#what if I am your mirror image and what I see in you changes with what I see in myself but we're always reflections. messed up honestly

[sniktbaby]

more than words

summary: you are struggling with your body image after giving birth six months ago. logan reminds you exactly whose woman you are.

warnings: body image issues, negative self-talk, fluff, angst, smut, oral sex (f receiving)

word count: 2.5k

author's note: this is my first time writing in YEARS please please leave me constructive feedback ok thanks <3

It has been six months since you gave birth to a healthy baby girl. You watch Logan with adoration, he has especially taken to fatherhood. You are convinced he was put on this earth just to be a dad.

But for you, things aren’t so simple. It doesn’t come as easy to you.

On top of adjusting to your new life and your new role as a mother, you are struggling with the changes to your body. The weight fluctuations, the stretch marks, the aching pains - you don’t feel at home in your body anymore. It feels foreign to you. Alien.

The two of you haven’t had sex at all since you gave birth, and you never let Logan see you fully naked. Ever.

Logan respected your boundaries, of course, but it was getting harder for him to watch you be so harsh on yourself. He looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and ever since giving him the greatest gift - a healthy little one - you were even more perfect in his eyes.

But you didn’t see it that way.

You were examining your underwear-clad body in the vanity mirror, lost in your chaotic thoughts, when you noticed Logan in the reflection. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his white t-shirt pulled taut against his muscles. His features softened when you turned around to face him.

“Hey.” His usual gruff voice took on a softer tone, one he reserved just for you. He pushed off the wall and approached you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re beautiful. Y’know that, right?”

You looked away. You didn’t believe him.

“Is she down?” you ask him, turning back to sift through the open drawer for a night shirt. You hoped he wouldn’t notice your deflection.

But he noticed. Of course he did.

His jaw tightened. He was frustrated - not at you, but at himself. He didn’t know how to fix this. He could take on armies, heal from bullets, but watching you tear yourself apart hurt him more than any enemy could.

“Yeah. Out cold.” He took a step closer. “Kid sleeps like you - nothin’ in the world can wake her once she’s down.”

He took in a breath, hesitating for a moment. He knew this was a sensitive topic, but he couldn’t watch you do this any longer. He reached out and caught your wrist before you could pull the shirt over your head.

“Look at me.” Not a demand, but a plea. “Talk to me, baby. What’s goin’ on inside that head?”

You were still for a moment before you pulled out of his grasp. You tugged the shirt over your head and turned away from him, busying yourself with sorting the clean laundry sitting atop the dresser. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

He couldn’t do this. He grabbed you, gently, turning you around to face him. His hands gripped your shoulders.

“Bullshit.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “You aren’t ‘fine’, darlin’. Haven’t been for months now. And I am sick of watchin’ you suffer in silence.”

He loosened his grip, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your skin.

“I love you. Every inch of you. Nothin’ is gonna change that.”

You tried to pull away, but his large hands travelled to your neck, cupping your jaw as he tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him.

“You gotta talk to me. Let me help you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You wanted so badly to believe him, but the negative thoughts were too loud. Too consuming. You took a shuddering breath as you attempted to steady yourself.

“I…I don’t feel like myself anymore, Logan. My body…”

You choked on a sob, closing your eyes as the tears finally fell.

“It’s not the same. I’m not the same. I’m scared that you don’t find me attractive anymore. That you’ll leave me for someone younger, prettier…”

He stood there in shock as your words trailed off, a sharp pang shooting through his chest. The thought of leaving you - of wanting anyone else - was laughable. Didn’t you know that you were everything to him? 

His voice dropped to a growl. “Now you listen real good, sweetheart. There ain’t a single damn thing about you that ain’t perfect to me. Stretch marks, scars, every bit of you - it’s all part of the woman who carried our kid, who fought like hell to bring her into this world.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky exhale.

“You think some shiny new toy could replace you? Not a chance in hell.”

You blinked, your eyes still watery. In spite of the darkness swirling around you, a flicker of hope ignited deep in your chest.

“I want to believe you, Logan. I do. But…feeling like my body isn’t mine anymore…” You shook your head. “I feel like I’ve lost control…”

He pulled you closer, wrapping his strong arms around you. One hand cradled the back of your head, holding your face to his chest while the other rubbed soothing circles over your lower back.

“I know, baby,” he murmured. “But you created a life. Our daughter wouldn’t exist without you.”

He pulled back just enough to tuck a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“We will get through this. I’m here. Always.”

You sniffle as you dig your fingernails into his waist, burying your face into his chest once more, allowing yourself to melt in his embrace. For the first time in months, you feel safe. Seen.

“Thank you.” Your voice is muffled against him, your tears staining the fabric of his shirt. Then, an idea comes to you. “Can we…try something?”

Before he can answer, you take his hand. Slowly, cautiously, you guide it under your shirt, resting his large palm against your bare stomach. You take in a breath.

His touch is soft, gentle. It catches you by surprise how a man like Logan can be so delicate in how he handles you.

He traces your stretch marks with deliberate care, skimming his fingers over each scar like they’re sacred. “Christ, baby…” When he meets your eyes, there’s a fire in his gaze.

“Every one of these?” He drags his thumb over a silvery line. “Proof you’re a goddamn warrior.”

He drops to his knees, like you’re a goddess he’s meant to worship. Because you are. In his eyes, you are.

He presses a kiss just below your navel, his bearded chin grazing the waistband of your panties. The stubble tickles you, as always, sending a rush of heat between your thighs. He looks up at you as he murmurs, “Never hidin’ this from me again.”

The tears once again spill freely down your cheeks. Relief floods through you. Why did you ever doubt him?

You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he presses his lips to every scar. Every imperfection you tried to hide, he honors with his mouth.

“I won’t,” you whisper. It takes all your strength to keep standing straight. “But…go slow, okay? Some days might still be hard.”

You bite your lip as he continues kissing you. “But maybe…tonight��you could remind me why you’re still so crazy about me?”

His lips curl, grinning as a heat floods through his veins. Slowly, he rises to his feet, walking you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your shirt higher. “Darlin’,” he rasps, nipping at your earlobe, “I plan on takin’ my damn time.”

He pushes you back. You bounce against the edge of the mattress, resting on your elbows as you gaze up at him.

He hovers above you, drinking in the beautiful sight - your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the trust in your eyes. His voice comes out as a purr. “Six months without you nearly killed me.”

He drops to his knees, parting your thighs. “Tonight I’m gonna make sure you remember exactly whose woman you are.”

Your heart races at his promise. His intensity is overwhelming, but you trust him completely.

You reach out, rubbing your thumb over his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm. “Please, Logan.” Your words are breathless as you arch into him.

Slowly, reverently, he peels the shirt over your head, and you waste no time in unfastening your bra, leaving you in only your panties. His hands map over your curves like he’s memorizing you for the first time. His calloused palms graze over your soft flesh, causing you to mewl and squirm against him.

He leans forward, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your breasts. He captures one dusky nipple between his teeth, making you gasp. You have been extra sensitive since giving birth. He soothes the sting with his tongue as his hand drifts beneath your panties, teasing your slick folds with maddening restraint. The fabric is soaked through, your wetness coating his fingers as he rubs your clit slowly with the tip of his thumb.

You taste like honey and home, like everything he has missed for far too long. Every sound you make goes straight to his core, twisting something loose he had suppressed for months.

He’s desperate for you. He wants to devour you - to claim and conquer what is rightfully his.

But he forces himself to slow, to savour you. Because you? This woman, this miraculous creature who has given him everything? You deserve the whole fucking world - and tonight, he intends to show you heaven.

As he lavishes attention on your skin, you thread your fingers through his hair, urging him to take more of you.

He can feel how ready you are, how much you need this. How much you need him. And he swears, he will never again let you forget how worshipped you are. He wants to erase every second you ever doubted yourself. Wants to carve his love into your skin, one touch at a time.

The noises you make? Like music he didn’t know he was aching to hear. Nobody else gets this from you. Nobody else ever will. His girl…soaked through and trembling, holding on to him like he’s an anchor. There’s nothing more beautiful than that, he’s sure of it. He will kiss every fear out of you, starting tonight.

Eyes fluttering shut, you bite your lip. These sensations and emotions, they’re almost too much. But in his arms, you aren’t so afraid. Especially not when he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

You moan louder, arching desperately into his mouth and hand, your hips rocking against his fingers. Your voice cracks as you plead with him. “Logan…”

Your voice - your pleading gaze - it goddamn undoes him. Every fiber of his being screams at him to rip into you, to stake his claim and drown you both in unrestrained passion. He aches to bury himself deep, to feel you clench around him like you were made for him and him alone.

Six months of missing this - missing you - has carved holes in him no regenerative abilities can heal. But not yet. He won’t take you yet. You’re fragile right now. He knows that. You’re trusting him tonight. And he’d rather claw his own heart out than betray your trust.

He drags his fingers from your soaked panties, kissing a path down your belly.

Your hips roll, desperate to feel his mouth where you need it most. “Baby…”

Hearing you beg - so soft, so needy - it damn near breaks him. His name on your lips is better than the finest whiskey. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down slowly, savouring every inch of skin he uncovers.

Then he settles back between your thighs, bracing your legs over his broad shoulders. Your pretty lips glisten for him - open, wet, his. And fuck, he intends on tasting every drop.

The first swipe of his tongue pulls a strangled cry from your throat, and he groans like a lost man finding salvation. Your flavour consumes him - sweet and undeniably you. He works you with his tongue, slow and deep, licking into you like he’s claiming every part of you. 

His thumbs spread you wide, allowing him to lap at you hungrily, relentlessly.

You cry out, clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure crash over you. You can’t stop the tears from forming, a result of the rapture you didn’t know you needed.

“Logan…” You writhe beneath him, your hips bucking against his mouth. You feel broken and beautiful all at once, like the pieces of yourself are stitching back together with every flick of his tongue.

Each sob, every scream - it brands itself into him. You’re falling apart underneath his touch, and Christ, he’s never seen anything so breathtaking.

This is what you needed. What you both needed.

He doesn’t stop, he can’t. Not when you’re unraveling like silk in his hands. His tongue drives deeper, faster. He curls it just right against your swollen clit. One hand grips your thigh tight, anchoring you to him, while the other slides up your torso to cup your breast. He pinches your nipple lightly.

“You’re mine, baby,” he murmurs against you, barely moving his mouth away from your sex.

The possessive growl of his voice sends a fresh jolt of electricity zinging through you. You gasp, your nails digging into his biceps as your body tightens. You’re close.

“Y-Yours.” Your entire body trembles. “All yours.”

Hearing you say it - feeling you confirm what he’s always known - drives him mad.

He doubles down on his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips and dragging his tongue over the nub in slow, deliberate strokes. His fingers dig into your plush skin, marking you, claiming you. 

When he feels you start to shake, your breath catching in your throat - he latches on tighter, drawing it out, refusing to let you hide. He wants you to feel it, to believe him. Because as your climax crashes over you, he knows there’s not a damn thing he wouldn’t do to keep you coming undone like this forever.

Your orgasm steals your breath, scattering your thoughts into nothingness. Your body bows off the bed, caught between agony and ecstasy, between fear and absolute trust. You’re crying now - soft, broken little sounds - as your orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking.

“L-Logan…” Your voice trembles, just like the rest of you. Your fingers reach for him, blindly, needing to touch him, to feel him close. As you come down from your high, you feel a shift inside you. You can’t believe you ever doubted him or his devotion to you. He’s your home.

He rises above you, catching your trembling hands in his and threading your fingers together. His lips find yours - fierce, hungry - letting you taste yourself on him. Letting you feel how much he needed this, needed you.

“I love you, baby.” He’ll never let you forget again.

[vaguely-concerned]

you ever think about how the horrific thing dorian almost had done to him... is exactly the thing iron bull went to the reeducators to beg them to do to him. yeah. me either. for ten years straight now. what the fuck. wanna be my narrative foil dude. we could fuck about it if you're game and single

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."

[jamtamart]

kisses kisses kisses

text from the image:

DOLORES DEI - "you don’t hate me harry, you hate yourself. you don’t even remember me, not really. not after this last major party. this. this is just a reality you made up so you could escape the real, cold, poor, much more lonely one your sad excuse of a body inhabits. I’m you, harry. every word i say, every thing i know. it’s just what you think. what you see in the mirror. I’m in Mirova now for god’s sake! happy, and loved. not this. Whatever this is- what you fantasize about, harry, it’s not love. It is fear, and hate. horror you can’t even remember. i will follow you until you kill yourself again. and again. and again. and you will. and i know this because i am you." "an innocence, a lost love, a war criminal, a whore. anything you want me to be. i will embody and you will mourn, just so you don’t have to face the walking corpse which is yourself. But you secretly love this, don’t you? You fetishise the pain you fester in to avoid the responsibility for the pain you’ve caused others."

YOU - "but… I thought-"

DOLORES DEI - "No. You’re done talking, harry. It’s my turn It will always be my turn now. This is the final dream, remember? A dream that keeps looping, forever. A dream you killed yourself to get away from. Try and kiss me, beg me to not leave for the aerodrome, bask in the light of video revachol. It will not change anything. Not now, not ever"

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S YOU AND ME, THAT'S MY WHOLE WORLD

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: one kiss turns into two, and before you know it, an innocent gaming session turns into something more. (streamer!au)

contents: fem!reader. suggestive (kissing/making out). the ending can be interpreted as sex. non-sexual usage/mentions of lollipops bc i have a sweet tooth and i want a lollipop rn. i didn't really spend a lot of time on this one, but i thought i'd post it anyways. whatever, your favorite streamer boyfriend is back! did you miss him? (the answer is yes). -1K words.

"you're not that good, are you?" you ask with a grin, twirling a lollipop in between your fingers. in front of you, satoru's avatar gets shot down by a couple others for what seems like the hundredth time, and right on cue, satoru curses his bad luck. "you know, maybe you'd be better if you were actually focusing on the game."

"it's not my fault," satoru insists petulantly, a childish pout appearing on his face. he sticks out his bottom lip and rests his chin on top of your head. "how am i supposed to be able to focus with you in my lap?"

you stick your lollipop in your mouth and shrug, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hum indifferently. "sounds like you're just making excuses..."

"oh?"

satoru pinches your cheek teasingly with the hand not resting on top of his mouse, fingers skating from the side of your face to your lips as he tugs out the lollipop. he ignores your halfhearted protests and pops it into his mouth, smiling cheekily as he does so. in the darkening computer screen in front of you, you can see your boyfriend's smug expression, which smirks back at you. "mmm, this flavor's good. what is it?"

"strawberry, i think," you reply instinctually. satoru shakes his head in response, taking the candy out of his mouth and twirling the stick in between his thumb and index finger before he corrects you.

"actually, i think it's you i'm tasting," he quips, clicking around with his mouse for a second before he opens up the photo app. your reflection gazes back at the two of you in satoru's comfortably large gaming chair.

"no wonder you have no game," you deadpan, looking away from the mirror image of you and satoru and towards the ceiling.

"baby, you're literally sitting in my lap right now."

"yes, and?"

satoru's laugh is clear and blue, like a sunlit sky in the middle of june. it almost feels like he hasn't been able to stop smiling around you ever since "the incident," and honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

he sticks the lollipop in between your lips and stops you from verbally bashing him any more than you already have. the sweet, tangy taste is a welcome sensation in your mouth, and satoru can't help but smile endearingly when your reflection looks at him with round eyes. "you're so cute," he mumbles, punctuating each word with a kiss to the top of your head.

a soft giggle slips out of your lips in response. "shut up." even as you say that, you already know his answer. if there was one bet you'd make without a doubt, it'd be that satoru can never seem to shut up whenever you're in his line of sight.

satoru's hands find themselves on your waist, and they turn you around so you're facing him. there's a different (but not unpleasant) look in his eyes as he gazes at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"what is it?" you ask curiously, noticing the subtle change in his expression. his eyes soften from what looked like a teasing glance to an almost longing stare.

"nothing," he hums, kissing you in between your eyes. "you're just pretty."

satoru's hands thread themselves through your hair, lightly touching the back of your neck as his lips move down to brush against yours. you extract the lollipop from between your lips and tilt your chin up, kissing satoru with a little smile. like always, he tastes like sweetened peppermints, even though you've never seen him eat one before. you'll have to ask about that later, but for now, all you can focus on is the way satoru gently nips at your bottom lip as if he's asking for attention.

you hum softly, opening your eyes and squinting at satoru, who can't help but smile against your lips. "you taste like strawberries," he mumbles, peppering butterfly kisses on the corner of your mouth in between words. "so sweet..."

you exhale faintly, not wanting to pull away from his peppermint-scented lips, and let your eyes flutter closed again. something about the way satoru's hands rest delicately on your waist makes you feel more comfortable than you've been in a while. maybe it's just the hoodie satoru had forced on you earlier when he saw you were shivering, or maybe it's the steady beat of satoru's heart that's almost therapeutic against your chest; whatever the case, you can't remember the last time you've been this at ease.

between his complicated streaming schedule and your busy life, moments like these are rarer than you'd like, but that only makes them all the more special.

five, ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by in silence, with the only sound being the soft murmurs shared between you and satoru. his lips fit over yours like two pieces of a puzzle, and the way you fit in between his arms almost feels too good to be true. but thanks to the slender hand that slips underneath the waistband of your shorts and the gentle tug at the bottom of your shirt, you know only too well that this is real; and hopefully, it always will be.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (03)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.1k words (get ready for #reallove)

Aliyah's Notes: whats that one saying? rainbows before the storm or wtv tf.

You didn’t believe in hatred.

Dislike? Sure. Irritation? Absolutely. But hatred was for people with time to waste, and in your world, every second was precious. Even now, as you posed under the bright lights of your latest Chanel photoshoot, your mind wandered to the few people you disliked.

Rude stylists, overly critical photographs, maybe a couple of models who thought being catty made them superior—but hate? No, that wasn’t your style.

You were in the middle of changing poses when your phone loudly buzzed on the nearby table. You ignored it at first, moving your chin slightly as the photographer directed you. You could answer it later.

“Gorgeous, Y/N! Hold that pose… yeah, just like that!” the photographer called out, camera clicking away.

The phone buzzed again, more insistent this time. You shifted your weight to one side, flipping your hair for the next shot. But the third buzz was enough to make you sigh.

“Alright, take five!” the photographer announced, waving his assistant over.

You stepped down from the set and grabbed your phone, frowning when you saw Rafe Cameron on the screen. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you swiped to answer.

“Finally answering my calls, sweetheart?” his voice came through, cocky and irritatingly smooth.

“Rafe, I’m working,” you replied, as you pulled your robe around yourself. “Not everyone gets paid to play with a ball.”

“Work, huh? I thought posing in front of a camera was more of a hobby.”

“You’re so funny,” you said flatly, glancing back at the crew who were resetting the lights. “What do you want?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m taking you out tonight.”

You snorted. “Excuse me? Did I miss the part where I agreed to go anywhere with you?”

“You didn’t,” he replied, completely unfazed. “That’s what I’m fixing right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t ‘fix’ things with me, Rafe. You ask, I decide.”

“Is that our dynamic?” Rafe’s tone dripped with amusement. “You sure? Because I remember you agreeing to marry me.”

“That’s business,” you shot back. “Don’t confuse it with me actually wanting to spend time with you.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, clearly not buying it. “Business or not, we’ve got a public to convince. Tonight, we’re making our debut as a couple. We wouldn’t want the media thinking you’re too good for me, would we?”

“I am too good for you,” you replied smoothly, your lips quirking up. “But go on.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Dinner at La Belle, 8 PM. Be ready. I’ll pick you up.”

You glanced at the time. Seriously? “Wait, how do you know where I live?”

“I have my sources. I’m a basketball player; I can afford to have a few eyes on my future wife.”

“Creep,” you mumbled, ignoring the flutter of annoyance in your stomach. “And what makes you think I’m free tonight?”

“Because you’re talking to me instead of saying no.”

“I haven’t said yes, either.”

“You will, though. I can hear it in your voice.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a smug edge in his tone. “But I’m also persistent.”

You exhaled through your nose, staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror as the makeup artist approached with a fresh brush. The look you gave yourself was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Fine.”

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the smirk stretching across his lips. “See you tonight.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, leaving you scowling at the screen.

“Everything okay?” your stylist asked, glancing at your reflection with a raised brow. She has been listening in.

You plastered on a smile. “Yeah… Just…  a guy, you know.”

She snorted. “Sounds like he’s already giving you headaches.”

“Don’t even get me started.”

Your thoughts swirled as you prepared to finish the photoshoot. Rafe’s voice still rang in your eyes. Dinner at La Belle? You weren’t sure why he frustrated you so much—you weren’t like this. Being optimistic and smiley was your trademark, it was who you were, but whenever Rafe was mentioned or around he made you snappy and full of attitude… and you didn’t know why. 

Hours passed in a blur of flashing cameras and outfit changes, and soon enough, it was nearing 7:30. Maya, your stylist, was packing up the last of your things when she gave you a look. “You better get going if you’re gonna make that date.”

“You’re right,” you muttered, checking your phone for the first time in hours. “Oh my God! I have 30 minutes—I gotta go bye, Maya.”

“Bye, girl,” she laughed and waved. “I hope you get dicked—”

“Lalalalala,” you screamed and ran away.

You slipped into your black trench coat and hopped in the car. You texted Rafe.

You: “I might be late. I’m sorry.”

Rafe: “What happened?”

You: “Shooting went overtime.”

Rafe: “Okay.”

You: “You should’ve picked a later time.”

Rafe: “Just get here in one piece. I like my women alive.”

You rolled your eyes, like every time with him, but couldn’t help but smile at his sarcastic tone. You fished out your small makeup bag and quickly powdered your face, adding concealer, mascara, blush, eyeliner, and lipstick. Now, you were one step ahead—ready to slip into an outfit as soon as you got home.

The car pulled up to your apartment, and you rushed into your apartment, your heart raced. You threw open your closet, eyeing the racks of beautiful dresses, each one tempting. 

You finally chose an elegant, sleek black dress that hugged your curves flawlessly, the smooth fabric flowing over your body with a low, scooped neckline. The rich black material shimmered under the light, emphasizing your figure with every movement. In a rush, you worked mousse through your hair, then applied a smoky eye that intensified your gaze, blending shades of charcoal and bronze. The look was bold, and perfectly matched the confidence you were determined to exude tonight.

Your phone buzzed.

Rafe: “You taking too long. I’m coming up.”

A series of sharp knocks echoed through your apartment, almost making you drop your phone. You whipped your head towards the door, quickly adjusting the strap of your dress as you glanced at the clock. 8:20—fuck!

“Give me a minute!” you shouted, frantically slipping on your heels. Your heart raced as you grabbed your earrings, juggling them in your hand while heading towards the door.

When you swung it open, Rafe stood on the other side, leaning casually against the doorframe, wearing that smirk that could only belong to him. His eyes immediately swept over your figure, starting at your legs, up to your waist, your exposed breasts, and finally your face. His gaze lingered, and though he didn’t say anything, the heat in his stare would’ve given you chills down your spine.

You didn’t notice. You were too busy hesitating on what to do with your hair.

“I am not ready yet,” you groaned, stepping aside to let him in. “I got home late, and I haven’t even had time to—ugh. I knew shooting was taking some time but I didn’t think it’d be this much. I’m sorry for making you wait. I swear I’m not usually like this—I hate being late.” You didn’t pause for a breath, just rambled on as you tossed the earrings on the coffee table and made a beeline for your room.

Rafe closed the door behind him, but his attention was fixed on you. He watched as you moved, the dress hugging your ass perfectly, accentuating your hurried movements. The sight of you—flustered, elegant, and completely unaware of his gaze—only deepened the smirk on his face.

“Nice place,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His gaze followed you down the hallway, where your bedroom was slightly ajar.

Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped through the threshold and followed you inside, finding you in your room—which was the perfect picture of chaos. Clothes were draped over the bed, shoes tossed in random covers, and a vanity table cluttered with makeup. It was the kind of organized mess that only you could make sense of.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching as you rifled through your vanity drawer for something. His eyes swept over the pastel-colored blankets and the flowery décor, stark contrasts to the girl who had been all sass and attitude with him up until now.

But he liked that. It turned him on, for some reason.

“I didn’t take you for the ‘pink floral everything’ type,” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You shot him a glance through the mirror, briefly pausing from rummaging through your drawer. “And I didn’t take you for the ‘nosy guest who barges into rooms uninvited’ type,” you quipped, raising an eyebrow back at him. Your fingers grazed over a tube of lipstick, which you quickly uncapped and re-applied.

Rafe’s smirk only widened. “What can I say? I’m a man full of surprises.”

“Yeah, well, try surprising me by sitting quietly on my bed like a normal person,” you shot back, giving your lips one final press together before throwing the lipstick into the pile of clutter on your vanity.

Rafe made a show of glancing around your room. “I think ‘normal’ left the building when I saw this,” he said, gesturing to the soft pink pillows and floral patterns that clashed with the image you projected. “Didn’t peg you for the type to have a room that looks like a rom-com set.”

You turned, finally facing him fully, one hand on your hip. “Oh, look, a creep overanalyzing a girl’s bedroom.”

Rafe chuckled. “Just making an observation. It’s cute. A little... princessy for someone who tries to pretend she’s all tough, but hey, I can roll with it.”

You tried to fight the smile threatening to creep up. “First of all, I am tough. Secondly, I like pink, sue me.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said with a wink, his voice dropping a little lower. “You look good in pink.”

You scoffed and turned back to the mirror, fiddling with your dress. “You’re insane.”

Rafe just grinned, watching you trying so hard to look occupied, clearly flustered. “Probably, but I think you like that,” he said, his tone teasing. He stepped closer, now standing right behind you. His presence was warm, and his gaze never left your reflection.

You met his eyes in the mirror, your hands faltering with your hair as his intense gaze locked onto yours. The air between you thickened just a little, but you weren’t about to give in to his charm. “I don’t like anything that involves you, Cameron,” you said, but the words lacked the bite you intended.

He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I don’t believe you.”

The heat of his breath on your neck made your skin tingle, and for a brief second, you forgot what you were supposed to be doing. But then you snapped out of it, stepping away to grab your perfume from the vanity. “Well, believe this: we’re leaving in five minutes, and I still need to finish getting ready,” you said, your voice firm, though your cheeks betrayed you with a faint flush.

Rafe raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you finish...”

As you spritzed the perfume, you caught him eyeing you again, his gaze lingering on your tits. You couldn’t help but shake your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Eyes up here, Rafe.”

He shrugged, shameless as ever. “Can’t blame a guy for appreciating the view.” He paused for a beat, then added, “Besides, in five minutes, you’ll be mine for the night.”

You threw him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Creepy... This is just for show, remember?”

Rafe nodded, and as you finally slipped on your coat, he followed you toward the door, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, there was no hiding the smile. “Yup! Ready, Cameron.”

Rafe’s hand wrapped around your wrist just as you reached for the door, his touch firm but gentle enough to send a flicker of electricity up your arm. You turned, brow furrowed.

“What now?” you sighed, trying to sound annoyed.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “You know what? I think we should practice.”

You blinked, trying to read his expression. “Practice?”

His gaze dipped to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “Yeah, practice… For when we’re in public,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, almost daring you to look away. “When we’re kissing… we wouldn’t want our kisses to look unconvincing, mmh?”

A laugh bubbled out of you, partly from surprise and partly to keep yourself from being completely thrown off by the heat in his stare. “You’re kidding.”

He raised an eyebrow, inching closer, the space between you shrinking until the scent of his cologne mixed with the tension already thick in the air. “Am I?” His voice was smooth, dripping with amusement, but beneath it, there was something else. Something far more dangerous.

Your breath hitched as you took a step back, your body colliding with the door. “You’re serious...”

Rafe’s smirk widened, but this time it was laced with something primal. “Yeah,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were just a whisper away from yours. “You look so fucking good tonight, sweetheart.”

Your pulse raced, and for a split second, you considered pushing him away, but your body betrayed you. You stayed there, frozen in the moment, trapped by the intensity in his gaze, the closeness of his body.

Before you could even form a reply, he closed the distance, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t the playful, teasing peck you were expecting—it was deep, his hand sliding to the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was full of fire and heat, a simmering tension that had been building between the two of you since the moment you met.

Your mind went blank, the world outside disappearing as your lips moved against his, as though you had been kissing him forever. His fingers tightened on your waist, and a low moan escaped from the back of your throat, sending a wave of warmth through your entire body.

When you finally broke apart, your chest was heaving, and you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. You stared at him, wide-eyed, struggling to catch your breath. Rafe’s blue eyes were dark, his smile gone, replaced by a hungry look that made your stomach twist in knots.

“That was...” you trailed off, trying to find the right word. But nothing seemed to fit.

Rafe’s thumb brushed over your lower lip, wiping away some of your smeared lipstick. “For practice,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “You know… just in case.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, but your brain finally caught up. “Uh-huh,” you mumbled, still feeling the warmth of his thumb on your lip. “Just practice.”

You tried to step away, but his hand was still on your waist, holding you there, his thumb brushing the delicate skin of your hip as if testing the boundaries between you.

“You, uh…” Your voice wavered, and you blinked, trying to find something—anything—to cut through the tension. “You’ve also got lipstick all over you.”

Rafe’s lips twitched into a grin, though his eyes remained locked on yours, full of heat. “I do?”

You nodded, taking a breath to calm your racing pulse. “Here, let me…” Without thinking, you reached up and brushed your thumb across his lips, wiping away the smear of color.

It should’ve been innocent. It should’ve been nothing.

But the moment your thumb touched his lips, Rafe’s eyes darkened even more. He caught your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently but firmly, his gaze never leaving yours. The warmth of his skin seeped into you, and the atmosphere between you both thickened, the tension pulling tighter.

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper aware of how close you were, how your bodies seemed to gravitate towards each other without you even realizing it. The way he was looking at you—like he wanted to devour you—it made you feel dizzy.

His voice was a low rasp when he finally spoke. “You’re killing me here.”

Your breath hitched at the huskiness in his tone, your stomach twisting with nerves and something else entirely. You tried to laugh it off, to shake the moment. “It’s just lipstick, Rafe.”

His thumb brushed over your pulse, the simplest touch sending sparks down your spine. “It’s not the lipstick,” he murmured, his eyes flicking back to your lips.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperate to break the tension before you did something you’d regret. “You’re all cleaned up now, Romeo. We should go,” you said, your voice shaky but determined.

Rafe’s hand lingered a moment longer on your wrist, his gaze searching yours, as if considering whether or not to push further. But then he dropped your hand, stepping back with a slow, devilish grin. “Yeah,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “We should.”

You turned toward the door, your heart still racing as you tried to pull yourself together. But even as you reached for the handle, you felt his presence right behind you, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck, sending a shiver through your body.

“I like the dress, by the way,” his tone lighter now but still tinged with the lingering tension.

You glanced back at him. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes glinting as he opened the door for you. You stepped out into the hallway, your head still spinning from the kiss, from the way he looked at you, from everything. 

He followed closely behind, his presence lingering in the space around like shadows. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you stepped inside.

“That’s a nice place you’ve got, by the way,” he remarked, his tone casual.

You glanced at him sideways, unwilling to give him more than a passing look. “Thanks, but I’m sure you say that to all the girls you visit uninvited.”

He smiled. “Only the ones I’m marrying.”

“Look at me swooning,” you rolled your eyes as the elevator began its descent, the silence between you settling into something almost comfortable.

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out quickly, determined to put some space between you and him. But even as you reached the front entrance of your building, Rafe was right behind you, his hand lightly brushing against your back as he guided you toward the black car waiting at the curb.

“Such a gentleman,” you whispered sarcastically.

“I try,” he shot back, opening the car door for you. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he added, “Besides, it’s part of my job as your husband to be a gentleman towards you, right?”

You slid into the car, crossing your legs as you settled into the plush leather seat. “We’re not married yet, you do know that, right?”

“But we will be, so what’s the difference?” he said, slipping into the seat next to you. His arm stretched out along the back of the seat, brushing against your shoulder.

“Well, there’s a big difference actually…” you whispered more to yourself, smoothing down your dress as you glanced out the window, trying to ignore the way his proximity made your pulse quicken.

As the car pulled away from the curb, silence filled the space between you. You weren’t sure if it was the lingering effects of the kiss or the fact that Rafe was sitting so close, but the air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.

“So, we’re going to La Belle, huh?” you asked, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, you ever been there before?”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “The five-star restaurant in New York City where all the celebs go to get photographed? Of course, I’ve been there.”

Rafe grinned. “Perfect spot for our big debut, don’t you think?”

“You did your big one, bravo!” you nodded with a smile.

The car pulled to a stop outside of the restaurant, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of the flashing lights. Paparazzi filled the sidewalk, their cameras already trained on the car. You took a steadying breath, feeling Rafe’s eyes on you.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and something else—concern, maybe.

You let a truthful smile spread across your lips as you met his gaze. “Fuck yeah!”

He laughed, and for a moment, you felt his hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of reassurance. The car door opened, and before you could second-guess anything, you felt yourself being gently tugged out into the swirl of flashing cameras, Rafe’s hand warm and steady around yours.

“Rafe! Y/N! Over here!”

“Look this way!”

“Is she your new girlfriend?”

Questions flew around, shouted from all the angles as you made your way toward the entrance. You kept your chin up, smile fixed, the years of modeling training kicking in to keep your expression calm and collected. Meanwhile, Rafe had his arm draped around your waist, his casual confidence almost comforting.

Inside the restaurant, the lighting was dim, intimate—a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The maître led you to a private table in the back corner, and as you slid into your seat, the reality of the situation settled back in.

“I felt like I almost died out there,” you said with a laugh as you glanced at the menu.

“I thought that was fun,” he said, picking up his own menu. “them thinking you’re my girlfriend when you’re about to become my wi—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, a familiar broke through his voice. “Oh, what a surprise, Y/N.”

You froze, looking up to see none other than Alina Ivanov, her polished smile almost too bright as she approached your table. Dressed in a sleek, form-fitting red dress and with her hair swept back in a low chignon, she looked like she belonged here. And, as always, her appearance felt like a subtle reminder of the rivalry she’d always tried to stir between you.

“Alina,” you said, keeping your voice polite but cool. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered between you two, sensing the tension immediately. “Friend of yours?”

Alina flashed him a charming smile before turning back to you, her expression a picture of innocence. “We’re worked together a few times,” she said, not missing a beat. “I was just so surprised to see you here. It’s not every day you bring a date to places like this… or just bring dates, period.”

You kept your smile polite, though your jaw was tight. “Unlike you, am I right?”

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment too long before shifting back to Rafe. “And who might you be?”

“Rafe Cameron,” he said, his tone smooth but his gaze sharp.

“I was joking. I know who you are, silly,” Alina said, chuckling softly. “My brothers are huge fans of yours. Always telling me how you’re the one to watch on the court.”

He offered a polite nod. “Glad to hear it.”

There was a beat of silence before Alina leaned in, her eyes glinting as she looked back at you. “So, Y/N, how’s everything going with… your work?” Her tone was light, casual, but the question felt like a dig.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Busy as ever.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” she replied, her smile widening. “Things have been so competitive lately. But I’m sure you’re managing.” She tilted her head, her expression turning almost pitying. “Just let me know if you need any tips on balancing everything. We know what happened the last time that you were too stressed.”

For the first time in a long while, she left you speechless. Words hung on your lips, but nothing came out. A slight tremor shook your body as memories flooded back. Alina mentioning that moment…it was like a punch to the gut. You’d convinced yourself everyone had forgotten, buried it in the past. But of course, she hadn’t. How could she? It was the most humiliating, traumatizing experience of your career.

Rafe noticed the shift immediately. He always looked forward to your sharp retorts, the way you never missed a beat with your quick-witted comebacks. But now? He saw something different—a rawness, a vulnerability he hadn’t seen in you before. His chest tightened, a protective instinct flaring up, urging him to shield you from the wound Alina had reopened. He didn’t know what she meant, didn’t need to know. Your face told him everything.

Before Alina could twist the knife any deeper, Rafe stepped in, his voice low but steady, the edge unmistakable.

"Seems like she’s been doing just fine on her own," he cut in, his gaze hardening. "Haven't you seen her work lately?"

His tone was firm, no hint of the usual lightness. He didn’t look at you—he didn’t need to—but you could feel the solidarity in his words, a silent reassurance that said, I’ve got you.

Alina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, brushing off his words with a delicate laugh. “Yeah, of course! I mean, I’d be hard-pressed to miss it with her face practically everywhere.” She turned to you, her gaze sharpening just a fraction. “Lucky for you, the timing’s been in your favor, huh?”

You clenched your teeth, trying to stop the trembles in your body. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Her smile stretched a little too wide as she inclined her head. “Oh, I totally get it, babe. Well, enjoy your night, you two.” She cast a lingering, almost possessive look at Rafe, her gaze dragging over him as though he were something she intended to claim. “And, Rafe, it was lovely meeting you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.”

Without missing a beat, Rafe’s gaze stayed anchored on you as he replied, “Doubt it.”

Alina’s expression faltered, again, before she flashed a final smile and melted back into the crowd, her perfume leaving a sickly-sweet trace in her wake. The silence that followed felt dense, almost stifling, and you could still feel the sting of her words hanging in the air like smoke. You exhaled, trying to let go of the tension that had coiled in your shoulders.

Rafe’s gaze shifted, catching yours with an intensity that softened as he studied your face. “She’s... really friendly, isn’t she?” he said with a dry chuckle.

You let out a scoff, unable to resist. “That’s one way to put it.”

Rafe smirked, his eyebrows lifting. “She always this nice?”

“Only when there’s an audience.”

Rafe’s expression shifted, his humor fading into something more thoughtful. He leaned forward, just close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne, and his eyes softened as they searched yours. “If she ever gives you trouble, you let me know. I’ve got no problem shutting her up.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected note of protectiveness in his voice. The way he looked at you was something new, something unfamiliar—and it stirred something you hadn’t anticipated. “Thanks, Cameron, but I can handle the Russian princess.”

“I know you can,” he replied, his voice low, every word rich with unspoken promise. “But you’ve got a husband now to help you with these… things”

His words hung in the air, sparking a warmth in your chest that surprised you. This side of him—serious, protective, and entirely focused on you—was so different from the cocky charm he usually wore like armor. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the quiet charge humming between your gazes.

A server approached, breaking the lingering silence as they took your orders. Once they left, quiet settled between you and Rafe again, pressing down as the sounds of clinking silverware and murmured conversations filled the space around you. For a moment, you let yourself tune into the chatter of the other tables, realizing how strange it was to be here with someone you hardly knew. Sure, you knew what the media had to say about Rafe Cameron—most people did. 

You thought back to what you actually knew about him. He was 25, a talented star on an NBA team, with a cocky smile. The media painted him as the consummate playboy, a regular at exclusive clubs, and someone who, judging by the number of girls he was photographed kissing, had perfected the art of fleeting connections. And yes, the tabloids had mentioned his dreamy abs.

It was a curious thought: this man across from you was, somehow, your future husband. Yet, aside from the stories, the rumors, and those dark blue eyes that sparked whenever he looked your way, what else did you know about him? You felt a pang of embarrassment.

Maybe it was because of the arrangement, maybe it was the fleeting glances across magazine covers and sports sites, but all you truly knew about Rafe Cameron could barely fill a sentence.

Finally, you couldn’t help it, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table as you studied him. He looked too comfortable, too at ease, like he belonged here. He was the perfect enigma: superstar athlete and notorious heartbreaker, with eyes that seemed to hold every secret and none at all.

“So, um, Rafe, what do you know about me?”

He stilled, his easygoing expression faltering for a second. You’d caught him off guard. “What do I know about you?” his fingers wrapped around the glass, as he searched for your face. “I mean, I know what people say. What I’ve seen.”

You tilted your head, waiting. “Which is?”

“That you’re the golden girl, flawless. Beautiful and nice, sure, but… it’s more than that,” his eyes traced your face, almost tender, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “People can’t help but be in awe of you.”

A quiet breath escaped you, surprised by the way his words lingered, settling like an unexpected weight in your chest. Awe of you—it wasn’t something anyone had ever said to your face, and it sounded both charming and absurd coming from him. But something about the way he said it made you pause. You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if, perhaps, he actually meant it.

“So, I’m a tabloid fantasy, then?” you teased softly, trying to keep the edge of doubt in your voice.

He chuckled, but his gaze remained steady, as if searching for something hidden beneath your smile. “No, you’re more than that,” he murmured. “You’re the woman everyone wants to know, but it seems like nobody really does. Even some of my teammates can’t stop talking about you… some of them are practically in love with you. They think you’re beautiful and—”

“And would you agree?” you prompted, you didn’t why you asked. You didn’t care what he thought of you.

He hesitated, his eyes tracing over your features in a way that felt too intimate for someone you’d barely spent any time with. “You're not bad, but if you toned down the attitude and that smart mouth of yours, I might just find you beautiful.” You laughed and playfully flipped him off, earning a chuckle from him. But then his expression shifted, and he grew serious again. “But you’re nice, that’s what I wanted to say. Like, actually nice. Not the superficial stuff everyone says to stay in the good graces of the media… probably like that Alina girl who definitely pretends to be nice.”

You scoffed, but your heart betrayed you, thudding a little faster under his gaze. “Nice? You think I’m nice?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. His eyes moved slowly over your face, as if trying to peek back a layer, to see the person beneath the perfect photos and poised interviews. “You… you’ve got more edge than what people think, but still nice, you know.”

His confidence was intoxicating, an irresistible blend of cockiness and charm that made it nearly impossible to ignore the urge to close the distance between you and kiss him senseless. Tonight, he looked ridiculously good—his light yellow dress shirt with a crisp white collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms in a way that only made you rub your thighs together. The way his black trousers hugged his figure and the subtle shine of his shine only added to the magnetic pull drawing you towards him.

A quiet stretched between you, heavy with unspoken tension, his words lingering in the air. He leaned back just enough, his guarded expression softened by the way his gaze stayed on you. “But what about you?” he asked, voice low and smooth. “What do you know about me, baby?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, watching him with newfound curiosity. “Honestly? Not much,” you admitted. “I know you’re 25, a famous basketball star,” you narrowed your eyes, watching the way his intense gaze never wavered from you. “You’re cocky—maybe a bit too cocky sometimes—and you love pushing people’s buttons. Especially mine. You probably like it, though, huh? Seeing how we'll react.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Go on…”

“And you’re a bit of a party animal. From all the photos out there, it seems like you’ve got a new girl on your arm every week. But despite that, you’re fiercely dedicated to your sport—and you’re damn good at it. The media practically worships every move you make on the court. That’s all I have on you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of intrigue in his eyes as he leaned in, again. “And what’s your conclusion?” he asked, voice lower, as if this moment was just for the two of you.

“Not much,” you replied with a slight shrug. “I don’t know anything about you, Rafe—only the version everyone else sees.”

He breathed out slowly, his expression softening as he thought about your words. “So, we’re both just media fantasies,” he said, voice a quiet murmur. His fingers brushed against yours, the contact so subtle yet electric, igniting warmth that raced up your arm and made your heart pound a little faster.

“Maybe we are…” you replied softly, glancing down at his hand resting near yours on the table, close enough to close the gap between you. “But I guess if we’re planning on getting married and all, we should probably learn a bit more about each other, don’t you think?”

“Right.” His gaze softened, and a playful gleam flickered in his eyes. “So, what do you want to know?”

You tilted your head, unable to keep the teasing edge from your voice. “Honestly? If it were up to me, I’d probably prefer not to know a thing about you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t believe no one ever warned me about that smart mouth of yours. Haven’t seen a single headline on it.”

A smirk spread across your lips. “I’m saving it for my husband,” you replied sweetly, watching his expression shift, a spark of something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

“Future husband,” he corrected with a soft smile, as if savoring the words.

“Future husband, that’s right,” you nodded. “So… I guess since we’re supposed to be newly dating, we should start with the basics, right? You know, things like your favorite color, your favorite movie…”

"That makes sense. So, my favorite color’s green, but not just any green—I’m talking deep green, like the kind you see in plants," he rambled. "And I guess my favorite movie’s probably ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’—"

"Oh, my God! Liking that movie is such a douchey choice," you teased, and he laughed along.

"Alright, then—what's your favorite movie, Miss Judgey McJudgerson?"

"I'm not judging—" he shot you a look and you sighed, nodding in surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe I judged a little. But can you blame me? Anyway," you continued, a spark of excitement in your tone, "a movie I can watch on repeat? ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’. And don't even think about making fun of it, because it’s honestly a masterpiece."

He tilted his head, feigning offense. "Oh, so ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ isn’t a masterpiece? Is that what you're saying?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you leaned back. "Look, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying all the jerks are obsessed with that movie."

His smirk grew, eyes glinting with challenge. "The jerks, huh?" His brows raised, his gaze holding yours. "So, I’m a jerk?"

You shrugged with a mischievous smile. "If the shoe fits."

“So,” he said, “you’re telling me my taste in movies is a red flag?”

You smirked, meeting his gaze. “I mean, ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ is practically a requirement for men with commitment issues. It’s the kind of movie someone watches to feel cool, you know?”

“Ouch.” He raised his glass, looking amused. “So what does ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’ say about you? That you’re a sucker for impossible relationships and grand romantic gestures?”

You feigned sigh, taking the glass of wine in your hands. “Maybe. Or maybe it just says I have taste,” you glanced at him over the rim of your glass, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Enough on how shitty my taste in movies is,” he moved his hands dismissively. “Let’s focus on whether the ‘golden girl’ is a hopeless romantic. Are you?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Your husband’s asking.”

You held yourself back from correcting him, and just scoffed. “I wouldn’t go that far. I just have a soft spot for movies with good storytelling, good humor, and good looking white boys.”

“You know, I might actually have a soft side for sappy movies too,” he shot back, his smile widening.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Right, and I’m the fucking queen of England.”

“What? Why? I could like them, you know.”

“Rafe, I bet you’d hate anything with a happy ending—”

“Holy shit! Rafe! My fucking dude on a date?”

The moment shattered as a voice cut through the air, loud and incredulous. Both of you turned your heads to see a tall blond guy wavering through tables with a grin as wide as the room itself.

“Topper,” Rafe muttered with a sigh and a look that bordered on agony.

“Rafe, my guy!” Topper laughed, eyes flickering between the two of you in delight. “I cannot believe my eyes. You—on a date? And with her?” He gestured to you, his excitement barely contained. “No offense, beautiful, but I thought Rafe’s only serious relationship was with basketball. You’re like a mythical creature right now.”

You fought back a laugh as Rafe shot Topper a glare, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“Top,” he sighed, “aren’t you supposed to be somewhere? Literally anywhere else?”

“Oh, hell no. This is a one-in-a-million chance. Besides, I have to see this through. Rafe Cameron actually out with a woman he didn’t meet at a club? Man, this is incredible.”

Rafe pressed his fingers to his temples, visibly restraining himself from shoving his teammate out. “I swear, I’m this close to throwing you out of here.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Topper said, clapping him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Don’t be like that! I mean, I thought you were incapable of going on a real date, and here you are, actually acting all gentlemanly.” He glanced at you with a grin. “So, what’s it like dating Rafe? Has he tried any of his classic lines yet?”

You shrugged with a grin of your own. “If by classic lines, you mean being generally annoying? Then yes.”

Rafe raised his eyebrow, feigning offense. “Annoying? Really?”

“Am I wrong?” You met his gaze head-on, smirking. “Every time you speak, you’re trying to get under my skin—”

“Because I want to see what that smart mouth of yours will say back to me.”

Topper laughed, completely entertained, while you just shook your head, trying not to laugh. “So, I was right. You love riling people up just to see their reactions.”

He shook his head, eyes glinting. “Not people, sweetheart. Just you.”

Your cheeks warmed despite yourself, caught off guard by his focus. You quickly recovered, scoffing, “Oh, and that’s my cue to swoon, right?”

Rafe leaned back, his smirk victorious. “Whatever works.”

Topper threw his head back, laughing, as if he’d just won the best seat at the theater. “Oh, this is good. You guys… yeah, I’m getting popcorn next time.”

Rafe gave his friend one last pointed look, his eyes practically daring his friend to stick around. “I’m serious, Top. I’m here on an actual date, so if you want to keep your teeth intact, I’d suggest moving along.”

Topper raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning ear-to-ear. “Alrighty. But I’ve gotta say, I never thought I’d see the day you’d settle down—especially with someone who can actually keep you in line,” he gave you a wink. “Good luck, beautiful. You’ll need it with this one.”

With a final smile and a nod to you, Topper sauntered away, glancing back with an amused shake of his head as he left.

Rafe turned back to you, letting out an exasperated breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about him. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

You grinned. “Seems like he knows you pretty well, though. I’m actually surprised he didn’t say more.”

“Top’s just not used to seeing me on a date, that’s all. He’s right, though… this isn’t my usual scene,” his eyes traced over your face, lingering on the way you smiled. “But I’m getting married, so I gotta get used to it.”

The server returned with your orders, interrupting the moment. Rafe took a bite of his food and you did the same, each of you eating in a silence as the tension between you grew stronger. Finally, he spoke.

“So, back to this hopeless romantic thing you swear you’re not,” he began, his voice light but his gaze steady. “You say you’re not, but you can’t stop watching ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’. Are you telling me you don’t want some big, dramatic love story? A guy standing in the rain, begging for a second chance?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, though his question struck a nerve. “I mean… who wouldn’t want that? But not everyone’s looking for a grand gesture. Some of us just want someone real.”

A flicker of something flashed in his eyes. “Real, huh? So you’re looking for real?”

“Of course. That’s all anyone really wants, right?” You felt vulnerable, caught off guard by his interest in something deeper. “But real is hard to come by… especially when you’re both in the spotlight.”

Rafe’s smirk faded, and for a moment, he looked down, almost as if he were weighing your words. When he looked back up, his expression was softer, thoughtful in a way that felt almost too intimate for a first date. “Maybe that’s something we have in common then.”

Surprised, you blinked, watching as he traced the rim of his glass absently. You hadn’t expected him to say that. The Rafe you knew from headlines and public appearances was never the reflective type. And yet, here he was, letting down his guard, even if just a tiny bit.

“So, the basketball star has a soft side?” you teased, unable to resist breaking the tension. “Who would’ve guessed?”

His lips curved into a grin, smoldering. “Don’t go spreading that around. Gotta keep some mystery.”

You both continued eating in a comfortable rhythm, making light conversation about inconsequential things—places you’d been, places you still wanted to see. Each laugh that slipped out came a little easier, every smile more relaxed as you both unwound.

As the last plates were cleared and Rafe paid, you glanced over his shoulder and noticed a familiar face in the back of the restaurant. Alina Ivanov, was seated at a nearby table, staring at you both with a smirk that sent a chill down your spine. Instinctively, you looked away, pulse spiking with a mixture of irritation and unease. It felt as though you were being watched through a magnifying glass, judged, evaluated, and silently torn apart.

Rafe’s gaze followed yours, and his hand found the small of your back as he leaned in. “Don’t mind her. Let’s get out of here,” he said quietly, his voice a reassuring warmth in the sudden chill. He guided you to the door, ignoring Alina’s gaze as he led you out into the cool night air.

Outside, the city hummed around you, and Rafe’s hand lingered at your back, grounding you. The air was a welcome relief, a quiet reprieve from the intensity of the restaurant. When you reached his car, he opened the door for you, his gaze lingering on you with an unreadable intensity before he rounded the car to the driver’s side. It was a small gesture, yet oddly grounding, as if he knew exactly when to offer support without crowding you.

(The chauffeur left and let them the car.)

The car ride was a soft blur of city lights, fading into a serene silence. You leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass against your skin as you stared at the passing streets, bright with shop lights and late-night wanderers. But your mind wandered far from New York.

You thought of home—your home country, the land you hadn’t seen in far too long. Your heart ached for the family you had left behind, a pain that had quietly settled within you. You hadn’t been the perfect daughter, nor the obedient child they had wanted, but you missed them, missed your siblings. You wondered what they’d think if they saw you now—would they be proud? Or would they find this new life of yours too far from the one you left behind?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the car slowing to a stop until Rafe’s voice broke the silence. “We’re here.”

Startled, you lifted your head, blinking as you recognized the familiar building. The faint neon sign from the bodega down the street cast a soft glow, painting the pavement in shades of blue and pink. You glanced at Rafe, his face softened in the gentle light, a calm patience in his expression as he looked at you.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said quietly, feeling a strange reluctance to leave the moment behind.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Anytime.” The two syllables held an unspoken promise, a rare gentleness that seemed almost out of place for him. He paused, watching you as if he wanted to say something more, but he merely gave a slight nod, lips curling in a faint smile.

You reached for the door, but his voice made you pause. “Hey.”

You turned, finding his face close, the space between you shrinking as his fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, catching you by surprise. His touch was soft, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone with an unexpected tenderness. His hand lingered, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek—a feather-light touch that sent warmth spiraling through you.

The kiss lasted just a moment, yet it was enough to make your heart race, to make you painfully aware of every point of contact. His breath fanned across your skin, and you could feel the faint scratch of stubble against your cheek. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, the usual cockiness tempered with something softer, something far more real.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, a small smile ghosting his lips.

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Goodnight, Cameron,” you managed, feeling the warmth still lingering on your cheek, the phantom sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin.

As you stepped out of the car, you looked back once more to see him watching you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips but softened by something else, something deeper you couldn’t place. You gave a small wave, trying not to overthink the moment as he pulled away, leaving you standing in the quiet night, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your skin.

chapter four

[yourstrulyrani]

Hi luv!

I am new to Simon Riley but I am DOWN BAD lmao

Could u please write something about mommy reade being insecure and struggling with like body image after pregnancy and during post-partum. Like being a REAL MAN he is, he just adores his mama and loves how her body changed and created their baby.

U can totally change it however u like, i am bad at explaining 😭😭

I absolutely loved ur last dad!Simon imagine, I could never 😭

Keep it up 🫶🏻🫶🏻

dad!simon riley x mom!reader

blurb: dad!simon soothes your insecurities about your postpartum body. cw&tws: body image/weight, suggestive right at the end // wc: 1279

a/n: aw hii you’re so kind, thank you! & don’t worry you explained it perfectly and i am so in love with this idea so here it is, thank you for your kind words btw 🥹🫶🏼 i want to bring attention to anyone reading who needs to hear it, that no matter your weight or how your body looks: you’re enough. your looks are not “hideous” or anything else along those lines just because society tells you otherwise. in no way do i have the intention of promoting body negativity/shaming. every body is a body worthy of love and respect as long as you treat others the same. please take care of yourselves & love yourselves as much as possible 🤍.

With the spare time you have now as your baby is asleep in her nursery, you take off your tank top, now clad in only a nursing bra and your underwear.

You step in front of the mirror. You thought your heart sunk enough when you saw the number on the scale, but you were wrong. You run your hands along your stomach. The skin is still saggy from the pregnancy and birth, and the stretch marks from your pregnancy that were once faint now boldly start at your hips and vine their way to your belly button. At this point, you let the tears fall. You want the body you had before pregnancy. You want the body where you could see where your waist ended and your hips started. You want the body where your breasts don't have stretch marks. You want the number you had on the scale from before. You don’t even recognize yourself.

You think: How did I let myself go this much?

You break down on the wooden floor of the bedroom, the hot tears falling on the cold floor.

“Sweetheart?” His voice calls out to you.

You forgot he was home too.

You look up through your tears, a blurry image but enough to know it's your husband at the doorway of your shared bedroom. Simon doesn’t hesitate to walk over and sit down with you on the floor, placing his hands on your cheeks and rubbing your tears off with his thumbs. “Baby.”

Your eyes shut, letting more tears fall at the pressure. You can’t look at him. You can’t be with him. Your body isn’t enough. Enough for you. Enough for him. “Baby, look at me.” His voice tightens along with his hands on your face.

You whimper in pain, “No.”

His hands move from your cheeks to your elbows, lifting you up gently. “Here, let’s get you up on the bed.” You have been recently so happy with the arrival of your baby, Simon too. It pains him to see you like this. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.” He pleads gently until you finally open your eyes.

As soon as you sit on the bed and your bloodshot eyes weakly gaze at him, his chest tightens. Your breathing is labored yet you manage to get out a few words, “My body, Simon.” You wrap your stomach around your arms, clutching at the body that’s giving you trouble. “It’s so ugly. I’m sorry.” You hiccup, the crying making it harder to breathe. “My stretch marks, my belly, my swollen legs and feet. Everything. I’m sorry I’m not as pretty as before.”

“You don’t think you’re pretty?”

“I’m hideous, Si.”

Simon’s ears rang when you called yourself that word: Hideous. His gorgeous, dedicated, sweet wife. The mother to their baby, the love and light of his life, and here she is talking about herself like this.

“Stand up for me, sweetheart.” Simon grabs your hands and you reluctantly do as he says. He tugs at your bra, “Can I take this off?”

“But the doctor said no sex for six wee—“

“I know, baby. Don’t worry. Not planning on that right now. You need to heal." Your nod of permission makes him unclasp your bra. He cups your cheek and places a kiss on your forehead before guiding you by the shoulders to the mirror. Here you are, again, facing the woman you can’t stand.

Simon stands behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder and his hands on your arms. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses your neck, the touch of affection featherlight but heavy with love.

Simon’s hands move down to your breasts, cupping one in each hand. His hands are big enough to let his thumbs trace over the stretch marks on them. “These stretch marks are normal and perfect. Your body grew selflessly for our girl and this shows it.” His eyes gaze into yours through the mirror. “I don’t think your stretch marks are hideous. I think they’re a physical sign of your strength.” His hands give your breasts a final rub, then move on to rub the stretch marks across your hips and stomach. You turn your head to the side, disgusted at looking at yourself for any longer.

Your husband clicks his tongue. “Look, baby. Please. Right there in the mirror. Look for me.” Simon glides his hands along your stomach. He squeezes gently, enough to feel the softness without hurting you. You turn your head back to face the mirror, and Simon gives you a warm smile through the mirror. You look at your body, analyzing every inch. The stretch marks you once saw as something that should be disgusted over, you now see them as a physical witness to your pregnancy. You start to think they're not so bad.

His hands circled all around your stomach. “And your belly you said? Here is where you carried our baby. You let her grow here. Your stomach is not hideous. It changed beautifully. It’s softer than before and I love it. I love feeling it. I love looking at it.” He keeps reassuring you in your ear and you can't help but to shiver. You always loved Simon's voice, but the combination of it and his honest reassurances does something else to you.

You slowly start to feel better, but your doubts still rise about how Simon feels. “But I don’t feel pretty enough for you. I’ve changed so much after this pregnancy.”

“You are always pretty enough for me. You are always beautiful. You’re perfect, mama. Your body changed because you got pregnant and that’s normal. I’m not disgusted. If anything I am in awe of you and your body’s ability.”

Simon walks around to stand in front of you now, making you look up at him by lifting your chin up with his finger. His head lowers to kiss your forehead, his lips kissing their way down to your cheek, and lastly to your neck. “Believe me when I say your body has changed in the best way possible, my love. Every inch. Every stretch mark and curve. It’s all beauty to me. You are beauty to me. Love yourself, please.”

Your eyes tear up. Not because you hate your body anymore, but now realizing just how much you should love it and how much the man you love loves it. "I love you," you whisper. Both of you look into each other's eyes, none of you denying the amount of love in each pair.

"I love you too, mama." Simon brings you into an embrace, wrapping his forearms around your upper back. His face finds the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your most sensitive spot as he speaks. "My beautiful woman. Just a few more weeks and I'll prove it to you just how beautiful you are." He softly kisses your neck, thinking about how fortunate he is to have a woman who loves him like you do.

You giggle and cross your arms playfully, “How so?” You know exactly what he means, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it out loud.

Simon chuckles before moving his head away from your neck to look down at your face. He admires every slope. He loves the way your eyelashes compliment your eyes, the way your lip color is the perfect shade to kiss, and your cheeks soft enough to hold in his hands. He does the latter, his words laced with suppressed desire as he whispers, “The same way I got you knocked up.”

You think: How did I get so lucky?

(brb gonna go cry UGH i need a man to praise me like he's doing RIGHT NOW.)

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎 ꕤ

Min Yoongi x fem!reader: mirror sex

summary: Yoongi will not stand with you criticising your body.

warnings: smut, mirror sex, unprotected sex, slight choking, yoongi being a slight mean dom, you are beautiful pls don't be mean to yourself <3

word count: 1.8k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You often struggled with your image. You hated feeling like you weren’t enough, when you looked in the mirror and saw your curves as something disgusting, your boobs too saggy or your butt too flat. 

You thought that getting a boyfriend would calm these thoughts.

Oh, how wrong you were.

In fact, it did quite the opposite. It took you over a month to let Yoongi sleep with you because you thought that, the moment he saw you without clothes, he’d bail. He kept complimenting you during the act, but you always thought he said those things because he just wanted to make you feel less nervous. 

And there you were. 

Standing in front of your bedroom mirror, wearing a dress that you had bought specially for a date with Yoongi, your boyfriend. 

But what you thought about the dress when you tried it back at the shop a couple of days ago, you now thought the exact opposite of it.

You thought you looked hideous in it. 

It was probably your arms, the skin near your armpits was sticking out too much. Maybe your legs too…

You let out a frustrated sigh and prayed for the tears not to fall. You were going to ruin your makeup if you continued thinking. 

Your phone buzzing pulled you out of your self destructive thoughts. Your heart slammed inside your ribcage crazily when you saw that Yoongi had texted you. 

Yoongi: heyy!!  just arrived, babe

Yoongi: going up :) 

You just replied with a thumbs up emoji and left the phone right next to your body.

Staring at the floor, you started thinking at what Yoongi could think of you in this dress, how he’d show disgust at how your legs looked horrible in it, how your hips maybe looked way too big-

“Hi, sweetie” Yoongi smiled as he walked inside your bedroom and came to a halt when he saw you in that yellow dress. “Holy shit, Jagiya” he whispered to himself. “You look stunning”

He walked over towards you in his white shirt and black pants that looked way too fucking good on him, it should be illegal.

But your thoughts unfortunately were showing on your face. 

“You okay, love?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Oh shit. You quickly shook your head and smiled at Yoongi. “Nothing, bub. You look so handsome, should we get going-”

“No, tell me, what’s up?” he asked, sitting next to you, placing a hand on your bare back due to the lack of fabric of the dress in that area. “You were pouting when I arrived”

You smiled and placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing it softly. “Nothing’s up, Yoongi. And if there was something going on, you have nothing to worry about”

“So there is something going on” Yoongi said.

He could always see right through you. You’d hate him if you weren’t so pathetically in love with him.

You let out a sigh and he pecked your cheek. “Tell me, baby”

“Okay, I- uh… I just don’t like how I look in this dress. That’s all” you said quietly, trying your best to avoid his gaze.

Yoongi’s eyes visibly widened like plates. “Huh? Are you kidding me, babe?” he chuckled. “I think you look so fucking stunning in it”

“Well, I don’t”

“Then let’s change it. Let’s find something you like” he said, not understanding what the problem really was.

You huffed and placed your palms on your face, covering it. “You don’t- you don’t understand, Yoongi” you told him. “It’s not the dress. It’s me!”

Yoongi frowned. “I am not following, sorry” he said slowly.

“I look horrible in this dress and every single dress because I have a horrible figure and body!” you whined, on the verge of tears. 

Yoongi shook his head. “What are you talking about, Y/N? You are perfect, are you kidding me?” he said, now getting angry, pointing at you.

“I hate my legs. I hate my arms. I hate my waist, my stomach, my hair, my face, my feet, fucking everything!” you cried. 

Yoongi stayed silent and then stood up from the bed.

This is it. He realized just how worthless I am and how horrible I look so he’s gonna break up with me. I always knew it was gonna happen-

“Stand up” he said curtly.

You looked up at him and gave him a confused look. “Huh?” you deadpanned. 

“Stand up. Now” 

You did as you were told, beyond confused. 

He grabbed your hips and walked with you towards the mirror. He paused as his eyes raked all over you through the reflection and let out a breath. “I’m not gonna stand here… and tolerate you saying mean things about your body. I won’t allow it” he stated, firmly. He sounded angry. “You… are by far the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. And it applies to how you look physically too. Look at these hips-” Yoongi said and let his hands caress them, biting his own lip. “Look at the fucking goddess standing in front of me. Do you see her? Do you see just how ethereal she looks?”

You swallowed, feeling yourself getting wetter at how low his voice sounded complimenting you. 

Yoongi then grabbed the straps of your dress, and pulled them off of you, letting the dress pool by your feet as you standed only in a pair of white underwear. 

His hands came to your stomach, caressing the soft skin there as they went up to grope your breasts. “Do you see? Do you see how fucking beautiful you are?” 

You felt tears blurring your eyes. 

“No?” he asked in a small voice. “You don’t believe me?”

“I- It’s just- It’s hard-” you were cut off with your own gasp as Yoongi ripped the panties sitting on your hips. 

He grabbed your hips and he sat down on the bed, pulling you to sit on top of his thighs. 

“Spread your legs” he said. You gave him a hesitant look and you jumped when he smacked your thigh. “I said spread your legs”

You spread them slowly and he let out a breath. 

His fingers went to your core and he started rubbing circles over your hole, teasing you. You close your eyes, feeling the pleasure running through your veins. You were sure your wetness was falling down on his dress pants, ruining them. 

“Watch… come on, open your eyes” Yoongi said in your ear, and you did as you were told. “Look at you, Jagi, look at you… stunning”

His fingers then left your core, making you whimper in disapproval. You weren’t ready when he grabbed your hips, making you stand up only to watch through the mirror how he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it off, along with his black dress pants. Yoongi hooked his finger on the hem of his briefs and pulled them down, his erection slapping against his tummy.

He sat down back again and grabbed your hips, pulling you down so your core rubbed over his tip. 

You moaned in unison with him and he slowly pulled you down on his cock. You let out a whimper when he buried himself to the hilt and then started to move your hips, up and down, to bounce you on his cock. 

“Shit, Jagiya. I’m so fucking hard” He whispered, meeting your eyes through the mirror. “I’m so fucking hard and it’s your fault. You wanna know why?”

He made you whimper after a particularly hard thrust and you dug your nails on his thigh. “Wh- why?” you stammered, feeling the sweat running down your flushed back.

“Because my girl is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and just the fact that I’m lucky enough to have you fucking bouncing on my cock is making me insane, Jagiya” he said against your neck, nibbling your neck. 

You threw your head back and moaned, feeling Yoongi’s length hitting your spot over and over. 

His hands went from your hips to your tits, groping them and letting his fingers rub over your sensitive nipples. “Fucking- shit” he moaned. “You’re clenching so hard on me”

Yoongi hooked his hands on the underside of your thighs, lifting you up and down on his cock, making his cock go further in you due to the position. You were sure the neighbors were going to fill a complaint to the landlord at this point but your boyfriend was making you feel so fucking good, you couldn’t care less. 

“You close, my love?” he asked you breathily.

You just nodded, dumbly, feeling like you were going to drool from the pleasure he was making you feel. 

One of his hands came to wrap around your neck, choking you lightly, angling your head so you could meet his gaze through the mirror. You felt yourself clenching even harder around him, founding the fact that he was making you watch yourself as he fucked you, so freaking hot. 

“Answer me…” he demanded with a low pitched voice. 

“Yeah, so fucking close” you nodded your head.

“Then fucking come” he said, slapping your pussy, making you whine and explode around him.

Yoongi groaned, feeling your clench around him and he was only a man. He thrusted hard a couple of times before filling you up completely with his seed. Yoongi caressed your hips lovingly as he felt the last of his orgasm spurting in you. 

He fell back with you on top of him as you both tried to catch your breath. 

The air was humid and smelt like sex, and you were more than happy that you had someone like Yoongi to call yours. 

“Yoongi?” you asked him.

His arms came to wrap around you, one of his hands, stayed on your stomach. “Yes, my love?”

“I love you”

He chuckled and kissed your shoulder. “I love you”

You fell to his side and looked at him. “Thank you for that. I feel- I feel better. I mean, if I managed to keep someone liek you around, I must be doing something right” you chuckled.

Yoongi looked into your eyes and caressed your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything to keep me around. Just the fact that you are how you are is enough. Don’t feel like you need to change yourself or try at all to keep me” Yoongi said. “I love you for you”

You smiled at him and crashed your lips into his. The dinner date was soon forgotten, opting for ordering chinese food. 

As you were eating, you started to understand why Yoongi was so protective over you and how you saw yourself. As someone who struggled with body image himself, you understood why he didn’t want to see you suffering the same as he did. 

So, as long as you had him, you knew you’d be okay.

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @regardsto-hell // @jaiuneamesolitaiire // @bangchansbeanie

i apologise if i can't tag u :(

[bamfkeeper]

Sinister Kurt having trouble with his instincts, you are the only one who calms him.

Firstly, Kurt with horns? YUM. But I like how they showed him having difficulty controlling himself after his mutation was further developed (I don't remember what the circumstances were). I thought it was a cool concept for his character so here we go. Inner conflict is always fun.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and blood, some angst, comfort ofc, gender neutral reader, unedited ignore mistakes.

WC: 2.7k

Kurt had no idea where they came from. He woke up with two horns on his head like some sort of Krampus. He felt something inside himself stir, and he tried to ignore it, it felt like a pit in his gut that slowly began to expand and grow when he wasn't focused on repressing it.

You reassured him he was still the handsome man you loved, his horns gave him a little extra insecurity. He hadn't felt so insecure about himself in a long time, as Krakoa had provided such acceptance his appearance hadn't been a thought in his mind as a bad thing. But these horns...they made him look more like a devil than anything else, and that worried him.

"Engel...I am becoming ein Teufel..." he mumbled sadly, touching them as he looked at himself in the mirror. "What is becoming of me..." he turned to look at you, his eyes holding confliction and sadness.

"Oh, my love," you cooed to him, standing and walking over, "They're just a pair of little horns...I'm sure that they'll go away...maybe." Your sentence quieted towards the end, it was such a random development, you had no idea where the horns stemmed from and what was going to happen to him. Was his mutation randomly evolving more? Was it something in Krakoa that was making his mutation mutate? You didn't know.

Kurt sighed inwardly, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as if seeking solace from an unseen torment. You hadn't seen him in this state for years; he looked so lost, so utterly confused. It was as though he was grappling with a fear that had taken residence within him, a fear directed at his very own reflection. With his new appearance, you couldn't blame him for feeling this way.

His once familiar face now bore the horns of a demon and he couldn't recognize himself, even with something so minor. He thought he looked awful, and he was at a complete loss on how to process these overwhelming feelings, the weight of his transformation was a burden he didn't know how to carry.

Not that he told you yet, but it wasn't just a physical change he had gone through. There was something deeper and more unsettling happening within him. His urges were growing stronger and more insistent every day. He felt a strange compulsion that he couldn't easily explain. He didn't know how to bring it up with you because he didn't want to scare you or make you worry. The thought of sharing this part of himself was something he was trying to avoid, he feared your reaction more than anything.

He would see you talk to another man, and everything in his body screamed at him to attack. His muscles tensed, his fists clenched, and his heart pounded as primal instincts surged through him. The images and urges that flashed across Kurt's mind scared him deeply, filling him with a sense of dread and confusion. He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the violent thoughts clouding his mind.

"Nein...I am...not a monster," he muttered to himself, arguing, begging with his own being, his voice trembling with the effort to control his darker impulses. He held onto you, whispering German prayers to himself. The internal struggle was intense, leaving him feeling isolated and tormented, as if he were battling a beast within.

And he was, in a way.

His grip on your hip would be tight, his nails had grown into claws that dug into you, not on purpose but in the moment he couldn't help himself. His yellow eyes glared at the man, his lip curled up slightly to bare his teeth. He snapped out of his descent only when he heard your voice in his ear. "Kurt?? That hurts, a bit..." You winced slightly, your hand gently trying to ease the grip he had on your waist.

He snapped out of it, blinking a few times and letting go. "Liebling....I...es tut mir Leid...." he apologized quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He looked down at his hand once he let go of you, his eyes filled with confusion and concern. "Something is happening to me...I....do not know how to explain it," he continued, his tone tinged with a mix of fear and bewilderment.

What was strange was that a part of him actually liked these new instincts that were surfacing within him. It was a feeling that baffled him, and he hated himself for even entertaining such thoughts. He had always prided himself on his compassion and his desire to never cause harm to anyone, ever.

But now, these intrusive thoughts were invading his mind with increasing frequency, making the idea of causing harm seem so...good, almost irresistible. It was a battle within himself, between the person he had always been and these dark new impulses that threatened to take over. It was like a siren song, beckoning him to come over the brink.

"What do you mean?" you asked him gently, your voice full of understanding and patience. Despite having no idea what was going on, you managed to sound so composed and caring. He was incredibly fortunate to have someone like you by his side. So deeply in love with him, you were always there to protect and support him. Your devotion was unwavering, and it made him feel cherished. So protective. So possessive.

Kurt stared you down intently, his piercing yellow eyes observing your every move. After a moment of intense scrutiny, he grabbed hold of you firmly and tugged you flush against him. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, and his breathing increased noticeably. You made a sudden gasp of surprise at the unexpected act, your heart pounding in your chest.

He lowered his head closer to you, his forehead gently touching yours, his horns rested delicately on your head. Behind him, his tail thrashed wildly, a clear indication of his heightened emotions. It was obvious that he was either irritated or stressed, as his tail only behaved this way in such situations. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension, making the moment even more intense. His silence didn't help.

"Kurt...?" you squeaked as his hands grasped your ass and squeezed firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes widened in surprise and you felt his tail wrap tightly around you, holding you still in a firm, possessive grip.

"Kurt!" you exclaimed, looking around nervously. He had never been so bold before, and this unexpected display of affection caught you off guard. A few playful touches here and there in public were common, sure, but to grab you in such an intimate and brazen manner without a care in the world was completely unlike him.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of his sudden audacity, wondering what had prompted this uncharacteristic behavior. "W-what has gotten into you?!" Your voice echoed in his mind, getting lost in the fog clouding his rational thinking. All he could think about right now was you. How good you'd feel, how good you'd taste.

One more shout at him and he seemed to snap out of the hold the dark fog inside of him had. With a blink he pulled back, his cheeks turning violet, "Ach! I-I didn't mean to do that!" Kurt spoke quickly, his voice trembling with urgency, "Es tut mir Leid! I-I'm sorry!" His eyes were wide with concern as he looked at you, clearly distressed.

His hands, which have been on your backside, were retracted up like he had touched an oven, fingers curling as if to protect himself from further harm. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could see the regret etched on his face, his body language screaming apology and fear.

"Kurt, sweetheart...please, talk to me. Tell me what's going on..." You pleaded with him, your hands cupping his cheeks. "I'm not mad because you grabbed my butt either. You've literally been inside me," your words made him stiffen and blush harder, a tiny whine escaping through his trembling lips. "I just want to know what's going on...you're acting so...different. Since those horns sprouted from your head..."

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh, and looked down to avoid your gaze. The weight of his thoughts made it impossible for him to bring himself to look you in the eye. He felt such shame and embarrassment, fearing you wouldn’t like what you heard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice trembling with vulnerability.

"I've been... having thoughts. Bad thoughts... these images flash across my mind. They are random sometimes, appearing out of nowhere, but sometimes they happen in the moment," he begins quietly, his words barely audible. "It's like a dark cloud that follows me, casting a shadow over everything. I don't know what to do about it, and I'm scared of what it means. I'm afraid it means I am becoming something horrible..."

You coo softly, your thumbs gently rubbing his cheekbones as you stay quiet, offering him the space and time he needs to get out the words he struggles to voice. "What are they? The thoughts?" you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to coax him into sharing more with you so you can have a better understanding.

"Hurting people," Kurt's voice strains, "I don't want to! I don't want to hurt anyone, I'm not a monster... I don't want to be one... but... it's so overwhelming sometimes. It's like every fiber in my body is demanding me to do it," he continues, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. You can see the torment etched across his face, the internal struggle tearing him apart.

"You aren't a monster, Kurt. This might just...be part of this new development," you said, your voice gentle and reassuring. You stroked up more, feeling the base of his horns, noting the texture and warmth. "You don't act on those thoughts, and that's a good sign. You're not a slave to those intrusive flashes; you recognize that they are wrong, and you don't act on them. That means you aren't the person you imagine you are. You have control, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

"But what if I do act on them," he asks weakly, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "What if I can't control it?"

"Then I will help you," you replied firmly, your eyes locked onto his, full of determination and love. "I'm not worried, because I believe in you." You gave him a tender kiss, showing him all the love you could muster. "Trust me, if you can't trust yourself. We will face this together, and I will be by your side every step of the way. You are not alone in this."

He shed a few tears, and they stained his pretty cheeks in dark lines as they traveled slowly down his face. His pained gaze closed tightly as he bit his lip, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. "Ich verdiene dich nicht," he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible as it trembled with emotion. His shaky hands held you with such gentle awareness, as if he were afraid to harm you accidentally with his claws.

"You do." You gave him a few more soft kisses, your gentle reassurance helping keep his emotions at bay.

That was a week ago.

Now, you followed the sound of his teleportation and saw him fighting alongside other mutants. You joined in, not knowing what exactly was happening, but seeing enough to know that these soldiers were attacking your home. You were fighting well, your skills made you a confident fighter, but when Kurt spotted you and more soldiers around you, his composure vanished.

That horrible itch he had been so desperate to scratch was finally too overwhelming for him.

The sound of a mighty roar echoed through the air as he lunged at the soldiers with a terrifying intensity. His movements were swift and brutal, attacking them with such ferocity that it left you stunned, unable to process what was happening. Normally, Kurt was known for his preference to incapacitate his opponents, opting to knock them down and out rather than kill them unless absolutely necessary. However, in this moment, he had abandoned his usual morals and principles, casting them aside like a forgotten cloak.

Right now, he was a force of nature, mercilessly ripping into the soldiers with an uncharacteristic savagery that showcased a side of him you had never seen before. You watched with disbelief as Kurt completely ravaged through the soldiers, staying in front of you and snarling with blood caked between his teeth, drooling down his goatee and staining his fuzzy skin. You tried to call out to him, to be the desperate voice of reason in his carnage.

It seemed that your voice fell on deaf ears, and he continued his relentless attack.

He had ruthlessly slaughtered over twelve men within a mere minute, and he didn't seem to have any qualms or remorse about it. The air was thick with tension as he turned to look at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths like a wild animal after a fierce battle. Slowly, he crawled over to you, inching closer with a predatory grace.

You were frozen in place, paralyzed by the sheer brutality and unfamiliarity of this new Kurt. His eyes, which were usually so expressive and full of life, now seemed glazed over with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. It was as if a stranger had taken over the body of the man you once knew, leaving you feeling more vulnerable and confused.

He dripped onto you, causing you to whine and hastily wipe the blood off your top. His head lowered against you, his breath warm and uneven. "Kurt...?" you asked weakly, your voice trembling as it escaped your lips.

The sound of your voice made him stiffen slightly, and he leaned back, his intense gaze boring holes into you, scrutinizing every inch of your face. The air around you felt thick with tension, and you could feel the heavy weight of his stare.

His breathing calmed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest slowing to a more steady rhythm, and he stayed where he was, staring at you with an unwavering focus. You swore he seemed more mutated in that moment, his claws were longer, sharper, and his horns almost appeared just as so, curving menacingly.

The changes in his appearance made your heart race even faster, a mixture of fear and concern gnawing at your insides as you wondered what exactly had happened to him. What caused this?

You slowly reached out to him, your hand trembling as it brushed against his cheek, ignoring the blood that spattered across his skin from his recent animalistic attack. The warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the coldness of the blood. He relayed a quiet growl to you, his eyes blinking slowly, the ferocity gradually fading as he began to regain his senses.

As he came to, he saw the destruction he had caused, the chaos and ruin that lay around him. It was so painfully heart-wrenching to watch him realize the extent of what he had done, the devastation in his eyes made you want to wrap him up and take him away.

"W-what...what did I do..." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, as he glanced back over his shoulder. He could only bear to look at the bodies for a mere second before quickly averting his gaze in horror and disbelief. "Nein...nein, nein....I didn't...did I??" His bloody hands trembled violently, the crimson stains glaring back at him accusingly, and he made a quiet, heart-wrenching wail, shrinking into himself where he sat, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

You were right there to catch him, just as you had promised. Gently, you reached out, offering the comfort and support he desperately needed.

"Hey, hey...it..it's okay," you tried to find the words to comfort him, but you realized words weren't enough to ease the pain or fear he was experiencing. So, you chose to just be there for him, offering silent support and understanding. Just you, being a comforting presence in his time of need.

He grabbed you and clung on, crying as he didn't bother holding himself back. He was distraught, the very thing he feared the most had happened. "I'm here." you whispered quietly, your arms wrapped tightly around him as the rest of the world faded away and you became the only thing he could focus on.

"I'm here."

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Legion of X #7 (2023); Legion of X #8 (2023); Legion of X #7 (2023)

[fallenbratfiction]

the parts you’ve been taught to hate - pedro pascal x f!reader

After a day out with your mother turns cruel, you come home unraveling—every word, every criticism carved into your skin like a scar. Standing in front of the mirror, you see only what’s “wrong.” But Pedro sees you differently. With quiet love and unwavering tenderness, he reminds you that the parts you’ve been taught to hate are the very ones he cherishes most.

A/N: I wasn’t going to write anything until the weekend but this household just keeps on giving me content to work with. I was very emo writing this while listening to what was I made fooooor

warnings: reader has body image issues, criticism from mother and self hate, comfort/angst, fluff, Pedro being a sweetheart reassuring, happy ending. If you think I’m missing any warnings, let me know!

masterlist

🔞minors dni. I am not responsible for what you choose to interact with.

🚨do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

——————————————————————————

You come home in silence.

The kind of silence that feels like a weight, thick in your lungs, heavy in your limbs. Your keys clink against the hallway table like they’re mocking you—too loud in a house that’s supposed to feel like a safe place.

But you don’t feel safe.

You stand in front of the mirror, still in the clothes you wore out with her. You shouldn’t have gone. You knew better.

“Are you really wearing that?”

“That color draws attention to your hips.”

“You’d look prettier if your face wasn’t so tired.”

“You know, some people try a little harder—get their arms toned, maybe fix their teeth…”

You stood in front of the mirror, observing your body. Your face. The things that were wrong about you.

At least, the things you’d been told were wrong.

Pointed out. Repeated. Embedded.

The thickness of your thighs, the way your stomach looked when you weren’t standing up straight or sucking in. The curve—or lack—of your waist. Your arms, the softness of them. The way your boobs sat in certain shirts, always either too much or not enough.

You just couldn’t pick what you hated the most.

Because it all felt like too much. Or never enough.

Never the right kind of anything.

And it was so loud in your head.

Each word echoes like glass breaking, and you can’t stop replaying them. It’s always the same script. Same tone. Like she’s pointing out smudges on a mirror—but it’s your body. Your body, that you’ve spent years trying to make peace with, only to be reminded it’s still not enough. That you’re still not enough.

You press your fingers to your stomach, to your arms, to the curve of your chin. The parts she noticed. The parts she made you hate. Maybe they were fine before—maybe you didn’t love them, but you didn’t flinch. Now they feel foreign. Exposed.

Then—soft footsteps. A shift in the air.

Pedro.

The front door clicks open. You don’t move.

“Mi amor?” Pedro’s voice is soft, already closer than you expected. “I saw your shoes—why are you standing in the dark?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. You hear him pause. Then, slow steps.

He sees you.

His arms slide around your waist from behind, warm and careful. He rests his chin on your shoulder. You tense, even though you don’t want to. He notices that too.

“What happened?” he murmurs.

Your throat closes up. Your voice, when it finally comes, sounds thin. “She said… things.”

He doesn’t ask who. He doesn’t need to.

You lift your gaze to the mirror again. “I can’t change these things.”

Pedro’s grip tightens gently, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip. The same hip she criticized earlier over lunch. He kisses the curve of your shoulder.

“I love these things,” he says simply.

“I see the body that holds you together when the world falls apart.”

Another kiss, just behind your ear.

“I see the thighs I dream about when you’re not in bed with me.”

“This,” he presses another kiss to your upper arm, “is soft and warm, and it holds me when I can’t sleep.”

You shut your eyes, the tears creeping in, but he kept going.

“I see softness I crave, skin I miss when I’m away from you for more than a few hours.”

“I see you, mi amor. And I love every inch. Not because it’s perfect. But because it’s yours. And you’re mine.”

You turned in his arms, burying your face in his chest. He held you like he was made for it.

Like you were made to be held.

“These things are yours. And I love them because they’re part of you—not in spite of it.”

His voice is quiet, but firm. “And anyone who makes you feel less than holy for that doesn’t deserve the sound of your voice, mi vida. Let alone your attention.”

You feel his arms around you, strong and sure.

Pedro doesn’t say anything else for a moment. He just holds you. And in that silence, you feel it—the weight start to lift, just a little, like he’s carrying some of it for you without needing to be asked.

You lean back into him, and your shoulders drop for the first time all day. Your chest presses to his as you turn slightly, just enough to bury your face in his shirt. He smells like laundry soap and warmth. You inhale. Let yourself melt.

“I don’t want to feel like this,” you whisper.

“I know, baby.” He presses his lips to your hair. “You don’t have to do anything right now. Just let me hold you.”

And so you do.

For a while, that’s all there is: the rise and fall of his chest, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back, his other arm looped securely around your waist. No fixes. No advice. Just presence. Just love.

Eventually, he leans back a little to look at you. His thumb brushes the corner of your eye, catching a tear you hadn’t noticed had slipped free.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get cozy. No more mirrors. No more noise.”

You nod.

He guides you to the bedroom, pulls out your softest pajamas—the ones you always forget you own until he finds them for you. He doesn’t rush you. Just sits on the edge of the bed while you change, his gaze never anything less than tender.

Once you’re in fresh clothes, he helps you wrap up in one of the throw blankets you own and walks you to the couch like you’re made of something delicate. Maybe you are, tonight.

“What do you feel like watching?” he asks, brushing your hair back behind your ear.

You shrug.

He smiles softly. “Something with a happy ending. Something where nobody talks about anyone’s body unless it’s to say they’re beautiful.”

You manage a small laugh. He takes it like a trophy.

He puts on a familiar movie, one you both love but don’t need to pay attention to. Then he settles beside you, arms open, and you curl into him without hesitation this time.

His hand strokes your arm, slow and grounding. “You know,” he says after a while, “I think your body’s perfect. But not just in the way people say that word without meaning it. I mean it. Every part you’ve ever apologized for—those are my favorite parts. The parts I kiss first.”

You don’t answer. You just pull the blanket tighter and rest your cheek against his chest, the steady beat of his heart reminding you you’re safe.

And for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that you deserve this. That there’s nothing wrong with your softness, your shape, your tiredness. That you’re not broken, not in need of fixing—just love.

And love is exactly what you’re wrapped in now.

——————————————————————————

From the girl that made you all weep with that Bucky fanfic, here comes Pedro and body positivity. Who needs tissues?

Hope you’ve enjoyed reading! Let me know what you think about it and I hope it has served of some comfort.

Reblogs, likes and comments help stories grow! Thank you as always for the support ✨✨✨

[sramoonlight]

Part of me

What if Damian Wayne had a sister?

Content you’ll see here: Batsis, batfamily, reader

English is not my first language! Please be patient.

Even if they prepared a room for you, you couldn’t accept it and neither did Damian, preparing a little bed next to Damian’s you listened to all your brother could say even if was trivial

— So, Robin? — you asked looking at him as you raised an eyebrow, Damian rolled his eyes before he layes on his stomach

— What’s so weird about it? — he seemed to not like the tone you used for that question and you couldn’t but chuckle at the image

You thought, looking at the room, it was quite big for him but you knew it wasn’t enough, not when you two are used to sharing rooms

— Mother told us that Robin was some type of boy wonder — and you lay down looking at him, for some people that would look weird, the Damian Wayne acting like a kid of his age

But for you, he was just your brother who don’t has any sense of humor

— That was a Grayson thing, and Robin can be everything — he seemed offended by the way you say it and it makes you smile

— I don’t think father would be happy knowing that I know your secret identity — your hands pressed on your stomach as you keep looking at him before he rested his head on his palm

That boy had the heavy eyes that your father has but for you it was the vivid image of your mother

— You can’t lie to your reflection, do you? —

The way he said it made you think, his tone didnt changed always talking in a serious one but you knew, you knew how much it meant for him

After all, you were the one who said that to him when you were little

Your reflection on the mirror even if there was no mirror

— Are you going to be a vigilante? — He asked, and that snapped you out of your thoughts even if it makes you go back there to get the answer

It was weird, you could feel the expectation on his words like if he needed to hear an answer and that doesn’t look like your brother

He was sure someone who would be direct on his questions, never too shy or too bold, just direct about what he wanted to hear

That’s the worst part, let’s think about it, Damian wasn’t a member of the league of assassins anymore but you were, that feels weird, thinking back about the incident, you left the country a week before Damian was sent to you father

Was it a sign? That you only can be part of the league? That question seemed so weird but still so necessary

— I don’t know brother, I don’t have a date to leave — and you turned to him, using your hands as a pillow

You had a moment to think before opening your mouth again

— Do you want me to? —

You woke up the next morning, 6 am exactly as you looked beside you, Damian was still sleeping and that made you wonder if he changed his schedule

Putting that thought aside you got up walking to the kitchen of the manor, your first day and you already knew where it was.

As you used to do in your mornings on London you prepared the coffee maker instantly placing a cup beside one you borrowed, for Damian

— Coffee is bad for someone your age — the voice made you jump on your place before facing him, that guy, Jason Todd looked at you from the door frame

Was that a helmet on his hands?

— Where are you going? — you asked as he walked to your side taking a cup and placing it beside the other two

— I gotta leave this place before B asks me to eat breakfast — you brushed the tiredness out of your face before looking up and him

Damn, he is tall.

— Is that for the little demon? — he asked you pointing at the cup — Is it a twin thing? How could you know which one is his favorite? —

With a smile you served the coffee now on the three cups before adding sugar to yours, and without letting Jason notice, you did to Damian’s too

— I just know when he use something — not that you were some kind of freak, but once you start watching Damian you can notice a few things he does

And one of those, was that he does not let the spoon get to the bottom of any cup, so no mark is left behind.

The man beside you drank the coffee in a hurry almost surprising you, how could he not get burned?

— You can let me know that later kid, welcome to the manor — he ruffled your hair before running to the door.

A quiet steps could be heard from the halls and the same butler from yesterday looked at you

— Master (reader)? — you took the two cups before walking past him nodding as a greeting, you went upstairs quick trying to not find any other family member.

Let’s think about it again, you know Jason, well not know know because you only shared a few words with him so it is normal that he just don’t know much about it, and that makes you go to the other question, why do they want you here? You can’t find an answer, if you ask Damian he would answer with another question and that makes you mad but you can let your guard down

They may be Damian’s family but for you they’re strangers.

— (reader)? — Damian asked getting up as you entered the room, you sat down at his side giving him the cup

— Don’t worry, I didn’t put any milk on it —

You looked at the cup thinking about it, too many things moved inside of you head as you tried to put them in order, first, why was it so easy to convince your mother? You know she’s the type of person who needs at least three days to take a decision but once you told her about what you wanted to do.. she just said yes, you didn’t question that but it feels so out of her.

But now, you haven’t talked with your father since you arrived, well, you would if Damian hadn’t took you upstairs to talk and even if it was disrespectful you couldn’t say no to him

Again, why do they want from you?

— You’re overthinking — just two words (or three?) that made you come back to reality, Damian’s cup was almost empty but yours was still full.

You didn’t notice when you started to drown on your thoughts

— Im sorry I just- I can’t put a finger on it — you sighed, taking a big sip and you couldn’t feel it extremely hot, a hit that you were out for too long

— if you keep thinking you won’t see the answer — Damian copied your actions drinking all was left before getting up, his hand brushed against his hair trying to get it fix.

Once again, you sighed trying to finish your coffee, it felt so weird to not be at your London apartment

— Let’s go downstairs, I don’t want Grayson here —

With that, you chunked all was left following him, the manor was starting to get noisy as you could hear the butler cooking some breakfast

The middle child, Tim drake walked through the halls and you can notice how messy is his hair, before you could judge him you can see how one of his hands is covered with a glove

So that means he’s a vigilante too, interesting.

Damian walked to the dinner room where you could see Bruce looking at some papers, your eyes traveled to his eyes noticing the heavy bags below them, didnt he get any sleep?

Ah, of course, he was the Batman, another weird thing, why didn’t he asked Damian to patrol last night?

— Good morning father — Damian said as he sat down next to him, you had to cleared your throat before talking

— Good.. morning father — that tittle rolled so weird on your tongue, you were used to saying it with a grand before it.

Grandfather, you do quite miss it though

— Good morning to you two, how did you sleep? — the man didnt stop reading and you looked surprised of that, still, you brush it off before talking again

— Quite nice father, it is a relief to sleep next to my brother again — you tried to do a conversation but before you could say anything

That eyes lifted from the work looking at you, did you do something wrong? You analyzed your words again trying to find something out of the page but there was nothing

Then, you looked a Damian who seemed bored at the trivial conversation, was it something your father only had seen?

— Good morning B, little demon — Dick Grayson, the man from the night before walked in and he ruffled your hair — Good morning to you too, little bird —

A weird feeling found his way on your heart as you tried to fix back your hair, you know your guard is up but why couldn’t you react at that?

Still, it didnt felt like an attack.

— I was thinking, what about if we go to a trip together, to take all the time we didnt met —

Your eyes moved to where his arm was, he grabbed your chair but he didn’t seem to be moving it any time soon, just like if he wanted to be close but not knowing how to approach

— Uhm, I guess that’s okay —

The man seemed to be happy about if ruffling your hair once again, and now you looked at Damian wanting to see a reaction from him but he was looking across the room like he didn’t care or like he didn’t see anything weird about it.

— So, I heard that you were in London, was it fun? — The short chat made you jumped as you tried to keep it up.

— Uh, it was fine it was just for a mission — a mission that lasted five years, well, you can say it wasn’t just a mission

You felt like overthinking again so you brought your hands above the table trying to find an anchor back to earth.

— Ow, so you didn’t have any fun there? — Dick walked to the other side of the table sitting in front of you as he keep talking

It was so weird, he keep seeing you even if he was moving

— I guess I didn’t, but I kept my communication with Damian —

You brought your siblings name to the conversation, maybe that could make him stop asking about how you were back there, it looks like he wants to take any information from you. Sighing you look at the way the butler comes with the breakfast and you do a note in your head to help him clean the dishes before you go.

The manor went silence again, Damian was doing some school work, Dick went out for something you didnt heard, Tim is probably sleeping and Bruce… you don’t know where he is, but that leads you the perfect moment where you can find your thoughts about what is going to happen

Of course, being a twin represented that you were raised to be a successor for the league but, unlike Damian you weren’t raised for being something now that you think about it, your whole existence was a mistake, not that you cared, you’re alive now and no one would change that

That makes you wonder, if your mother left you go without fighting back, does that mean that your work was over? But, what work were you performing?

You see back at your passed actions, doing minor jobs like getting rid off of noisy politicians, none of them seemed like a job a high level person would do

What was your purpose now?

— You’re overthinking — You looked up at the person who was talking to you, ready to say a sassy comment to Damian but there was your father, a book on his hand as he hit you with it softly.

You didn’t notice when he get on you behind, that was a consequence of overthinking and you felt like it was a mistake to be sorry about but, his eyes were as kind as they were this morning.

— Whatever is in your mind, don’t let it affect you — the man with kind eyes and still heavy ones, only a few words from him were enough to lighten your heart.

You still can’t put a finger on why he’s too kind, you just met him a few hours ago and still he treats you like he met you all his life, you don’t know why your chest feels so warm.

— You’re my daughter too, so whatever makes you worry, it hurts me too — The man sat down beside you opening the book, you knew the conversation came to an end so you didn’t tried to answer

Was this how it feels to have a father?

[adviceformefromme]

LOCK-IN SZN [YOUR 8-WEEK ACCELERATOR] Week 5

NEW MONTH ENERGY - MOVEMENT MARCH

This is literally the month of all months for transformation. This is where you take your embodiment to ANOTHER level. This month you are showing up. No more writing goals, no more wishing and waiting. This month is for MOVEMENT. You move. You take action. You make better choices. That is all you do this month. Move towards the version of you that has the things you desire. Move towards a life you dream of. Move with grace, with flow, just keep moving. 

Here’s what I’m doing to accelerate my transformation this month. 

Dr Joe Dispenza Meditations daily - 1hr (these guided mediations are backed by science and are PROVEN to create transformation on a cellular level. But it requires a daily practice).

Daily journalling - the morning pages which is 3 pages of free writing to empty mind and access deeper wisdom within. Also this is a proven method in The Artists Way a book written by Julia Cameron that unblocks creativity. 

Finding my community. I have joined a conscious business accelerator programme which is 2-3 sessions per week for the month of March. This is going to support mindset shifts for my transition from employment to self employed as I leave my career in tech this month and surround me with the energy for high level income and business success. 

Investing in my image. As a visual person seeing myself as a representation of my next level is HUGE. This means dressing and looking like the thriving, abundant, radiant version of myself that has the dreams I desire. Investing in skincare treatments, ensuring my wardrobe reflects the woman I envision myself as. This means dropping cash. Removing items from my wardrobe that no longer align. Booking appointments. 

Doing the most important tasks before 12pm. This is KEY. Feeling accomplished feels GOOD. Doing those difficult tasks before midday means I don’t feel guilty, or skip putting myself and my goals first. The world no longer comes before me. I am the most important person in my life, and it’s time my actions show this. 

Letting go of the past once and for all, limiting my references to my past trauma in conversations. Redirecting my speech and thoughts towards what I want, not what I don’t want or what has hurt or harmed me. The more I do this, the more I shift my energy towards the life I desire. 

Daily connections with God, through gratitude, daily prayer, reading the word and listening to sermons. This is key for my character development and grounding with the one who loves me the most. Receiving and accessing this love daily allows me to flourish and is a priority in my transformation journey. 

Habit stacking. Reading during my sauna session. Doing my workout during my daily dog walk. Listening to a podcast as I walk to across the city. Preparing lunch as I prepare breakfast.  

There’s a lot going on this month, but the most important thing is choosing yourself daily. Choose you EVERY single day. That is the practise, you choose you, and do it again and again and again. The more you make you a priority, the more you respect yourself, the more you invest in yourself, the more life will start to mirror that, the more shifts you will see in how people treat you, how your income becomes a reflection of your self investment. 

So this is your opportunity for DRASTIC change. More so than January. March is for MOVEMENT with nature, shedding the old, making way for the new. It’s truly the most magical time of the year. So come out of your hiding place, your hibernation, your excuses, and MOVE into a new you. Shed your old skin, it’s not serving you, it never was. A new beginning awaits. 

[yelenasbraid]

𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐲 — 𝒋𝒐𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘

summary — joe surprises you with his runway outfit

warnings — fem!reader, fluff, and smut (oral m!receiving) MDNI 18+

note — yes, yes i am reacting to his paris trip because it’s the only thing that’s been on my mind. also, this is a long one so bear with me

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 to go to paris with him, you couldn’t say no. despite going to a foreign country with little knowledge of the language, you were excited. you packed your bags, rambling on about the foods you’d try and the places you’d see. you were too busy rambling to see the grin that joe had on his face.

paris had a lot more to offer than macaroons and the eiffel tower. you also got to see joe in more outfits than just a shirt and jeans. the way his stylist accentuated every aspect of joe made you drool. the arms, the thighs, even the little bit of exposed chest made your knees weak.

joe definitely took notice.

“what?” he asked as he adjusted a black button down, matched with slacks and platform shoes. his skin was perfectly toned, and his hair was perfectly wavy.

he looked like a greek god.

“nothing, just admiring the view,” you respond as you sit crossed legged on his bed.

“does it look good?” he asked, turning himself towards the mirror, seeing for himself. you stood up from the bed, walked over and wrapped your arms around him. you peaked around his side, resting your cheek on his arm, giving him a smile through the mirror.

“it looks amazing, joey,” you hummed. little did you know that he had a lot more in store for you.

—

never in your life did you think that you’d be watching a fashion show. you especially doubted that if you went, you’d see your boyfriend walking in said fashion show.

you were sat next to his stylist, kyle, and watched as the show progressed. you hadn’t seen his outfit, joe being adamant he wanted it to be a surprise. joe had a feeling he knew what your reaction would be, and just thinking about it made his excitement blossom.

you watched model after model, taking in their outfits all while looking for the ultimate star of the show: joe burrow. you found him, and how you managed to keep your composure was a miracle.

you couldn’t see much, but as he rounded a corner towards you, you saw how the suit exposed his chest, the lighting accentuating the muscles you could see. he kept a straight face, keeping his pace up with justin’s. your eyes never left his form, but your mind wandered. the images that filled your mind, the way you wanted to run your fingers down his chest and feel him shiver beneath you. you blinked a few times to compose yourself as he walked closer.

he spotted you, and oh it made things worse.

while he knew what he was wearing, he didn’t know what you’d picked out. the skin tight black dress you wore, your hair pinned up out of your face, and the dainty jewelry that decorated your body just made him go absolutely insane. he couldn’t react, not right now at least.

you gave him a soft smile as he turned, and as he did, you saw the rest of the outfit.

or the lack of it.

the back of his suit exposed his back as well as every working muscle. you shifted in your seat, watching as the muscles in his back moved with every step he took. it caught you by surprise, and not in a bad way either. his exposed back had you feeling things.

it would look much better with nail marks.

“like what you see?” kyle’s voice interrupted your thoughts, a growing smirk adorning his face.

“i definitely do,” you whispered back. the talent that kyle displayed over the last few days was insane, and it definitely made you fall for your boyfriend all over again.

it was almost 2 hours before you saw your boyfriend again in your hotel room. you had just walked in and was about to change when your boyfriend stepped in.

“look who it is, next top model,” you smiled, stepping into his line of sight. you were busy taking off your jewelry, particularly your earrings.

“can add ‘was in a fashion show’ to my list of fun facts,” he smiled as he shuffled in. the shoes he wore were the most uncomfortable, so he was sure to take those off first. he walked up to you, taking all of you in. you still wore the dress, though to his disappointment you were in the process of changing out of it.

“if you ever need to do an icebreaker again, you have your fun fact,” you agreed as you walked back into the bathroom, placing your fancy earrings on the sink. you put in your usual ones, the ones that were everyday use. joe walked in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck.

“did you like my surprise?” he asked against your neck, peppering kisses to your skin.

“hm, i think its safe to say i did,” you hummed as you lifted a hand to comb your fingers through his hair. the feeling of your fingers through his hair made him shiver and sigh against your neck. he pulled away, only to press a gentle kiss on your temple.

you turned to face him, resting your hips against the counter.

“kyle really popped off, didn’t he?” you hummed as your eyes flick to the exposed area of his chest. your hand gently pressed against his skin, feeling the warmth of him beneath you. your hand traveled down his torso, down to the button, and you unbuttoned the suit coat.

“he is a stylist,” joe commented, but he was barely able to keep it together. the feeling of your hand on his chest, with how he was now exposed to you and how your hands explored the taut muscles in his chest, he was going crazy. you drove him crazy.

“mmhmm,” you hummed as your pointer finger found a belt loop, and you pulled him closer to you. with the other hand, you cradled the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss, one he didn’t deny you.

it started slow and gentle. the way your lips moved against his told him you were proud of him, that you loved him. it turned hungrier as you slid your hand to his back, loosening the tie that held the back of his suit together. he needed you. you were hungry for the taste of him.

it didn’t take long for both of you to be on the bed, your lips still interlocked as you laid beneath him. you separated from him, catching your breath. his mouth moved to your neck, nipping at the skin, creating bruises that screamed ‘you’re mine.’ you tossed your head back, resting it against the bed as your hands dug into the muscles in his back.

your hands moved to his chest, slipping his suit coat off his shoulders. he did the rest, flinging it to the floor.

“that was probably $3,000 you just flung,” your breaths were picking up as he ravaged your neck, and a chuckle escaped him at your comment.

“i have a feeling you wanted to rip it off of me anyways,” his voice was raspy as he kissed a blossoming bruise on your neck. the second he separated his lips from your skin, you flipped so you were on top and he was on his back. your lips traveled down his neck and his chest, lingering on the muscles in his abdomen. you teased him, lightly grazing your lips over his skin causing him to twitch. the ache in the pit of his stomach grew, watching as your lips trailed closer and closer to where he found he wanted and needed you the most.

your fingers dove under the waistline of his pants, caressing his skin. your lips followed suit, kissing the trail your fingers were leaving behind. your hands slowly slipped joe’s pants off of his hips, and you separated your lips from his skin. you looked at him, seeing how his eyes were glazed over in anticipation, and then you looked down at his erection.

you didn’t waste time pulling down his boxers and encircling him with your hands. shuddering breaths fell from joe’s lips as you pumped him up and down, listening as joe’s breaths turned into faint whimpers.

with one hand he gripped the sheets and with the other he buried it into your hair, the pleasure he was getting building up inside of him. your name fell from his lips like a chant as you added the feeling of your lips against his dick. his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth, making you gag. with every touch and with every bob of your mouth, joe felt the all too familiar feeling of his climax approaching.

“keep going, y/n, please,” he whimpered, words riding out on breaths in desperation. you didn’t stop, you kept going, and eventually his hips snapped and he spilled all in your mouth. moans were heard from both of you, cum dripping out of the side of your mouth. you let go of him, reaching up and pressing a much needed kiss to his lips. he moaned into your mouth, his hand still in your hair. you separated and felt him wipe some remnant of his arousal off of your chin. you felt his other hand work the zipper on the back of your dress.

“your turn, princess,”

…i think it’s obvious how i feel about joey’s little runway show. anyways, this is the first time i’ve written AND posted anything smutty (there’s definitely been drafts) so i apologize if this absolutely sucks. but, enjoy nonetheless hehe

[minarisplaything]

The Producer - PART THREE

pairing: Chaeyoung (Fromis9) x M!OC / Jiwon x M!OC rating: explicit word count: 4.2k summary: After introducing himself to the girls, the Producer has a run in take place in the bathroom with two trainees who want to make a good first impression before anyone else. PART 1, PART 2 tags: double blowjob a/n: apologies for two bathroom fics in a row. this one was just the next fic i had completed so i figured f*ck it let's just post it.

"What a day."

With a sigh you collapsed into the couch, conveniently situated in your office. Your uncle, or whoever he had intended on this being for, clearly had a taste for leisure. But right now you didn't want to think about that. Not your uncle. Not the job. Having just gotten out of your first meeting with the girls you would be put in charge of you really wanted nothing more than to just close your eyes and let your mind go blank.

Of course, that was easier said than done. As you let your mind drift, you inevitably found yourself thinking back to the meeting that had taken place only earlier that same day.

[EARLIER THAT DAY]

The way down to the training room was perhaps some of the most nerve wracking of your entire life. If you thought this morning had been stressful it was nothing compared to what was currently racing through your mind. All you kept seeing was images of Yewon writhing against your thigh and Jessica's voice echoing in your ear. Now, in just a few moments, you'd be seeing her as part of the line-up of trainees.

It's fine, you thought to yourself. She probably hasn't told anyone else. Hopefully not anyway. God, I am fucked.

The worst part of it was that despite your internal dread, the mental imagery still turned you on. In fact, one of the many rogue thoughts wandering around in your head was the fact that you wished you could have gone further with her. The shock of learning that Yewon was a trainee had effectively killed any erection you had at the time but it didn't change the fact that you were extremely pent up right now.

With a sigh you did your best to push those thoughts aside as you arrived at the door as Jessica emerged from the practice room.

"Alright," Jessica said, emerging from the room, "I've prepared them for you. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm ready."

"Are you sure about that? You look like you've seen a ghost," she offered you a sympathetic look.

If only she had any idea of the truth she wouldn't be asking that question. Honestly, at this moment you envied Jessica's ability to compartmentalize things. Maybe you'd ask for tips on it the next time the two of you went out for drinks. Assuming there was a next time.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked.

She pressed her lips together and gave you a nod. Jessica walked over towards you, her heels clicking on the floor. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Remember, they are just as intimidated to meet you as you are them. Maybe even more so. "

"I don't know about that," you muttered.

"Just remember, you can walk away from this before it even begins. For them, this is their whole lives."

"Was that meant to make me feel less nervous?"

Jessica grinned, a twinkle in her eye, "Just trying to give you some perspective. Now come on."

Unable to delay the issue any further, you followed Jessica into the practice room, fingers digging into your palm.

The room itself was quite spacious. Like much of the rest of the building, it was clear that your uncle had spent recklessly investing in this endeavor. At least from a financial perspective. Bright ceiling lights illuminated the room while a mirror that ran the full length of the back wall ensured there would be no lack of reflections. There was an argument to be made that if one were going to splurge on any one room, this was the one worth the investment. Aside from the decor of the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lineup of fifteen women standing at attention. One of whom was a familiar face who was avoiding your gaze, her cheeks flushed bright red.

Immediately, you felt the nerves start to creep back into your mind. You looked away from the beautiful lineup and glanced to the corner to see Jinyoung standing there with a clipboard. Something about seeing him made you feel a little more relaxed. After all, he didn’t seem bothered at all.

He probably didn’t have one of his employees grinding on his thigh only a few hours earlier, a rogue thought whispered.

"Everyone," she started, "This is Mr. Park, he's the nephew of our CEO and he might be working with us soon."

A resounding "Hello" reached your ears, causing you to smile just a bit.

You could already feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You had to resist the urge to tell them that they didn’t have to be so formal in their greeting. You were a nobody as far as you were concerned. Barely qualified for the job. But you swallowed down that self-deprecation and offered a small smile and wave in response. You could already feel their eyes on you, judging you. Were they surprised you were so young? Maybe they were expecting your uncle or someone older? You noticed a few of the trainees started whispering to each other and tried not to get too paranoid about it.

Once she was satisfied, Jessica continued, "I'll let him introduce himself and we can go from there."

She looked over, metaphorically turning the floor over to you. Moment of truth. You cleared your throat, adjusting your tie once again in the process.

"Ah – right. Good morning, ladies. It's a pleasure to meet all of you and I look forward to working with you all. I hope we have much success in the near future.”

When you stopped, Jessica elbowed you in the side. You looked at her, brow furrowed, before she gestured for you to continue speaking. You suppose it was a bit of a robotic and corporate introduction, but you were just trying to be formal! What did she expect you to say when you hadn’t even taken on the job!

“I, uh, I know nothing has been made official yet but I’ve gotten to know some of you,” a brief glance at Yewon who immediately looked away. You cleared your throat and attempted to focus on your speech, “...through your files and what Ms. Jung has told me. I just have to say I’m looking forward to seeing what you all have to offer.”

You paused for a moment, considering how honest you wanted to be with them. Was it more beneficial to be honest with how green you were in this field, or should you fake it as long as possible? Considering you held their futures in your hands, being upfront felt like the best option.

“Truthfully…this is my first time working on something of this scale. I know some of you have experience at other labels or have been at this for a long time trying to achieve your dream so…I want us all to work on this together to succeed. My door is always open.”

They gave a short round of applause, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been genuinely encouraging or if they were just being polite. You supposed both options could be true. You looked over to Jessica and were surprised to see a small smile on her features. That meant you did good…right?

You looked over at the ladies, trying to read their reactions when you found yourself locking eyes with one of the shorter members in the lineup. Park Jiwon, if your memory serves right. What was more was that you found her eyes looking back. Your gazes locked for a long moment, and you almost felt like you were imagining things when you saw her eyebrow cock and her bottom lip get pulled between her teeth.

Fuck.

After what had happened with Yewon had left you high and dry, you could feel yourself getting turned on by the mere thought of shoving your cock between her pretty lips. This wasn’t good. You averted your gaze only to find yourself meeting Yewon’s gaze. Immediately, her cheeks reddened and she looked away from you, her thighs pressed together tightly. Was she having the same thoughts as you? Fucking hell, at this rate you’d be fantasizing about half the members on the team you were arranging. And the worst part was you didn’t find yourself hating that idea.

“Do you mind if we take a brief break?” you whispered to Jessica.

She gave you a bemused look, eyebrow arching, “Need to use the little boy’s room?”

“Something like that.”

Jessica chuckled and nodded her head towards the door, “Down the hall and to the right.”

You gave a small nod of appreciation. As you shuffled out of the room you heard Jessica telling the girls we’d be taking a break. Hopefully, this would give a chance for all the tension in the room to have a breather.

You splashed water on your face and looked into the mirror. You were undoubtedly having a moment of second thought. Just when you thought you had conquered the anxiety of taking on a post like this. Except this time the reasoning had nothing to do with performance fears. At least not of that sort.

“What have I gotten myself into,” you muttered.

Maybe you could get a chance to talk to Yewon privately. Clothed and keeping your hands to yourself this time. You could clear the air and move forward like nothing had happened…Even as you looked at your own reflection you were unconvinced by that line of thought.

Getting Jessica’s advice on the matter didn’t seem worth the risk. Especially considering that you still didn’t know what exactly your relationship with her was after the other night. Honestly, she seemed more likely to get upset for business reasons than jealousy but neither option seemed worth the risk.

As you wrestled with your own thoughts you were faintly aware of the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“Jinyoung, tell Jess I’ll be back in a minute,” you said, not paying any mind.

“I can tell her for you, PD-nim. Though I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Immediately the color drained from your face.

You had assumed it was Jinyoung entering because frankly, you didn’t know of any other men that worked at the company. Therefore one could only imagine the expression on your face when a feminine voice reached your ears instead. Your head snapped to the side to see two familiar faces looking back at you. Familiar because you had only just been introducing yourself to them moments earlier. One was the girl whose gaze you had met, Park Jiwon. The other, a taller trainee, was Lee Chaeyoung. A name you remembered just from her height standing out on her file that Jess had shown you.

“Girls,” you stammered, straightening, “What are you doing in here?”

Chaeyoung turned, locking the door behind you as Jiwon took a step towards you, looking up at you as her hands were laced behind her back.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chaeyoung responded.

Your cock jumped, imagining what she could be referring to. Still, you decided the safer route was to play naive and let them lead you to the answer. “I’m not sure it is…”

“We’re here to give you a proper welcome to the company,” Jiwon stated directly.

She came to a stop in front of you and Chaeyoung soon stood next to her. They were gorgeous, there was no doubt about that, and they currently had you cornered against the sink. You swallowed thickly, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue as your gaze darted between the two women.

“Is that right?”

They nodded simultaneously.

“You know…” started Jiwon, her hand moving to the button of your pants, “Yewon’s face turned red as an apple when she saw you enter the room. I wonder why that was.”

Chaeyoung grinned as she perched herself on your shoulder, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she spoke, “We had her do a lap around the building with a vibrator slipped inside of her.”

You could feel my own cheeks start to redden at that revelation. No wonder she had been practically begging for any kind of touch. How long had she been in that state before you found her? Clearly long enough that she was willing to find relief on your thigh.

As you considered the implications of her words, Chaeyoung’s hand moved to join Jiwon’s as the button to your pants came undone. Her fingers slipped inside, easily cupping your growing bulge over your underwear. Her fingers massaged it, only causing your cock to stiffen further. In turn, she gave a throaty laugh and smiled at Jiwon who mirrored her actions with her own hand.

"He doesn't seem surprised to hear that," Chaeyoung continued, her breath hot against your ear as their hands stroked your cock.

"I think I know why. You know Yewon's face was so red when she came back it made me wonder why," Jiwon chimed in. She looked up at you, biting her bottom lip as her eyes held mischievous intent. “I think it’s because she had more stimulation than just that vibrator.”

“Did she have this?” Chaeyoung whispered, giving your length a firm squeeze.

“N-no,” you managed. However, lying at this point seemed fruitless. They had you cornered and you were already letting Chaeyoung jerk you off with her long fingers. What harm could the confession do at this point? “...It was my thigh. She rode my thigh. But I didn’t know…”

“Oh my god,” Jiwon laughed, “That little slut. I didn’t think she had something like that in her. Just wait until the others hear.”

You stumbled a bit, gripping the sink as Chaeyoung continued rubbing your cock. It was a bizarre experience; trying to hold a conversation with Jiwon while her taller accomplice nibbled at your earlobe and stroked your cock. All while your whole career was only a few feet away outside of the bathroom door.

“You can’t,” you muttered. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Is it our secret, PD-nim? What else are we going to keep secret?” Chaeyoung teased.

“You know if we had more time we could really have fun,” Jiwon said, “Is he close, Chae?”

“From the way he keeps throbbing in my hand and the look on his face I’d say yes.”

You felt Jiwon’s eyes turn to you and instantly knew she was up to no good, “Ladies…”

“We have to be the first ones. Before anyone else hooks their claws into him.”

Before you could protest or even ask what she was talking about, Jiwon’s hands were grabbing the waistband of your pants and boxers. She yanked them down your thighs, fully exposing the sight of Chaeyoung’s hand wrapped around your cock. There was no denying it now. In fact seeing it only turned you on further. Not to mention the taller girl had been right: you were practically ready to burst. The physical touch combined with her teasing and the memory of what had happened with Yewon; it was all too much.

You watched as the two trainees slid to their knees on the tiled bathroom floor. Together they began tag-teaming your cock, taking turns letting their tongues run over the swollen head and engorged shaft like it was their favorite lollipop.

“Fuck, ladies, we really shouldn't...” you moaned. A pathetic last attempt at the righteous choice.

Both girls looked up at you with their pretty eyes and grinned. It was clear they were enjoying this; listening to you fight with your morals while refusing to push them away.

Jiwon pulled back, looking up at you with wide eyes and pouting lips, "Should we head back to the practice room?"

The sincerity of her question was undermined by the fact that Chaeyoung's tongue was still teasing the head of your cock. You found yourself speechless and Jiwon's pout turned into a devilish smile. "Don't worry, PD-nim. You don't have to feel guilty, I bet we aren't the only ones who'd want a taste of this."

She gave you a wink and returned to the task at hand. The thought was enticing to your most primal instincts. Something you were supposed to be above. However, there was no denying the appeal. The thrill of the taboo and the risk of being caught combined with the feeling of their soft hands and lips made was already making this far too addicting. Sure when you signed on for this job you never imagined this would be the outcome but now that it had happened, who were you to say no?

And if others wanted to join...

Your thoughts were cut off by the feel of something warm and wet around your cock. Jiwon had taken it fully into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed her head up and down the shaft. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung had wrapped her hand around the base, pumping your shaft in time with the bobbing of Jiwon's head. Your eyes were fixed on their teamwork, mesmerized by the sight unfolding while reveling in the pleasure.

"Shit," you hissed.

"It feels good doesn't it, PD-nim?" Chaeyoung asked. "She's small but she still swallows your cock like a pro."

Her eyes locked onto yours, gaze bearing down into your soul. You had never quite understood the concept of eye-fucking until that very moment.

Of course the answer to her question was obvious. From the way your body reacted to the look on your face to the swell of your length each time it hit the back of Jiwon's throat. If things kept going like that you'd be at your peak in no time. Which wasn't exactly a bad thing given you had little time to waste. On the other hand, you had yet to experience Chaeyoung's throat.

"If she keeps going like that I won't last," you grunted in response.

Chaeyoung grinned and Jiwon doubled her efforts.

"Don't be so greedy," Chaeyoung chastised her.

The shorter girl popped off of your cock with a long slurping sound, offering it to Chaeyoung who quickly picked up where her friend had left off. Her head bobbed on your cock, her short raven-cut hair swaying back and forth. You could only watch, mesmerized as her tongue slid against the underside of your cock. Jiwon didn't sit idle, one hand moving to fondle your balls while the other slipped past the waistband of her yoga pants.

"This is so hot..." she trailed off.

The way her eyes were glued to Chaeyoung you weren't sure if she was speaking to you or merely talking outloud to herself. Either way, you didn't disagree.

After a while, Chaeyoung would pull-off then offer it to Jiwon. The cycle continued in that manner. Together they switched between who had the honor of taking your cock in their mouth, letting the other take your cock in hand. One would stroke your cock or fondle your balls while the other gagged herself on your rod.

At one point, Jiwon was sucking your cock while Chaeyoung took one of your balls into her mouth, sucking on your scrotum. Your eyes rolled back, a deep moan echoing off the bathroom walls; discretion completely forgotten for a moment.

Irresponsible and unprofessional? Absolutely. Did you regret it? Absolutely not.

Truth be told, you were still somewhat blue balled from your interaction with Yewon and this felt like exactly what you needed. Besides, it didn't seem like either girl was keen on spilling any secrets.

"Jesus," you muttered under your breath, "Girls, I'm almost there..."

Chaeyoung, who had been taking her turn, popped off of your cock her chin dripping with saliva and pre-cum, "Let's not leave our PD-nim disappointed then. Give him the grand finale."

"Grand finale?" you repeated, slightly dazed and balls aching.

They gave no further explanation, instead leaving you to watch as they moved to either side of your engorged rod. First, they closed the distance between each other, making out with your cock shoved in between their lips. It fell under the category of strangely erotic. Their spit coated your cock as the two trainees made-out, giving you the impression that this wasn't the first time they had done this.

A thought of inspiration struck you. A firm hand was placed on the back of each girl's head. They seemed to understand what was going to come next as their lips puckered around your cock, creating a funnel for you. Immediately you began thrusting between their lips, fucking both of their mouths at the same time while they looked up at you from their position on their knees. If you had any inhibitions left, they evaporated then and there.

"Fuck," you groaned, "I'm so fucking close."

The girls hummed their approval, vibrations against your cock bringing you even more pleasure. God, you would have loved nothing more than to coat their pretty faces with your semen but that seemed like it would create a hard cleanup and even harder explanation. Instead, you kept thrusting between them until finally your cock began to twitch. They watched as you bit down on your bottom lip, length shooting rope after rope of cum that splattered onto the tiled floor. Your head rolled back for a moment, bracing yourself against the bathroom sink.

What the fuck just happened, you thought.

You were brought back to the present by the feel of lips around your cock, cleaning you off.

"Well, I'm horny now," Jiwon stated bluntly as she stood on her feet. "If we had more time..."

"Yah," the taller one hit her shoulder as she stood, wiping her bottom lip, "You're insatiable you know that?"

Jiwon laughed and you could only watch, dick still exposed, as the girls bantered as if they hadn't just sucked you dry. "We should..."

"We'll go," Chaeyoung cut in. She leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. "You should get cleaned up."

Jiwon followed suit, though somewhat adorably, she had to tip-toe to reach your cheek, "Don't forget us during evaluations, PD-nim."

She gave you a wink and just like that the two girls walked out the bathroom, leaving you with your thoughts. Or rather lack of thoughts. Which wasn't a bad thing given you had no idea what to make of this situation. Instead you got dressed; grabbed a few paper towels, wiped up the evidence of your rendezvous and splashed water on your face. When you looked in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize the slight smirk on your features.

"Hopefully Jessica didn't notice my absence," you muttered as you left the bathroom.

"So that's where you were," a voice called.

You looked up to see a face that took you a moment to recognize. She was one of the trainees you had been introduced to earlier. Haewon if you remembered correctly. She had short, straight hair that neatly framed her face. Her eyes were wide and attentive while her lips were full and plump with round cheeks. She was taller than Jiwon but only just.

"Ms. Jung was looking for you," she said.

"O-oh," you stammered, before clearing your throat. "Yeah. I was just on my way back."

You swallowed thickly, eyeing her unblinking expression. It was unnerving really, the way she stared at you arms crossed over her chest. You couldn't tell whether she was judging you or just so disinterested she couldn't bother to pretend. Had she seen Jiwon and Chaeyoung coming from this area too?

"So, uh, I'll just be heading back," you started.

Suddenly Haewon broke into a wide smile, practically beaming at you, "Alright then. See you tomorrow PD-nim!"

With that she walked off, her expression dropping the moment she turned away from you. You were left baffled and confused as you decided to shake it off and head back to Jessica. If she hadn't called you out on fooling around then that was a win enough for today.

As you neared the practice room, you spotted someone standing off to the side. Another one of the girls, though her name escaped you. She seemed upset as she talked on the phone. For a moment you considered going over to her and checking to make sure everything was alright only to stop yourself.

You hadn't even accepted the job offer yet and you were getting involved with these girls. The least you could do was not add emotional involvement to the list as well. You swallowed the impulse to help, maybe you'd bring it up to Jessica when you got the chance. She might know what that was about.

[PRESENT]

When you got back Jessica had already dismissed most of the girls for the day. The two of you decided to call it a day, after all despite your speech you still had an official decision to make.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling to your uncle's contact information. Your lips pressed together in thought. In many ways it was a no brainer, even ways that it shouldn't be. In other ways the more you learned about these girls the more you hesitated. If you failed you'd be doing more than just taking your uncle's money. You closed your eyes, your mind briefly flashing to images of your load covering Jiwon and Chaeyoung's faces. The decision was easy, wasn't it?

"What did you always say, uncle? It's about the journey not the destination," you muttered to yourself.

You quickly typed out a message.

"I'm in."

[shradsmanifestt]

Do you have any advice for someone who struggles heavily with their appearance, to the point they cannot look in the mirror or they’ll spiral?

I have read Neville Goddard and have been into specifically LOA since about the start of this year, I believe in shifting and am an open minded person. Yet, for some reason I can’t convince myself that my appearance is controlled by me, and that any flaws are just in my head.

I would go to therapy or something (I haven’t looked in the mirror properly since October), but I can only do that through my mother (she said yes, but nothing happened yet, so I have to wait.) I think about how I look everyday and I am scared to go outside but I have such a bad view on how I look.

Is it really possible to just robotically affirm through everything, until it manifests? I get really demotivated if nothing changes in a couple of days, even if I logically know that it HAS to manifest.

Rather than advice, I would like to tell you this -

The only reason why you have this appearance rn is because you have accepted the fact that this is how you look. All of these flaws that you have accepted in your mind is why you have those. I don't like to be harsh but in order to help you i have to be honest.

You accepted a certain image of yourself, so the 3D has no other choice but to reflect that. Instead of wasting your time on thinking how you're spiralling and how the mirror scares you, be fearless in accepting the fact that - no not anymore, I love how I look, I look exactly how I wanna look like and persist in that. You are the reason why you look exactly how you look now. You have perfectly manifested looking like this. You have perfectly manifested having a bad view on how you look. This must also be reflected by others since that's the way you think about yourself. Change that. Change the way you see yourself. No matter what happens. Your end goal is to look a certain way right? Be delusional for all I care. You look exactly how you wanna look like rn. Don't let the 3d control you, don't let it define you. You control the 3d. And it's already done. That's it. End of story.

[befemininenow]

There, there, lovely. It's all going to be okay. You just had a dysphoria episode. We will get through this, I promise.

You start to tear up as you remember the nightmare you woke up from experiencing. You remember every little detail: you had a mistress, she kept insulting you, you were about to be r**** by an unknown man, you couldn't run away, and worst of all, you were a man in the dream! But not just any man; you were your old self in a much weaker form that even in your old feminization fantasies you couldn't picture becoming.

You grabbed your phone to call for some support. It's Melissa. She heard you crying in the background. "Babe, what's wrong? Why are you calling this late? Did someone try to hurt you?" You proceeded to tell her your entire nightmare and wondered if this was all going to be true one day. "Am I just... not a real woman?" Melissa knows all the answers. If you ever needed some help or a second opinion, Melissa was your go-to woman. "Babe, can you do me a favor, please, and look at yourself to the closest mirror?" You obey and do it.

"What do you see? Can you tell me in full detail?" You see yourself and are shocked! When did you dye your hair blonde!? Not only that, but you resemble a Barbie doll! You're wearing a pink lingerie set, white stockings, nice long pink nails, and a cute pink bow to flow with your beautiful long blonde hair. Your heart beats faster as you notice how femme you look. "This is... me?"

"Honey, you were always a woman. It's just that it took you long to embrace her on the outside." You fall in love with the bombshell you've become. Almost like a Disney princess*. "I'm... I'm beautiful.... I'm.. I'm really a woman..." "That's the spirit, girlie! You were just experiencing dysphoria. It's unfortunately common among trans girls, but you'll get through this!" Just as you thank Melissa for her therapy talk with you, she pauses you, "Ah, don't forget to take your hormones. I know it's not fun to take prog rectally, but it's what will help you embrace your change faster. Anyways, sleep well and we'll talk more tomorrow. K bye!"

You take your progesterone as followed and are not used to putting it inside. Meanwhile, you decide to observe the woman looking back at you. How did you became so beautiful? And how long have you been taking hormones? A rushing feeling of euphoria starts to turn you on as you stare at your image in the mirror. You start to rub yourself with your thighs and start to grope your breasts a bit. You start to pant from the steaming sensation and grind yourself a bit. Suddenly, you imagine yourself having sex with a man.

"Oh, god, I... I'm starting to feel so horny right now!" You can't contain yourself and start to play with your own body. Before you know it, you climaxed after having intense fantasies for a few minutes. "I... I.... I let myself out. Did I... really became a woman?" You haven't realized it, but you're well over 20 months in hormones now, 8 in progesterone. The only reason why you had this nightmare to begin is because... you're about to have your FFS tomorrow morning. SRS is about to be next. Is this really the point of no return?

(End of 20 months)

*The girl in this pic is Sabrina Carpenter, a former Disney child star turned pop star.