s the shape of all things lately- and it makes me rage and it breaks my heart.

More importantly, the people fired are going to have an incredibly hard time getting employed again. I know Trick Weeks was talking about how difficult it was to afford raising a child in Canada, and now both they and their partner are unemployed.

What EA and BioWare did to dragon age was cruel on multiple levels. I hope one day we live in a world that allows these stories to be told by people who love to tell them, who get compensated well for telling them, and in a way that is authentic to the story itself and not to any speculative market.

[wandixx]

Halloween dress-up, let's go!!!

Assignment: "Dress up as ghosts".

Status: Yes. They're ghosts. Just really different types of ghosts