#fuzzy logic set

[berristreasuredlibrary]

Big beefy men...sighhhh

MDNI: smut ahead (18+), not proofread, I wanted to write something and this was the best I could do :(

Big beefy men who take up the entirety of doorframes, who have to lower their heads to walk into your home. Big beefy men whose muscles strain against their clothes, their biceps stretching the material of their sleeves, their thighs being shown off in their pants.

Big muscles just begging to be set free, thick, and defined by years of use. So big that both your hands just barely enclose around their forearm, much less their bicep. Big beefy men who let you hand from said biceps whenever they flex, strong enough to lift you off the ground with ease, hardly breaking a sweat as they grin down at you, proud of how easily they can carry you around. How simple it is to maneuver you this way and that.

They love showing off for you, picking up heavy things, taking the groceries inside for you - big hands able to carry multiple bags at once - grabbing things up on high shelves for you, and so much more. He loves hearing you coo at him, telling him how big and strong he is, adoration dancing across your pretty eyes, his own shining with pride and his cheeks tinged a light pink.

Big beefy men who adore holding you, molding your softer body to his harder one, a strong arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you pressed close to him. His free hand tangled in your hair, fingers combing through the strands slowly, nails scratching your scalp lightly as he watches your eyes flutter, fighting off your sleepiness.

Big beefy men who adore being held by you just as much, if not more. Their faces pressed into your chest, one of your legs hooked over him, keeping him close as your fingers toy with his hair or trace shapes upon his broad back. His arms are wrapped around your waist, face buried into your chest, occasionally trailing ticklish kisses from one side to the other.

They adore being wrapped in your embrace, the size difference making their minds hazy with want, feeling how much smaller you were compared to them. It made their brain go fuzzy, scenarios flashing through their mind, images of you being pinned beneath them, struggling and squirming when the angry tip of his cock nudges through your soaked folds, rutting against your clit like a wild animal in heat.

It was only logical that he fulfill his fantasies, he knows you wouldn't deny him, especially if he spoke so softly towards you. If he tugged on your shirt and pouted up at you, batting his lashes and rubbing his nose against your chest and throat, like a puppy begging for attention. He mouths at your pulse point, licking and sucking different-sized marks across your skin, his hands pushing up your shirt to expose more of your softness to him.

When your fingers tangle in his hair, he merely groans as he latches onto a nipple, licking and sucking harshly while his fingers toy with the other, pinching and rolling it as his free hand travels south. When his hand reaches your panties, he tugs them down your legs, bunching the fabric in his hands before he pushes the ruined garment into your mouth, listening to you whine and feeling you squirm against him.

His mouth leaves your nipple briefly, pressing a kiss to the bud before he latches onto the other, giving it the same treatment as its twin, his hands pushing apart your legs, holding them down against the bed as he shifts onto his knees. Sitting upright, he stares down at you, eyes full of the same adoration you have for him, his gaze flickering between your marked neck, your pretty nipples, and your drooling pussy.

He can't help himself, not when you look absolutely ravishing spread out for him like this. So, he dips down, pushing his hips into the mattress for relief, and pushes his tongue between your folds, dragging his tongue from your fluttering hole to your throbbing clit. Licking up your slick, he groans into your pussy, muttering something about how sweet you are before he's burying his face into your cunt, arms locking around your thighs to pull you flush against his mouth.

He's messy, uncaring about how your slick and his drool drips down his chin, the only thought bouncing around his head is you - how good your skin feels against his hands, how fucking delicious you taste, how pretty your muffled moans sound. His cock throbs, it aches when he glances up at you, eyes locking on your expression, watching your eyes flutter and your chest heave. When your fingers tug on his hair, he struggles to swallow down a moan, his fingers digging into your plush thighs, his tongue dipping into your hole, slurping up whatever your pussy drools for him.

When your orgasm crashes over you, your body thrashes against the mattress, your hips pushing back into the plush bed, hands shoving at his head and shoulder, desperate to get away from him; or at least make him ease up from his licking and sucking. Your attempts are futile, however, with the way his arms lock around your thighs, uncaring about his lack of oxygen - even forcing your thighs to close around his head with his big arms, he continues to slurp messily, making out with your gushing pussy until he's finished.

When he does finally pull away, his hands are grabbing your hips to flip you over, forcing your back to arch as he pulls your drenched panties from your mouth. His hands fumble to push his sweats down, hissing through gritted teeth as his cock springs free, swollen and leaking pre from an angry tip. His hands grab the fat of your ass, kneading the plush skin with his big palms, hips canting forward to rub against your pussy, feeling you twitch and whine, still reeling from your powerful orgasm.

When he deems himself slick enough, he grabs the base of his dick with one hand, nudging your entrance with a grunt, his other hand on your hip, keeping you in place as he begins pushing into your sensitive pussy. Listening to you whine and feeling you trying to squirm away from him, he huffs, grabbing you by the crooks of your elbows and pulling you up slightly, fingers digging into your skin as he continues pushing his angry dick into you.

Your whines only grow louder, breathless moans leaving your bitten lips by the deliciously painful stretch, your pussy spasming around his thick cock. His groans and pathetic little moans leave your mind hazy, paired with the familiar burn of being stretched out by your lover, you can hardly think straight. When your hips rock back impatiently, his mind reels, and his hips snap forward, forcing the rest of his dick into your clenching pussy, a shiver running down his spine at the beautiful mewl that leaves your lips.

His hands pull you back to meet each ruthless snap of his strong hips, his nails leaving indents in your skin as your hands clench, your back arching as your head falls forward, your mind a foggy haze of building pleasure. The loud squelching sounds of your pussy rival the loud moans leaving the both of you, the creak of your poor bed, and the headboard hitting the wall with each brutal thrust.

Sweat rolls down his temple as he mouths at your neck and shoulder, biting down when your pussy clamps around him, stifling a ragged moan as his thrusts become increasingly rough. He lets go of your arms, letting you fall forward onto the mattress, big hands grabbing your waist and pushing down, forcing your arch even deeper as his balls smack against your sensitive clit, his knees pushing your thighs apart.

It's animalistic, the way he thrusts into you, like an animal in heat, chasing release with a bruising hold on you. Your poor body jolts against the bed, pitiful moans and whines leaving you as your hands fist the sheets beneath you, the pressure in your lower tummy becoming too much for you to handle. Your babbles only serve to drive him madder, his hips shifting to hit that spot inside your gummy walls, groaning when he feels you tightening around his cock.

He grits his teeth, staring down at your body when he pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you in powerful waves, pussy gushing onto the sheets, your face buried into the pillows, muffling your sobs as your entire body shakes and jolts, thrashing beneath your lover who refuses to let up; absolutely enamored by the sight of you falling apart on his cock.

It doesn't take much longer for his cock to twitch, the familiar sign of his impending release. Pathetic mewls leave your lips, eyes glossy and unfocused as he grits his teeth, leaning over to press onto you, his hands on either side of your head, fisting the sheets as his body keeps you pressed down on the mattress, his hips just rutting into you now.

His head falls forward into the crook of your neck, desperate kisses are pressed to your sweaty skin, his body going rigid as spurts of cum shoot into your poor pussy, his hips simply grinding into your ass now, drawn-out moans muffled into your neck, his knuckles going white with the grip he has on the sheets, veins visible along his forearms and hands as his hips finally still, the last spurts of cum painting your gummy walls.

Panting fills the room, both yours and his, your legs trembling and your body twitching through the aftershocks of such violent orgasms. Tender kisses are pressed to your sweaty temple and messy hair, his hands smoothing over your waist and hips, murmuring about how good you were to him as he slowly withdrawals from your addicting pussy. His eyes are immediately drawn to your cunt, his mouth falling open to let out a sinful groan as he watches his cum slowly spill from your spent pussy.

The sight alone has his dick stirring to life once more, greedy hands turning you over, shoving a pillow under your hips to aide you, despite your weak protests, his hands already grabbing your legs to put over his broad shoulders, apologies leaving his lips as he glides his angry tip through your folds once more.

Big beefy men who are insatiable animals when it comes to you.

KNY: Kyojuro, Sanemi...

JJK: Gojo, Geto...

AOT: Jean, Armin...

MHA: Keigo...

COD: Konig, Soap (Johnny)

+ more

[postmoe]

x You're My Antonym x

Yandere Alhaitham x Reader x Yandere Anaxagoras

no because this was supposed to be a 900 word one shot idea but now it's like 10,000. not really proof read.

power-play, unprofessional behaviour, teacher and student, fem reader, non-con, belittling, coercion

I used this for the interaction where Alhaitham is helping you with practicing your oral.

.

Most people leave the classes by the second term, there's a few reasons that build up over time but, if you asked any of the students who leave it can be narrowed down to one common factor: the teachers.

Alhaitham, the professor of Haravatat. He makes it known that he doesn't want to be here, even though he could leave any time. He says it's up to the students if they want to succeed, only pushing them to show basic etiquette in class. However, his nihilistic nature and harsh grading turns a lot of people away. He's not all that bad, though, he's even stayed behind when you've come after class to ask him questions. Don't even try to bring up work when he's out of the classroom, though.

Anaxagoras, the professor of Nousporist. He is a lot stricter than Alhaitham, and when in the classroom follows closely to the rule, 'Silence is Golden'. You get one warning before you're thrown out of the classroom. This man will question everything, even the philosophy students get fed up with him. Unless you provide 100% evidence, then your argument is void.

You're powering through their courses with a rigorous determination. Haravatat, the study of semiotics, taking sign systems from history to determine anything from anthropological to logical and sociological dimensions. You can piece together the very interesting discovery of ancient human civilisation! Nousporist is a perfect partner to this course, focusing more on experiments and research, seeking to uncover fundamental truths about life and existence through scrupulous scientific inquiry. You can even decipher the world of the Gods!

But holy shit, are you exhausted. You work a late-night shift at a 24/7 convenience store, only to come to school and study your brain to mush with little time to relax. It's an exhausting life, but you think about how it'll all be worth it once you graduate.

When it comes to these classes, you know your grades aren't the highest, perhaps only slightly above average on a good day. So, you rely on being an ideal student in the classroom, getting on the professor's good side by staying out of their way and only participating when necessary.

Except today, you seem to be a little... "Haah," your little squeak of a yawn has everyone looking back at you from your spot in the middle. You didn't mean to, you tried to make it silent. With am apprehensive look, you meet your gaze with a nonchalant Anaxagoras and quietly whisper, "'M sorry."

He seems to think over a response to you, deciding in the end to go back to teaching, probably because you never make a disturbance. You do your best to listen, shaking your head whenever the visage of the whiteboard starts to blur. As you feel your mind drifting off, your arm falling to the desk as it can no longer support your head, you think about how nice Professor Anaxagoras' voice really is. Like an asmr lulling you to sleep.

It doesn't help that his class was at the end of the day, when your exhaustion hits its peak. By the time you open your eyes you notice the low light of the setting sun. Confused, you sit up, your mouth dry and your hair fuzzy. No other students are in the room, leaving you alone with your professor.

At you rising, he gives you some time to collect your bearings before placing his pen down from marking papers, regarding you, "Finally awake, I see. Funny, I didn't think you of all people found my class boring."

Desperately, you lick your lips to dispel any dryness you could, "N-No! I love your class, Professor Anaxagoras, I'm super, extremely, exceedingly sorry!!"

He tilts his head to the side, the default line of his mouth tilting downwards slightly, "I was joking. I've noticed for the past few weeks that you've been getting more and more tired. Is everything okay? Even Alhaitham has expressed his concerns to me, wondering if I was the one putting you through such stress, the lout."

"I wouldn't say lout," a familiar and similarly cool voice speaks from the doorway, "Aggression isn't my usual problem solver."

"Oh? Then perhaps something like 'insipid' or 'sanctimonious' is a better fit."

Alhaitham huffs out the bare minimum of a laugh, "I believe 'sanctimonious' would be better suited to you, Professor Anaxa."

"Anaxagoras."

He turns his attention to you now, walking to the edge of the steps leading up the rows of seats, stopping and crossing his arms over his broad chest, "You've been spacing out more often, and the bags under your eyes are deeper. What's got you so stressed? Is it the covering material?"

Your cheeks gently blossom at being called out, your body shifting in your seat as you avoid eye contact. To have both of your professors worried about you sends a wave of admiration through your heart. Not only are they great (albeit firm) teachers, but, they also care for their students. "I'm really sorry if I've disturbed both of you. I've had to pick up more shifts at work because my rent is increasing so, I haven't had much time to rest."

"You don't live on campus?" Anaxagoras inquires, raising his eyebrow in question.

You shake your head, "I could only afford the starter tuition fees, not the campus bundle. I live in an apartment with cheaper rent. Even as it's going up, it's still below what they charge here."

Alhaitham nods in understanding, "This is one of the most expensive schools, even with government help."

"Yeah, but, I know that's not an excuse. I'll try harder, I promise," you say, gathering your things and packing them in your bag. As you step down to Alhaitham, you pull out a few pieces of paper and hand it to him, "Here are the picture comparisons I got from the museum, Professor."

With that, you leave the room, Anaxa already at Alhaitham's shoulder and peering at the documents. It was you at the Ancient Cultural Museum, comparing your body to humans of the past. You were wearing revealing clothing to get the best out of the angles.

Your thighs squeezed into tight shorts, collating the length of your legs to those of homo floresiensis. Another picture of you with one arm stretched, belly showing in your flimsy singlet, between gigantopithecus blacki and King Kong at 7.6 metres.

Anaxa hums lowly, standing back to eye him, "That's not very professional."

Alhaitham agrees, "I know. It seems more of an 'entertainment show' than a proper museum."

The other professor rolls his eyes, walking back to his desk, "You know what I am talking about. If the directors found out then you'd be in more trouble than just expulsion from the akademia."

He crosses his broad arms over his chest, papers carefully held between his fingers and thumb, "Aren't you a director?"

"You don't seem so worried about me saying anything."

"Please, I know you favour her as well. I'm not the only creep here."

At this, Anaxa smiles snidely, "Ah, well, then my ultimatum won't be so shocking. As long as you're willing to share your favourite student's 'private' homework, then I'm more than happy to keep this on the - how is it? - DL."

"Pfft," he looks down to one of the pictures, your foot side-by-side to the re-imagined soles of a slave from Ancient Egypt. Next to it, your pretty-painted toes idly sit by chipped nails. Did you paint your toes just for this photoshoot? Cute girl. "Would you like to take pictures now or shall I photocopy them at home?"

...

You didn't think your grades were that bad... Over the past couple of weeks, both Professor Anaxagoras and Professor Alhaitham have been wanting to keep you after class to help you catch up, even offering to invite you into their homes during the days they weren't working.

It seems you should have taken up on their offers as you review over your marks from the most recent short exam. Most of the students around you were already groaning, but, you usually at least make it slightly above average. This is a fail by all means.

You make eye contact with your professor and immediately look away. You can already tell Anaxa will want to see you after class, you don't need to acknowledge it right now. With a sigh, you check the time, seeing it's two more minutes until the end of class, and thirty minutes before you start your shift.

As soon as the clock ticks, he dismisses everyone. You obediently wait until everyone leaves before making your way to the front. He has his arms crossed, looking down on you like the peasant you are. You think he's going to be mad, instead, he only sighs like a let-down parent, "I thought you said you were going to be better."

There's nothing else you can say that's not repeating what you've already told him, so you stick with a non-committed, "I'm sorry."

"If you were truly sorry then you'd be taking up my offer to personally help you."

"I can't miss work," you say, exhausted from both the excessive hours and constant arguments with not one, but two, of your teachers. Your eyes shift to the clock above him, "In fact, I have to go-"

Heavy footsteps come through the door, a purposeful interruption made by Alhaitham. He takes his place beside you, his hand coming to your shoulder and squeezing, "You're going to call in sick, your grades depend on it."

You furrow your eyebrows, mouth opening to interject but Anaxa won't let you, "I agree. Any costs lost will be made up for by myself and Mr. Alhaitham here."

A sputtering sound passes your lips before you can say, "No?? I can't just do that-"

"As long as we don't tell anyone then I don't see why not," Anaxa says, somewhat smug, "I am one of the directors, after all, it's a lot easier for me to hide things."

You look to Alhaitham, "You could lose your job."

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

"Well, no-"

"Perfect, let's go to Mr. Anaxa's-"

"Anaxagoras."

"- house and get dinner on the way."

He takes your bag for you, the two of them walking towards the door and ignoring any more protests from you. Anaxa brushes back his ponytail, "Of course it's my house. Why, is yours not good enough?"

"Yours is bigger," Alhaitham shrugs, "At least, wasn't that your argument?"

"I suppose," he acknowledges, and it occurs to you that they've been conniving with themselves about this without your awareness.

It then hits you that you have heard rumours about his 'home' and were sure they were true, "Don't you live on campus?"

He turns his head over his shoulder and smirks, "For those long nights of research, I do have quite the homely office. However, I also own a comfortable space elsewhere."

...

Your boss sent you a frowny face text before accepting your sudden timetable shift. 'A mean case of gastro; couldn't even sit through class.'

Chinese was a tasty and easy take away dinner, getting lots of different boxes to share between the three of you. Then, you started heading into the main city, the bright lights a treat for your eyes as your usual apartment was shadowed by night with only a flickering lamp outside.

You drive into an underground car park, following diligently as you pile into a spacious elevator. He presses a number that says '74' and swipes a key card, your heart beats wilder at the prospect of a beautiful, night view.

Higher and higher you climb, until the doors open to a high-ceiling, expansive apartment. Alhaitham and Anaxa make their way to the lounge room area, placing their books and bags on a large, round, low table between the couch and the tv. From the table, Anaxa picks up a remote, and instead of pointing it to the television like you assumed, he pushes a button and the darkness of the windows seem to panel into a clear view of the city lights.

You walk over in awe, mouth agape, dinner hanging from your hands and forgotten about as you stare into the distance. Few buildings rivalled the height you were on, the entire city on display for your eyes alone. It felt surreal to be so high, so above everyone. Looking down, you saw specks of cars and people, none the wiser to your presence.

It's only when the bags are taken do you look away. Anaxa has slipped the handles over his fingers, while Alhaitham rummages the kitchen for cutlery and plates. You watch them work together, "Have you been here before, Professor Alhaitham?"

He returns with stacked plates and an arrangement of cutlery, setting them down and shaking his head, "No, I haven't."

Anaxa huffs, taking a seat on the floor, "Oh, really? I couldn't tell with how easily you made yourself at home."

Sitting opposite him, Alhaitham returns, "I'm just trying to help. Don't worry, I'll let you do all the washing up."

Feeling a little awkward, you sit at what could be considered the 'end' of the circular table, between your two professors. You take out the most recent material, opening your books and pencil case, preparing any text books, all while they serve up piles of food onto plates.

. You've barely touched your dinner, your head hurting as you go over the highlighted material in the book. "A-Are you sure we spoke about this in class? I was sure we left on page 107."

Alhaitham covers the words with his palm, making you take a break from the confusing sentences and looking up at him. Instantly, your head feels less strained from staring so long at the bright, white pages. He waits until you relax your shoulders, "We finished on 117. You just fell asleep at 107."

On the other side of you, Anaxa is going over your notes, circling the more important information and adding comments of his own. You hear him sigh and cross out something entirely, shifting your eyes to see a whole paragraph angrily scribbled out. He mutters, "When did I ever say this? Now you're making things up."

Your pencil drops from your fingers as you gape at him, "No???" You look closer to see what he was talking about, "We did talk about it, you were bringing up something that was like 'Nature's Endless Experiment', I remember those words."

Alhaitham raised his hand, "That was my class, it was a small off-topic discussion."

A long groan is all that comes from you, your forehead hitting the table as you collapse. You don't move when you feel them moving away the excessive books and pens you've littered the area with, opting to just rest your weary mind.

You tilt your head and grab your fork, poking at the rice and mumbling, "Why are you even having off-topic discussions? Don't you hate going over time..."

You squint when he juts a finger to your forehead, "Don't blame others for your mistakes."

Anaxa clears his throat, leaning back and closing his eye as he relaxes, "I think we have done enough tonight. You're at least up to date with the current material so you should be good for class again on Monday."

"Thank you so much," you say, taking a mouthful of food, "I really appreciate this, you're both the best professors ever. Could I please get the address so I can figure out a way home?"

You whimper when Professor Anaxagoras taps you on the head with the end of a wooden ruler, "Do not talk with your mouth full. Do I have to teach you basic life skills on top of everything else?"

Alhaitham scoots closer, taking the fork from your hand and impaling a soy-soaked bean before placing it to your lips, "At this point we may as well adopt you."

You bite the bean and yank your head away, eating the vegetable, "I am an adult, you know."

"Could've fooled me." They both say, at the same time, their monotonous tones making you feel like you've just stepped into an alternate reality.

Rolling your eyes, you take the fork back before your professor can get any more food on it, "So, about me getting home-"

Anaxa cuts in, standing up and taking his plate to the kitchen, "It's fine, you can stay here tonight."

"What? No, I can't do that," you gasp, eyeing him to see if this was another one of his 'jokes'.

He rinses the plate and then puts it in the dishwasher, "Do you have prior obligations at home? A pet, perhaps."

You snort, "As if I could afford that."

"Then I don't see the issue," he states, leaning against the island counter and folding his arms, "I'll get your bedroom sorted. We can study again tomorrow."

Incredulously, you look to Alhaitham, "Can you please talk some sense into him?"

He shrugs once again, lazily looking over to him, "I don't see an issue. Comfortable bed, good sleep. You could use the rest."

"I have to work tomorrow."

Of course, Anaxa has an excuse for that, "Gastro symptoms can last up to 72 hours. Just tell them you're still not well."

"But-"

"I'd just do as he says," Alhaitham starts collecting the rest of your stationary and packs it all away, placing the bag beside you, "Wouldn't you rather finally have a moment to sleep in and rejuvenate?"

It really does sound nice... Not having to set an alarm, to have a shower that runs just hot water and not switching to cold every other minute. You wonder how soft the sheets are, and maybe, just maybe, he has a mattress cover for extra comfort?

Finally, you relent, shoulders sagging, "I guess... If you're okay with it- ouch!"

Anaxa had made his way over during your consideration, now flicking you in the forehead and gazing down in annoyance, "I wouldn't have pushed it if I wasn't sure."

Rubbing your now sore spot, you look to Alhaitham and ask, "Are you staying, too?"

He shakes his head, "No, I have to get home. I'll come back tomorrow with lunch, I doubt Professor Anaxa has any food here."

"Just non-perishables," he replies, eye twitching at the disrespect from his colleague, "Now, get out of my house."

As he stands, he places his hand on your head and ruffles your hair, "At least he nice with you. See you tomorrow."

You bid your goodbyes, watching as he leaves down the elevator. Anaxa collects the remaining dishes, and you move to help but he stops you, "It's fine, you finish up. He's just too lazy to do anything."

It's all too easy to oblige, now that you weren't focused on studying anymore, your stomach has the stage for attention. As you consume your meal, you wonder to their likeness and how familiar they are with each other, "Are you and Professor Alhaitham good friends, Professor Anaxagoras?"

He huffs at the thought, returning with a fresh glass of water for you both and sitting down, "Our courses align somewhat and we're in the same wing. We've only really started talking more since you've been involved."

There's a happy feeling to think you might be the reason for a blooming friendship. You hold your head up proudly, "Maybe me being bad right now isn't such a bad thing? Once I leave, you guys might be besties!"

You watch his eyes lower to the table, mouth quirking downwards. It's only a moment later that he replies over the rim of his cup, "I highly doubt it. Neither of us have much of a reason to interact."

It's not something you push, if it happens it happens, and if not well, no skin off your back.

The shower is absolutely divine, the pressure perfect and the steam filling up the bathroom before being sent to through the vent was much nicer than being suffocated in your tiny apartment; you could only shower with the door open to let it out. Your professor generously lends you a shirt to wear to bed, the material certainly something fancy and comfortable. Ugh, don't even get you started on the bed, the king-sized mattress giving you ample room to roll about and the pillows delightfully suffocating you.

You were so comfortable from the night that you didn't wake up until you heard the murmurs of Alhaitham in the home. Sleepily and clumsily, you rush out of the room to show that you're awake, feeling bad for sleeping in so late. Your hair is a messy, you know that, fingers tearing away the worst of the knots. You don't focus on your exposed legs, the cheeks of your arse hanging out, you just wipe the sleep from your eyes and stare at them blearily.

They go silent, letting you apologise, calming your anxiety. You needed the rest, they don't mind. With a smile, you tell them you're going to get dressed and brush your teeth, leaving the two men alone.

As they look to each other, Anaxa smiles and holds his hands out innocently, "I didn't have any larger shirts."

It's not true, they both know that. Alhaitham replies honestly, "I'm not complaining."

...

"Do I have to stand here like this?" You ask, frowning at the uncomfortable feeling of being on display before your professor. Alhaitham was sitting nonchalantly on the chair, leaning back with his legs crossed and one arm over the backrest, holding a copy of your oral.

Both of your professors have said that dressing nicer would help with confidence and motivation. They also made an offhanded comment about seeing you something in an outfit more girly, as it would be such a difference. You decided to give it a shot, the cute, ruffled skirt and white blouse had heads turning, probably because you normally go for comfort when it comes to studying.

You were so close that the tip of his shoe is lightly grazing the underside of your skirt. He raises an eyebrow, silently questioning what you meant. You shift again, holding your papers tighter, "When we're presenting, we're not normally this close and..." and you think he can see up your skirt if he gets any lower on the chair.

Alhaitham holds his hand out as if providing evidence, "I have to make it uneasy somehow. Presenting to an entire room is one thing, in front of me alone is hardly scary. By providing such close proximity, it makes your overthink. It's also working."

"R-Right," you bring the papers back to your front, ignoring the way his gentle kicking was moving your clothes. You take a deep breath continue, "In more simple terms, we can look to smoke as an example-"

"-Eye contact," he interrupts, waiting until you look at him, "You will lose points if you stare down the whole time."

Gods, this really is embarrassing. You make sure to only look at your paper sparingly, "Smoke is the written word, an utterance, for a sign of fire. Though looking into the object, it is best thought as whatever is being signified, the object to which the written word is attached to - the fire being indicated by the smoke. Then, there's the interpretant, wAh!"

You step back suddenly, face red as you use one hand to hold your skirt down. He had suddenly kicked hard, your skirt flying up and showing off your girly panties with a tiny bow on the front. "Not that I'm one to talk, but, your monologuing is dragging on."

He's not going to acknowledge that? Is he embarrassed too? Apparently not since he reaches forward and tugs you so that your standing with one of his knees between your thighs. Your eyes shift to the doors, half expecting it to fling open, "Wh-what're you doing...?"

"Spicing things up. How am I meant to grade you if I'm falling asleep through the whole thing? Keep talking."

The lump in your throat is swallowed down. Your hands start to shake a bit at the way his thumbs slowly circle the jut of your hips. "The inerp-interpretant - haa, w-wait!"

You're cut off by his knees rolling up and into your pussy, igniting a throbbing in your clit at the motion. His grip is tight, you can't step away. You think to yell but how humiliating would it be to have someone walk in on the teacher's pet being tended to by their admired professor. The grip on your hips is also painful, would he hurt you more if you made a sound?

He's so focused on rolling his knee into you that he isn't even looking at your face. You tentatively reach out, tapping his shoulder, "P-Professor, this is really inappropriate."

Now, he darts his eyes to yours, tilting his head to the side, "Oh? You come to my classroom wearing a skirt so small, and now it's inappropriate?"

Your cheeks redden at him turning it on you and you tug at the bottom to try and cover more of your skin, which only drags his attention back to your plump thighs and what's in between, "The lady at the store said this was super girly. You and Professor Anaxagoras said- Ah!"

His large palm had slapped against your left butt cheek, fingers grabbing moulding your flesh beneath the skirt, "What have we said about pushing the blame onto others? In the end of the day, you chose to comply." Alhaitham leans in, inhaling your scent, the light and sweet perfume you had sprayed so many hours before, "And what a good girl you are for doing so."

You squeal as he pushes you to your knees, his foot pressing against your crotch and one of his hands gathering up what he can of your hair and holding you in place. Scared, doe-like eyes gaze up at him, your papers crinkled in your hands, "I don't understand..." He's never acted like this, he was always so kind and helping towards you.

Dread fills you when he starts to grope his growing cock, he watches your expression with an intense interest, "I think... we can change the parameters of your oral since you're struggling so much. Why don't we try something more practical?"

Trying to keep your composure, you flatten the papers beneath you as you witness him manoeuvre his pants to free his cock. It springs forth and your breathing goes faster, tears finally collecting in your eyes, begging to be let go, "I-I don't know how to do this, either."

Surely he sees how distraught you are. Surely he relents at your naivete over this.

He doesn't.

He brings you forwards and pushes your cheek against the hot skin of his cock. Alhaitham smiles down at you, a wicked glint in his eyes, "Is that so? Well, luckily you have your favourite professor here to teach you." His legs spread a little wider, allowing more room for your head to rest in the groove of his thigh and dick, "Let's start by giving it some gentle kisses. Just like you would a lover."

Are you really going to do this? What else can you do, though, he has you by a stronghold. When he pushes you against his shaft, you finally comply, though you barely pucker your lips. It was more of a pathetic touch, eyes averted to the side since closing them only stains the picture of his member in your mind.

"Hmm, I won't be too harsh since it's your first time. Why don't we try with your tongue out? Lick it, melt the outside with your saliva, soften it up so you can swallow it good," he orders, holding the side steady so you can lick him easier.

He moves your head by your hair, forcing you to move your tongue up and down the length. You groan in disgust when he makes you pay attention to the head, his precum that had pearled on the top now spreading on your taste buds. At your little noise, he pushes the toes of his shoe against your sex, still clothed, and moves it slowly in an up-down motion.

A low whistle leaves him at your defiant gaze, mouth blocked by the tip of his cock, eyes glaring up. "I'm more into obedient students but," he pauses to lick his lips, "I don't mind this side of you either."

Alhaitham allows you to pull away, gasping for a breath of fresh air and not one that's tainted by the heady smell of his cock. You push against the edge of the seat but he won't let you go farther, yanking you back into submission. More tears now stream down your face, angry and hurt, "Please, I don't want to do this anymore."

Now masturbating in front of you, he hums a little sigh of pleasure, "Don't you know the saying? 'The bell doesn't release you, I do'. You don't get to leave my classroom until I say you can." You cry as his hand releases your hair and slips his fingers through the strands, now holding the back of your head still so he can angle his cock to your lips, "If you bite me, I'll get you pregnant."

The shock of his threat is enough to keep you incapacitated until he reaches the back of your throat. Immediately, you hold his thighs tight, fingers digging into his pants while he moves your fair from your face so he can get a better visage of you choking on his cock. You make pitiable gagging sounds, feeling his long dick slide back and forth on your tongue, the muscle having no idea what to do as pulling back choked your more but laying flat made you taste him worse.

"Fffuuck," he hisses, and it's the first time you've heard him swear. The schlicking sound of his cock in your mouth was so loud, such a turn on for him. You're whining from the ache of his girth after a while, coughing whenever he gave you the mildest of breaks. He would switch it up sometimes, aiming for the inside of your cheek just so he could watch the bulge of his penis in your mouth, saliva and precum pouring from your lips like the fountain of a whore. Back down to the back of your throat he goes, holding there until your flailing stilled, visage going white at the edges. A second later and he pulls out once more, gently caressing your cheeks and squishing them as he coos, "Good fucking girl. Better at using your head for this than study. This is the last stretch."

It hurt your heart to hear that, even from the man who is assaulting you now. You've spent so much time, money, effort, and so much more on trying to be the best you can. All of it was worth something, and now, it feels like it's reduced to nothing. Being told by your professor who had been teaching you for the better part of a year... You're past your refund date.

He's moving with an animalistic jolt of his hips, hardly separating from your mouth. His breathing is harder, faster, matching the pace he uses in your throat. You're scrunching your eyes shut, holding your breath, ignoring the way his hand won't stop patting back your hair until he's cumming load after load down your restricting throat. Alhaitham makes sure to burn this memory into his retina, thumb wiping at the tears in the corner of your eye, "Good girl... Good girl, (Y/n). Swallow it, for your professor."

You can't contain it all, the remnants of his semen dripping from your mouth as it comes back up. When he eventually removes his softening cock from your mouth, you retch and couch what little you couldn't swallow. Alhaitham is kind enough to offer his water bottle, and you're not proud enough to say no.

Except, as you reach for the plastic, he suddenly pulls away and grabs your wrist. The bottle is between his knees so he can hold you tenderly, kissing you with a lustful passion. It's only when he pulls away does he give you the water bottle.

You're too busy to even think about what he's doing, kneeling in a puddle of the mess created, letting the water flow down your front. The tinkering of metal is heard, you think he's doing up his pants.

You're wrong.

Once you finally finish the bottle, he leaves you no time to react and pulls your arms behind your back, securing the with his belt. If there's one thing you couldn't say about Alhaitham, it's that he's unfit. The man trains, and you suppose for someone who has had to track the desert and tackle forests for his job, you'd have to have a good physique. Struggling is useless, you only gasp in confusion and exhaustion, "W-Wait, what are you doing? I did what you wanted!"

His face is back to it's nonchalant self, cheeks showing minimal sign of the event that just occurred. You watch in horror as he undoes his green necktie, slipping it over his head before properly untying it, "I got a good idea of how you perform an oral. Now, it's my time. How are you going to learn if your professor doesn't demonstrate?"

"Hold on!" You kick, his arms hooking under your knees and lifting you up to carry you to his desk. Once he's laid you upon it, he yanks you forward so he can makeshift the tie into a gag for you. You shake your head in any direction, "No, stop! I don't want that-"

Of course, you wouldn't get what you wanted. It's secure enough, your arms successfully restrained. His desk chair is a lot nicer, bigger, comfier, and higher. When he sits, he's at the perfect height to drape your legs over his shoulders and breathe on your dampened panties. You make eye contact with him, unable to kick him effectively to stop, pleading with your eyes despite it being no use earlier.

He gives you a poor attempt at a smile, slipping your pretty, bow adorned panties down your legs, ducking under them and plucking them from your ankle. Your professor makes a show of pocketing them for later. The way his eyes devour the sight of your pussy has you cringing in on yourself, always been self-conscious of this intimate part of you.

Alhaitham seems to have a different opinion, no look of disgust, only impatient desire. "So beautiful, so natural," he moans into your thigh, kissing you tenderly before licking a hot, long stripe from your small taint, over your labia, across your clit and the top of your slit. It felt surreal, your cunny clenching in unwanted desire.

Fractured moans and sounds slip past the gag, fingers clenching and releasing with every jolt of stimulation. You wonder if he's practiced before, watched a tutorial, or if you're just that uncultured that this feels too good to be happening on your poor slit. His tongue is slow and savouring, lightly entering your hole before twirling back and around the outside of your lips. One of his hands, that have been holding your thighs tightly to his head, move to gently tickle the entrance of your vagina so he can focus on suckling and playing with your budding clit.

You're so dazed, eyes blearily looking to the high ceiling as you have nothing else to focus on but the delightful tingle in your belly. A heavy breath comes from Alhaitham, the man gazing you with heavy, lidded eyes to see your expression. Drool and cum still trickle from the corner of your lips, a drying trail down your collar bone and staining your blouse. His other hand is moving to his cock now, the slow, clicking sound making you lazily move your eyes to see what he was up to now. He smiles at you, kissing your engorged sex, "Truly a masterpiece to be studied. I could draw these wonderful sounds out of you all day."

His hand and mouth switch up, his thumb now taking your slick clit and swiping over it in ever-changing movements. Now, his mouth was back to making out with your labia, tongue swirling at the opening of your pussy and stimulating barely a centimetre in your walls. It's a teasing motion that feels gratifying when he delves his tongue deeper and harder into you. You moan lengthily, arching your hips into his mouth and fingers. He waits, teasing you again, only pushing into your clit when his tongue makes for that intrusive movement. He only does it a few more times until he's open mouth tongue-fucking you through your climax, pussy gripping him and hips suffocating him as tears streak down your face from the pleasure.

It was too much, too good, too stressful to even think about as you ride out your orgasm on your professor's face. He's in no hurry to leave you, taking his time to lap up your creamy ejaculate, hand hitting harder against his navel until he's pulling back, standing, and cumming all over your wet and exposed cunt, watching your body jerk from the sudden hit of fluid on your sensitive parts, even getting on your skirt and blouse. You're still teary eyes and vulnerable when he takes out his phone to snap a few pictures, hand slowly easing his cock down, "I've never seen anything so beautiful. You'll be fine if I keep these for me, right?"

You don't make a move to acknowledge him, 'letting' him take photos isn't the right, though you weren't making an effort to roll off the table either. Once he's done, he lifts you up, sitting on the desk and holding you with his arm steady around your back. He's showing you something on his phone; the pictures he just snapped.

A low chuckle comes from him when you move your head to the side to not see them, eyes slamming shut. He does something, and then the next time you open your eyes, there's a chat with Professor Anaxa and your photos in the message bubble, waiting to be sent. Wide eyes look to Alhaitham, shaking your head erratically. He hums in thought, "Then you'll be good, right? You wouldn't want such a renowned man to know what you look like defiled and sex-satisfied. Get what I'm saying?"

Of course, you nod. It already feel painful to have one person you looked up to do this, you don't want to extend that disgust onto someone else, especially your Nousporist professor. To have to look him in the eye after knowing he knows what your lower half looks like, what your post-orgasm face looks like, what you being covered in cum looks like.

"Perfect," he puts his phone in his pocket and unties the gag in your mouth, spittle and drool trailing away as he pulls it out. Next, he unlatches the belt and replaces it back around his waist. You sit quietly on the desk, letting him do what he needs to do, clean up the mess you both created, feed you water because even if you could take it yourself, you wouldn't. He swings your bag over his shoulder and loops his arm through yours, "Let's get you home, I'll drive you."

It's silent, save for the humming of the vehicle, he doesn't even turn the radio on but you're savouring the silence. You don't want to hear songs about sex, or rock 'n roll, or love stories, you just want to watch the sun set and the street lights turn on in the quiet of your mind.

Alhaitham pulls up the gutter of your apartment, reaching to place your bag in your lap and patting your hair, "Get a good sleep. We can talk more about your passing grades another day."

You could lash out at him, scream and shout and then run into your home and lock the door. Maybe throw a punch or two. Ah, but that would also be considered being bad, probably, and then those pictures go everywhere and... You're too exhausted to do anything anyway. You just unclip your belt and leave.

After spending a lot of time at Professor Anaxa's house, using hot water and getting a good diet, you really do lament the times you go home. Especially now, when you wish for scalding hot water and all you can sit in is the shitty pressure of 'just warm'. Well, you do like the smallness of it all, little spaces where you can curl up and pretend you don't exist.

...

4 days pass where you've been sick and away from classes. Funnily enough, Alhaitham hasn't tried to get your attention. There have, however, been a few attempts to reach out from Professor Anaxagoras. You sent a professional email detailing you weren't well, only missing one day where you couldn't be bothered to bring up the email tab and copy your message.

He texts you again today, and you finally eat something more than the crust of bread. You're nibbling some biscuit you had in the cupboard when your phone vibrates:

Professor Anaxagoras: Are you free today? You should come over. If you're sick, it's fine, I don't mind risking my health.

Maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be bad to see him. You could talk to him, and maybe you'll feel better having someone you trust to be around, maybe you'll confess everything and ask for advice, maybe you'll have a breakdown- maybe, maybe maybe maybe maybe:

Professor Anaxagoras: (Y/n), what's going on?

Okay. You trust him, he's been a great mentor to you, and you need to shower and get out of the house. Besides, this biscuits are stale. You reply:

You: Good morning, Professor Anaxagoras. Will it be just us there?

He replies immediately:

Professor Anaxagoras: Yes, just you and I. Would you like me to invite Professor Alhaitham?

You: No... I'd prefer it to be just us, thanks.

Professor Anaxagoras: Shall I pick you up in half an hour?

You: That would be helpful, thank you.

He gives you a time and you react to it, leaving your position leaning on the counter and making your way to the bathroom. You really need to scrub the dead skin off your body, you should feel better once you get dressed and ready.

. The car ride today was a lot nicer than the previous one, specifically because it wasn't with your abuser. But, also, being in the sun and having the radio on low, Professor Anaxa absentmindedly telling you about classes and some of the students being ridiculously stupid. He relaxes his shoulders when you crack a smile.

It must be obvious you're not sick. You look sickly, sure, but that goes without saying when you spend four days lying in the same position without food or sunlight. You wish you could've found your lip balm before you left, cracked lips dry from dehydration.

Stepping into his apartment is like a breath of fresh air. It's bright, clean, open, and you feel like you can breathe again. Things fall into place like your study days, slipping your shoes off at the door, bringing your bag to the low, lounge room table, and then awkwardly standing there until he tells you what to do next.

Today, he brings over a cup of water for you both and motions for you to take a seat on the couch. You do, Anaxa sitting beside you with just enough space so he can have his body turned to you. He holds the glass with two hands, looking to the water in deep thought before finally making eye contact, "I must admit, my main reason for bringing you here is because I am worried about your absence. At first I thought perhaps your illness wasn't being taken care of properly. However, when you asked for it to be just us... Has something happened between you and Alhaitham?"

Ah, he's so smart. Of course he is, he's one of the smartest people in the world. No one leaves for four days, not after all the hard work you've been putting into this, and then asks to be alone out of the blue; especially since it was obvious you admired both of your professors equally.

Admired, being the key word.

But Professor Anaxa here would be different than the Professor Anaxa you had in your head on the day of the incident. At that time, you could only think of him looking down on you, seeing you as less of a scholar and more of a common whore. You didn't dress girly today, aiming for comfortable pants, a t-shirt and a jumper for the comfort of the long sleeves. Telling him will be okay, he won't think you're asking for attention. You can't make eye contact now, so you relent with looking at a frayed strand on the cushion of the couch, "Has Alhaitham said anything to you?"

He lets out an airy laugh, "No prefix to his name? My, it must be bad. No, I haven't heard much from him, only that he received the same email as I."

You nod to that, not surprised that he wouldn't own up to such a thing, which only proves how much worse it is since he knows it's just that bad. "Well, five days ago, he offered to help me practice my oral skills..."

Anaxa waits patiently for you say your piece, and you only make it to the skirt flip from his foot before you suddenly hiccup from sudden tears. You didn't even think you were about to cry, it was so random that you were surprised. He stands then, making his way to the kitchen, "I think this is a conversation best had over a warm drink. What would you like, sweetheart?"

It is nicer to cradle something warm as you explain stuff. You find it difficult to go into detail, briefing a lot of it to 'his foot pressed here' and 'he kissed me with tongue'. He went down on you, masturbated and *insert a hand flick here* on you, he forced you to use your mouth on him. It was out of whack, but it made sense, you got what you wanted out.

By the end of it, your speech was slow and your eyes were tired from crying. He pulls you in to lean your head on his shoulder, caressing your back in a hug, "That arsehole. He didn't say anything to me about it."

"I don't know what to do..." You admit, nuzzling into his shoulder, eyes closing and you falling deeper into his embrace.

He hushes you, his other hand coming to sweetly stroke your head, "Leave it all to me now, love. I'll take care of that brute."

How embarrassing you feel, to unload all of this onto him and fall asleep in his arms.

.

"I thought we agreed ..... wait until she finishes the year?"

"..... too long, besides you ..... set up."

When you awaken next, you hear two sets of voices coming into your hearing, a small crack in the door making it easier for your hazy mind to make out. One was Professor Anaxa, the other was definitely Alhaitham. You wonder if he showed up randomly, Anaxa trying to kick him out for you, then it would be best if you hid yourself until he's gone.

Except, as you try to pull your arms towards you to help yourself up, you notice that they only go so far before being halted beside your head. Feeling takes its time to return, basic motor function even longer as you finally lift yourself into a sitting position and see that your wrists are parallel, facing inwards, cuffed by a thick, black, padded cuffs with a thin, black box tucked underneath for a key. A long chain trails above the headboard and into the mouth of a roaring, lion head - peering underneath shows it can be lessened and tightened at will.

Betrayal is the worst feeling, or perhaps the grief of losing the person you thought you knew. You've had to experience it twice in one week now, and it seems you're the only one mourning the loss of your relationships. They both enter the room, not shocked at you being awake and chained up, just neutral like it's another day in class.

Alhaitham is the first to speak to you, "How're you feeling?"

You obviously ignore him, looking to his companion for answers, "Did you drug me? While I was trusting you no less!" Not that it would make drugging you any better, though it does sound worse somehow.

Anaxa pinches the bridge of his nose, as if this is an inconvenience for him, "It wasn't supposed to go this way. If someone kept it in his pants, then you would have actually had a chance to finish the year. Instead, you're doting haravatat professor over here let his dick lead."

Alhaitham chortles, coming to stand beside him, "You certainly went silent about it when you say the pictures. Don't think I didn't notice the stiffy in your jeans."

"Even so," he turns to him, angrily, "You should have told me sooner, instead I had to take drastic action on the spot."

His hands motion to you, chained up to the bed. You flex your toes, the drug still taking its time to leave your system, "But why do any of this? I thought you said I was a good student."

Anaxa sits on the edge of the bed, as though being closer to you will help you ease your anxieties, "Yes, you are. I am still hopeful you will join me on exhibitions and such in the future. For now, however, you still need a bit of... training."

"Training?"

"Well, you're obviously going to run to the police if we let you go," Alhaitham says, matter-of-fact, "And you're dreams of running your own crew are really cute. It's just, Anaxa and I, we think you'd be better suited as an assistant or motivational support. Something closer to us."

You can't believe your ears, "I would have been honoured to work with either of you - with both of you! There was no need to go to this length."

"Don't be ridiculous," Alhaitham shakes his head, walking around the bed and dividing your attention, taking a seat on the other side. You couldn't move either way, both men an equal distance currently. He slides his hand across the covers and to your thigh, no amount of shifting able to escape his grippy hand, "We see how you look at us, like a fatherly mentor. Is it so bad you're someone we want to fuck? You'd never spread these pretty legs otherwise."

The disgust rolls off you in waves. Looking to Anaxa only confirms what he says, the man leaning over to push your hair from your face and relaxing his hand on the top of your head, "Really, it's an honour. I wouldn't put in so much risk for just any person. And we'll give you a much better life."

You shake his hand off of you, "I didn't work this hard to be kidnapped." With a little less aggression, you take a deep breath and try and a more practical approach, "Professor Anaxagoras, Professor Alhaitham, I think we all may have come to some confusion and misunderstanding."

Alhaitham purses his lips, pulling his hand away and saying after a moment of contemplation, "You should really try her throat. It's nice and tight; warm too."

"You-"

"Yes," Anaxa agrees to his insinuation, "It seems just going straight for it is the best course of action. Show her how serious we are rather than let her think she has any other choices." He then glares towards the other, "I get to use her pussy first. You had your fun, now it's my turn to choose."

Your teeth feel like they were about to crack with how hard you were gritting them, "You fucking bastards-!"

"Fine with me," Alhaitham shrugs, and the get to work stripping your flailing body. He holds you up after peeling your shirt above your head and leaving it to hand on the chain, unclasping your bra and holding your torso down by the waist while Anaxa easily slips your pants and underwear off.

You squeal when Alhaitham runs a finger over your nipple, the hardened peak sensitive to the airy room and new touch. Anaxa kneels between your thighs, gripping them hard to gain your attention, "Hey, focus on me now. It's my time."

The foreplay is nothing short of ruined, though it's to be assumed the main goal right now was your obedience and defeat. His fingers tentatively glide along your slit, testing your reactions and wetness before spreading your lips apart with his pointer and ring finger, using his middle to slide through to your clit. You bite your lip, mouth twitching and body going still.

"That's it," he practically purrs, being more playful and fluid with his movements, "Good girl. Spread your legs a little wider for me, now."

You attempt the opposite, going to slam your thighs closed yet there was no point as he easily kept them open with his own. Alhaitham clicks his tongue beside you, "Naughty, naughty. You're lucky we don't have our tools with us, perhaps a nice spanking with a ruler, to the back of your thighs, will keep you in check."

Your lips part with a silent exhale as Anaxa enters his fingers inside you, scissoring your cunt with a slow speed, pushing in all sorts of directions to find your best spots. Your voice is quiet, though no less dripping with hatred, "What do you expect... I hate you."

"Don't be like that," Anaxa coos, adding a third finger as he undoes his shirt with his other hand, "Or do, you'll change your perspective eventually."

Alhaitham begins to relieve himself of his clothing as well, "If there's one thing he's good at, it's debates."

"I'm good at a lot of things," he retorts, pulling his fingers out and removing his pants now. His cock was already hard and leaking, the veins more prominent than Alhaitham's and his tip weeping more precum as well. It only helped enhance his own lubricant, his fingers toying with the head to gather and schlick it down his shaft, licking his lips as he eyed you like a good meal, "You should find this more than satisfactory as well."

You were too preoccupied with his display that by the time Alhaitham garnered your attention again, he was already naked and holding his dick out for you to swallow. His other hand slides through the tresses of your hair, the familiar feeling of that alone sending your heart and breathing into haywire. He taps the wet head to your sealed lips, smiling snidely down at you, "Welcome back~"

His thumb slips behind your cheeks, to the back of your teeth and prying them open. Between your legs, Anaxa is beginning his push into you, one hand circling your clit and the other squishing and rolling the fat of your waist to stabilise himself and keep him grounded from thrusting into you. You're not strong enough to stop either of them, eventually Alhaitham enters your mouth again, and Anaxa bottoms out, deep inside you, falling forward and kissing tenderly between your breasts.

His hand on your waist slides over your stomach and to one of your mounds of flesh, massaging the breast as he groans, "Fuck, absolutely heavenly. If divinity existed then, I would consider you to be part of it."

You couldn't retort if you wanted to, Alhaitham taking his time to touch the knob of his cock to every part of your mouth and leaving his taste. He shallowly thrusts, Anaxa now suckling your tit as though goading something to come out from it, his pathetic humping only an appetiser as he allows you to adjust. Teeth lightly bite at your breasts, fingers pinching your clit and making you wince around Alhaitham's deepening cock.

Anaxa pops! off your nipple, sitting up and holding your hips at an elevated angle over his own, sliding out delightfully to start a steady, ongoing pace of his cock kissing your insides. Both of you roll your eyes, and you wish it didn't feel as good as he was making it, his hearty moans low and tantalising, "Such a beautiful girl. Could fuck this pussy every day for the rest of my life. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Your throat tightens around Alhaitham, noises being pushed thrust out of you with every push. Alhaitham caresses your cheeks, one of his palms soothingly trailing to your neck to feel the indent of his dick in your throat, "She absolutely would. Hungry for knowledge and cock, isn't that right?"

Anaxa chuckles lowly, lifting one of your legs to get a better, deeper angle, "Been thinking about how to get you sitting in my lectures, my cum pooling on the seat below as you try to keep it hidden from the other students."

Alhaitham tackles onto that, pace quickening as he chases his high down your throat, "To send you to school every day, nice and full, thanking your favourite professor with a kiss on the cheek and a good fuck."

"Who're you calling favourite?" Anaxa chides, rolling his hips in a way that catches your clit, an elongated moan being pulled lasciviously from deep within you. He laughs, single eye tauntingly gazing at the other, "From the sounds of that, it's me."

Your trembling knees and jolting hips grab their attention, Alhaitham lovingly wiping away a stray tear of pleasure, "Then perhaps you would like to make her cum? She does oh, so tighten perfectly in all the right ways."

It's no use to hide your reactions, your moans and the clicking of saliva and cum covered sex just too much to keep anything hidden. Your bouncing breasts are adding to the pressure, the movement salacious, holes filled with cock and cum, and Anaxa was right. Fuck, he feels so good inside you that it kills you to admit it. Why couldn't they be more rough, torturous, hurt you in a way more physical to meet on par with the mental torment.

"Gonna cum?"

Gonna cum... Gonna cum... Fuck, you're about to lose yourself on your professor's cock and there's no way to stop it. You suck in, your pussy clenching and milking, your mouth guzzling and tongue lapping to move around the object stuffing and trying to suffocate you. Hands roam all over your body, 'good girl' and 'pretty girl' and all sorts of praise being directed at you as you orgasm.

It's enough to tip them, the familiar feeling and taste of Alhaitham emptying his balls down your mouth. It was new to feel Anaxa, a gushing of cum being pressed so deep inside you that you'd be right to think he's trying to breed you.

Alhaitham eventually leaves your mouth, now feeling cold without him, though the oxygen to your brain makes your head spin. He's gentle to lay you down, head rolling to the side as you breathe heavily. You whine at the sensitive feeling of Anaxa pulling out of you, the feeling of liquid dripping down your sex an interesting sensation. Your pussy unwillingly clenches, pushing more of his ejaculate out of you.

Anaxa clicks his tongue disappointedly, "Not yet, keep it in a little longer, don't be so ungrateful." He fingers come to push it back in, holding them to the entrance to block any more leakage.

Once you finally get your breath back, you haphazardly shake your arms to bring attention to your cuffs, "Un...tie me..."

"Are you going to be good? Won't try and fight us?" Anaxa inquires, tickling his fingers of his other hand along your exposed stomach, bringing goosebumps all over your skin.

You close your eyes, more tears trickling down your cheeks, mixing with the cum and spit you couldn't swallow down, "I want to go home..."

He sighs, disheartened by your answer, "That's incorrect. Perhaps we should try... A new angle. What do you think, Professor Alhaitham?"

He grins wryly at him, "I hear DVP is pretty persuasive." At your lack of reaction, he whispers, "Double vagina penetration."

Your lips tremble, wobbling as you shake your head and sob, "Please no, no more."

Anaxa removes his fingers, idly holding up the slick digits to the light so he can inspect them. He then makes a show of puttling them in his mouth, sucking them clean with his eye closed as if putting together the notes of flavour. His fingers are clean when he pulls them out, "You can do more. If you can handle our lectures back-to-back, then you can take us both. Think of this as a particularly vigorous study session."

"And the only way to get better is to study, right?" Alhaitham sits you up, leaning you against his chest. His fingers go back to your puffy pussy, playing lightly with your slick, "Our good girl is a perfect student, after all."

Your body shakes violently beneath them.

...

The chain on your ankle clinks with every step, the heavy cuff thankfully not so tight to cut into your skin. You were wearing a long nightgown, long sleeves to keep you warm, though the fabric itself wasn't so thick.

Anaxa sipped comfortably at his drink, clicking through the photos of the house he wanted to show you, "50 acres, absolute isolation, I'm thinking we knock out a few walls and build it up how we want. What do you think?"

You're exhausted, you can't stand another punishment if you don't play along. Why can't he just let you sleep? It's already 1am, he needs to get up for class tomorrow, and you... You just want him to leave so you can have the house to yourself. "It looks good."

"You'll get to go outside," he says, voice lighter at the prospect, "With precautions, of course. But being seen won't be an issue."

There's trees around the fields, a lake off one of the yards. An indoor pool, a plethora of rooms, too. It seems like the perfect place for them both to get some alone time with you when they want. You nod, "That would be nice."

He hums over the rim of his mug, eyeing you from the corner of his gaze. After a second, he places his mug down and pulls you into his lap, planting loving kisses up and down your neck, "Good. You can show Alhaitham when he comes over tomorrow."

Your heart skips a beat, though you try not to show it, there's no doubt he can sense your unease, "O-Oh. I wasn't aware he would be here."

"Mm," he moves your face towards him, hand petting up and down your thigh from below your nightie, "He wants you to go over essays with him, you should enjoy the topics." A sweet kiss to your lips, and you lightly pucker back to imitate a response. Thankfully, he accepts it, sliding you off his lap and bopping your bum with the palm of his hand, "Off to bed, now. I'll be in shortly."

You don't need to be told twice, turning on your heels and mumbling a barely audible, "G'night."

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I have literally read all you stories and im so so impressed. Im not sure if your taking requests or if. If not than im very sorry. If yes then could you please write one where a modern doctor ends up being reborn as a Nobel princess who is about to marry king baldwin. She could then cure him.

♧ A Better Life - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: HELLO FRIENDS!!! I am back officially now!! Exams are over and the school year is done! I am so exited to be back!! Anon thank you so much for this beautiful request. This took me so long and I really hope you like it!!! This was an amazing one to return with, I hope yall enjoy it!!. As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Slight mention of blood

Y/n remembered little to nothing from that night.

Simply getting into her car late, well after the sun had set, and driving. Then the lights. Then the crash. Everything else was fuzzy. Even in her life before the crash, the only knowledge she seemed to remember was what she had learnt in medical school all those years ago.

Nothing about her beautiful rooftop apartment where she lived alone. And certainly not the crippling loneliness she dreaded returning to every night after work at the hospital.

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

Y/n’s eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, clutching at her pounding heart. After a few seconds of panic, she looked up at her surroundings.

There was no car, no wreckage, no blood.

Just a plush, white sheeted, four poster bed that held her trembling form. The curtains that hung around the top of the bed shrouded her view of the rest of the room, but from what she could see, an open balcony window allowed sun to shine through and into the large, beautifully decorated stone room.

Confusion soon replaced fear in the young doctor's mind. Was she in a hospital? No, it wasn't sterile enough to be a hospital. There was no beeping of machines, no bustling nurses. Something she was all too familiar with.

She tried to think back to what had happened, but all she could remember was the crash. Nothing else. Y/n pulled back the covers and cautiously stepped out of the bed. She barely got one foot on the ground before the large, wooden doors opened to reveal young woman carrying a tray with an assortment of dishes that y/n had never seen in her life.

“Good morning my lady” the young woman said with a smile, approaching y/n’s bedside.

“Good morning,” the doctor replied, trying to hide the confusion in her voice.

“I hope you are excited for today my lady, everybody in the maids chamber surely is!” the young woman said, her bright eyes practically glowing.

“I'm- excited for what?” y/n replied cautiously.

“Well your wedding of course, everybody has been anticipating this day for months now! Our kingdom will finally have a queen!” she was grinning now, y/n couldn't help but smile despite her confusion.

“Oh- yes! How could I have forgotten” the doctor said, once again attempting to hide the fact she had no idea where she was.

After the maid had left, y/n inspected the food. It looked delicious but eating was the last thing on her mind, for now. She slipped out of the bed to take a look around the room. There were books stacked on a shelf, a desk, a face washing basin and lots and lots of religious imagery, painted in typical pre-renaissance fashion.

Judging by the beautiful stone walls, she was most definitely not in the twenty-first century anymore. Nothing was boring and white. No white walls, no white marble countertops. Everything was handmade. Genuine. It was certainly a changeup from the old routine.

You see, y/n was intelligent. She always had been and on top of this, her years as a surgeon had taught her to act reasonable, calm, and logical even in the most outlandish situations.

Waking up in a different time period after a car wreck was no different.

She had to think of a plan.

“It's morning, people should be expecting me somewhere soon”. Turning to the bookshelf, y/n picked up a book and opened it. Handwritten. In Hebrew.

“That should place me somewhere in Israel, perhaps Jerusalem” she thought.

“And it's definitely before the renaissance, but after the birth of Christ”.

Placing the book back on the shelf, y/n continued to think. She had to figure out where she was and fast.

Y/n turned her attention to the other side of the room. The bed, a couch, and the open balcony doors. Approaching the balcony, y/n looked outside inspecting the area around the building she was in.

Knights. Many knights.

“Medieval “ was the first word that came to mind.

“That should place me somewhere around the 12th century-” was the last thing her mind concluded before the wooden doors opened again.

Six maids came into the room, each carrying something different. Some carried jewelry, some hairbrushes and combs, and others beautiful white fabric that appeared to be some kind of dress.

“Oh my lady, you have barely touched your breakfast!” one of them exclaimed as y/n entered the room from the balcony.

“You will need your strength for today!”

“Oh I'm terribly sorry, I forgot all about it! I was just getting some fresh air, I'm a little nervous” y/n said as calmly as she could, praying that they didn't notice something was off.

“That's alright dear” the oldest of the maids said, “it doesn't matter now because we need to get you dressed! Come, sit” she gestured to a vanity mirror and chair that y/n hadn't even noticed. 

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

It felt like hours that the doctor sat in that chair, as the maids worked tirelessly on her hair and face. Braiding and brushing, applying makeup and finally helping her into the beautiful white dress robes.

They fit perfectly, just like a glove. As if they were made for just her and her alone.

“You look immaculate, your majesty,” one of the maids said, taking a step back to admire their future queen. Y/n smiled, for a moment forgetting her predicament.

It felt as though she had lived in this world her entire life.

“Come now darling, we don't want to keep the guests waiting!” the oldest maid said, taking the doctor's hand and leading her towards the door. Y/n followed blindly.

“This should be interesting,” she muttered.

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

It was a short walk from her chambers to the church. There were already plenty of people waiting inside. Y/n barely had any time to think before a bouquet of flowers were shoved into her hands and she was walking down the aisle, people standing left and right staring at her.

Taking a deep breath, y/n steadied her hands and continued walking at a slow, measured pace.

“Come on y/n, this has to be the least nerve racking thing you've done all week”.

Looking up, she could see her “future husband” standing at the end of the aisle. It was strange, she couldn't see his face, he was wearing white robes and a veil that shrouded his features almost entirely. But from what she could see, it appeared he was wearing some kind of mask.

Then it all connected.

Not only had y/n taken a myriad of science and math subjects in highschool, she had also taken an ancient history class. One unit had specifically focused on the “Leper King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV”. This must have been him.

As she approached the end of the aisle, her mind wandered to a patient she had treated with severe leprosy, contracted while he was on a tropical holiday. She remembered how much pain he had been in and her heart broke thinking about this poor king who had gone untreated for so long.

She was only snapped out of her thoughts when she came face to face with her soon to be husband. His eyes met hers and what she thought would have been a neutral feeling (since she did not yet know this man at all) turned quickly to a feeling that she had not experienced in what felt like years.

Love.

The doctor's heart skipped a beat looking into those eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. The mask he wore was polished to perfection, the metal was perfectly shaped into sculpted, masculine features.

He was beautiful.

Y/n was far too focused on just how captivating the man who stood before her was to pay any attention to whatever the priest was saying, until once again she was snapped out of thought by the large crowd cheering as they were pronounced husband and wife, in the name of the Lord.

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

Later on, the guests had left and all had returned to somewhat calm after a day of celebration. Y/n was slightly shy at first during the celebrations, doing everything in her power to read the room and understand her place in this new world. But after a while, she began to enjoy herself.

Her “husband” had barely spoken a word all day, but she had caught him looking at her as she talked with his sister and associates. She was told by a few maids that after getting changed from her wedding attire, she would go and meet privately with her new husband.

She was nervous, but not even half as nervous as somebody else was...

Baldwin paced up and down his chambers until his legs were in agony. The day had been strenuous on his body and the pacing did not help.

The young king slumped down on his couch, cursing his frail body. He had watched her all day, his wonderful y/n. So full of life, so intelegent, speaking with everyone and enjoying her time while all he could do was sit and watch.

Oh how he had wished to join her, to dance with her, to speak with her, to hear every word her beautiful voice had to say, to look into her eyes. Those perfect eyes.

He hoped that she knew just how much he had fallen for her, even though they had not spoken a single word all day.

He cursed the mask that shrouded his emotions, forcing him to look cold and stern when all he wanted was her to know how warmly and deeply he felt for her. Baldwin sunk deeper into the couch cushions. His body craved sleep, craved a break from the pain. But he couldn't. He had to see her right this instant.

Taking a deep breath, or as deep as his failing lungs could take, the young king sat up and stared down into his hands, anticipating the moment y/n knocked on his door.

He did not have to wait long because no more than a minute after he sat up, a small knock came from the wooden door. Baldwin got to his feet, perhaps too fast. He steadied himself and called for her to enter. Y/n pushed open the door. She looked as beautiful as she did in her wedding dress.

“Good evening your majesty” she said with a graceful curtsey.

“Hello” he replied, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

Y/n smiled. He was truly adorable. He looked so soft and warm in those robes. Good lord what was she thinking? She had barely met this man and yet she was acting like a teenager in love!

“Would you like to take a seat?” he offered, his voice gentle and kind. “Of course,” she replied. The two sat in silence for a moment. But it was not an awkward silence, more of a comfortable silence as the young couple took each other in.

It wasn't long before they got to talking. Two intelligent, young minds in the same room were bound to connect almost instantly. And that's just what they did.

Y/n tried to not say anything about her “world of the future”. That was until they were brought to the topic of his disease.

“So, you have no issue in being wed to a leper?” Baldwin had asked, his voice growing sad. Her heart broke for him in an instant, remembering how terribly people with his disease were treated at this time.

“Of course I don't” the doctor replied.

Her kind voice soothed something deep inside Baldwin. Something untouched for so many years. His eyes burned with tears but he dare not  let one fall.

“Really?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Of course! All I see is a beautiful, young man with a bright future. And from what I've heard, you're a wonderful ruler, and I know you will be a wonderful husband too”.

Baldwin smiled beneath the mask. He hoped she could see the smile through his eyes. Y/n took a deep breath before her next choice of words.

“You know, where I come from, lepers can be healed,” she said softly. Baldwin’s eyes widened.

“Truely?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, but you can not tell anyone”

“I won't, of course! Please, share this with me” the young king said in a hushed voice taking her hands in his.

“Alright. I'm going to need a few things to do it and it may take a while-”

“Please, y/n. I'll do anything” Baldwin was on the verge of tears now. “Now I have you, I have a reason to live. I need to live, please” he begged.

Y/n’s heart sank as his previously strong demeanor shattered into a thousand pieces before her very eyes. As gently as she could, y/n wrapped her arms around her husband, pulling him into a gentle yet firm hug.

At that moment, the young doctor understood why all of this had happened. She was brought here for a reason. To cure this poor young man, to show him the love he deserves and to have a better life by his side.

“I promise Baldwin, I’ll make you well again. No matter what it takes. I'll do it”

[enzstr]

Only You || K. Bakugo

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

synopsis: starz26708 and Dino.tnt609, two students who first met in an online chatroom. A friendship had flourished between them. With the strong need to meet each other, 6aku.tnt609 slowly gains curiosity regarding the other's identity, which sparked the desire to meet her within him. What could possibly go wrong?

💭: btw, this is inspired from the Chad Michael Murray and Hilary Duff movie A Cinderella's Story!!

author's note: My deepest apologies it took me so long to upload the new chapter!!! I've been having finals and examinations but I'm free now!! New chapter might come out in a few days or a week since it's in my drafts now...

words: 3.7k

Chapter 2: The Two People

Reader's POV

The following day, I sat in my classes, feeling unusually unfocused. I found my thoughts continually returning to the message I had received the night before from my friend, Dino.tnt609. The words and emotions contained in that message had left a powerful and lingering effect on me, making it difficult for me to fully immerse myself in the subjects being taught.

“Please meet me at the school’s party. I’ll be waiting for you at 11:00 in the middle of the dance floor.” 

Those messages had set themselves so deeply into my thoughts that it was as if they were on a constant replay in my mind. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to rid myself of their presence. They continued to resurface, over and over again, like a stubborn memory that refused to be forgotten. The more I tried to dismiss them, the more their contents seemed to linger in my thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside or ignored.

“Y/n, what is the difference between speed and velocity?”

My heart dropped. I have been half-listening, my mind drifting, thinking about the message Dino sent to me—contemplating meeting him, and the school party. But now, I was completely caught off guard. Difference between speed and velocity—the words sounded fuzzy in my head, like fragments of a puzzle I wasn’t sure how to put together.

That was when she noticed him.

Bakugo.

He was sitting at the back of the class, leaning back in his chair, hands casually folded behind his head. He was grinning—the kind of grin that wasn’t friendly or supportive. It was the kind of grin that only came when you were sure someone else was about to fail. He’d been watching me for a while now, and I could feel his gaze boring into me. I knew exactly what he was thinking: She wasn’t paying attention. She doesn’t know the answer. This is my chance to look good in front of everyone.

The grin on Bakugo’s face widened ever so slightly, and I could almost hear his internal smirk. He had the confidence of someone who’d aced every test without breaking a sweat, someone who knew how to get under your skin with the smallest of gestures. And right now, his quiet, almost smug enjoyment was aimed directly at me.

My stomach twisted. It wasn’t that I cared about beating Dylan, exactly. But I did care about not looking foolish in front of the class—especially when he was clearly expecting me to fail. The challenge hung in the air, palpable, like an unspoken duel. I could almost hear him thinking, Come on, mess up. Please mess up.

The competitive spark in me flared to life, and in that moment, something shifted inside of me. I wasn’t going to let him get the last laugh. No way.

I straightened up in my chair, eyes narrowing just slightly, and forced myself to focus. I don’t need to know everything, I told myself. I just need to know enough to get this answer right.

My gaze locked back onto the board, and suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to make sense of the question. It was a simple logic question—something I could handle if I stopped panicking.

Mr. Aizawa was still looking at me expectantly, but now I had a plan. I took a steadying breath and spoke, my voice clearer than she felt.

“The difference between speed and velocity lies in their definitions, speed is a scalar quantity, meaning it only describes how fast an object is moving, without any reference to direction. For example, if a car is going 50 km/h, that's its speed.”

Her eyes flicked back to the board, confirming her answer. She could feel the weight of the moment—this was what it was all about. She hadn’t been paying attention before, but she was focused now, and she was going to finish strong.

“Velocity, on the other hand, is a vector quantity. This means it not only describes how fast an object is moving but also in which direction. For instance, if the car is traveling at 50 km/h to the east, its velocity is 50 km/h east. In essence, while speed only tells you the rate of motion, velocity provides both the rate and the direction of motion.”

Mr. Aizawa nodded approvingly. "Exactly, Y/n. Well done."

I felt a small surge of relief, but it wasn’t just the satisfaction of getting the answer right. It was the feeling of having turned the tables, of having taken control of the moment that had threatened to spiral out of my grasp. I glanced over at Bakugo, just as he was about to sit up straighter in his chair. His grin faltered when he saw the glint in my eyes.

And that was all the encouragement Bakugo needed.

I couldn’t help myself. A small, almost mischievous smile curved on my lips. It wasn’t an innocent, pleased-with-herself smile—it was the kind of grin you wore when you knew you’d just pulled something off, when you’d just made someone else realize they’d misjudged you.

Bakugo’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly, the smugness faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d thought I’d fumble. He’d thought I wouldn’t know the answer. But I had shown him, and not only had I known the answer—I said it with confidence, without hesitation.

He looked away first, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened. I knew that look. He didn’t like losing, even if it was just a small moment, a little victory that nobody else in the room might even notice.

But I noticed. And that was enough for her.

As the class continued, Ellie let herself settle back into her seat, but her mind was sharp, focused, and alive with the thrill of competition. Dylan might have been the golden boy of the class, but today, in this small, unexpected moment, Ellie had beaten him. And for once, it felt really good to smile back at him—just a little bit smug, just a little bit competitive—knowing that he hadn’t seen this coming.

The moment I finished answering the question, I could feel it—a mix of pride and adrenaline coursing through me. I had nailed it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. The class had been quiet after I spoke, the silence hanging in the air before the professor acknowledged my answer. It felt like the eyes of the entire room were on me, but in that instant, I didn’t care. For once, I was the one who had it together.

But then there was the scoff.

I didn’t even need to look at him to know exactly who it was. Bakugo. The ever-present thorn in my side. His chair creaked as he shifted, his eyes narrowing in that way I was so familiar with. He looked almost... irritated, the kind of expression he wore when he thought someone was challenging his spot as top dog in this class. And right now, it was clear that he did not appreciate the fact that I was the one who had answered confidently.

Why does it always have to be him? I wondered, my hands clenched under the desk. I knew it was coming—he was going to find some way to one-up me, to make me feel small for doing something as simple as knowing the answer. I hated how predictable he was, but I hated even more that it affected me so much. I’d never let him see that, though. He had to think I was just as indifferent as he was.

I kept my eyes trained forward, pretending like his irritation didn’t bother me, like I wasn’t still replaying the way he’d looked at me, the way he always tried to put me in my place. It’s just a class. It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. This isn’t real life. This is just some stupid competition.

The bell rang, breaking my thoughts, and the class started to pack up. As usual, Bakugo shoved his things into his bag with that signature smug expression, as if he'd already forgotten the moment I’d answered correctly. He probably wouldn’t give it a second thought, while I would be stewing in it for the rest of the day.

I grabbed my phone, hoping to distract myself. A new message from Dino.tnt 609 popped up. My fingers tapped the screen eagerly, relieved for the sudden shift in focus.

Dino.tnt609: “So, Halloween party tomorrow night.. what do you think? You in?”

I smiled at the message. Dino. He was the one person who could make everything feel lighter, even when things felt heavy. Talking to him always made me feel like I could breathe again after a day of dealing with Bakugo’s constant need to compete. Dino was my escape. He didn’t care about grades or the stupid academic battles I fought with Bakugo every day. He just… gets me.

But then I hesitated. My thumb hovered over the keyboard as I began to type, the excitement of the invite quickly dampened by a twinge of anxiety. The party. It should be fun, right? Just a Halloween party. But the idea of seeing someone in person—someone I had only ever known through texts and memes and game chats—suddenly felt overwhelming. What if I didn’t click with him in real life? What if meeting him was awkward?

But more than that, what if it turned out that the person I was texting with every night was someone I couldn’t stand in real life? What if he was one of those people who, once you met them face to face, you realized you just didn’t vibe with? What if it was someone like Bakugo?

Wait, no. Don’t think that. I tried to push the thought out of my head. I knew it was irrational. Dino wasn’t Bakugo. He couldn’t be. Dino was the one who listened to my rants without judgment. Bakugo would’ve laughed at my complaints, probably turned it into some kind of competition. But Dino didn’t—he understood. He had always been there when I needed to vent about school, about life, about how exhausting it was to constantly feel like I had to prove myself to people who didn’t deserve it.

I bit my lip, still unsure. Maybe I was overthinking it. It’s just a Halloween party. Just one night. The mask I planned to wear would make it easier, give me an extra layer of comfort in case things felt weird. And if it turned out the person I was meeting in real life was someone I couldn’t stand? I could always leave early, or just keep the mask on, keep things light. No pressure.

With a sigh, I finally typed back.

starz26708: “I’m not sure yet. I want to go, but I keep thinking about who I might run into. What if it’s someone I already know and just don’t get along with? I hate the idea of meeting someone and realizing they’re not who I thought they’d be…”

I glanced at the message after I sent it, my heart pounding slightly. What if Dino didn’t understand? What if he thought I was being weird or overdramatic? But no, Dino would get it. He always did.

My phone buzzed almost immediately, and I opened the message from him.

Dino.tnt609: “I totally get it. Meeting people in real life is a lot different, especially when you’ve only talked to them online. But hey, no worries. If you don’t like the vibe when you get there, you don’t have to stay. Just come and hang out for a bit, if you feel like it. We can just keep it lowkey. And honestly, the mask thing sounds awesome. No pressure at all.”

I felt the tension leave my shoulders as I read his reply. Dino’s message was so casual, so easy-going. It reminded me that I didn’t have to overthink everything. The idea of the mask suddenly felt like a safe haven, a way to protect myself if things didn’t go as planned. And if things went well? Even better.

I glanced at my costume on the chair across the room, the simple, cute outfit with the eye mask. It was just for fun, right? It would be a way to keep things light, to feel like I could still hide behind some layer of anonymity, just in case. I could show up, meet DIno, and see how it felt. If I didn’t like the vibe, I could leave. No harm done.

Taking a deep breath, I typed out my response.

starz26708: “Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll come to the party. And I’ll wear the mask. No pressure. Just… a fun time, right?”

I hit send and sat back in my chair, feeling both nervous and excited. The thought of meeting Maverick in real life still made my heart race, but now there was a sense of excitement bubbling up, too. No more overthinking. Tomorrow would be what it would be.

As I tucked my phone back into my pocket, I couldn’t help but think back to the classroom earlier that day, the way Bakugo had looked at me with that scoff, like I was some kind of threat to his place in the class. I couldn’t stop him from being irritated or annoyed by me. But for once, I didn’t need to care. I was about to meet someone who saw me for who I really was, not just some competitor in an academic race.

And for the first time in a while, that felt like enough.

The library was still, the kind of stillness that envelops you like a blanket, pressing in with its quiet whispers. The scent of old books and fresh paper, mingled with the faint hum of fluorescent lights, filled the air. I sat at my usual spot in the corner near the back row of tables, tucked between two towering bookshelves. The table before me was cluttered with textbooks, notebooks, and a half-finished cup of coffee that had long since cooled. It was late afternoon, and the golden light from the windows cast long shadows across the floor, making everything feel a bit more serene than usual.

I liked it here—the calm, the solitude, the sense of focus that always seemed to find its way to me in the midst of my chaotic thoughts. But today, there was an odd distraction. Him. Bakugo.

It wasn’t that he had suddenly appeared or made his presence known in any way. No, he’d been here for a while now, sitting at the table across from hers, his head bent low over a stack of textbooks. His usual aloofness was present, that edge of arrogance that always seemed to follow him like a cloud, but it was muted somehow. Less blatant. Less in-your-face.

I could feel the tension in her chest as I stole a glance at him. My eyes lingered for just a moment, not sure what to make of it. He wasn’t showing off, wasn’t playing the part of the smug academic genius. He was just… working.

It was weird. It had been a while since I’d seen Bakugo like this—since he had been normal. Or maybe that wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was more like he was letting his guard down a little, just enough for me to notice. He was still Bakugo, the same guy who had scoffed at me when I answered that question in class with confidence, the same guy who’d shot me looks of condescension every chance he got. But today, there was something… different.

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with the way my thoughts were spiraling around him. I didn’t like this feeling. I didn’t like the fact that I was starting to care, even a little, about what Bakugo thought—or, worse, starting to wonder if he was, in some way, not the person I always assumed him to be.

My focus snapped back to my notes. I had a test coming up. A test I needed to ace. No distractions. No thoughts about him. And yet, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my gaze from drifting back to him.

Bakugo had paused in the middle of writing, a pencil hovering above his notebook as he looked at something in the distance, his gaze unfocused. There was a tiredness about him today, something uncharacteristic, as though the weight of his own expectations were getting to him. His posture had shifted slightly; no longer the rigid, always-perfect stance, but more slouched, as if the constant pressure of being the best was beginning to wear on him. I had always known that he had his own demons, just as I did. But today, it felt… real somehow. It felt more human.

I tried to shake it off, to tell myself that this was just another moment of my own weakness, my need to understand people. To make sense of things. But it was harder now. It was harder to keep the walls up when I had seen a flicker of something real underneath the arrogance.

Bakugo cleared his throat suddenly, breaking the silence between them, and my eyes shot up, my heart giving an unexpected jolt. He was looking at me now, but not with the same sharp, dismissive gaze I was used to. No, this time, it was... different. There was still a hint of skepticism, but it wasn’t the biting kind. It was almost... curious.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, but not with the usual irritation. It was more like an observation. “Staring off into space.”

I blinked, surprised by the comment. “What?”

“You’re distracted,” he said, his voice quieter now. He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck with a tired sigh. “You’ve been looking at me like I’m some kind of puzzle you’re trying to figure out.”

I frowned, annoyed at how accurately he’d read me, even though I hadn’t been aware of it myself. “I haven’t been staring at you,” I muttered, though it wasn’t very convincing. I hadn’t meant to stare at him, but it was hard not to when something about today felt... off. In a way that was hard to describe.

Bakugo smirked, the edge of his usual arrogance slipping back for a moment. “Sure you haven’t.”

The flicker of their old dynamic was still there, but there was something softer in the way he said it. No ridicule. No malice. Just a simple, half-amused observation.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. This wasn’t helping me focus. And yet, there was something about the way Bakugo was acting today that made me feel like he wasn’t just my academic rival anymore. He wasn’t just the guy who competed against me for every grade, for every small victory.

For a split second,I entertained the thought that maybe—just maybe—I had misjudged him. But I quickly dismissed it. Bakugo was still Bakugo. Still arrogant. Still stubborn. Still too proud for his own good.

“I’m trying to focus,” I muttered, feeling a bit of tension in my chest, my irritation creeping back.

Bakugo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he picked up his pencil again and started scribbling something in his notebook. The sound of the lead scraping against the paper was oddly calming in the otherwise quiet space. I could feel the weight of the moment stretch out, the minutes slipping by as both of us worked, neither of us speaking.

And then, unexpectedly, Bakugo spoke again.

“You know,” he said, his voice a little softer than before, “you’re not the only one stressed out about this stuff.”

I blinked at him. What?

“Yeah,” He continued, not looking up from his work. “I might seem like I have everything figured out all the time, but I don’t. I—” He paused for a second, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something that wasn’t arrogance in his eyes. “I hate feeling like I’m always just... expected to be the best, you know?”

I was taken aback. I didn’t know how to respond at first. This wasn’t the Bakugo I knew, the Bakugo who acted like he had the world on a string and was just waiting for it to fall into place. No, this was different. This was... human. Vulnerable, even.

I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. “I get it,” I said quietly, before I could stop herself. “I feel the same way. Like I’m always trying to prove something. Like I’m never enough.”

Bakugo finally looked up at me then, his expression more thoughtful than I had ever seen it. The usual arrogance was still there, tucked beneath the surface, but it wasn’t all-consuming. For a second, he just looked at her, as if considering her words. And for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say next.

Then, surprisingly, Bakugo offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, not into a smirk, but a genuine smile. It wasn’t much—certainly not the kind of smile I ever expect from him—but it was enough.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Guess we’re not so different after all.”

I was silent for a moment, processing the unexpected turn in their conversation. There was still so much about him that grated on my nerves, but in that moment, sitting in the library with him, I realized something. Maybe—just maybe—there was more to him than the arrogant exterior he always wore. Maybe there was a real person beneath all that pride and stubbornness.

And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to see him for who he truly was.

“I guess so,” I replied, offering him a small smile of my own.

Both of us went back to their work, the silence stretching out between us again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… peaceful. There was an understanding now, an unspoken truce. They weren’t enemies, not really—not anymore.

For the first time, I realized that their rivalry didn’t have to define us. We could just be two students, studying together in the same quiet space, both trying to survive the pressures of their lives.

And in that simple moment, sitting across from each other, we both found a kind of peace.

taglist: @sara4uuu @zoast32 @lemon-lav @instantmagazineconnoisseur (comment to be added on my taglist!)

< previous masterlist next >

enzstr © 2024. please don't steal, modify or copy my writing on any other platforms!

[elizabethsnuts]

YOur work makes my heart feel warm and fuzzy! 🥰 Can we get a fic of toddler!reader impatiently waiting for Hotch to get home from a case, maybe? <3

Home

Aaron Hotchner x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Aaron was much too long to get home from a case according to you and you were starting to get impatient.

———

Your tiny feet tapped impatiently as you stared at the front door, your dad was away on a case he was supposed to be back today, though he was taking too long. You huffed tiredly, your little legs getting sore from standing there so you sat down and continued to stare at the door. Your logic being that if you sat there long enough, Aaron would just suddenly walk through the door.

Jessica walked down the stairs with a smirk on her face, she walked over to where you were standing at the front door. “Excuse me, Miss Y/N. What are you doing?”

Of course, she knew exactly what you were doing. You did this a lot when Aaron was gone, just sat waiting at the front door. She saw you playing with your pink blankie and sucking your pacifier.

“Daddy.” You pointed to the door and huffed. “Daddy home!” You whined out as you fell back onto the floor dramatically.

Jessica chuckled, picking you up and setting you on her hip. She gently moved your messy hair away from your face and gave your cheek a little kiss. “Daddy will be home soon, remember? He’s coming back today!”

Jack ran over to you and Jessica, whining impatiently. “Aunty Jessica! When’s Daddy home? He said he’d be home today!”

Jessica laughed and caught you as you fell back in her arms, you could be pretty dramatic at times. “Jeez, you two really are impatient. I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”

You wriggled out of Jessica’s arms and sat by the door again, Jack joining your side. You put your tiny face up to the door and groaned. “Daddy, home!”

Jack giggled as he watched you, he put his eye up to the keyhole and sighed. “Daddy, come home!”

You groaned loudly again and kept talking to the door. “Daddy! Home! Home now!”

Jessica rolled her eyes in amusement as she heard both you and Jack chant about telling Aaron to come home, she had never met two children more impatient to see their dad.

Aaron had just pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car, walking up to the front door. He stopped and held in a chuckle as he heard you and Jack telling him to come home as the two of you were completely unaware that he was in fact now home.

You jumped up quickly and moved away from the door as you heard to doorknob turning. You knew it was your dad and you couldn’t wait to see him, you also just didn’t want to get smacked by the door when Aaron opened it. Jack squealed in excitement beside you.

Aaron walked through the door and he didn’t even get the chance to put his stuff down before you were giving his legs the tightest hug you could manage. You squealed and ran in a circle around his legs.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy, home!” You giggled loudly and jumped up and down.

Aaron chuckled and lifted you up into his arms, giving your little cheek a kiss. “Yes, I’m home! Did you miss me?”

Jessica spoke up with a small smirk and her hands on her hips. “Missing you is probably an understatement, they wouldn’t leave the door. Y/N has been sitting in front of it since she woke up.”

Aaron smiled and looked at you, giving you a big hug. “Well, I missed you too, sweetheart. All the time that I was gone I was thinking of you and Jack!”

You giggled excitedly and hugged him back. Jack was also happy to see his dad but after he said his hellos he went straight back to playing with his legos, clearing more interested in building his spaceship.

You looked up at Aaron with the cutest little smile. “Daddy home now?” You asked curiously.

Aaron nodded with a small chuckle, kissing your noses and rubbing your tiny back. “Daddy’s home, I promise. I’m not going back until Monday!”

You cheered in happiness and ran to set up your art supplies so the two of you could do arts and crafts. Aaron loved how much you adored him, it made him feel wanted and he could never let you down.

[l0ubalu]

What your favorite sanders sides ship says about you in my opinion

I got this idea from @sandersontheside

Logince: Your favorite episode is why do we get out of bed in the morning and you question that too. You’re a fan of those red and blue haired character anime ships, and let’s not mention how much you love enemies to lovers. I feel like you like spaghetti with a shit ton of Parmesan, and sprite or Pepsi.

Logicality: You like sweet, wholesome ships the most and have probably either written a fan fiction about, read a fan fiction, or have thought about them baking cookies together. Also for some reason I feel like you like John Mulaney

Analogical: You like angst, not a crazy amount but you like to dip your ankles in it. Speaking of dip you probably either really like ranch or bbq sauce. And your favorite squishmallow is the bat one.

Loceit: You’re either the most chaotic person I will ever meet or you’re scarily chill about everything. You like it when all sense of right and wrong leave the room and just pure chaos despite how chaotically chill Logan and Janus are. You’ve definitely committed arson, and you’re a fan of tin cans and rainbows.

Intrulogical: You’re special, with love. I bet you watch doctor who while deepthroating packets of fun dip, sweet tarts, and/or hot tamales, I don’t have much else to say (I like this ship btw)

Royality: Opposites attract isn’t a thing that even registers in your brain, and despite what I want to think you’re probably the friend who corrupts the brains of your innocent friends and tells them about god knows what. If that’s not the case though you are the innocent friend who has surrounded themselves with not very innocent people. You like pasta with cumin. You also really like blueberries, soy sauce, and bluey.

Prinxiety: You’re correct. You prefer Ryan Gosling over Ryan Reynolds and you hate honeydew. You also probably have social anxiety.

Roceit: You like longer slow burn fanfictions and not just one shots, that along with enemies to lovers and a lot of tension. You’re definitely a maximalist when it comes to your room and you love rupauls drag race.

Moxiety: You’re a really sweet introvert and you like romance movies with happy endings. You probably like Mac Demarco and Arctic Monkeys and you like the scent of vanilla.

Moceit: (Kiss me) You really like stuffed animals and just fuzzy things in general. You’re a dog person but you like more cuddly cat-like dogs. You also like tomato soup.

Intruality: You’re super chaotic but super sweet, probably an Enfp or Entp. You like pickles and skunks and peanut butter cookies and cars 2.

Anxceit: You’re favorite social media is tumblr and you miss MySpace. You love hoodies and sweaters, your favorite season is winter, and you really like old artwork. You’re also really good at makeup, especially eye makeup

Dukexiety: You’re probably super all over the place and your rooms a mess but you know where everything is. You also really like snake plants and spiders

Dukeceit: You love the whole “He’s an idiot, but that’s my idiot” thing about this ship. If you have a roku it’s not set to the default theme and you probably like 90s-00s hiphop and you despise when your bed has crumbs in it.

Remrom: …

[listentothelittlebird]

so I have been avidly following the lovely dbhc au that @shepscapades has made and I have made a little drabble fanfic of Doc and Xisuma because I feel very normal about them :)

setting: hermitcraft season 10, while Doc is in skyblock jail

word count: 1361

-

Doc is grumbling to himself, ramming his fist into the newly-sprouted tree with not an insignificant amount of prejudice, when he hears the distinct whistling of fireworks crescendoing towards him.

“Have you come to watch me punch wood like an imbecile?” Doc snarks, expecting to hear Scar’s fumbling denials, or Cleo’s cackling assent.

“That wasn’t the plan, no.” The quietly amused voice is far from his first prediction. An oversight on his part, really.

[Vocal Recognition: Xisumavoid.]

“Xisuma!” Doc’s next punch misses the trunk of the cherry blossom tree, glancing off the side and chipping off the bark instead. He blinks away the vocal recognition pop-up, glancing behind him just to check it really is him and not Tango with a goat horn. “Hey, man!”

“Hey! You’ve been busy.” Xisuma’s boots scuff against the cobblestone as he inspects the progress of his miserable sky island. A shulker box thunks onto the stone, freeing his hands up to brush against the cherry wood planks.

“Hardly anything else to do besides work.” Doc throws the words over his shoulder as he continues to gather his cherry wood, not one to leave a project half-done. 

His visitor is content to hum and haw at whatever he finds as Doc works away. It has only been a few days, but the one-sided commentary is surprisingly comforting. After all, no touching the ground means no redstone, which also means no time in the lab. The thought has Doc speaking up, slipping between Xisuma’s quips.

“It’s not been too busy, yeah?” Doc clambers onto the tree as he plucks off the highest branches. He pauses to flick open a calendar overlay, skimming the dates. “Nobody’s scheduled for maintenance checks until next month.” 

“It’s been alright.” The fuzzy wolf-shaped wool mask pops into view as Xisuma emerges from Doc’s pink abode. “Been a bit too quiet, even. It’s weird not having you around.”

Doc snorts to hide the way his thirium pump hiccups at the words. Logically, he knows the sound is far too soft for Xisuma to hear. Having emotions, Doc has found, is hardly ever logical.

“So you came over ‘cause you missed me?” The words are out before Doc can even try to edit the response. It instills in him the same kind of floundering exasperation he feels when trying to recall a comms message already seen by everyone.

“Well.” When Xisuma ducks his head, one ear of the knitted wolf flops to the side. “I mean. I suppose so.”

[Emotion Identified: Shyness.]

“But I did come with an agenda!” Xisuma reaches for the shulker behind him, pulling out a mobile scanner from the lab.

“You’re right about having no maintenance checks on the schedule,” Xisuma says, waving around the scanner. “With you out here roughing it out, though, I figured I should check on you.”

“Ah.” Doc chuckles, ignores his cooling vents spinning faster. “I see.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting! You look about done with your tree.” 

“I am, I think.” Doc squints through the already-thinning leaves, nodding when he finds no branches left. “Alright, one moment.”

Dismantling the remains of the trunk takes only a few seconds. Doc gathers the wood and plonks them into the chest in his shabby house, with Xisuma trailing behind. 

With two people inside, it only reminds Doc how small the shelter is. Turning around after closing his chest puts him directly in Xisuma’s space.

“So, uh.” Doc shifts back, as much as he can. He ends up plopping down on the edge of his bed, which, well. “Go ahead, then.” 

A check-up does not require much space, really. Doc has done maintenance with the hermits in caves, in redstone farms, in underwater bases and nether bases. This is just the first time Doc himself has been examined outside of the yawning expanse of their labs. The change in routine leaves him uncertain, like recalibrating on angled terrain. 

The ease that Xisuma slips into the motions does well to settle Doc’s stress, however mild. The mobile scanner takes a while to gather results, so Doc answers Xisuma’s laundry list of questions. The list of questions is one curated by both Doc and Xisuma. Most of it is data, which Doc rattles off easily from the numbers that he pulls up in the corner of his vision.

The mobile scanner beeps cheerfully just as they reach the end of the lengthy questionnaire.

“Clean bill of health.” Xisuma shows Doc the display, which focuses less on internal processes and more on external damage or abnormalities. “Although, your average temperature is a bit lower than your usual.”

Doc shrugs. “It’s the altitude, man. Going from spending significant amounts of my time in the deserts and swamps to this is quite the change. Not to mention the wind chill.” 

As if to prove his point, a gust hits the shelter hard enough to make the planks rattle and creak. With no door, the icy breeze rushes in quickly. He tucks his metal arm into his lab coat with a sigh, the exposed components always prone to freezing the fastest.

“It’s not that bad,” Doc states flippantly, knowing without looking that Xisuma is taking in his every move. “I’m working most of the time, which keeps me warm. Plus I have my lava pool to sit beside when I need to warm up.”

“If you say so.” Xisuma shifts, leaning against his crafting bench. “The moment you start to experience temperature glitches, though, call this off. The rest will understand.”

“I know, I know.” This is all in good fun, when it comes down to it. He plays along for his own amusement. “I’ll be fine, Xisuma. I know how to take care of myself.”

“That you do.” Xisuma nods, then, with an “ah” of realisation, pulls his wolf mask off his helmet. 

“Here!” It only takes a step for Xisuma to be back in Doc’s space, pulling the wool over Doc’s head before he can react. 

“Uhm.” The mask is large enough that it goes over his horns easily, fitting loosely around his face. He has to lift and adjust it slightly to get his eyes back through the openings. “What?”

“To keep you warm!” Xisuma draws back again, settling against the crafting bench and tapping his heel against its side. “I mean, even over my helmet, it sure retains the heat. I know it doesn’t quite help with your metal arm, but it’ll at least warm up your horns and face.”

Doc does feel warmer, in fact. Though that is not necessarily correlated with the wool mask itself, and more the action of gifting it to him.

“But it’s your mask,” Doc replies, a flimsy rebuttal. “For your Woolves of Wool Street.”

“I have spares,” Xisuma chimes, eyes squinting happily through his helmet. “I’m sure the others won’t mind if you’re wearing it. Take it as a souvenir, of sorts.”

“Right.” Doc reaches a hand up to the wool. The material is soft, slightly worn from use. It smells a bit like Xisuma’s armour, the polish that he uses to clean it at the end of the day. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Doc.” 

Xisuma’s communicator chimes. A quick look has Xisuma turning back to Doc with an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll come back soon, though, if you don’t mind?”

“Come back anytime,” Doc replies. He tries to reel it towards comedy with a gesture to his surroundings, his meager belongings. “You won’t be interrupting anything.”

The dry quip draws out a laugh from Xisuma, even as he gathers his shulker and activates his elytra.

“See you, Doc!” Xisuma waves from the edge of the cobblestone, then nosedives away, a rocket propelling him rapidly out of sight. 

Doc takes a moment to watch the clouds, then laughs at himself. Did he not poke fun at Tango last season, when he stared longingly at the portal Jimmy left the server with? Now look at him.  

He draws a hand up to the wolf mask, rubbing the soft knitting between his fingers, and decides that Tango absolutely cannot see him wearing this.

He can keep it on for now, though.

[casuallyanidiot]

The Beta Test | Prologue

[yandere male x gn reader]

Local party animal and known social butterfly [name] wakes up to find that they've been abducted by their very reclusive and very wealthy classmate. Why, you might ask, did he do this? Well for one reason of course! He needs to know how he's going to talk to his crush! So now, with their freedom on the line, [name] has to figure out how to get this kid with the one of his dreams or risk never leaving at all. Lots of weird conversations ensue, of course.

600+ words Tw. Swearing, mentions of alcohol and drug consumption, kidnapping, drugging Table of contents

The first thing that came to your groggy mind was: “Shit, I need to work on that research paper.”

The second was: “Oh my god I’m absolutely going to die right now.”

Now, normally when you would wake up somewhere random it wouldn’t be too weird considering the fact that you were a frequent presence at many parties occurring on and off your campus, but you couldn’t say that you had ever found yourself laying on the floor behind a set of bars. Well, the on-the-floor part you had. Just not all that other stuff. 

The first thing, and the most logical thing at that, to consider was that you had somehow wound up being arrested last night. While you would like to say that you were a very responsible person when it came to substances of various degrees, there would be times when you would end up getting swept up in the heat and frenzy of a good time and good music, hence the whole waking up in strangers homes thingy. You had never gotten into any trouble while being in a state like that, but hey, there was a first time for everything. You could only imagine how embarrassing you had behaved last night if you ended up in jail.

It really sucked that you had been arrested though. “What the hell am I going to tell my parents?” you thought with a groan as you pressed your hands to your face. Your knees were placed to your chest and the soft material of your pajamas-

Wait a damn minute.

You looked down to find that you were in fact wearing something that would only be taken to bed or to take out the trash. The stains and faded fabric were proof enough of their use, and there was absolutely no way you’d be wearing sleep clothes while getting blacked out at a party. When you actually thought about it for two seconds, it became apparent that yeah, you had been in your apartment wearing comfy clothes, preparing to actually study, and winding down for the evening before BOOM, Nothing. 

Your brows were furrowed and your lips were pursed as you wiped at your eyes. Your brain felt fuzzy, and the room ( cell?) was blurred. Though the second it cleared up you realized that you were utterly and unequivocally fucked.

Yes, you were inside a cell, on the floor, sitting on a little mat. The floor was gray and cold and hard, but on the other side of the solid metal bars was a kitchenette and a dining table. From what you could see with the virtually nonexistent lighting were clean white marble countertops and sleek wood accents decorating the entire other half of the room. It looked nice, like one of those backdrops that you would see some social media model posing in front of, pretending that they were cooking.

Oh, and there was this guy sitting on a chair just staring at you.

You blinked harshly in surprise. How you hadn’t noticed him before was beyond you, but to be fair you weren’t exactly in the clearest state of mind. Still despite the terror growing in your gut like a weed, you put on a wobbly, awful, nervous smile and said,

“ Oh hi, what’s up?”

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Why Spell Check (and some grammar check) isn't AI

So I've seen in the wake of Nanowrimo some people claim that spell check is AI and thus is like Gen AI, and I saw the claim originator on Twitter, but when I pressed them, they basically tried to say they had a degree in computer science, so when I pressed into them if they knew what they were talking about, they couldn't answer because obviously don't know about AI.

For some background I've done some light programming (If you look at the Korean name generator, that's all me). And I also have relatives that did programming.

Here, I can lay out how spell check works without AI or a fancy algorithm.

The oldest spellchecks didn't use AI or Gen AI, they used what is your basic corresponding tables.

If you use something like google sheets (database), you can do this pretty quickly yourself though with a lot of manpower.

Here is a list of commonly misspelled words.

Add that with another table with how they are commonly misspelled.

Then you need a table with "common typos"

Then you need one more table for "Words the user adds."

The algorithm is basically this: Set up a loop. A loop is a mechanism that has an algorithm (or set of instructions in it) which repeats until a certain instruction is met. This loop with this algorithm will check for words. In this case, anything with letters, usually encompassing ' and - (though some programs ignore dashes).

So[,][ ]it[ ]will[ ]look[ ]at[ ]letters[ ]in[ ]this[ ]sentence[ ]and[ ]figure[ ]out[ ]if[ ]it[ ]is[ ]spelled[ ]correctly.

The first loop in the previous sentence will look at the word "so" by selecting everything it knows to be a letter in English. Tada "S, o" Then correspond that to the dictionary. So shows up in the dictionary listing it has of English words. Thanks Webster. (If you're British, the OED)

The Algorithm concludes the word is spelled correctly. No more work needs to be done on So. The next word is it "i, t" correspond that to the dictionary and so on.

If you have a "bad word" for example "alot" then the work is, word is spelled incorrectly. Next "work to be done" is to find out if this word is in the "commonly misspelled" words list. If yes, then underline the word in red to get it corrected.

AKA run Algorithm to underline word (usually a few lines of code if you're doing it the old way).

Then the algorithm moves on. The function of right click/Cntrl click is saying, OK, this word, "alot" is it commonly misspelled? Here are a list of corrections according to this other table. This is the work that needs to be done: We need a popup table. We need to pull from the database this misspelling, and then we need to pull from this other database and pull corresponding correct spellings based on this. Then you set up an if-then If the user clicks on this word, change highlighted word.

This is your basic spelling algorithm. You do not need gen AI for this or AI.

Grammar works similarly. You need a table, the type of speech it is (n, v, adv, adj) and then to load in "rules" one should use. You do not need AI. You need some basic programming skills. On the table of somewhere between "Hello, world" (1) and "OMG, I created artificial intelligence like Data " (10) My "Korean name generator" is like 2.5? in difficulty (minus all of the language and cultural knowledge). Haha. Still mocking myself. But a Spellcheck is not far from that. it is like 3. You could build one fairly easily with PHP and database access to a dictionary and misspelled words with corrections.

But Google pulled from the Enron Emails.

In this case, you can sorta fuzzy logic it and create bigger algorithms, mostly to sort out the *grammar* and *New words* that were used that aren't already in the database, which basically is another loop, but with an add to database function. (i.e. table). Then you would correspond this with another loop to look at "odd grammar" and flag it.

You can use AI to sort it faster than a basic algorithm, but nope, you do not need AI to correspond it. A basic algorithm would do. You can also use AI for "words that look similar to this one" and "Words commonly used in place of this one"

But overall, You do not need AI for a grammar check. You only need a dictionary, a set of commonly held rules of English and exceptions (maybe some Noam Chomsky, though he's controversial), and then some programming skill to get past the hurdle.

But Grammar check could use AI

AI as it stands is basically a large algorithm to match large datasets to the words you use. But the problem is that the datasets are taken from users who did not volunteer to put in that information.

It is not Data on Enterprise have novel experiences of every day and learning how to function in the human world by processing it through a matrix of quantum computing.

So WHEN grammar check does use AI, the AI is mostly doing the crunching of the corresponding the information into a more neat table option, as I understand it. It is not the same thing as Gen AI or your average spell check and Microsoft algorithm from say 2000.

Those are not equal things. Instead, adding Gen AI to say, Microsoft Word, is more like stealing your words for the machine (which BTW, Microsoft absolutely did and you need to transfer out to Anti-AI programs/Apps.) and corresponding them for Gen AI future use for people who can't write worth a damn, and then "averaging" it out. Elew. Who wants to write to the average? That's anti-Creative.

And just because it uses an Algorithm, doesn't automatically use AI.

Look, I can write a algorithm now:

Loop: If you want to be strong...

Go outside.

Do cardio.

Go lift weights.

Make sure you eat a healthy diet and balanced which includes reducing refined sugars and do not eat bad fats.

That equally is a set of instructions, but that's not automatically AI.

I programmed my calculator to spit out the quadratic formula. And this isn't even officially programming, this is a script. Dudes, if you're going to call that AI, then you need help with learning computer programming.

The threshold for making AI v spellcheck is a lot, lot higher programming than a set of simple tables and a loop that looks for letters and spaces corresponding it to an existing dictionary. If that's you're threshold for AI, then when you type words, you are caught in an algorithm. Ooooooo... OMG, when you pull up a dictionary to spellcheck yourself, that's AI. C'mon. The threshold is a might higher to make AI or "victim of algorithm" as in Twitter.

So anytime someone says, "All Spellcheck uses genAI/AI" Laugh in their faces and say no. 'cause like, I'm a terrible programmer, and even I'm like, Meh, not that hard to set up spell check, give me a solid dictionary database and I'll do ya.

That said, A human will beat AI on grammar anytime and will be able to sort weird spellings faster and A-OK, or not.

[not-another-leon-blog]

Family Matters

DI! Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Death Island Spoilers!

Summary– The kids are exposed to the evils of the world. Word count: 3746 D/n– Daughter's name S/n– Son's name Sequels: Aftermath / Out Together

You woke to the sound of quiet sniffling. Someone was shaking you, almost begging you to wake up. Your eyes opened, your vision fuzzy and your head feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“Mommy, wake up,” your daughter cried as she shook you. “Please, wake up.”

You groaned, reaching up to rub your eyes. Taking in your surroundings, you knew you were far from Los Angeles. Instead, you were surrounded by concrete walls and steel bars. This wasn’t the Walk of Fame, it was a prison.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” your daughter said, throwing herself in your arms.

“Don’t be scared,” said her twin brother confidently. “Dad’ll save us.” His pacing betrayed his confidence, not that his sister could tell with her face hidden in your shoulder. “Besides, Aunt Claire and Uncle Chris are here, too.”

“They are?” you asked. The fog in your head was starting to lift. “Chris? Claire?”

“We’re here,” Chris called. But he sounded weak, wounded. 

“Where exactly is ‘here’?”

“Alcatraz,” said Claire. If Chris sounded terrible, she sounded worse. Whatever was going on, you knew it was something the kids shouldn’t be a part of. “Jill’s here, too.” Somewhere." It only took a second for you to connect the dots. If they were all here, then surely Leon would be as well. 

You knew he had been on assignment in San Francisco so logically he couldn’t be too far away. It was supposed to be simple– a job he could complete in a day or so and then he would meet you and the kids in Los Angeles. How it turned into this…

We’re bait, you thought. It was a virtual guarantee. But how? All of your files had been secured and locked up; Leon had made sure of it. So how did you end up here? Why were you here?

D/n trembled in your arms and S/n was becoming more restless. Carefully, you lifted D/n with one arm and pushed yourself to your feet with the other. Reaching out to touch the bars, you gave them a firm shake. They didn’t budge.

“I gotta set you down, baby,” you said to D/n. She nodded hesitantly, going to her brother once she was out of your arms. She and S/n went to sit on the cot, holding each other’s hands. S/n’s leg bounced nervously.

You continued to examine the bars, looking for any kind of weakness. “So, what brought all of you to Alcatraz?” Might as well get an idea of what you were about to face if you were going to be stuck here.

“There were outbreaks in the city,” Chris said, his breathing heavy. “Found a connection to Alcatraz…”

That’s certainly one way to get him and Jill here, you thought. But what about Leon? How did his assignment connect to all of this?

“You kids okay?” Claire asked, taking a sharp breath.

“Okay,” S/n answered softly. 

You abandoned the bars and went to kneel in front of them. D/n’s face was blotchy with tears and she was wiping her nose with her sleeve. Soft hiccups rocked her little body. S/n, on the other hand, was still bouncing his leg and kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. You took their hands and gave them a soft squeeze.

“We’ll be okay,” you assured them. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you, understand?” You looked each of them in the eye. “No one will touch you while I’m here.” D/n nodded and you reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Mom,” S/n said, but his attention wasn’t on you. It was on someone standing outside of the cell. A tall woman stood there, dressed in a shiny pink jumpsuit. You knew exactly who she was and suddenly it all made sense.

Like a switch had flipped, your attitude went from soft and caring to tough and protective. You stood and put yourself between her and the twins. “What do you want?” Your voice was sharp and stern.

“Your husband will pay for what he did to my father,” Maria replied.

“Yeah, I get that.” You took a step closer. “But they have no part in it. You want to use someone, use me. This isn’t their fight.”

“It became their fight when he murdered my father. They deserve to know what kind of monster theirs is.”

S/n jumped up from the cot and rushed against the bars, gripping them so hard his knuckles turned white. “Our Dad’s a hero!” he yelled. “You're the monster!” Maria hit the bars, scaring S/n away from them. But he only backed away enough to stand next to you and stared Maria down as she marched down the cell block.

D/n was crying again. S/n turned to her. “Dad’s gonna be here,” he assured her. “He’s gonna save us– just like he saved the girl in Spain!” He froze like a deer in headlights and glanced over at you.

“S/n Marvin Kennedy,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve been in your father’s office again, haven’t you?”

“No.” An obvious lie. There was no other way he would know about Spain and Leon would never talk about past missions with his kids. He never even really told him what his job was.

“We’re having a talk about that later.” He bowed his head and went to sit beside his sister again. “And I’m reminding Dad to change those locks, too.” S/n seemed to shrink more into himself. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “Dad… maybe… kinda taught me to pick locks.”

“Then get us out of here!” D/n yelled at him.

“I don’t have anything to use!”

Leon would certainly get a scolding for that. A sharp pain shot in your neck. A moment later your body felt weak and you leaned against the wall for support. In an instant, breathing began to get harder, too.

“Mommy?” D/n said through her sniffles.

“Y/n?” came Claire’s voice. Whatever had infected Claire and Chris had infected you, too. But how? Your mind raced. You were never bitten.

You groaned in pain, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. With what strength you could muster, you crawled back to the bars to put distance between you and the kids. D/n moved to go to you but S/n held her back. He knew something was wrong. He knew there was a reason you were moving away from them. At eight years old, you hated how perceptive he was.

Lights shone at the other end of the prison block. Footsteps came closer, echoing off the walls. You gripped the bars, trying to ready yourself to face Maria and whoever else she was working with.

“Leon?” Claire muttered softly.

The kids gasped and ran to the cell door. “Daddy!”

“Y/n? Kids?” Leon rushed to your cell, quickly holstering his gun. The kids reached their hands through the bars, trying to hug him as best as they could. He looked them over for any injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” S/n told him. “But Mom…”

The pain was getting worse. Your breaths had turned into short gasps. The twins let go of him and he turned to you, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey, handsome,” you breathed. 

“Long time, no see, sweetheart,” he replied, his blue eyes full of worry. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. We were going to the Walk of Fame and…” Then you gestured to the cell. “I’m sorry… I should’ve been… more careful.” Maybe you were starting to get rusty. Years ago you would’ve seen the ambush from a mile away.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Get us out of here!” another man’s voice cried, catching Leon’s attention. 

“Well, I’ll be,” Leon muttered as he craned his neck to see who spoke. There was no way in hell he was leaving his family’s side right now. “Antonio Taylor… I’ll deal with you later.”

The overhead lights turned on and the kids scrambled to your side. The light stung your eyes and a headache started to form at your temple. Leon shot up, pulling his gun from its holster and scanning the cell block. There at the second-story railing stood Maria and another man, his cane tapping rhythmically on the metal floor.

This new man introduced himself as Dylan Blake. “I bet you’re wondering how people are getting infected without being bit,” he said, proudly going on to describe his bio-drones: insects that could infect whomever Blake pleased. Your heart sank at this realization. It was only a matter of time before you turned. 

You tuned out whatever Blake continued to say, your attention on the kids. D/n was still shaking like a leaf against you, but her tears had stopped. S/n was on his knees in front of you. The pain was starting to become unbearable, and knowing what would happen if you turned… 

“There’s a reason I left you and Leon alone, Jill,” Blake continued. “You want to talk about justice? You should be pointing your guns at Claire and Y/n.” Leon spared a glance at you. You were pale and shivering and you were only getting worse. “They’ll turn soon enough and when they do, they’ll rip apart the doctor and those kids.”

“The kids have no part in this!” Leon snapped.

“They became part of it when you began to work for liars, people who cover up the truth. The ones continuously sending you into battle rather than staying home with your family.” Leon stiffened. You knew he felt guilty about being away from home so much. “Which will it be? Your wife or your kids? Better make your choice quick before she devours them.”

“Leon,” you called softly. With his gun still trained on Blake, he looked back at you. You nodded at him, but he shook his head. Shooting you wasn’t an option for him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to shoot his children– he’d rather die than do that.

Soon enough Blake and Maria were gone and Leon was back by your side, D/n and S/n clinging to the arm he slid between the bars. “Babies,” he said, “I need you to get in that back corner. Can you do that for me?” They nodded and did as he said. His attention turned to you and he lowered his voice so they couldn’t hear. “Y/n, I’m not shooting you. The twins need you and I will not let them witness something like that.”

“I don’t want to hurt them,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “Leon, you have to.”

“No.” His voice was stern. “It’s not gonna happen. We’ll figure it out.”

You lifted your hand to gently trace the curve of his jaw, his stubble lightly scratching your skin. “I love you, Leon.” He held your hand against his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Daddy,” D/n called. “What’s gonna happen to Mommy?”

“Mommy’s going to be just fine,” he told her firmly. Leon felt like the worst father in the world. The last thing he had ever wanted was for his kids to be dragged into his work. He was sure that with Y/n at home, they’d be perfectly fine. He thought he’d taken every step necessary to keep his family safe. What had gone so wrong that they ended up here?

“Real father of the year,” he muttered under his breath.

“This… isn’t your… fault.” You curled in on yourself as pain shot through your body. You had the cell bars in a death grip as you attempted to maintain yourself. Something was brewing in your chest, something violent and bloody. You met Leon’s eyes, your tears finally falling. “Please…”

Just as he was about to reply, someone came running into the cell block. It was Rebecca with a hard-shelled case in her arms. “What’s that?” Leon asked, but he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it to believe it.

“A vaccine,” Rebecca replied, popping the case open and handing him a syringe.

Leon couldn’t move fast enough. He uncapped the syringe and brushed your hair aside. “This might hurt, baby.” There was a sting in your neck as he injected the vaccine. Relief washed over you like a cool blanket and finally, you were able to catch your breath. As you composed yourself, Leon got to work on unlocking the door.

The door slid open and Leon enveloped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. He pulled away and the two of you were nearly thrown over as the twins barreled into you. Leon held all three of you tight against his chest.

“I told you Dad would save us,” S/n said, his voice muffled against Leon’s shirt. Leon kissed the tops of their heads and pulled away just enough to look at all of you.

Whatever was in that vaccine worked wonders and by the time you were back on your feet, you felt good as new. “What now?” You couldn’t just take the kids and leave. There was no telling what was lurking in the halls. Taking them with Leon was risky– Blake wouldn’t give up easily. There was no doubt in your mind that there’d be a shootout at some point.

Leon kissed you again and handed you a spare gun. It wasn’t safe here with the bio-drones and he wasn’t about to let you go out and try to escape the island with two eight-year-olds. His only option was to try to keep you all in his sight and out of harm’s way. “Stay with me.” He turned to the twins. “You two,” S/n stood a bit straighter, “do exactly as I or your mother say. Understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

The four of you made your way to the armory. Leon took the lead with the twins behind him and you taking up the rear. Once you made it to the armory, Leon stopped and hugged the kids again. “I love you,” he said to them, “listen to Mom.”

“Where are you going?” D/n asked, gripping his shirt.

“I’m gonna stop the bad guys,” he replied. “Be good.” He stood and pecked your lips. “Get to the control room, you’ll be safe there.”

~~

The three of you reached the control room. The openness of the room didn’t bring you much comfort– there wasn’t any real place to hide the kids. The best you could do was keep them away from the windows.

You made sure the door was secure and turned to the kids, tucking your gun into your waistband as you kneeled in front of them. “How are you two doing?” The answer was obvious, but you wanted to hear them talk to you. You needed them to focus as best as they could and make sure that they understood how important their safety was.

“Aren’t you scared?” S/n asked. 

“I am,” you answered honestly. “And it’s okay to be.”

“So you and Daddy were doing this stuff when you met?” asked D/n in a small voice. She had calmed down but maintained a nearly bone-crushing grip on her brother’s hand. You knew that she had always wanted to picture a romantic meeting between you and Leon like the other girls’ parents at school, but the reality was not nearly as sweet.

“Yeah, sweetie–”

A monstrous roar cut you off and the twins screamed. You grabbed your gun and spun around to the window. A massive, mutated monster took up the expanse of the window, but it wasn’t focused on you. Still, you ushered the kids back into the wall farthest away and kept your gun trained on it.

A number of loud pops sounded from outside. Gunshots. The others must be down there. With the beast’s attention away from the window, you focused your attention on the door. Your grip on your gun tightened. The kids jumped and gasped behind you with each new explosion. Shielding them from watching those through the window would be near impossible.

Something smashed against the window, but the glass held strong. Barrels and boxes flew throughout the expanse of the armory. The ground shook beneath you and the groans of crashing metal echoed in your ears.

The door burst open, scaring the kids and startling you. It was Claire and Rebecca.

“What is that thing!?” D/n yelled.

The two stopped short, unsure of how to answer her. Claire recovered first. “That’s the bad guy.”

“That’s the bad guy!?” S/n repeated. He tugged on your shirt. “You have to go help Dad!”

“I need to keep you two safe.” As much as you wanted to go help, you and Leon had talked long ago about situations like this. Situations you had hoped and prayed would never come to pass and a discussion that led to your retiring from the D.S.O.

Only one of you would actively fight. The other would stay with the kids no matter what. That way if something happened to the other, the twins would still have at least one parent.

“What are you doing?” D/n asked as Claire and Rebecca rushed to the main computer.

“We,” Rebecca started as her hands moved across the keys, “are gonna stop a bunch of bugs.”

~~

As the gunshots rang and rockets exploded, Leon kept watch on the windows of the control room. Leading the creature, formerly Dylan Blake, away from those windows was his top priority (aside from killing it, of course).

At least with Maria dead, he didn’t have to worry about someone else going after you and the twins. And even if she were still alive, you’d give her hell for doing this to your family.

“Just a heads up,” Chris said as they put together a massive rocket launcher, “the missus is gonna have a word with you about teaching S/n to pick locks.” He grunted as they slid the two pieces of the weapon together.

Leon grinned. He knew that would come back to bite him one day. Hell, he was looking forward to your scolding. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t.” He lifted the front of the launcher up on his shoulder while Chris steadied it from behind. “A little lower.” Chris kneeled down a bit more, letting Leon get a higher angle.

The creature had jumped into the water after Jill and was now trying to make for open waters. Leon aimed for the gate's pulley system. With only one shot, he needed to make this count.

Another second passed as he steadied the launcher and pulled the trigger.

The rocket flew from the barrel, jolting him and Chris as it flew to the gate. The rocket exploded on impact, and the gate dropped. It crashed into the water and a moment later another explosion erupted. Blood stained the water and pieces of Blake's mutated carcass rained down.

Leon eyed the water nervously, searching for any movement that could indicate that somehow the bastard survived. When nothing aside from a massive corpse floated to the surface, he sighed in relief.

He barely had a moment to relax before he was knocked over. It wasn't often that his kids caught him off guard, but here they were, piled on top of him and hugging him so tight he could barely breathe. Well, if he were to die, being smothered by his childrens' affection didn’t seem like such a bad option to him.

Once he’d regained his bearings, he hugged them equally as tight, enough to make them groan and try to push away from him (which in turn made him squeeze just a bit harder). He turned his head to see you approaching, a soft smile on your face. “Care to join in on this?”

“He’s crushing us!” S/n squealed.

“Am not,” Leon huffed.

“Are too!”

He let the twins go and sat up. D/n stayed in his lap and S/n sat beside him. At that moment, there was no denying that S/n was his son. He was almost a carbon copy of his father. The scene almost made you forget about everything that had just happened.

You could still feel a faint throbbing where Blake’s drone had stung you, an eerie reminder of what could have been if Rebecca hadn’t shown up when she did.

“Can we go home now?” D/n asked.

~~

While waiting for the evacuation helicopters, the twins had taken to bombarding Claire and Rebecca with questions, giving you a brief moment alone with your husband.

“You know we’re not sleeping alone for a good while.” 

“I know.” He watched as S/n turned his attention to Chris, climbing up on the man’s shoulders. Where other parents might dread the thought of having their bed invaded, Leon welcomed it. He’d rather have them running to him in the dead of night than deal with nightmares on their own.

“We should’ve just stayed in D.C.,” you mumbled, leaning against Leon as he wrapped an arm around you. Maybe if you and the kids had stayed home they would have been spared the terror of being kidnapped and threatened.

Leon shook his head. “Maria would’ve found a way.” Of that, he was certain. If there was anyway to guarantee his suffering, targeting his family was a sure way to do it. “We’ll take a real vacation after this.”

“D/n has been begging to go to Disney.” You sighed. “We can’t hide this stuff from them anymore.” That was perhaps the worst of it. You and Leon had gone to great lengths to shield them from the reality of Leon’s work.

The two of you watched the twins. Chris was still carrying S/n on his shoulders and at some point D/n had managed to steal Claire’s red jacket. Soon, they came running back, wedging themselves between you.

D/n pointed toward the horizon. “Are those the helicopters?”

“They sure are,” Leon replied as he smoothed her hair.

S/n tugged on Leon’s shirt and flashed his best set of puppy eyes. “Can I have the window seat?”

[lagunaseca2013]

can’t sleep bc I’m stressed about going into the office tm and I’m deeply dreading it so instead I’ve been maladaptive daydreaming about my rosquez one-sided-bond horror-disguised-as-a/b/o universe where marc goes into heat the night of crazy murder race at the ranch and it triggers vale’s rut which leads to him losing control and biting marc but then not letting marc bite him back which leads to. obvious misery.

marc is like on cloud nine at first bc even tho they never discussed it he wanted it (was obvi begging for it the whole time even if he only vaguely remembers) and definitely thinks it’s like fate or whatever happy accident etc. there’s like hand wavey world building omegaverse lore/logic/whatever you wanna call it so you can only mate when ur in rut/heat and vale just had his rut and fully suppresses them during the season so they’ll have to wait a while to complete the bond anyway.

cue vale’s descent into madness. it’s definitely gradual at first bc they’re still fucking for A LOT of it (the sex is even crazier now bc marc can like feel him through the bond but it’s all very fuzzy bc it’s only half a bond so it’s more like….idk emotional impressions or whatever but it definitely makes sex way more intense on his end). this of course freaks vale the fuck out bc he doesn’t like that marc has access to him in a way that he doesn’t have access to marc (omegaverse is genuinely the most fun way to push all vale’s control freak buttons btw) which is like….okay man there’s an easy solution to that but whatever u say.

uccio is off uccioing and waving his idk ipad telemetry around and also feeding vale’s crazy delusions like convincing him that marc triggered the heat on purpose to seduce vale and make him lose control to……..get an emotional ?? advantage over him ?? but like….marc wasn’t the one who bit him……..so vale isn’t even affected by marc’s emotions………it’s exhausting. vale is looking for outs atp bc the mating stuff has 1) majorly triggered his crazy committmentphobia (huge thanks to stefania and graziano for never mating) and also 2) exacerbated the championship issues bc like vale voice I don’t think someone who claims to be my [omega] would race me like that blah blah blah

anyway vale sets omega rights back one hundred years etc w his presscon rantings. marc is like nauseous w bond rejection and also feeling vale’s hatred AND guilt, bc he can literally feel impressions of his emotions. also this whole time marc’s been walking around all season with the largest most visible and grotesque mating scar on his neck and coyly dodging questions about it and vale is obviously. mark free as the day he was born. so even tho they’ve been all over each other the last two years and also for parts of the season no one is really accusing them of being secretly one-sided-bonded, which is actually really frowned upon anyway in their society ESPECIALLY if the omega is the one bitten.

vale is really banking on 1) no one believing marc if he tried to out them, 2) marc not even considering it as an option. both are true, honestly, but marc is having the equivalent of getting served divorce papers on live tv and also going into bond rejection and ignoring it so he has a lot of other stuff on his plate.

and then his alpha knocks him off his bike and he goes into a stress heat (hand wavey omegaverse rules, it happens with bond rejection to entice the unmated one to get with the program). it’s horrific, of course, alex goes to vale’s motorhome in tears prepared to beg on his knees and uccio doesn’t even let him in. they have to take marc to the hospital bc his fever is so high he’s going to die and then he spends three miserable days crying out for vale. on the fourth day his doctors are like. he’s not getting any better in fact it might be getting worse is there really no way to get his alpha here? vale (or uccio, idk does it matter?) has blocked both of their numbers, alex has been texting franky but that connection is still nebulous at best at this point in time so his responses are sparse and extremely vague (vale is obviously going through a stress rut as well and it’s like all hands on deck rn bc he’s getting violent).

well anyway. they put marc in a medically induced coma to ride it out and he literally doesn’t wake up for like two weeks. (yay more medical trauma for the medical trauma guy yippee) (also idk if I could even fit this into the story bc I haven’t even gotten to the plot yet this is still the extended backstory context but I think after the whole ordeal he’s basically terrified of going into heat again and for several years lies to everyone that he spends them at one of those like omega care facilities where you pick an alpha that’s been vetted out and deal with it that way but he ACTUALLY goes to a hospital and gets put into a coma again to ride it out bc he genuinely can’t deal with how it feels to need vale when he can still deep down feel all of his alpha’s resentment)

I imagine eventually alex finds out (maybe during arm misery when marc is like between surgeries two and three and alex is like hey isn’t this messing with your cycle and marc, high on painkillers or just delirious w pain is like nah they can put me out whenever) and then they have a blowout fight about it and alex cries a lot and marc is also crying but he absolutely cannot ever feel that way again or he will off himself so then they compromise which means marc just never comes off his suppressants but does start seeing a therapist. (he hates her and she tries to make him go to like bereaved omega support groups which he doesn’t even pretend to consider)

um okay so we’re getting to the part where the story would actually be set which is marcnaia 2025 teammates lol. while marc has been experiencing the horrors vale has acquired an entire pack. okay yes the academy was loosely around for the events of 2015 but after vale has his insane response rut where it takes like basically all of them to make him calm the fuck down things are a little different. it was much more familial at the beginning bc most of them were unpresented so it was more of a like adopting pups crisis for vale. when they’re all older and presented and adults they make it official and he (checks notes) bites their wrist scent glands which is for like pack bonding. they spend heats and ruts together as a pack, not all of them all the time (and luca and marta are mated in this one, rip pecco, so it’s really just a family thing for him) but it’s nice. harmony. whatever. as is popular around these parts, I do think bez is the only omega in the pack. more on that later.

okay NOW we pick up the plot. vale is an idiot and also has been trying not to think about marc for the last nine years so he doesn’t know that marc can actually feel it every single time vale adds a new member to his pack. he still can’t feel everything you’d usually be able to feel with a mating bond bc it’s one sided, but adding pack members definitely leaves an impression. alex has to like train marc to stay away from academy members bc he has like pack omega urges to bond w them and be near them (this fic would have gratuitous touch starvation etc) and it’s painful to ignore his instincts

alex in this universe should be granted sainthood, seriously.

vale voice allora where were we. okay nothing good can come of marc and pecco sharing a garage right? if vale was serious about staying unmated and hating marc he would probably spend a lot less time lingering around the ducatis. gigi makes several biting jokes about how vale didn’t seem to like the team this much when he was driving for them! which. well, double edged sword to neg him about, no?

basically marc has felt less and less from vale over the years bc of distance and like sort of trying to get over it (thank you alex for psychologist ultimatum) but renewed proximity stirs everything back up and suddenly his suppressants are failing him and for the first time in like a decade people can like actually catch slight traces of his scent. marc, also a notorious control freak (made worse by everything that’s happened to him in this universe) is having a category eleven panic attack about it, like calls his favorite hospital and asks if they can put him in a coma again, etc.

vale meanwhile is like falling in love with marc again and hiding it badly. getting distracted during pack orgy bonding time bc he’s missing the insanity that he and marc used to get up to (which, if it happens during bez’s heat, sets him up for a nightmare scenario of omega infighting……..you know….if he was considering trying again w marc. but he’s not. so)

ummmm wow okay this got extremely out of hand. idk where any of that came from. I only vaguely know how it ends so if you have any thoughts about that lmk lol. I have to get up for work in four and half hours so I’m gonna send this into the void and probably delete it in the morning lol.

[leclercskiesahead]

Spanish Heat

You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night.

I wrote this last year when @underthelightsblog kindly let me contribute to their C2 keychain companion booklet. If you ordered her keychains, you might have already read this! I didn't want to spoil it before she could send everyone their booklets, and then it felt a bit weird to post it in winter, so I'm sharing it now as a Valentines' post!

Charles is cold.

He is in Spain. In summer. It was perfectly hot and sunny in the morning, as he had expected, and his skin is already a bright pink that the internet will surely laugh about.

So why is it so cold??

Carlos is never cold. He is always nice and warm whenever Charles bumps into him as they compete in their silly challenge, searing hot when he traces his fingers down Charles’ arms in a way that means something different from teammates, blistering heat when he presses into Charles at night, and warm again when Charles curls up next to him as they drift off to sleep.

Carlos is always talking about his Spanish blood and oh I’m Latino I’m fire and how warm Spain is compared to Modena, where they work.

So Charles thought he would come to Spain and bake in the sun. Instead, he is going to freeze to death at night.

And he doesn’t have a warm Carlos to curl up with. Because Carlos is in Scotland for his friend’s birthday.

Charles shivers as he swipes through his phone. There’s a video of Carlos at his friend’s party, singing along and looking not at all cold in his simple sweater.

Doesn’t it always rain in Scotland? Carlos hates the rain. He loves his warm and sunny home country. But the one time Charles finally booked a trip there for summer break, Carlos had other plans.

It’s unfair.

Charles is cold. He is also impatient.

So he calls.

“Hola.”

“You didn’t tell me Spain is so cold.”

There is a laugh. Charles pouts even though Carlos can’t see how displeased he is. He is cold and freezing, and Carlos is laughing at him.

“Cabrón. You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night, no? Did they teach you in school? Or you didn’t pay attention.”

And well, yeah. Charles hadn’t thought about that.

But he still has to make a point.

“I was very good at school,” he huffs. “I always got good marks and paid attention.”

Another chuckle comes through the phone. “Sure, love.”

He can hear Carlos rolling his eyes. So annoying. But the pet name still makes part of his chest feel a bit fuzzy. And now he’s a little warm.

But still not as warm as the real thing.

"When are you coming here," he whines. Not that he doesn't already know the answer —

"You know when, mate, you made me send you my itinerary."

— but maybe if he asks enough times, Carlos will get annoyed and join him sooner.

"Then hurry up, Carlos," he says, his accent thick around the 'r'.

The phone transmits a static noise that Charles figures is Carlos tsk-ing at him. "Always so bossy," is the reply he gets. Then more gently, "Just a few more days. I will be right there, love."

"I want you now." His brain knows that logically, Carlos can't just abandon his own friends like that. But his heart wants what it wants. And if it can't get what it wants, then he'll just be a bit whiny about it.

"You are in Spain, think about me everywhere."

"Yes, yes," Charles nods, as if he hasn't already stalled multiple times in a day because something sets him off daydreaming about his boyfriend. "You have to win the golf now, since you are making me wait."

"Of course," is Carlos' smug reply. "Please don't fall down or hit anyone while you are surfing or doing volleyball or anything else."

Annoying man and his annoying ability to play all sports.

———

They have a yacht day planned, and a good amount of their supplies for this segment are in Charles' room because he has the biggest room because he likes to treat himself during his summer break. Also because he had booked it with some wishful thinking that he could be bringing someone with him.

Anyway, he has to get all their stuff from his room while his friends go to the dock to prepare the yacht.

Joris follows him to his room to help.

“Jesus Christ, why is it so hot here? Have you not burnt enough outside?”

“It’s cold at night."

"It's not that cold."

"It is science, Joris. Did you pay attention in school?"

Joris doesn't answer. He stares at Charles. Sighs. Walks over to one of the bags and pulls out a white lump of clothing. Stuffs it into Charles' hands.

"What is..."

It's one of the Ferrari fashion sweaters. But Charles doesn't remember packing it for this trip (because it is summer and they are going to Spain, where it's supposed to be hot and sunny, why would he need a sweater?). And when he unfolds it, it looks a size bigger than what he wears.

"I found it in your room," Joris says. "Maybe it can keep you warm. Until..."

He waves a hand and makes a knowing face.

Right. Joris goes to nearly all the races now and has seen more of what Charles gets up to off track than he needs to, whether as a friend or personal assistant. That also means he knows Charles, and he knows how Charles is when it comes to things related to a certain other driver who shares his name.

Charles holds the sweater against his chest. He has the decorum not to press his nose to the fabric there and then, but if he focusses, he can still pick up the lingering trace of a familiar cologne.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Yeah, don't mention it," his friend says, grabbing two large bags. Right, the rest of the group is probably waiting. He stops in the door. "It's not that cold, Charlie. Maybe only your bed."

He ducks out before Charles can smack him. He has the best friends. Really.

———

"Oh, it's windy, no?" Someone says while they all rest from a game on deck.

Charles turns to give Joris A Look. See? He's not the only one who feels cold.

"That's why we can't stay out too long. It's better in the water." And then they are all jumping in again.

Someone starts a swimming race. Bad idea. Because Charles can't not give his all in any sort of competition and because he trains the most out of all his friends — it comes with the job. He's going to win by a large margin.

It's also a bad idea because no one knows which marker they are using as the finish line, so everyone is paddling madly in all directions, and at some point, Charles realises he's ended up swimming away from everybody else. Which could be the large winning margin he wanted, but it's also possible that he's gone the wrong way and ended up further from the finish line. He can imagine everyone laughing at him, and the competitive racer inside him fumes.

Grim and determined, he starts paddling back, only for an air horn to snatch his attention.

A jet ski whizzes by, curving around and slowly circling towards him, like a shark. Or maybe a stingray, because Charles thinks his heart might have stopped. It's hard to see against the bright sun and with some saltwater in his eyes, but the figure on the jet ski is recognisable to Charles anyway.

Carlos rides up next to him with his perfect windswept hair and a sly smile.

"Hola," is all he says.

Charles is already grabbing his outstretched hand.

"Mate! You are early!"

"I told you I was coming today."

"You didn't say what time," Charles argues. "You sounded like —"

He tries to haul himself up the ski and nearly slips because he forgot his body is still dripping seawater.

"Ay, be careful," Carlos nags. Not that Charles really listens because he has two large, hot, searing hands on his waist as Carlos wrangles him onto the ski. A full view of a bare shoulder under a life vest.

Spain is very hot indeed.

"Good," Carlos mutters when Charles is finally settled on the ski. "How can I surprise you if I tell you exactly what time I'm arriving?"

Charles can't think of an argument. The breeze from earlier has returned, and he can feel goosebumps breaking out on his still-wet skin.

He presses into Carlos. The life vest is still in the way, but leaves enough exposed for Charles to feel the heat he has been craving this past week and a half.

He is wet and cold and feels Carlos' muscles jump at the initial contact.

"Ay, mate," he complains, but shifts to accommodate Charles anyway.

That's how Joris finds them later, tucked together on a deck chair as Carlos enjoys a beer and Charles enjoys Carlos' body heat.

———

"Mate, you are using the heater?" Carlos says when they retire to Charles' room — their room — for the night. He moves to turn it down with one hand while towelling his hair off with the other, freshly showered. Charles stares at the perfect dark locks sticking in all the right directions.

Tonight had not felt as chilly as the previous nights, but Charles had still turned the dial up out of habit when they had returned earlier.

"Is that mine? Ay, no wonder I couldn't find it."

Ah, yes, the sweater that he had stolen from Carlos at a race that Joris brought here for him. Laying across his lap.

"I was cold," is all he manages to say.

Carlos has a stupid grin on his face. Charles wants to kiss him.

So he does.

Charles is no longer cold.

[voidboymads]

Steter Prompt : Stiles doesn't set Peter on fire at the end of S1, but saves him instead

...I just realized while going to post it that I messed up a bit and did the saving at the wrong part D; I hope that's okay! >.< If not, I can totally redo it T_T

-------

It’s a last-minute decision that Stiles makes as he hands the brewed concoction over to Jackson in the car. The glass flask slips from his fingers as it transfers hands and with it, the guts to throw it in the first place. All night he’d been adamant about - about well murder to be honest. After everything with Lydia and the entire town in chaos, it only felt logical to help Scott. That also meant helping Derek but he was still fuzzy on where Derek stood with the rest of them. Something on the drive over gnawed at Stiles, though. He couldn’t stop remembering the parking garage - the conversation he’d had with Peter.

That crazy psycho was going to give him a gift.

A ‘what if’ he’d been fawning over all semester while watching Scott try to figure things out. Sure, jealousy was there - even amidst the friendship and the desire to help but he couldn’t stop thinking about Peter’s question.

Even if he knew his answer would remain the same, the thought that someone felt that he had the potential to be something more than what he was, more than the comedic relief and a wiz with the computer, was pretty fucking nice.

Peter had called him the clever one.

Decisions. Decisions.

“Wait, Jackson - it actually might not work!” He screams this as they exit the car - pulling right up to the big showdown, but it does no use. Jackson throws the flask anyway. When Peter catches it, Stiles sucks in a shaky breath - a hopeful gasp as it remains intact.

It’s only when the arrow from Allison’s bow hits it - igniting it, that Stiles loses it all. There’s a chance that it won’t engulf him with just his arm aflame but then Jackson takes his own flask and throws it without a second thought.

Peter is wrapped in waves of fire and Scott is sending him to the ground and all Stiles can think is that Peter called him the clever one.

“Derek - if you do this, I’m dead.” Scott’s words filter in and Stiles realizes Peter’s not on fire anymore. He’s lying on the ground, burned to a crisp. Derek hangs over him, glaring down at him with a purpose. The purpose they were all there for that night, and yet - Stiles feels a tug in his chest and his feet are moving on their own. “ - what am I supposed to do?” Scott sounds desperate, but Derek’s gaze won’t stray from Peter’s face.

“You’ve already decided,” Peter gasps, his body bloody and shaking from physical trauma. Stiles’ heart is hammering so loud in his chest, he’s sure everyone there can hear it but all noise begins to drown out again - Peter’s words ringing through like he’s the only one there. “I can smell it on you!”

Derek raises his clawed hand and Stiles flings himself between them without hesitation. “Wait!” He yells, shielding himself over Peter’s body and he just knows - he knows the choice he’s made and the ramifications that will follow from it. He almost expects Derek to claw the shit out of him for mere spite of ruining his crowning moment but silence follows. A heavy one that seems to stretch out for too long.

Stiles lifts his head, his eyes catching everyone’s faces as they stare back at him with mixtures of shock and disbelief. Derek’s screams anger - flared nostrils, brows scrunched, a glaring gaze fixated no longer on Peter, but on him. Those claws remain out, his hand still lifted in the air and Stiles thinks this is it. All the good he’s sure he’s done - all the help he’s given to Scott and Derek and the rest. It’s all for nothing because Derek’s ready to kill him and make sure that Peter drags him down to hell with him.

Except, nothing happens.

Derek lowers his hand, anger slipping into heated confusion as Peter struggles to breathe beneath them. “Why -?”

“I know you want this and I know you have every right but it’s too much.” He’s not exactly sure what he’s doing but he won’t move from his spot. He keeps his arms over Peter as if that might help - though he knows it won’t. But he can’t let this happen - not while he’s in this perplexed state. He can’t tell Derek that Peter called him the clever one and it makes him feel a certain way.

“What the hell are you doing?” Argent’s yelling across the open space, hugging Allison close to him. He’ll never let her out of his sight if Scott stays the way he is, but he can’t let either of them touch Peter.

“He’s done too much,” Derek huffs, and Stiles nods, grimacing as Peter coughs.

“I know - ”

“Stiles,” Scott takes a few steps towards them. “Even if I wanted to stop Derek, it’d be me all the same. I need this or I - I can’t - ”

Peter makes some horrible gurgling noise and Stiles looks back down at him, the stench of his burned body almost a shock to the system at seeing Peter’s icy blue gaze looking back at him. “You don’t know if it’ll work. No one does. Derek and Peter - they were born as wolves. What if - ”

Derek growls and grabs Stiles by the scruff of his shirt. “What the hell does it matter? Get out of the way!” He’s about to toss Stiles and if he gets too far, it’ll be too late. He doesn’t know what he can say to change their minds. It’s a hard win knowing what all they’ve been through.

“H- he is all you have left.” Stiles stammers out. “I know he’s done bad things but he’s your family.” Derek growls again and Stiles shakes like a leaf in his grasp.

“I can always make a new one.” Electric blue eyes flash at Stiles, momentarily stunning him and he knows. He knows if Derek does this and takes that power from Peter that it might be all over for the rest of them. He opens his mouth to protest - to say anything to keep this filibuster going in hopes of winning but Derek surprises him, suddenly dropping him to his feet. “But I can wait. You want him so badly?” He pushes Stiles over, tripping him on the way down.

Stiles lands right next to Peter, catching blue eyes on him as he tries to push himself up.

“You can be his new nurse - since he killed the old one. And when he regains his strength and kills you too, then I’ll have him right back here where I want him.” The words are spoken so harshly that it brings a burning flush to Stiles’ face. He’s done something that can’t be taken back and he can’t even bring himself to look at Scott.

No one but Peter, who’s looking at him like he wants to say something.

“Okay,” Stiles shuts his eyes. “He’s my responsibility.” As much as that might not even be true, he says it anyway.

When he opens his eyes, Peter’s slowly shift to red in their shared silence and Stiles finally feels seen as a deal is made.

[minniiaa]

LawLu hc - Franky built Luffy captain's quarters that he only uses when Law stays over.

YES. Any in-universe OP fic of mine (and a lot of other fic writers) will most definitely have a captain's quarters that Luffy reserves just for his tired emo babygirl (Law).

Ever since they set sail on the Merry, Luffy has slept in the men's quarters. They didn't have a Captain's Quarters back then because there wasn't enough space but Luffy never cared because he hates sleeping alone.

When he was a kid, he always had Ace and Sabo to sleep with but after Ace left on his journey, Luffy had to sleep by himself and he hated how quiet and cold it was without them. Once he was finally able to travel with his crew, nothing made Luffy happier than being able to sleep with his friends again. Sometimes they even let him cuddle with them at night which is Luffy's favorite thing to do with the people he cares about. When Franky was building the Merry, he offered to build Luffy a captain's quarters but he denied saying that he'd rather sleep with his friends.

Then Law comes aboard after Punk Hazard and Luffy couldn't understand why he would never sleep in the men's quarters with him and instead chose to sleep on the deck in the cold. Law refuses to tell him and it drives Luffy crazy because he wants to cuddle with Law so bad. He tries to go on the deck and snuggle with Law but everytime he does, Law shambles him halfway across the ship with no explanation.

Their relationship progresses into something much different than what Luffy has with his crewmates and after much pestering, he finally gets Law to admit that the two-fold reason why he won't sleep with the rest of the men is that he often has nightmares from his dark past which embarrasses him and he also isn't part of their crew so sleeping with them would make it seem like he's accepting that he's no longer captain of his own ship and just one of their nakama like Luffy claims he us.

Luffy thinks this is ridiculous so he secretly has Franky build him that Captain's Quarters he offered before. Franky does, repurposing a random closet of junk into a small but perfect Captain's Quarters. On the night it's done, Luffy drags Law through the new door that suddenly appeared, shoving him on the bed, crawling in next to him, and wrapping his arms around him so tight that Law can't escape.

Law is not sure if he's most confused as to how this new bedroom just materialized seemingly out of thin air on the day they stopped at a supply island or why Strawhat is now alone in bed with him, nuzzling against his neck and holding him against his body. Luffy declares that it's the Captain's Quarters and he had Franky build it so they could have a room for just the two of them. That way Law doesn't have to worry about his nightmares or what anyone else thinks.

Law points out that it's still the Captain's Quarters and Luffy is the Captain and Luffy snaps back with "Well you're a Captain so that makes it your quarters too. It doesn't say which Captain it belongs to," and Law can't argue with that ridiculous but sound logic that only Luffy could come up with.

Law accepts his fate, relaxing in Luffy's arms, realizing that it's been so long since he was able to just curl up under the blankets with someone else. He feels all warm and fuzzy, not only because Luffy is like a space heater, but also because he realizes his alliance mate did all this just so he could have a space he feels comfortable at night. From that day on, he sleeps with Luffy in their room. It does mortify him when Strawhat tells other people that they sleep together every night but at that point, Luffy's already decided that they're dating and he knows there's nothing he can do.

After Law leaves the crew, the room remains and Luffy only uses it when Law comes to visit him, never allowing anyone else to sleep in 'Him and Torao's room'.

or

Luffy just wanted a room where he could fuck Law nasty so he has Franky build one and suddenly the Captain of the Thousand Sunny has his own personal sex dungeon for him and his boyfriend.

[gigglegrove]

Inspekta/Hector

The Suit-e and The Stage Lion

Information and Individuals under the cut!

HECTOR

The Suit-e! Hector, a former Drainfolk who took up godhood! Hector lead the BizzyBuffoons in their around the block performances!! He was a natural!!! Eventually, this led to his selection for godhood. On the day of his ascension however, the schedule had become backed up, somehow landing him a two month delay. To temporarily solve this, Hector was gifted an Inspekta costume to preform in! (With the help of Capochin.) Eventually he managed to take on his godly form, leading his boys on from there!

-Instead of bandages the two get these cozy little...armwarmer things? tailwarmer? Kinda itchy though and yeah its got...strands. -Hectors glasses are stuck to his face. -He does NOT have a second set of ears however in cartoonish logic the cat ear-like hair pieces emote with him. -Due to the way the Inspekta costume was made, Hector often has trouble breathing. INSPEKTA

The Stage Lion! Inspekta, one of the eight ringmasters! Inspekta leads his BizzyBuffoons around with a fuzzy fist! Thanks to his stretchable/flexible body...he is able to preform better than he ever was before! You may often find him way up high in tents! Do not be intimidated however...he is quite friendly! -Inpsekta is...glittery...thats alot of glitter...it kinda just puffs up around him too. -The inside of his coat looks like those arcade floor carpets!!! swirls n shapes!!! -Similar to that one mockup prop of Inspekta, bros got a little spring in his hat, mostly so he doesnt drop the thing!! -Inspekta has follow me eyes!!! the glittery/lighting dots are apart of his eyes!!! you cant really tell where hes looking because it really does just look like hes looking at you all the time. -His nose makes a squeaky noise if you squish it.

Hector and Inspekta are still the same person and can even switch between the two, however it is not fully on their own terms rather, it is on emotional terms.

[earlysunshines]

birthday surprise

im nayeon x fem!reader ; suggestive, fluffy-ish

synopsis: in which nayeon wakes up with a familiar body on hers and she's about to change the trajectory of this friendship so hard.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: something short for my girl, it's her birthday after all ;-)

-

nayeon stirs awake and there’s a throbbing sensation in her head.

her tired eyes open slowly, though they’re not even fully open since she’s squinting; courtesy of the annoyingly bright light that seeps in through the blinds. her vision is fuzzy and she squeezes her eyes back shut with a small graon, then rubs them slowly and sets both hands that had rubbed her drowsy eyes down back down.

nayeon feels something strange—her hands land on something, or, someone.

now that her senses have woken up a bit, she realizes that she is definitely not alone—realizing that there’s a whole person on her as she peeks through her squinted eyes and sees a bundle of messy hair and a squished face, as well as a glimpse of the top of someone’s bare back and shoulders. from the way that person feels on nayeon’s skin, she can tell that they’re both not wearing anything from the feeling of a pair of tits squished onto her warm skin. nayeon can feel the person breathing slowly as their chest heaves up and down against her body, and she feels their arm loosely wrapped around her waist.

nayeon groans quietly and shifts a little, much to the disappointment of whoever is on top of her because she feels them groan into her skin and hold on tighter.

initially, she hadn’t worried too much about who was on top of her naked, she was too tired to really process that. her careless self just figured she got too drunk and hot—last night had been her early birthday party—maybe she fell asleep with a friend (it hadn’t occurred to her that it would be quite odd for friends to sleep together naked, but the ache in her head was enough to stop her from thinking logically.)

“five more minutes… please…” the person on her groans lazily and it makes nayeons heart stop.

the low pitch and tone of the voice is awfully familiar, too familiar.

when nayeon looks down to get a better look at the person on her, she makes sure to blink once—then twice—and when she gets a good view of the recognizable dark hair and sharp features on this person, she gets up hurriedly with a small gasp.

“y/n?” she practically shrieks from surprise.

there is no fucking way nayeon had fucked her roommate, there was no way that the person who would scold her for coming home late and not doing the dishes she tried to get out of doing fucked her.

oh, but the evidence was right in front of her.

you get up quickly from the sound of her voice, almost as if someone had told you that your class would start in five minutes and you had to be there immediately. your eyes are rubbed by your large, vascular hands aggressively and hurriedly, then you blink twice and you seem to have the same horrifying realization—you rush to cover your exposed chest with the nearest pillow.

“shit,” you say, fully awake now.

the two of you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, processing the possibility that you two might’ve fucked.

the “might’ve” quickly turned into a “definitely” after seeing the dark, red marks on each others bodies and necks—they were hickeys no doubt. the hue of your guys’ cheeks rivals the marks on your bodies, crimson and flushed.

“did we fuck?” nayeon says in disbelief, looking at the dark hickeys on your (incredibly toned) shoulder.

“what the hell do you think?” you scoff, heart beating out your chest. you’re trying to keep your eyes off her, but fuck is it hard to do that when her extremely alluring body is out on display. your eyes dart around the bed to try and ignore the tempting curve of her hips down to her ass, and you spot a familiar shirt; one of the shirts that you had gotten from your university for free, and it's a little creased—probably from whatever happened last night.

nayeon looks down to her bare thighs, they’re marked.

“shit,” nayeon mumbles as she looks down, “were you hungry or something?”

your cheeks flush even more, and you might have a fever from how hot your face and body are—though her words ease the tension and nervousness flowing throughout your bodies.

“i know you’re not talking,” you retort, looking at your scratched-up back from the small mirror in her room as you put on a shirt. “it looks like a fucking lion clawed me or something.”

“do you see my legs?”

“oh shut up, i must’ve topped you so fucking good for you to have scratched half my skin off.” you groan, wincing at the sudden pain in your back (which, you can’t lie, is really hot despite the annoyance in your tone.

nayeon is glad that there’s not much awkwardness regardless of the evidence of her and her roommate fucking, and she’s a bit disappointed that she can’t remember much of the details, because she might’ve been checking you out and eyefucking you for the past month.

“whatever,” nayeon rolls her eyes. she looks you up and down; from your flushed face to your lower body. nayeon smiles to herself and moves closer to you, making your breath hitch as her eyes are overtaken with lust and mischief; she’s plotting something dangerous and you know it.

“you know, y/n.” she starts, looking at the obvious nervousness that takes over your whole body. you gulp lightly, but it’s noticeable and nayeon laughs at how adorable it is, how she already has you under her spell; she’s already seducing you and usually you’d complain, but it’s too early for this.

“what is it now?” you sigh, though it comes out uncertain and shaky due to nayeon dragging her  finger from the bottom of your neck to your jaw. a chill is present in your spine.

“it’s my birthday today,” nayeon smirks.

“and?”

“you wanna give me another present?” she says, leaning closer to you. there’s a familiar desire that runs through your body. you look from her lips back to her dilated pupils, she looks at you with need.

you laugh at her softly and decide to give in, “are you always horny?”

“are you always so stubborn?” she says with a tinge of annoyance, you’re so extra with your comments and she’s growing impatient. she just needs to have you now that she’s sober.

although you’re a bit skeptical about how this will affect your relationship, you can’t not give her a birthday present. not when she’s already naked and drawing you in like a magnet. she’s visibly been ruined by you the night before—it can’t hurt to ruin her some more, you think.

she deserves a little birthday special, maybe a couple more marks on her skin.

you roll your eyes and move to press your lips against hers, you can feel her smirking against you.