#Looking forward to see the comments though

[insidekatmind]

Shopping-Jude Bellingham

Wearning: +18,smut

It was a mild Saturday afternoon, perfect for a stroll downtown. Jude had offered to accompany you shopping, even though you were sure he was doing it more to spend time with you than out of any real interest in the stores. Not that you minded; his presence made everything more enjoyable.

You walked into a bright boutique, mirrors reflecting rows of elegant dresses. You glanced around, fascinated by the variety of colors and fabrics, while Jude leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed and a slight smile on his face.

“So, where do we start?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with amusement.

You looked at him, unsure. “I don’t know… Maybe something elegant but not too formal. Like a dress that works for a night out or a casual lunch.”

Jude nodded, stepping forward. “Alright, let’s see what we can find.”You picked up a navy-blue dress with a delicate neckline and held it up for him to see. “What do you think about this one?”

“It’s nice,” he said, tilting his head to get a better look. “But maybe a bit too simple for you. You need something that stands out more.”

You smiled, appreciating his comment. The two of you continued browsing the store, and every time you picked up a dress, he had something to say:

“Too short.”

“Too long.”

“This one looks like it’s from an old movie—not in a good way.”

Eventually, you found two options you really liked: a fitted scarlet red dress and a flowing emerald green one. Turning to him, you held both dresses up. “Now what?”

Jude burst out laughing. “Ah, here we are. The moment of great indecision. I knew this was coming.”

You looked at him, pretending to be offended. “That’s not true! I’m just trying to choose the right one.”

He rolled his eyes, still smiling. “You always take forever to pick. I’ll never understand why it’s so difficult for you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him playful. “Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure I look good.”He chuckled. “There’s no need to worry about that. Believe me, you’ll look stunning in anything you choose.”

The compliment surprised you and warmed your cheeks slightly. He glanced at you as you walked over, his eyes wandering over your frame, lingering on your curves a moment longer than necessary. His arms were still crossed, his casual pose not doing anything to quell the desire that flared through you.You sit on his lap and kiss his jaw softly. “I haven't thanked you yet for joining me shopping,” you say seductively.

He hummed, his eyes fluttering shut as your lips graze his skin. He placed his hands on your hips, holding you still above him. “It was my pleasure,” he mumbled, his grip tightening.

You smile at his words and kiss his lips. He responded quickly and his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his mouth moved against yours. He tugged on your lower lip with his teeth, coaxing a soft gasp out of you.

His strong hands were slowly roaming around your backside, tracing over the curve of your waist and down to your thighs. He pulled back, his breathing already a bit faster. “You know, it’s quite tempting to have you here, all to myself in this small room.”

You smile mischievously at his words and trace your fingers over his muscular shoulders. "From what I remember we've never done that in a dressing room."

A smirk spread across his face as he chuckled slightly. “No, we haven’t. But, I’m sure it’s something we should fix, don’t you think?” His hands pulled your hips even closer, making your legs straddle his. You bite your lip and nod.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble against the skin of your neck. His lips gently grazed over your collarbone, moving in a hot trail along your flesh. He slipped his hands under the material of your dress, teasing the skin of your thighs.

You moan softly in response so as not to attract attention. “We should hurry” you whisper hearing the voices of the girls who are waiting for the dressing room to be free.

His smirk grows wider at your words “Right, wouldn’t want anyone to walk in and find us like this,” he said with a quiet chuckle, his hands massaging into your hips. “But it’s just so hard to stop when you look this beautiful.”

“I didn't say you had to stop,” you whisper seductively, getting up off of him, undressing.

He watched you, a look of desire and want in his dark eyes as you began undressing. His hands grip the chair, tight, as if it’s the only thing keeping him from pouncing you. “You can be naughty when you want to be, love,” he murmured, his voice rough with held-back cravings.

You smile in amusement and give him a striptease while taking off your bra and thong.

He sat back and watched you, his eyes drinking up every movement of your body. His fingers were white from gripping the chair so hard, his breathing growing heavier. “God, you’re incredible,” he breathed, his gaze roaming slowly over your bare skin.

You smile mischievously and sensually approach him and begin to undress him. He leaned back, watching you with a darkened gaze as you began unbuttoning his shirt. His hands remained restrained, fingers digging into the fabric of the chair as your touch roamed over his skin. “You're teasing me, love,” he whispered, his voice growing deeper.

Your fingertips gently caressed his chest, tracing the firm planes of muscle. He let out a soft sigh as you continued to explore, taking your time as you made your way down his body. He was clearly enjoying the effect you had on him, the desire in his eyes growing with each passing second.

You kiss him sensually as you position your pussy on his cock and let it enter you. He responds hungrily, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer as you sink down onto him. His hands run up your back, holding you tight against his chest. “You’re killing me,” he mutters against your lips, his mouth then trailing hot kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

You try to moan softly as you begin to ride him. He groans against your skin, his grip on you tightening. He looks up, his eyes dark with desire and lust as he watches you riding him. “You feel incredible,” he whispers in your ear, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. His hips begin to move with you, matching your rhythm.

“so good love” you murmur as you feel Jude push into you harder. You bite his neck to keep from moaning.

He lets out a low moan at your words, and the bite on his neck sends shivers down his spine. His hands grip your hips, guiding you as he pushes up into you harder. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me”.

You try not to moan loudly as you feel his thrusts increase. “Jude” you moan holding yourself tight.

He responds instantly to the sound of his name, a primal noise rising from his chest. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours in a fierce look of desire and wanting. “Yeah, love?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper as he continues to move with you.

"I'm close" you murmur moaning. He nods at your words, his breathing heavy and irregular. “So am I,” he pants, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. “Together?” he asks, his lips finding your neck again. The heat between you is nearly scorching, the air thick with tension.

You nod, closing your eyes in pleasure. He groans as he feels you tighten around him, the sensation pushing him over crazy. “you’re squeezing my cock” Jude moans and pushes into you more.

He holds you close, his arms wrapping around you as he holds you tight against his chest. His breathing is heavy, his heart racing from the release. “God, you’re amazing,” he whispers, his face buried in your hair.

You moan and come on him and Jude comes inside you. He tightens his grip on you as he finds his release, a soft moan escaping his lips. He remains still, his head leaning against yours as he regains his breath. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing small patterns on your back.

“But we should probably clean up and get dressed before someone figures out what we did in here,” he chuckles softly, slowly shifting back.

You chuckle and nod. "yes you are right"

He grins, gently helping you off his lap and zipping up his pants. He runs a hand over his hair, trying to tame the messy spikes it had taken on. “They are definitely going to wonder what took us so long,” he says with a smirk, glancing at the clock on the wall.You smile.

He hands you your clothes, still watching you with a heated look in his eyes. “Just a shame we had to stop,” he remarks, his gaze wandering over your body as you began to get dressed

“You’re making it very difficult to behave.” he says, watching you slip the dress back over your head. “I swear, the second we get home I’m picking up where we left off.”

You smile and give him a quick but sweet kiss on the lips. "let's go come on".Jude returns the kiss with a smile of his own, his hand finding your waist. "Lead the way, love. The quicker we can get out of here, the better," he says, still watching you with dark, wanting eyes

You giggle and grab his hand, dragging him outside. Jude lets you lead him out of the store, a smile still on his face. He couldn't help but watch you, admiring the way your hair fell and how the dress clung to your figure.As you walk, he keeps a firm grip on your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. You could feel the heat between you still there, even outside the store.

God, you loved that man.

[itsnesss]

hii maybe a yandere!junho ?? I cant stop thinking about him 😩 i love your writing btw💕

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you wake up restrained in a small room, facing jun-ho, who reveals his obsessive love for you. his yandere tendencies surface as he believes he's protecting you from the world. you must navigate his dangerous devotion and find a way to escape

warnings | junho!yandere, kidnapping/restraint, psychological manipulation

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You wake up with a start, the cold floor chilling your bones. It’s hard to remember how you got here. The faint flicker of a hanging light bulb illuminates the room. It’s a small, almost claustrophobic space, with gray concrete walls. In front of you, sitting on an old metal chair, is him: Jun-ho. His dark eyes watch you with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Finally awake," he says in a serene voice, but it’s loaded with something else, something unsettling. "Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?"

You try to speak, but your throat is dry. Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"What… what’s going on?"

He smiles, and the gesture should comfort you, but there’s something strange in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

"I saved you," he replies, leaning forward. "They were going to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen."

"They? What are you talking about?" you ask, your heart pounding rapidly.

You try to move, but your wrists are tied with a thick scarf. You look at Jun-ho in disbelief.

"This… this isn’t real."

He slowly gets to his feet, brushing his hands off like he’s just finished an important task.

"Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever look at you that way again."

His voice, though soft, has a sharp edge. Memories begin to return in fragmented flashes. The last time you saw him was at the café near your workplace. He was always there, sitting at the same table with his black coffee, watching you. There was something about him that unsettled you but also intrigued you, like a mystery impossible to ignore.

"Jun-ho… why am I here?" you manage to ask, though the answer seems clear in your mind.

He leans closer, dangerously close. His warm breath brushes against your face, and you can smell the faint aroma of coffee he always carried.

"Because I love you."

The confession hits you like a punch. You instinctively recoil, but you can’t go far because of the restraints.

"Love me? This isn’t love…" you say, trying to stay calm.

His expression hardens.

"Not love?" he repeats, as if tasting the words for the first time. He paces around you, each step echoing in the small room. "Didn’t you see me? I was always there, watching over you, protecting you from all those men who didn’t deserve you."

"Jun-ho… this isn’t right. Let me go, please."

He stops behind you and places his hands on your shoulders. His touch is firm but not rough.

"Not right?" he murmurs near your ear. "Isn’t it right to want the best for the person you love?"

Your body tenses. The danger in his voice is palpable.

"If you really love me, you wouldn’t do this," you try to reason with him.

He chuckles softly, a sound that makes you tremble.

"You don’t understand. This is for you. For us. You can’t keep living in that world full of people who don’t value you. I’m the only one who can."

"It’s not your decision…" you protest, but he moves quickly in front of you, leaning down until his eyes are level with yours.

"Of course, it’s my decision. Because no one else cares as much as I do."

His gaze is so intense it feels like it could pierce your soul. His obsession is undeniable, but behind it, you see something else: pain, loneliness, desperation.

"Jun-ho, listen… you don’t have to do this. We can talk, find a solution," you say, trying to keep your voice gentle, though inside, you’re terrified.

He smiles again, but this time there’s sadness in his eyes.

"You’ve always been so kind… so understanding. But you don’t get it. If I let you go, they’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen."

"Who are they?" you ask, hoping to buy time to think of a way out.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps back a few paces, as if lost in thought. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Everyone. Everyone who tried to get close to you. Everyone who didn’t deserve you."

The air feels heavier. The idea of what he might have done to "protect" you starts to sink in.

"What did you do, Jun-ho?"

He looks at you, and for the first time, he seems vulnerable.

"What I had to."

His words are simple, but the weight behind them leaves you breathless. Your mind fills with horrible images, but you force yourself to stay composed.

"Jun-ho… let me help you. This doesn’t have to go on like this."

He shakes his head.

"I don’t need help. I’ve already done everything necessary."

You start to notice a slight tremor in his hands, as if guilt is beginning to catch up with him.

"If you really love me… trust me. Let me go, and we can figure this out together."

For a moment, it seems like your words are reaching him. He lowers his gaze, and you can see the internal struggle on his face. But then, he straightens up, and his expression hardens again.

"I can’t risk it. If I let you go, you’ll go back to that world… and I can’t allow that."

Desperation grips you. You need to find a way to make him see reason before it’s too late.

"What do you want, Jun-ho? What do you really want?" you ask, trying to keep his attention.

He steps closer again, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I just want you to be mine."

His answer feels like a sentence, and you know words won’t be enough to change his mind. But you can’t give up. Not now.

"Jun-ho, if you keep going down this path, we’ll never truly be together. This isn’t love. It’s fear."

The word seems to affect him. He takes a step back, his gaze faltering.

"Fear?" he repeats, as if trying to process it.

You nod, even though the fear in your own heart threatens to overwhelm you.

"You’re afraid of losing me. But keeping me here isn’t the solution. If you love me, trust me."

The silence that follows is unbearable. Finally, Jun-ho sighs and lowers his head.

"I don’t want to lose you…" he admits, almost in a whisper.

"You won’t," you reply, summoning all the conviction you can. "But you have to trust me."

For a moment, you think you’ve reached him. But then he lifts his gaze, and his expression is a storm of emotions.

"Fine," he finally says, with an eerie calm. "But if I let you go, promise me you’ll never abandon me."

Your heart stops. You know any wrong response could trigger something worse.

"I promise we’ll talk about this. But first, I need you to give me a chance."

Jun-ho stares at you, assessing you. Finally, he pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the ties around your wrists.

"Don’t make me regret this," he warns.

You rub your aching wrists and look at him carefully. Every move has to be calculated.

"I won’t," you respond, though your mind is already planning how to escape this place.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 4

Warnings: suggestions of death, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

You shiver as night falls. The witcher’s warmth contrasts the chill rising around you and even the horse’s steaming heat does little to soothe you. Your teeth chatter as the trees sway and rustle while hooves kick through pebbles and twigs. 

There’s a light ahead. A flickering flame, then two. The horse nor its rider falter. You rock as you canter through the silence. Not a word has passed between you. 

The man shifts. He tugs at his cloak and you turn your head to see him pull up his hood. He hides his striking white hair and brilliant eyes as he approaches the tavern. He’s probably better for it. He reins the horse to a halt and a young boy emerges from the stables. He reminds you of Marsh. 

“For the night,” the witcher hands over a silver coin. The boy takes it along with the reins. 

The witcher slides off the other side of the horse and brings you down by your waist. He sets you steady and faces the glowing windows of the tavern. You’ve never been to one, though your mother told tales of drunken men and rowdy bandits. 

He nudges you as he starts forward. You walk at his side, stiff from the saddle and the days pent up in the barn. As you approach the door, he steps ahead of you and opens it. He waits for you to enter first. Across from the entrance, a wooden table stands, and a man slouches forward with his head on his bent arms, snoring. 

The witcher sighs and moves around you. You hover by his arm as the voices of men stir in the next chamber. You glance through the open archway and meet a few leers in your direction. One of the figures points quiet uncouthly and another cranes to grin at you. 

“A room.” The witcher demands and plunks down a coin on the wood. 

The innkeep lurches up with a snort and nearly overturns the chair, “Hrkkk, oh, a room?” He clears his throat and grabs a wooden stein to spit into it. “Aye,” he looks at the coin beneath the witcher’s fingers, “might do for that.” 

Your escort rescinds his hand and nods, staying under his hood. He grabs your arm, startling you as you quiver against the gaze of the men at their cups. He turns and sends a growl in their direction before he follows the stocky inkeep. 

You climb the stairs a step behind him. Down the hall, at the end, a key passes between their hands. The witcher grunts and reaches to his belt. He brings out another coin. 

“A bath.” 

The shorter man accepts the coin then offers his own grimy glance at you as he departs. You shift closer to the cloaked man. Your husband... though no vows were taken. 

He hauls you inside and slams the door. You wince at the crack of wood. He drops the keys beside the copper basin on the table. You twist your hands around each other like a nervous squirrel and watch him. 

He unties his cloak and pushes down the hood. He looms like a shadow near the window. There’s a cut above his cheek you didn’t see before. He removes his gauntlets and runs his hands over his hair. He tugs at the tangles there. 

There’s a knock at the door. He peers over then gestures at you. He puts his hood up again and turns his back to the chamber. You open the latch for the tavern servants. They enter with steaming cauldrons. They poor each into the deep tub at the heart of the space. 

You linger by the door as they mill in and out with their boiled buckets. When the tub is full, you thank them but have nothing else to offer. You shut the door and grind the latch into place. 

As you turn, he hangs his cloak. You stay by the door as he unbuttons his black jacket and puts it over his cloak. He strips off his linen shirt and drapes it from the bedpost before he sits on the mattress. You stare at his thick arms and bulging chest. There’s a cut across the top of his chest, a short gash, but darkened by the bruising around it. 

You look around and grab a piece of cloth from next to the basin. You dip it in the tub and wring it out. You near him as he unties his boot, one foot propped on his knee. As you reach for him, he flinches and flashes his pale eyes at you. 

You recoil and show the cloth defenselessly. 

“I only mean to clean your wounds,” you explain. 

He stares at you and his eyes narrow. He eases and puts his foot to the floor, pushing his shoulders square. You cautiously step closer and put the cloth softly to his chest. As you drag it across the cut, he lets out a slow breath. You do the same, only realising then you’d been holding it in. 

[impish-baby]

A few glimpses into 'both arms cradle you now' reader's childhood in no particular order

"Why do birds suddenly appear evertime you are near.." The wet tears running down your cheeks are gently brushed away, whatever nightmare plaguing your sleep seems so far away now that your dad is here. "Just like me, they long to be close to you.." Damien hoists you into his arms, still humming that familiar lullaby as he carries you to the kitchen.

"Why do stars fall from the sky every time you walk by.." You're set on top of the counter, Damien ruffling your hair softly before walking over to the fridge to fetch a carton of milk. "Just like me.. they long to be.. close to you.." The warm glow of the stove makes the quiet night more cozy, the shadows along the walls retreating as well as any lingering fear.

You can feel you eyes start to droop, a small yawn leaving your lips making the man chuckle fondly. "One sec, ok? Daddy has some angel milk for you so you don't have anymore bad dreams, then we'll get you tucked back into bed."

-

"Do you want to hold him, sweetie?" Not really, but a nudge to your shoulder has you taking a reluctant step forward anyway. You're not sure how to feel about him, he's your dad's but not your mom's.

Mary scoots over a little so you can climb up on the hospital bed next to her, a tired but kind smile on her face. "Here, it's ok, you just need to make sure you're supporting his head.." She helps guide your arms into the right position, placing the tiny buddle into them, a pair of equally tiny disgruntled blue eyes soon staring up at you.

When you were first told that your stepmom was pregnant, you tried really really hard to just be happy for them. You promise. The sinking dread never went away though, no matter how much you berated yourself for feeling that way.

Babies are a blessing, but the announcement only cemented the fact that the world as you knew it was ending. Your dad isn't just your dad anymore. Even then, he hasn't acted like one to you in a while. Maybe you were just denying the inevitable.

"Ohh, I think he likes you.." Mary's head rests on your shoulder suddenly, distracting you from your sullen thoughts. "See? You're a natural with little ones!"

"He's glaring at me.."

She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as she sits up. "No, he's just getting used to the world, darling. He loves you, he knows he has the best older sibling he could ask for."

-

"What's even the point?" You're both supposed to be sleeping even though it isn't a school night, Aunt Lisa is strict when it comes to things like that. What she doesn't know won't hurt her though.

"Because they look cool," Avery shrugs, carful of the fact you're currently snuggled under one of his arms. "And you get bragging points for catching them." You still don't get it, they're the same thing just a different color. "You've watched me play for like an hour, and now you're bored?"

"You were actually doing stuff before.." You huff, "You've been going around in a circle for fifteen minutes."

You scoff at his comment, now filled with spite to actually beat the game. You've barely moved an inch before the battle music plays, a black and purple pumpkaboo greeting you. "Oh, um..

"I

Well, excuse me," Avery sniffs playfully, "You play since I'm not entertaining enough." The console is handed over to you, the older boy simply holding you closer. "I bet you lose the first match you try."

"Huh?" Avery sighs, quickly pouting when he looks back at the screen. "Seriously? Damm, you're lucky." He pokes your cheek, "You catch it for me and I'll buy you some fries tomorrow."

-

"You're so annoying!"

With how hard you hit the ground, you know you're going to bruise. You weren't even talking, you just wanted to hang out with them.

"Seriously, who even wanted you to come over? I sure didn't!" No matter what you do, Lizzie doesn't like you. Doesn't matter if you're as friendly as can be or give her some space, you're always doing something wrong. "You're wasting good air, you know?"

"M' sorry, didn't mean to bother you." You won't cry, you're too old for that. "Liz-"

"You didn't mean to? Yeah, right!" Lizzie scoffs, kicking dirt into your face. Dust immediately stings your eyes. "You're a pest! No wonder everyone calls you bug, you're clingy like a tick, a parasite."

Your feeble attempt to rub the dirt away isn't really helping, you can barely hold your eyes open enough to look up at her. Miles isn't going to do anything to help either, silently supporting his sister.

"No wonder your dad left you! And your mom, she must be insufferable if you're her kid-"

You don't know when you managed to get up on your feet or when you grabbed a handful of Lizzie's hair. On the bright side, it makes her shut up.

"Hey!"

Your dad emerges from the house, miles trailing behind him. Of course.

"What has gotten into you?" You've let the older girl go at this point, she wasn't even crying until he came outside.

"Ow, dad.." Lizzie hides behind Damien, flashing you a smirk. "I wasn't even doing anything and they decided to be mean.."

Any inking of doubt you had evaporates in an instant. You don't have a dad anymore, you haven't in years.

"God.." He crosses his arms, the stern look would have made you wince if you weren't already shaking. "Don't even try to give me any excuses, Miles told me what happened. You can wait out here for your mom to pick you up since you can't behave yourself. I thought you knew better."

-

"Can you at least try to eat half, please?"

Your plate sits almost entirely untouched, having just been picked at over the course of dinner. Your mom's worried frown won't leave her face. "You're still a growing kid, I don't like how many meals you've tried to skip."

"I'm not hungry." You really aren't, there's always a nauseous feeling in your gut these days. "I'll eat a snack later, don't worry, mom."

"Baby.." She pinches the bridge of her nose and you feel a pang of guilt for how stressed she must be. "Please? For mommy? Or at least talk to me about what's going on.. i- it hurts seeing you so sad all the time."

What are you supposed to say to that?

Against your will, there's tears starting to drip down your cheeks. You don't think you've ever seen the women move so fast, her chair clattering to the floor in her rush to go to your side. "Oh, my baby.."

"I- I'm sorry.." For what you don't know, maybe the fact that she's stuck with you. "I- I'm so sorry, mom-"

"Oh, hush.." You're too big for her to carry, you both know, but she still scoops you into her arms. "There's nothing in the world you need to apologize to me for."

You sniffle, tucking your head under her chin. "I- I don't want to see dad anymore.. or.. or hear about him or-"

"Shhh.." She runs a hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you, "you don't have to, alright? We'll figure it out. If that's what you want, you won't ever have to see him again."

(a/n: some ramblings while I start writing the second part to the series..reader will continue to go through it)

[starglitterz]

♡ YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME!

what was meant to be a simple heist goes awry when you're interrupted by a shockingly cute security guard & a couple of rival art thieves. did you mention that one of them is kind of your ex?

✧ feat ; ayato, childe, diluc, scaramouche x gn!reader (3.6k words)

✧ warnings ; highly suggestive, thief + cop au, robbery, weapons, reader is a tease, one (1) ginger insult, reader loves bullying men (as they should)

✧ a/n ; be gay do crime that's all i have to say! jk HJSDSJD this has been rotting in my drafts for almost THREE years. i reread it and the writing style was so unserious that i suddenly got motivated to continue it and then i finished it in a night. Yeah. anyways this is my #grandcomeback and also first post of 2025! i really hope you all enjoy this :> if it flops i will cry myself to sleep /j btw this was proofread by the loml @musings-of-miss-j who has a SUPERB harbingers series that u should totally check out 🙂‍↕️😋

please reblog with comments ! it helps a lot :)

"hey! you there!" a baritone voice behind you yells, shattering the midnight peace of the museum and jolting you out of your reverie. tightening your grip around the gleaming purple gnosis you came here for, you slip it into your pocket quickly before turning around with a smile that would assure anybody of your innocence. "who? little old me?" you bat your eyes, blinking slowly at the man. your eyes have long adjusted to the darkness, so even with his similarly coloured outfit you're able to pick out the faded gold badge at his chest reading 'diluc'. "what are you doing back here?" his tone doesn't change in the slightest as he flicks his flashlight over to you, the beam practically blinding against the dark surroundings. 

"it appears that i've gotten lost," you laugh awkwardly, doing your best to feign being a naive tourist, "i was told that there were late tours offered at the teyvat museum." diluc still looks exceedingly suspicious, and as his gaze travels behind you your mind snaps into overdrive so he doesn't notice the missing artifact. suddenly bursting into tears, you run forward and bury your face in his shirt, "i! was! so! scared!" you punctuate each word with an even louder wail and he freezes beneath you, the close contact entirely unexpected. "there, there…" he pats your back with the enthusiasm and warmth of a polar ice cap, and with your face hidden in the fabric you permit yourself a triumphant smile - you've managed to divert his attention for now, at least.

"i am so terribly sorry about this," you begin to apologise profusely before looking up at him with teary eyes, "but would you mind walking me to the exit? i'm afraid i'll get lost again." at his hesitant expression you sniffle loudly, exaggerating it as much as possible until he caves, "fine. but stay close, there's been rumours floating around about artifact thieves lately." when he starts marching away, you hurry to catch up and ask curiously as if you aren't one of them, "artifact thieves?!" "yes. the type to steal priceless elements of history and sell them on the black market," he spits with disgust in his eyes. "oh, how terrible! i can't understand why anyone would do that instead of leaving them here for the public to enjoy," you gush, "surely there are other ways to make money." 

yeah, you could become an art thief instead. not that you haven't tried that; you just found it too tedious to craft a believable enough fake and ensure the painting wasn't damaged while sneaking it out. diluc doesn't deign to reply besides a single nod of his head, and you try to start up another conversation, "i suppose you're not the type to befriend random visitors, huh?" the corner of his lips tug up into a barely perceptible smile, "only the ones who appear after closing hours." "can't you make an exception for me?" you wink, though you doubt he can even see it through the darkness blanketing the museum. "hmph," is the only answer you receive, and your chit-chat ends with a dramatic sigh from your end.

to be frank, you couldn't care less whether this ‘diluc’ likes you or not. it's just in your best interests for him to remember you as some flirty ditz who'd leave their head at home if it wasn't screwed on and not a calculating, manipulative burglar. this heist is one to remember for sure though, you don't think you've ever escaped with the goods in your pocket while talking to the security guard on duty. you've knocked them out beforehand and slept with them after, but never during the job, so tonight marks a first for you. 

through your eyelashes, you glance at diluc, absorbing every detail about him in a split second; it's a trick you've learned from years of living on the street where figuring out who's going to hurt you and who won't is crucial for survival. he's pretty enough that you wouldn't mind spending the night with him, with fiery red locks tied neatly into a high ponytail and crimson eyes which sparkle like rubies. perhaps you could make this a double heist and steal his heart too!

your train of thought is interrupted as diluc comes to a halt without warning and you bump into his back (which you note is surprisingly toned). "what-" you start to complain, but he holds a hand up which silences you immediately. "i heard something," he whispers, practically inaudible, and you instantly start to babble, "what?! are they artifact thieves?! are we going to die?!" diluc groans before grabbing you and hiding behind a wall, pulling you flush against his torso as one of his gloved hands covers your mouth, "shut up." 

now this is close contact; you can feel the quick rise and fall of his chest, his racing heartbeat, and his every muscle tensing in preparation for a fight. if you weren't so preoccupied with the fact that this is delaying your getaway, you'd probably make a stupid quip. actually scratch that, you're going to do it anyway, "at least take me on a date first," you mumble as you shrug away his hand, and he looks at you with the most disbelieving expression, "you can still make idiotic comments in a situation like this? you've either got nerves of steel or you're a total dumbass." "depends on your type," you smile, and he drags a palm down his face exasperatedly, "i- you know what, never mind."

"ow!" "shut the fuck up, idiot. it's bad enough that i had to get paired with you, but if you get us caught i'm going to kill you." "rude. you could just ask nicely." "i have no interest in talking to you." "yet here we are." "can you seriously keep quiet? i'm telling the tsaritsa never to put me in a team with you again." "aw, stop, you'll hurt my feelings." "do you even have any of those left?" "hey! i'll have you know i am a very emotional person." "that's like me saying i'm an upstanding member of society."

you freeze in diluc's arms, running through every curse word in every language you know in your mind. you'd recognise those two voices anywhere. out of all the nights the fatui could have been planning a robbery, it had to be tonight?! archons, your luck is awful. "okay, this has been fun and all, but i've got to go," you start wriggling out of his embrace, planning to smash a window and escape because you'd honestly risk getting caught by the cops instead of the fatui. "what?! are you insane?! there are obviously two robbers there," diluc whisper-shouts, brows furrowing in a peculiar mix of confusion and worry. "and i'd prefer not to die, so i'm going to leave before they come here!" you retort, continuing to slide out of his arms. however, he doesn't relax his grip and you roll your eyes before elbowing him in the stomach. the sudden attack surprises him and he lets go with a groan, which is more than enough time for you to make a break for it.

unfortunately, diluc delayed you long enough that you end up running right into the two fatui members' line of vision. "wait, who are you?!" one of them asks, and the other one continues, "turn around, or i'll shoot you right now." fuck, is all you can think as you slowly rotate to face them with a sheepish smile, perhaps they wouldn't recognise you. "hey, aren't you y/n?!" well, there goes that plan. "no…? who's that?" "nah, you definitely are," the ginger walks towards you slowly before tilting your chin up to face him with his index finger. the game's up, so you sigh, "hey, childe... it's been a while." 

"i knew it was you! i'd know that pretty face of yours anywhere," he beams gleefully, and you smirk, "you still find me pretty? never knew you had a thing for criminals." "i do, it's my fatal flaw," he frowns before continuing, "except when they steal my money, in which case they become my enemies instead." double fuck. he still remembers that. "it wasn't that much! just about ten million mora or so, i know you've got tons left where that came from," you hurry to defend yourself. "that's not the point! the point is that you stole my money after i oh-so-kindly let you stay in my house!" childe says, and you're not taking this one lying down, "liar! you invited me over after you saw me at the bar!"

"can you both shut up? i'm losing braincells just listening to this shit," scaramouche cuts in, rolling his eyes so far back you swear they're going to get stuck that way. "really? because when you opened your mouth i think my iq just dropped by 10 points," you retort. scaramouche gapes at you for a second, clearly not used to someone talking back to him. "take a picture, it'll last longer," you wink, feeling the situation slide itself back into your grasp once more; you aren't planning on going down without a fight. "i don't have a kamera, and anyway who wants photos of dead people?" he fumbles for a reply and childe snickers, "cat got your tongue, scara?" "more like y/n's got your wallet," the balladeer jabs back, a smug grin curving his lips at the witty reply. childe's eyes widen at the insult, "hey! i'll have you know that i gave it to them willingly-"

taking advantage of the argument between the two of them, you unhook a rope from your waist and toss it up to the skylight. you're in the common center area of the museum, which has a square gap up to the roof and offers you a perfect shot for your hook to sail upwards and catch at the ledge. the instant you press a button the cord retracts, pulling you up with it. "and now y/n's getting away! so long, suckers!" you cheer as you zip upwards. "isn't that my line?!" you hear scaramouche yell as they scramble to find a way after you. seconds before you slam into the window like an unfortunate bug, you pull out a gun and shoot the glass, watching with glee as a spiderweb of cracks forms across it. thanks to the momentum of you gliding through the air, your boots easily smash through it when you kick harshly as you reach it, and you land with a loud thud on the roof. "ouch," you groan, "that's going to leave a bruise tomorrow." glancing at your surroundings, you inhale the fresh night air stained with the smog from all the polluting factories and listen to the buzz of the highways, busy even past midnight, "nothing like the city."

just then, you hear a thump behind you, and then a deep voice that sounds strangely familiar, "you'll be admiring it from a prison window after this." you spin around sharply, and the sight nearly makes you fall off the edge of the building with surprise, "diluc?!" at this, he freezes, and it's evident that he thought his disguise would be more than enough to conceal his identity. with a cough, he says, "no, i'm the darknight hero." "no, you're clearly diluc. i just met you like fifteen minutes ago and even i can recognise your hair in that stupid suit, it practically glows," you fold your arms over your chest, making idle conversation while your mind races to come up with an idea to save yourself. "my suit isn't stupid," diluc can't stop himself from defending his outfit, just because he had barely any sewing skills did not give you the right to insult the piece of clothing. "it's literally a mask and a black coat." 

"back to the matter at hand," diluc- sorry, the darknight hero, clears his throat loudly, clearly eager to change the topic, "you're under arrest." "oh yeah? since when are you a cop?" "i'm not." "then you obviously don't have the power to arrest me, idiot." smarting from yet another insult, diluc tries his best to maintain his composure, "i meant that i'm going to take you in to the police station and then you'll be under arrest." "should have just said that," you shrug, and you can almost see diluc fighting to rein his temper in - this is too easy.

"okay, well, this actually hasn't been fun at all, so i'm leaving," you turn around again and stroll away, hoping that there'll be a ladder on the edge of the roof. you don't really see a diluc as a threat, because to be honest he seems more like a kid playing dress-up. what kind of self-respecting adult who cared as much for the law as he did would choose to be a vigilante? maybe if he got a better costume you could take him seriously. and that turned out to be a huge mistake on your part, because the next moment, a lasso whizzes through the air and loops around your ankles, quickly pulling into a deadknot that would take you ages to untie. 

you want to throw a tantrum, crying and stomping your feet at diluc, but what good would that do when this issue sprung from your own cockiness? "listen, how much do you want? i'll give it to you, any amount. i know how much security guards make, and trust me, it'll be nothing compared to what i could give you," the words spill out of your mouth in a jumble, and you seem to take on the role of a confident salesman selling a product you know is worthless. it's embarrassing how much this sounds like a plea. "i don't want money. i want the streets and artifacts of teyvat to be safe from people like you," diluc ignores your further attempts at bribing him, although he does give you a strange look when you offer up a kiss, as if he's genuinely considering it. does this man actually get no bitches?

“ah, a kiss, hm? is that what you want?” you lean forward almost desperately, grinning at him like a maniac, “c’mon, mr darknight hero! i promise i’m a really good kisser~” you lick your lips as if to prove your point, and your smirk deepens when his ruby gaze follows the motion. “just give me a second to touch up my lipstick, ‘kay?” while he’s still stunned from your offer, you fumble in your pocket and pull out a taser. diluc only snaps back into action when he sees the weapon clutched in your hands, and though he dodges, you manage to stumble forward without your bound ankles and ram the buzzing probes into his chest. 

a strange noise, a mixture of a whimper and a groan escapes his throat as he falls to his knees in front of you, body twitching like a dying bug. rummaging in his pockets, you find a knife and giggle as you slice through the ties on your legs, “see? this is why it’s always great to have men on their knees for you. i forgot my knife today, so i hope you’ll be okay with me borrowing this.” as he glares at you through blurry vision, a mockingly pitiful smile curves your lips and you pat his head like you’re petting an overzealous guard dog, “now be a good boy and stay here, okay, diluc? ah, sorry, i mean mr darknight hero!” dipping your head, you press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, relishing in his flustered gasp, “i’ll give you a proper kiss next time~” you burst into laughter and skip off, leaving him tied up and blushing with the same restraints he had used on you. 

“why is this stupid place so big?!” you mutter to yourself as you whiz across the rooftop. the museum is under renovation, so a lot of the walls of the rear wing are covered in scaffolding and tarp that only serve to slow you down as you try to escape. you’re seriously regretting being a cheapskate earlier and not parking at the official parking lot, instead you had hid your getaway car almost a kilometre away from the location just to avoid a parking fee. don’t judge! things like this are how rich people stay rich. but just as you’re skidding across the glass-roofed observatory, you hear a familiar voice behind you. 

“not so fast, thief.”

you groan as exaggeratedly as you can, making a big show of how troublesome it is for you to turn around, “hello again, childe. hat guy.” “my name is scaramouche!” he seethes, scowling at you with a glare furious enough to thaw antarctica. “listen, y/n,” childe steps forward, raising both hands in magnanimous surrender, “let’s make a deal.” “not interested.” you stick your tongue out, slowly backing away. childe continues as if he didn’t hear you, but the twitch in his brow is enough to give away his act, “you give us the gnosis, and i’ll forget all about the money you owe me.” “i don’t owe you, genius,” you scoff, “i stole it. i’m obviously not going to repay it.” “you really are an idiot,” scaramouche massages his temples, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth than here at this moment.

“well!” childe puffs himself up, pretending that his ego isn’t hurt, “i thought you and i had chemistry, y’know? we could hang out again if you just give me the gnosis.” his voice drops an octave lower to emphasise his last few words, and you feel a familiar shiver up your spine. “childe, we slept together once, and sleeping with a ginger was not one of my proudest moments,” you retort, though you feel a twinge of guilt as childe fusses with his hair, “hey! uncalled for!” to be honest, he’s not wrong. the two of you did have chemistry, and the night you spent together was… well, let’s just say you could barely walk the next day. but dating isn’t your style, especially not when it’s someone who belongs to a rival group in the world of art theft. you  prefer one night stands – it’s easier to keep things simple with no strings attached. 

“just give us the gnosis, and we won’t kill you. is that a better deal?” scaramouche interrupts, evidently tired of childe beating around the bush. “scara! i was this close to getting them to crack!” childe pouts, and scaramouche rolls his eyes heavenward – if there was ever a time for him to believe in the gods, it would be now as he prays for mercy from his partner’s stupidity. “you’re cracked in the head if you think so,” scaramouche drags a palm down his face and sighs, “you only think with your dick.” “what?!” childe’s aghast at this accusation, “that’s not true!” “i think it is.” you helpfully supply, and that draws both men’s attention back to you.

“whatever! just hand us the gnosis, and things won’t get messy.” childe withdraws his blades, and you realise he’s finally getting serious. scaramouche steps closer as well, and you can’t move backwards anymore, you’re already teetering on the ledge. a fall from this height definitely wouldn’t leave you in the best condition. it’s too early for you to die, you haven’t even seen your favourite artist live yet! “fine. you want it?” you pull the gnosis out from your pocket and a wicked smirk graces your features, “then come and get it~!” you toss the item up in the air, letting the way it sparkles in the moonlight speak for itself as you lean backwards and salute, “see you on the other side, losers!” 

with that, you fall off the roof while scaramouche and childe fumble to catch the gnosis.

“hey! that dumbass!” childe rushes to the edge to check on you, only to realise that… you aren’t there?! contrary to what he expected, your bloody corpse isn’t lying there. you’re climbing down the scaffolding like a monkey, weaving in and out of the metal bars until you reach the ground. looking back up at him, childe thinks he can make out a final playful wink before you hop into a black car that’s just pulled up at the back. behind him, scaramouche yells, “childe!” “what is it now, balladeer- what?!” the gnosis is shattered on the stone roof, shards of purple and silver gleaming in a manner that almost seems taunting. “it was a fucking fake!” scaramouche yells, kicking the broken pieces furiously, and childe can’t stop the lovestruck expression that plays across his face, “y/n really is a master thief…” “snap out of it, idiot! what are we going to tell the boss?!”

meanwhile, you’re in the passenger seat of an inconspicuous black car, chuckling to yourself as you toy with the real gnosis. “you’re lucky i told you to bring more than one imitation,” a suave voice sounds from the driver’s seat, “and that i was there to save you.” “thank you, oh great master ayato,” you giggle, pretending to bow, “you’re a lifesaver. literally.” he smirks, gloved fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel, “you could have been in and out. you just like playing too much.” “hey!” you whine dramatically, “it’s not my fault the security guard was so cute!” “hmm…” he reaches out and tilts your chin to face his piercing blue eyes, “don’t say stuff like that or i’ll get jealous, you know?” “s-shut up.” you pout, folding your arms across your chest and turning away to look out the window, “just drive, you blue-haired weirdo.” “that’s no way to talk to your boss now, is it?” he laughs goodnaturedly as the two of you speed away, “i just wish i could be there to see the look on captain wriothesley’s face when he realises it was us again.” 

© starglitterz 2025. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[siri-ike]

(I put the painting at the bottom so you have to read if you want to see it)

Some encouraging comments, reblogs, and the occasional fanart. Danny's notifications were predictable and comforting. People really appreciated his work, and he loved to see it. The fanart was usually posted publicly, though, and so he rebloged them ofcorse.

But, what's the right reaction when someone d.m.s you a picture of an intricate and very personal looking portrait of a boy who looks a lot like you, in black and white on one side and red and ghostly green shrouded in darkness on the other?

The two separate mediums were incredibly impressive, but was this a threat? Did someone find out who he was? And find out about Phantom?? Well, Danny is no coward, so he replied.

What kind of Addams Family shinaniganary is this?

TheBloodSon was apparently 15 years old, same as Danny, so why is he responding to him in poetic cuplets? Poems, mind you, that also kind of sound like threats. Yet endearing at the same time. They had the general vibe of "if I can't have you, no one can."

And Danny's not falling for that a third time.

● ● ●

Anyway.

Danny fell for that a third time.

TheBloodSon 's real name was Damian. He didn't wanna reveal a last name, and surprisingly, he didn't wanna know Danny's either. Something about not wanting an oricle to find him. Not that it would matter since Danny didn't have a legal identity anyway.

It went on that way for months, until one day.

Sent 18:47

TheBloodSon: I am skilled in bloodshed, but know less of emotion. With great caution, i tread, to confess my devotion.

In one week's time, a ball is planned. Will you attend? Holding my hand?

Read 18:53

Danny didn't know how to react. This was such a big leap. Sure, they knew eachothers interests, hobbies, talents, and how anoying echothers families were. But meeting in person? At an event of some sort? From what he'd heard/read, Damiens family regularly went to big rich people parties. With fancy clothes, and got ambushed by reporters and/or costumed villains. Usually both. Should he bring a thermos? Does he know about Phantom?

Sent 16:14

AstroBoi13: Which ball? My uncle might be going.

TheBloodSon: The Wayne charity gala. Anyone who makes a donation can go, but you don't have to if you are my guest.

AstroBoi13: it's not that I don't trust you or anything, but I think I'd rather have someone I already know and a way to get back home.

TheBloodSon: Understood, I look forward to seeing you.

18:18

AstroBoi13: I talked to him, we'll be there.

TheBloodSon: Exelent, your presence will be dually noted.

Read 18:20

Damian would be shaking with excitement, were he not highly trained to control such urges. But there was something more to it this time. More than an urge to flap his arms about, more than wanting to run a few laps. He wanted to... tell someone? That can't be right.

Damian could resist the first day. Five more, and he'd be golden. On the second day, however, the urge got stronger. Usually, he could just smother it, and it went away. But it wasn't going away.

He didn't even want to brag or rub it in someone's face. It was a different need. He wanted someone to be exited with him. The thought of Grayson congratulating him on making a normal friend, followed, of course, by far too much touching. He pictured Stephanie "hyping him up," as she says, and it tied his stomach in the best way. He imagined how all his "family members" would react. Multiple outcomes for each of course. And by far, the most consistent was Cassandra. So that's who he could tell if it came to that.

On the third day, he started to falter. And in a house full of detectives, the slightest hint is enough. He was aware of this and had acted accordingly. Unfortunately, he had once again underestimated the butler.

On the fifth day, Pennyworth caught him pacing in the library and moving his hands in a fanning motion. He had thought, maybe allowing himself this would help him stay quiet. But he still wanted so badly to divulge.

"Master Damian, are you alright?"

Damian stopped abruptly. He pretends as though he hadn't just been displaying the most obvious signs of secrecy. The league taught him better than this.

"I, am, great." Oh, good job, that was very convincing.

Pennyworth, of course, did not fall for this.

"If something is on your mind, I will gladly lend an ear. And if not, might I suggest pacing in front of the bookshelves instead, so the wind might clear the dust." He retorted with his usual, frivolous jokes.

"My affairs are none of your concern."

"Then perhaps you may speak aloud to the library while I clean."

Pennyworth's notions on "telling people how you feel" were as pointless as all his opinions. Had it rubbed off on him? Is he the reason Damian feels this need to talk about Danny. So much that the idea of telling someone made his heart flutter and his breath quicken.

Damian turned his head toward the butler. Paying close attention to his body language while keeping his own face out of view. "You must promise not to tell anyone."

Alfred just kept dusting the bookshelves, never even looking at Damian. "I give you my word. Anything you say stays between us." He placed his hand on his chest, but he still didn't look Damians way.

Pennyworth has no history of being deceitful. At least not towards them.

"I, I invited someone to the galla on Thursday... We have not met before." Confessing felt good, like he'd been holding up a large weight, and now he was finally relaxing his arms. He could feel a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And I find myself concerned whether he will like me in person. Or if he will even show up." Where did that come from? Of course, he'll show up. Why wouldn't he?

Damian sat down on one of the couches. "He didn't want to go as my guest. He said he would ask his uncle to take him, but what if he was lying. What if he just doesn't want to see me. What if I already scared him off?" That was it, not just a weight. A giant lead ball just got removed from his stomach.

Alfred stopped cleaning. "This boy, is he your age?"

"Yes, he's fourteen." Damian leaned his arms on his knees.

"How do you know each other?" He turned his head towards Damian.

Damian avoided eyecontact. "We send messages over the internet."

"For how long?" He put down his duster and stepped closer.

"Seven months." He's going to be in trouble for sure. Inviting a stranger to the manor? What was he thinking?

Alfred was only a few feet away. "In these seven months, has he shown to be the kind of person who would stand you up?"

Damian thought for a moment. "No." Guilt, remorse, how could he think so little of his friend? Damian felt Alfred's hand on his back and, for once, didn't fight it.

"If he shows up, you'll get to meet each other in person. If he doesn't, then it'll be just another gala. You've survived those before." He assured with his typical dramatics.

On the sixth day, four hours before the early guests would start to arrive, Damian was at the tailor getting his suit (he got it adjusted every other week due to his current growth rate). Jebadiah "Bread" Carlson was nice to spend time with. He was always calm and rather monotone. Damian found comfort in his demeanor. Sometimes, he would stay there longer than he needed, and he'd even learned how to properly mend a stabwound on multiple materials. Mother would surely not approve. This was one of those days. He came up with excuses to stay longer like he always did, and Bread talked about his granddaughters' first steps, stitching techniques, and the camps. He was soothing to listen to. Before Damian knew it, three and a half hours had passed, and Jayson was there to pick him up.

18:18

AstroBoi13: I talked to him, we'll be there

TheBloodSon: Exelent, your presence will be dually noted.

Read 18:20

This is fine.

This is fine.

The fruit loop didn't even ask for much. Which was super out of character. He's definitely planning something. But it'll be fine.

Day one went... by, for Danny. His hands clamed up so much that he lost count of how often he washed them. His stomach felt queezy. Not in a sick kind of way, more like, ate too many boiled eggs kind of way, but slightly to the left of that, ya'know?

Unfortunately, he, Dani, and Dan (long story) got stuck in the triassic period along with Ember, Young Blood, and Box Ghost (longer story) for nine full months. The eyeballs wanted to send him home nine months later than he'd disappeared but there was absolutely no way he was skipping all the way to the start of a semester right after not only finishing one but also forgetting everything he'd learned in school. The thing is, Danny's human form had aged by nine months. His ghost form, on the other hand, was exactly the same as it had always been. So Clockwork was able to convince the council, through witchcraft or something, to let him go back to the right time period as long as he stays in his ghost form until his peers are the same age as he is.

OK, great. He can do that. As long as his parents don't go ghost hunting or turn on the ghost shields or he gets knocked out or sleep freezes something or a dozen other things that could happen. He'll deal with it when something inevitably goes wrong.

Somehow, his parents bought the "bleached hair" excuse and didn't even notice his eyes. Jazz helped, of course, but the real challenge came knocking at their door 4 days later in the form of Vlad calling about his suit preferences. That was when panic set in. They were leaving now. Staying the night at a hotel in Gotham because the gala is at 15:00 and according to Vlad, etiquette states they have to come an hour or two early since he was invited by one of the hosts. What do you mean one of the hosts? Damian invited him.

Well, apparently, Damian wasn't just a rich kid. He was the rich kid. Damian Wayne Al-Ghul, all the articles Danny had frantically looked up during the private jet trip seemed to agree that he was either a spoiled short fused brat with a soft spot for animals, or a dead faced con artist who was only taking advantage of Bruce Wayne's tendency to keep every child that crossed his path. The second category also seemed to sing the same song about Cassandra Wayne and Duke Thomas Wayne. Danny just assumed those were the racist tabloids and wrote them off. Especially after seeing a clip of Bruce Wayne puncing one of their "reporters".

Danny then reread all their messages. How he had presented himself mattered, a lot, more than how magazines saw him. After all, Danny knows what it's like to be misrepresented by the media.

Their hotel room was as fancy as he expected. Infact "room" was an understatement. It was a spacious living room with two bedrooms connected to it. Danny's temporary hotel bedroom was bigger than his permanent bedroom at home. Not as big as his, Dani's, or Dan's (he's like 11 now, seriously long story) rooms at Vlads mansion. And deffinetly not like their rooms at the Cheese Castle. But still ridiculously hoighty. All for the low price of pretending to be Vlads son in front of some rich people.

It was kind of nice sharing a room with the other two. Even back home, he never really had to share his bedroom for non emergency reasons. And in these forms (Dani also had to stay ghost and Dan didn't have a human form), they looked more like Vlads kids than His parents'.

10:02

TheBloodSon: At what time will you be here?

AstroBoi13: my uncle wants to bring us by at 2 30 or 2

TheBloodSon: You and who else?

AstroBoi13: Dani and Dan they are 13 and 11 but they can do theyr own thing

TheBloodSon: Are they your siblings or your cousins?

AstroBoi13: kind of

TheBloodSon: perhaps that will be better discussed in person.

Read 10:12

Damian hated greeting the guests, but this time, he didn't complain. It no longer mattered if Father became suspicious because soon he would ask to leave his side. One by one, people arrived. He stared down every limousine that entered their courtyard, and each one disappointed. At 14:36, he wondered if he might have missed their arrival. He was pretty sure Danny was actually Daniel Fenton from Amity Park, son of the Doctors Jack and Madeleine Fenton, and that the "uncle" He had mentioned was Vladius Masters. He couldn't find anything on Dani and Dan, but he had chalked that up to lack of time. Just then, Damian recognized the limo driving in. Anthony and his parents are here.

"Father, may I be excused, I have matters to attend."

"What kind of matters?" Father looked over to the limo approaching and cought on. "Right, I see."

Damian went back in, but rather than staying in the ballroom, where he would eventually be ambushed by Anthony and forced to waste hours hearing about the latest prank videos and "seacret gaming rooms," he went all the way to Father's office before he pulled out his phone.

14:41

TheBloodSon: Where are you?

AstroBoi13: were almost ther Dan threw a tantrum and it slowed us down a bit two minuts promise

TheBloodSon: When you get here, don't go into the ballroom. I'll sneak you away.

AstroBoi13: ??

TheBloodSon: There's an anoying classmate there. I would prefer to avoid him.

Read 14:48

14:59

AstroBoi13: at the gates now

TheBloodSon: Copy

Read 14:59

At 15:03, Damian made it to the front door, just in time to see a very tall, very pale man walk in, followed by a small boy with blueish white hair and sickly white skin, after him was a slightly taller girl, who also had white hair, still pale but not as much as the boy, and behind her was Danny Phantom, guardian of Amity Park, the second biggest city in Illinois. There was no mistaking it. That was the ghost boy Damian had read about in father's files.

Damian cought Bruce's expression from outside. Signaling him to talk to these people, or at least keep an eye on them.

"Ahem." Damian cought their attention. "I am Damian Wayne Al-Ghul, I don't believe we've met."

"Ooh, I'm Danny." Danny said. "Vl, father, may I go with Damian for a while. I'll be back in half an hour to greet your friends." He addressed the tall man. From this close, he looked like he could be two meters tall. Almost as tall as Bane.

"Don't bother, Eleanor won't be here until 4:20," Damian had heard that number be referred to as humorous, but endless research could not explain why. "Just come back some time after that."

"Looks like we got an hour and a half." Danny started in the direction Damian had come from. "Do I get to see your other paintings?"

Little Artist

So I saw this

and had an idea for Danny X Damian. Where Danny likes making various stories he publishes online. Everyone said he needed a hobby and he can’t be an astronount (or join a sport since it would be more suspicious if he left in the middle of a game or practice for a ghost attack) and Ghost Writer got him to try writing, saying it’s relaxing. And honestly? It was. Danny enjoyed making stories. Sometimes he would just type what crazy thing happened to him that day while tweaking names and a few details to not give away his identity. Sometimes he made fanfiction of some stories he liked. And sometimes he tested out making original stories, taking and first hand knowledge from various ghosts and cultures to make his writing more authentic. And after much encouragement from Jazz, he posted some of his work online.

Cue Damian coming across one of his brother’s laptops. He didn’t mean to look for long but he thought the file was for a case and wanted to know more about it. ….then he got invested.

There was an author on this sight who wrote amazing stories. The emotions captured were so vivid, and he even fact checked a few historical facts and languages used. Everything from the dialogue, to the accent, and culture. Each new story completely enraptured him.

It made his fingers twitch for a piece of paper. Some paint, perhaps charcoal?

Damian started putting heavy encryption on his computer and search history. And locked his art room up. Then came a story that truly resonated with him. An original work about a boy from a different place, trying to fit into his new reality and the new rules and expectations placed on him…worried if his family would accept him. It sounded so much like when Damian first came to Wayne Manor. And it sparked his inspiration. He spent days working on his newest piece. Trying different angles and lighting, mixing colors. It looked like a collage between charcoal and watercolor, showing someone leaving a world of darkness into the light, yet this new world was unstable and strange compared to the rigid structure of his old one. When it was finally done, Damian felt like he was both looking at himself and a stranger. The character from the story brought to life.

It felt both freeing and settling, like he finally had a name for what he had been feeling. AstroBoi13’s fics always had that affect on him.

And for the first time, Damian did something he thought he’d never do. He snapped a picture of his masterpiece and sent it to the author. Quickly so he didn’t lose his nerve.

It was fine. It’s just one picture. It’s not like this would be a repeat occurrence.

[writeriguess]

Loudmouths Get What's Coming // Katsuki x fem!reader

author's note: for everyone who has ever experienced catcalling, know that you deserve to feel safe, respected, and protected. <3

The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the city in hues of orange and pink. You were walking home with Katsuki after a casual outing, the bag of snacks you’d picked up swinging lightly in your hand. The evening air was brisk but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of street food and blooming flowers. Katsuki’s gruff voice filled the space between you, cutting through the gentle hum of the city.

“I told you not to order that, Katsuki. You knew it was going to be spicy!” you teased, your laughter bubbling out as you glanced at him.

“Shut it,” he grumbled, glaring at you out of the corner of his eye, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re lucky I didn’t blow up that whole damn place.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile still playing on your lips. Despite his usual bluster, you knew he’d enjoyed himself—not that he’d ever admit it.

The streets were alive with the sounds of the city—distant chatter, the hum of traffic, and the occasional bark of a dog. The two of you strolled in comfortable silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. That is, until a group of men loitering near the entrance of a convenience store broke the peace.

“Hey, gorgeous,” one of them called, his voice dripping with smug confidence. “Where’re you headed looking that fine?”

Your steps faltered, your stomach sinking as unease washed over you. You kept your gaze forward, gripping the bag in your hand a little tighter.

“Bet she’d look even better outta that jacket,” another one said, his tone laced with sleaze. His friends erupted in laughter, the sound grating against your nerves.

“You should ditch the blond and come hang out with us,” another chimed in, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl. “We’d treat you real good, baby.”

You felt your cheeks flush, not with embarrassment, but with a mix of discomfort and anger. The air seemed to thicken around you, and you didn’t need to look at Katsuki to know he’d heard every word. His footsteps stopped abruptly, and the atmosphere shifted, the tension around him palpable.

“What the hell did you just say?” Katsuki’s voice was low, dangerous, and laced with a venom that sent shivers down your spine. You turned to look at him, and his crimson eyes were locked on the group of men, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap.

One of the men—the apparent ringleader—smirked, holding up his hands as if in mock surrender. “Relax, man. We’re just giving her a few compliments. No harm done.”

Katsuki’s lips curled into a snarl, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Compliments?” he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “Sounds more like a bunch of garbage to me.”

Another man snickered. “C’mon, don’t be so uptight. It’s not like she minds. Right, sweetheart?” His eyes darted to you, his leer making your stomach churn. “Bet you’re real fun behind closed doors, huh?”

The lewd comment made your heart race with a mix of anger and anxiety. You squeezed the bag in your hand tightly, fighting the urge to snap back.

“Katsuki, it’s fine,” you murmured, trying to diffuse the tension. Your fingers brushed against his arm, a silent plea for him to let it go. “Let’s just go.”

But Katsuki wasn’t having it. His gaze didn’t waver from the group, and you could see the faintest sparks crackling around his palms. The men shifted uncomfortably, clearly realizing they’d picked the wrong person to mess with.

“Go ahead,” Katsuki growled, taking a menacing step forward. “Say one more thing. I dare you.”

“Hey, chill out, man,” one of them muttered, his bravado faltering under Katsuki’s glare. “No need to get all worked up.”

“Worked up?” Katsuki’s voice was a dangerous hiss. “You idiots don’t know when to shut the hell up.” His hands flexed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually use his Quirk.

The group exchanged nervous glances, their earlier confidence crumbling. The ringleader scoffed, muttering something under his breath before turning to walk away. “Dude’s crazy,” he mumbled, loud enough for Katsuki to hear.

Katsuki’s shoulders tensed, but he let out a sharp breath, forcing himself to stay put. He stood his ground until they were out of sight, the tension in his body only slightly easing.

“Damn extras,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. His hands were still clenched into fists, and his breathing was heavier than usual.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you. “Katsuki, it’s okay. They’re gone now.”

He turned to you, his crimson eyes softening just a fraction as they scanned your face. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks for standing up for me.”

“Tch. Like I’d let those idiots get away with talking to you like that,” he said, crossing his arms. His gaze flickered away briefly, and you caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Your heart swelled at his protectiveness, and without thinking, you reached for his hand, your fingers lacing through his. He stiffened for a moment, his eyes darting to your joined hands, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip tightened, firm and reassuring.

“Let’s get you home,” he muttered, his tone softer now. He led you down the street, his presence solid and unwavering beside you.

The walk continued in relative silence, the earlier tension gradually melting away. As you moved through the familiar streets, the hum of the city became a distant background noise. Katsuki’s hand stayed firmly in yours, his grip neither too tight nor too loose, a quiet reassurance that he was there. The warmth of his palm against yours made your heart beat just a little faster, though you’d never admit it aloud.

After a while, you glanced up at him, catching the way his crimson eyes seemed to scan the area, always on alert. Despite his rough exterior, he had an innate protectiveness that you found endearing.

“You’re kinda sweet, you know that?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

But the faint smile tugging at his lips told you everything you needed to know.

By the time you reached your doorstep, the unease from earlier had all but faded. Katsuki lingered for a moment as you unlocked the door, his gaze briefly scanning the quiet street behind you. He didn’t say much, but the way he waited until you were safely inside spoke volumes.

“Night, Katsuki,” you said softly, peeking out from the doorway. “Thanks again.”

He gave a sharp nod, his usual gruff demeanor returning. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t mention it.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite his fiery temper and sharp tongue, Katsuki Bakugo had a heart of gold, and moments like this made you feel incredibly lucky to know him.

[takes1]

so in the bokuto x inexperienced! Reader, is he ACTUALLY experienced or is he just infatuated and cocky 😭 hes giving me “virgin but ive watched a lot of porn and can figure it out” energy and I love that for him

p.4 bokuto teaching inexperienced!reader

this is a great question and a great separate prompt. i decided to go with the former to stay with my original idea, but i DO like the other option a LOT. would be soooo!!! accurate for his character.

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / BIG praise kink!bokuto / himbo!bokuto / sweet, dumb!bokuto / inexperienced!reader / possessive!bokuto / f!rec oral / grinding / clumsy antics / making out / flirting / heavy petting / 2.7k words / reply to be added to taglist for final part

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. part two here. part three here.

"No bra?"

Bokuto clocked instantly, excitement breaking a barely-there filter, a big cheesy grin still not enough to loosen you up.

"Um," You took your hands back, crossing them over your chest, "Actually- let me go and--,"

Bokuto seethed with an eye roll you couldn't see. He was being playful as he sat half-up to capture you.

His strong grasp settled around your hips, "Ooohh no. I'm not waiting again."

Maybe it was the shirt that inspired him to be extra touchy. You looked like you were properly his.

His eyes scanned you; a burning, unyielding kind of expression that said: No pants, either. Juuust the shirt.

Those hot hands were in constant motion. They rubbed, massaged, your hip joints, the fleshy sides of your ass, and his thumbs would prod into the front of your thighs. It felt good- it helped you relax, because it wasn't too much.

"I meant to ask," Hesitant, and slow, you placed your hands back onto his shoulders, "You've been with other girls, right?"

The attempt to counterbalance his subtle pulling was a failure. You both giggled when you stumbled forward.

"A- few, yeah."

He looked like he was going to say more than he did. You wondered how he felt about them, now.

"Right... obviously- um, sorry for asking," You laughed.

The back of your knuckles flitted across his chiseled jawline. Your tummy was already in knots, but when he leaned into your touch, you melted a little more inside.

Having to pretend like he wasn't so outrageously attractive was odd. In moments like these, where you could slow down and look at every detail in his face, it was natural to acknowledge it.

A simple sigh, "You are so stunning."

He looked up from your hips. His piercing eyes and growing grin added to all of his prominent features, but tempted you to look away out of discomfort.

"You think so?"

It was spoken like he might not have believed your comment.

"Yeah, of course-! You're-," The words stumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them, "You're like, out of this world hot- I don't get why you're wasting time with me."

Bokuto firmed up quickly. He held a determined, focused expression that felt out of place as you searched for what you could have said wrong.

"Woahwoahwoahwoah! Don't say shit like that!"

"Like what?" Was your much smaller, quieter response.

His palms slid up under your shirt, then back down to your hips. He did this repeatedly while he thought.

"I dunno- I'm-- I'm not-," He groaned, "I'm not good with words. But... I don't like pretty girls who don't know that they're pretty. It's kinda lame."

You sort of understood what he meant. You didn't mean to put yourself down, but you considered it fact that he was out of your league. The way you spoke was mostly to address that.

The intellectual struggle he was having made it much more endearing, though. He was dumb. You found that you liked it more than you thought you would.

"Not that I think you're lame!" He clarified all of a sudden.

God, yeah, he was slow. Too many volleyballs to the head.

You chuckled, an affectionate sound, and he grinned again. He wasn't so scary when you got to talk.

"So, you think I'm pretty?" Was your first ever attempt at a real tease.

It was so successful that he slid his hands to grab all the way around your butt, smushing your tummy against his face with a big, maybe too loud of a groan.

You were shushing him, giggly, through his, again, too-loud confession.

"I don't think so, I know so!"

The foreign sensation through his (your?) shirt had you confused for just a moment. You looked down, hardly able to see what he was doing, but realized he was pressing kisses into your stomach through the fabric.

You smiled at how sweet it was, how good it felt. He trailed those slow, warm kisses up between your breasts, to your collarbone, and you only started to firm when he got to your skin, along your neck.

Bokuto could feel you tense up.

He pressed another gentle kiss to your skin, then met your worried expression.

"Hey- I don't bite," Was a soft reminder to relax, to not get lost in the nerves.

His gaze fell to your lips. You watched it happen, you watched his pupils grow, his thoughts running rampant behind his eyes.

A little mutter, a little empty, if anything, "Promise..."

His kiss was sweet, and slow, and soft. You felt guilty for not quite knowing how to return it.

The reassurance came in the form of his hands reaching, holding, the back of your head and the side of your face to keep you still, angled just right.

You barely returned the pressure- nervous, that he would get turned off if you tried too hard.

It felt like he was sending volts of electricity straight down your body, not a single vein or muscle exempt from the sensation. He parted for just a moment, to shift or something. He kept his hands on you.

Dumb, you took a breath to apologize for not knowing what to do, but his lips were crashing back onto yours. It was messier, not as perfect, this time.

You chuckled against his mouth, hands jittery, pressing on his shoulders with the intent to move from him. To maybe collect yourself, adjust, say sorry again.

But he was rougher, and you felt his warm tongue swipe against your bottom lip- you flinched.

"Mmh-!" It was hard moving away from him because he followed you.

He was breathy, his lids low, only focused on getting more. Your stiffness was one-sided and not serving you very well.

One hand took up most of the real estate on the side of your neck, more than enough to direct you, while his other arm wrapped around your waist. He pulled you in and started to lean back.

You slipped forward at his haste and tried to catch yourself with your knee.

It missed the edge of the bed where you tried to land. It clipped right between his legs instead.

"Augh-!!" He wheezed.

Powerful thighs were squeezing yours tenfold- his hands flew from your body to cup himself as he continued falling back. You stayed standing, more or less.

You gasped.

"I'm- so sorry-!" You pried your leg out from his and held your hands over your mouth. That was a first.

He groaned through a closed-mouth, eyes screwed shut.

"Mm! H-mmm-mmm-mmn-!" His muscles twitched, seized, and you felt dirty for liking it.

You slowly climbed up next to him as he came down, or at least grew quieter, from the blow.

"I'm sorry..." You repeated, eyes unsure of where to get their fill. Your hand brushed the hair off of his forehead, gentle and slow. You really didn't want him to go, but even you could see now that you were a lot of trouble for very little payoff.

But God, he looked unreal, all squirmy and flexed and half-naked next to you. Your thighs twitched with the need to stimulate yourself.

Bokuto was slowly blowing his breaths out, loosely palming his junk when he began to blink his eyes open, up at your distracted stare.

He laughed. Quiet, at least for his standards- it made you blush.

"You're real cute," He admitted, looking up at the ceiling, "And even though you're the most nervous chick I've ever met--,"

You glanced at his face, frowning.

"And Kuroo is gonna fuckin' kill me whenever he finds out-,"

You wanted to smile, but didn't.

"And you-," He grabbed your nose again and wiggled it, laughing at the way you batted his hand away, "Kneed me in the balls-!"

"-I still. Really. Want to fuck you."

His candid ranting, unfaltering eye contact, charmed you. It would've been romantic if it wasn't so filthy, but it was effective in its own right.

"I want you, too," You said, ultraquiet, staring at his hand in your lap, then at his hips, "I'm just- new."

Bokuto was fully recovered. He sat up, so mindless that you weren't sure if your words were lost on him, and adjusted your body so he could pin you on your back. It was more of a way of telling you that he'd be more intentional this time, taking the lead.

The way he slid, so sure of where to put his weight, his arms, his face, all snug against you was dizzying and impressive. He belonged on top, for sure.

"I can show you. We got all night," He reminded you.

An eager, messy kiss to your cheek made you giggle. It softened him, for a moment.

His groan was a smiley, throaty confession against your neck, "God, your laugh is so cute."

Your violent shiver was scooped up, muffled in his arms as he rolled his hips, slow and teasing, against you.

The quick squeeze of your thighs around him was a reaction to both the intensity there, and the fluttery pleasure of his tongue and teeth, nipping and sucking under your ear.

"Oh-h, my Go-ah--," Got muddled together, bitten into his meaty shoulder in a humiliating whine.

Bokuto couldn't get enough of whatever that was.

He carelessly began making deep, dark bruises all over your neck- with you none the wiser- pressing that soft, tight pussy against his tortured cock. And you filled him up, fueled his dangerous ego with how breathless you were, how your phrases started to lack real words, and pitifully weak squeeze of your legs around him.

"M-mnh," His head rose, meeting that blacked out look in your eyes for only moment before he stole your 7th, 8th, 20th kiss.

He briefly thought about what he was making of you, how nice it would be to be able to fully call you his.

Big palms slid further down, rubbing the warm, worked, inside part of your thighs while he sat up to take a good look at you. You already looked like his little whore. He soaked the image up, just like how you admired how unreal he looked, sitting hot and bothered and hard between your thighs.

"I can make you feel soo much better," He heard himself promise in a far-off sigh.

You were still shy, but the curiosity was finally shining through.

"What did you have in mind?"

You even let him push your shirt off, since he was so slow and nice about it, and you tried not to shiver under his hands.

He held a sharp, nasty smirk, a false hum on his breath. You weren't stupid, you knew what he was trying to accomplish by wiggling to his stomach.

Despite wanting it real bad, your hands covered your burning face to try to calm yourself down.

He sang, "I've been told that I have a big tongue."

You were prepared to laugh at him. Your curiosity got the better of you-- you peeked through your fingers and realized he wasn't kidding. The tongue he stuck out for you was wide, and flat. A barely-there whimper died in your throat.

"I'll be slow," Thick fingers liberated you of the soaked material, his cock twitching at the sight of your pretty pussy.

As he pocketed his more-than-earned keepsake, he was briefly able to palm away some of the ache.

He kept his voice sugary-sweet, "Buuut you should tell me what you like."

Big, muscular shoulders pushed up against the back of your thighs and you couldn't look- you had to squeeze your eyes shut, head towards the ceiling, instead.

A big flinch as he added, one final thought, "If you can."

He swirled waves and waves of pleasure into you with his gentle tongue. It was a kind of delicate act you hadn't been sure he could deliver on, but his skill was a gratifying surprise.

"Oh-h," Your thighs twitched against your will.

Bokuto was the type of guy to take his ability to make you feel good very seriously.

He was the kind to get a little too into some article thread about Misogyny and its Complicated Relationship with Sex, then make it his secondary goal to be more 'attentive' from that exact moment on. A hasty, incomplete, but well-intentioned effort shaping his sexual habits, his unique views, super-charged with his need to 'be the best.'

The webs of his fingers filled with the front of your thighs, firm, with groan at how you rolled your hips up into his mouth.

It swirled into the horrible regulation of his self-esteem, at some point.

Similar to his night-and-day approach to volleyball, and made it impossible for him to fuck up in bed without feeling guilty, or like he was 'bad' at sex. That's why he was so experienced. Women usually didn't want to stay with a guy who took their lack of pleasure that personally- it was an ick.

With you, there was less pressure. He only understood this in a limited way.

"A-ah, yes- just like th-at," Your fingers found his frosted tips, pulling at the darker, softer roots.

His hips sank harder into the mattress, a broken groan at your declaration. He was good? The notion needed to be checked, so he glanced up at you.

He caught your cute, twisted expression. A smug smile flashed under his swirling tongue at how you covered your face again.

You gasped, hot with embarrassment, "Mmh- fuck, don't--,"

Yeah, he was doing well. He sucked a soft kiss to your clit and got a strong squeeze in return.

He wondered how loud he could get you. If he could somehow let every guy downstairs know that you were off limits, not just because you were Kuroo's sister, but because he was up here making you feel this good.

Most of his touches had been noticeably rough, and rushed, and a bit too excitable up to this point.

But he had no urgency between your legs. No desire to move to the next thing.

There was more pressure as he slid his tongue further down, towards your entrance, then a lighter, more fluttery feeling the closer he got to your clit.

It was a kind of method that reminded you that you were not the first, and you probably wouldn't be the last, to get eaten out by this big hunk.

As concerning as it was, Bokuto simplified your thoughts with a careful and practiced pleasure.

You wanted him.

This was worth stooping down a level for. You wanted to feel his lips again, his touch, his hold, and you were sure that you could shoulder the burden of not being exclusive, or whatever payment had to come with it.

He was funny, and kind, and sweet. He had already showed you so much about your own body. You didn't want him to go and you didn't want to stop. You couldn't stand not knowing, anymore.

"A-after- tonight-- ahh-," You gasped at the way he held your free hand, sandwiching it between his palm and your own hip. There was a sting at your eyes, "Can we- mmh, see each other again?"

It took a full minute for him to register what you said, then what you meant, then what you implied.

His mean, strong suck to your clit was more of a punctuation, because he quickly climbed over you-- an intense, stormy look in his naturally wide eyes.

You were panting, slower to react, in the absence of his mouth.

"You thought I was gonna ditch you after this?"

You blinked the burn away, thighs flexed and trembly as he affixed his weight back on top of you.

Even he could tell you were bothered by the idea. Struggling with it, maybe, for a while. He realized you weren't going to say yes or no.

"I'm not a monster," He glanced around your pretty face, pained, that you thought so low of him, "You know that, right?"

He wanted to be your first, then the second, third, and so on. He didn't think that far ahead, but he knew with certainty that he wouldn't stop craving you after just one night.

"Baby, you're not gettin' rid of me," His quick, fervent pecks across your troubled face sent you into a surprised, delighted laughter.

He giggled with you, big arms scooping around you as he caught a ticklish part of your neck in messy kisses.

"Mm-mm! Noooo, you're not!"

Your laughter, happy, unrestrained, was music to his ears.

His mind was everywhere. Half-focused on those sensitive spots that he needed to remember for later, half-focused on how badly he wanted to tear you apart.

♕VIP♕

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

taglist. thanks for your patience!😫💕

@tuamadrequellavacca @dumbpuppyluv @raracha @jenerator10 @thisiswhereishitpostalot @feiwelinchen @loodleloodle @partyinthepants @ghostreader0307 @101crows @asthmaticcchoeee @littlebunny-angel @ffismylaif @beet1ebum @charlotterosea13 @feiwelinchen @mammonsprettiestgoldie @poepard @intervalsofpeace @jiiisungpark @whymooniemoon @camc07 @lis4lipsi

@2dmenfr @justmanu

my masterlist.

reply to be added to taglist!

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 12.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #the game of teaching body

author's note: Ok guys, this is it! My hands are shaking as I'm publishing it. Thank you all so, so much, for all the kind comments, for the freakin' art (like what? fanart? of my writing? I'm still gagged over it!), for reblogging, placing messages in my inbox, for everything! Something that was supposed to drag my attention away from the temporary shittiness of my life, has turned into a full-blown passion, as currently I am drafting three new fics and working on all your awesome requests and I wouldn't be doing it without your encouragement. Thank you.

(disclaimer: I have a request for the opposite of the situation happening here, coming soon!)

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

You noticed Viktor’s breath coming in short, uneven pants, his face twisted—not with pleasure, but something else entirely. His movements faltered, his grip tightening on your shoulder for balance before he suddenly stilled. His hands dropped to the desk on either side of your hips, fingers digging into the surface as though bracing against some invisible force.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, as though fighting off something within himself. His head hung down, strands of hair clinging to his damp forehead.

Alarmed, you scanned his body, searching for a clue. “Viktor?” you whispered, your voice steady despite the concern that thrummed through you. But he didn’t respond.

With a frustrated groan, Viktor slipped away from you, grabbing a pillow from the bed to shield himself as he limped toward the armchair. Every step was stiff and uneven until he finally collapsed into it, stretching his leg out with a sharp hiss. “Fucking cramp,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his hand rubbing at his thigh.

“Where?” You hopped off the desk immediately, pulling your sweatshirt over your head as you hurried to his side. You knelt beside him, your hands already seeking out the problem. “Let me see.”

His body tensed further, his lips pressing into a hard line as his free hand rose to cover his face. Anger, frustration, and something darker flickered across his expression. Embarrassment, no—shame. He was a man who hated to feel weak, and this moment—vulnerable, raw—clawed at his pride.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, but the pained wince that followed betrayed him.

You softened your voice, making it as non-threatening as possible. “Viktor,” you urged, your fingers hovering just above his thigh. “Show me.”

For a moment, you thought he’d refuse. His jaw worked as though grinding back a retort, but the tension in his leg won out. With a reluctant nod, he guided your hands to the offending muscle. You worked slowly, methodically, your fingers finding the knotted muscle and easing into it with unpractised care. Viktor leaned back, his head tipping against the armchair with a low, shuddering exhale. You glanced up at him occasionally, careful to give him space, but unable to stop the flickers of affection that crossed your face.

When the cramp finally loosened, Viktor’s body sagged with relief. His hand fell from his face, but his brows were still knitted together, his mouth almost invisible, save for a line. He looked... defeated.

You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his knee, a wordless gesture of comfort, before reaching for the pillow. You straddled his lap, intent on drawing him back, or rather away from this. But just as your lips hovered above his, Viktor’s hands came up, catching you by the shoulders and halting your movement.

“Wait, I—” Viktor exhaled heavily, his eyes darting anywhere but yours. His chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths, the frustration in his face giving way to disgust. “This is… strongly unattractive.” He offered you a sad, apologetic smile, one that left his eyes empty. It was a weak defence, a brittle mask to cover the discomfort roiling beneath. He didn’t want you to see him like this—not yet, maybe not ever. “I’m… sorry.”

Your lips curled into a soft, teasing smile. “Are you joking? A hot man in need of aid? In my books, that’s strongly attractive.” Your tone was light, your fingers weaving gently through his hair as though trying to coax him back to you. “Any other… affliction I could be of assistance with?”

But Viktor’s smile faded completely. “Please, stop,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost cracked. His body stiffened beneath you, his hand rising to cover his face again. He didn’t push you away, but the gesture was louder than words.

As if on cue, your hand slipped over his, tugging it gently away. “Let me in,” you whispered, your voice a soft, disarming plea. You rubbed your nose against his cheek, your warmth melting into him, your presence grounding him. Viktor’s breath hitched, a shallow inhale slipping through his parted lips. He was never this close to anyone—not like this. His heart was never this close to opening, his fears never this close to crawling into the light.

“How did this happen?” you asked, your fingers trailing behind you to graze the tense muscle of his thigh.

Viktor hesitated; his gaze fixed somewhere on the space between you. His teeth tugged at his lower lip, and when he finally spoke, his voice was distant, almost clinical. “Rotated femur. Just… a bad case.”

He didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t have to. Your mind worked quickly, piecing together everything you knew about him, every detail you’d catalogued. The timeline was clear, the reasons obvious, but you made the deliberate choice not to probe further. Instead, you placed a gentle hand on his chest, your touch steady and reassuring. “You’re okay,” you said softly, trying to guide him somewhere lighter, somewhere safer.

Viktor’s chest fluttered beneath your hand, his breaths uneven and shallow, each one giving away his hesitation. His eyes flicked to yours briefly before darting away again, the vulnerability in that fleeting glance leaving him feeling exposed. He gripped the armrest of the chair tightly, his knuckles whitening, as though he were bracing himself for something he couldn’t name. The silence between you stretched like a pained muscle.

For a long moment, he stayed like that—closed off, his expression unreadable save for the tightening of his jaw and the way his lips pressed into a thin line. But then, slowly, his grip on the armrest slackened, his shoulders dropping as though releasing a burden. He didn’t speak, but something shifted in his gaze as he looked at you again. It was tentative, unsure, but there was a crack in the armour—a fragile permission.

You saw it immediately, the subtle easing of his posture, the way his eyes softened despite the war still raging inside him. You stayed still, letting the moment settle, your touch light and unintrusive. Your thumb traced soothing circles over his chest, your movements careful, watching for even the smallest sign of discomfort. When none came, your fingers drifted to his thigh again, the tension there still palpable under your gentle ministrations.

“You can tell me to stop,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching his for any flicker of doubt. But instead of resistance, there was something else entirely—a flicker of trust, raw and unpolished, but unmistakable.

“So... how do we not make it upset?” you asked carefully, leaning forward to rest against his chest, your palm cradling his cheek. Your voice was calm, your touch light, but Viktor’s body tensed beneath you again, the rigidity in his frame speaking volumes. The answer, when it came, wasn’t surprising.

“We don’t ask questions about it,” Viktor huffed, his tone carrying a faint edge, though it softened as his hand began to move idly up and down your back. His touch was a distraction, deliberate and almost subconscious, as though trying to steer the moment away from his discomfort. But the heaviness lingered—how had this spiralled from intimacy to a conversation about his leg? The absurdity of it all made him feel drained, a long sigh escaping him.

“But I never asked you,” you murmured quietly, your lips pressing to the curve of his neck. Your words lingered, warm against his skin, as your fingers trailed through his hair. “And I seek to correct my mistake.” You whispered the words like a secret, your tone so tender it nearly disarmed him. Viktor clenched his jaw, the growing ache in his chest conflicting with the faint spark of heat your presence stirred.

“You read me like a book. And here I am, still wondering… what gets you off,” you teased softly, your playful tone a deliberate shift away from the seriousness he so clearly wanted to avoid.

“Definitely not questions about my leg,” Viktor groaned, pulling back slightly, though his lips twitched in reluctant amusement. He let out an exasperated sigh, wiggling just enough to escape the trail of kisses you left along his neck. “Please, let’s sit this one out.”

Even though the warmth of your weight on him stirred something deep in his core, the shame pressed harder, suffocating, and unrelenting. He tried to muster an apologetic smile, but it fell flat, and the tension returned like a phantom haunting his every breath.

“Do you trust me?” you asked, adjusting yourself on his lap, your hands cupping his face with intent. This wasn’t about sex anymore, and Viktor could see it in your eyes. You weren’t looking for fun or distraction. You were asking for something bigger, something he wasn’t sure he could give.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, his voice steady despite the storm inside. But then, with a small, bitter laugh, he added, “Though I know exactly what’s coming next. You’re going to ask me when I’m comfortable, and we’ll never have fun sex again because you’ll forever burn this moment into your brain as a pity party for the cripple.” His words were dry, calculated, but the flash of frustration in his eyes betrayed him. “Which I am, by the way. But that’s beside the point.”

“Viktor, I don’t care if—”

“You are not allowed to say ‘cripple,’ it’s my word only,” he cut you off, his tone clipped as his eyes fixed on you. Your lips twitched in a half-smile as you rolled your eyes in response, your patience endless.

“I don’t care if you’re an Olympic athlete or a chess world champion,” you continued with exaggerated care, your voice steady, measured. “I want to know what gets you off. No more, no less.”

Your thumb brushed softly against his cheek, a small, grounding gesture that made Viktor’s jaw tighten for just a moment before he let out a slow breath. “And I won’t force you to do or say anything,” you added gently, your words laced with sincerity. “But I’m asking you to reconsider, given that you are in a safe space.”

He studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face, searching for something—doubt, insincerity, any crack in your words he could latch onto. But there was none. Just your calm, unwavering presence.

“And this is your request?” he asked finally, raising an eyebrow, though his tone lacked the sharpness it held before.

“This is my request,” you said plainly, your bluntness somehow soothing, disarming. You leaned in to kiss his forehead, a tender gesture that made him close his eyes, his resistance softening like ice melting under the warmth of spring sunlight.

You let him gather his strength. You stayed close, your movements deliberate and slow, as though any sudden action might startle him into retreat. Your hand slid to his chest, resting there lightly, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart. You waited, not speaking, letting the weight of your presence fill the space between you.

Viktor’s fingers twitched at his sides, then hesitated before coming to rest lightly against your hips. His grip was tentative, almost unsure, but he didn’t pull you closer or push you away. His silence stretched out, but in it, something shifted—a small crack in the wall he’d built, a mute permission.

You tilted your head, your gaze fixed on his, waiting for a sign—any sign—that his discomfort was easing. It came in the form of his breath, no longer shallow but slow and steady, his shoulders relaxing by degrees. The corners of his mouth twitched faintly, almost imperceptibly, as though he was trying to let you in but didn’t quite know how.

“I’m here,” you whispered softly, your words more a reassurance than a prompt. “Whatever you’re ready to share—or not—it doesn’t change anything.”

Viktor’s eyes lifted to yours, and for a moment, the battle within him seemed to subside. He didn’t speak, but the look he gave you said enough. A faint vulnerability glimmered there, a quiet acceptance of your presence, even if he wasn’t ready to bare everything yet.

He sighed, the weight of it carrying the burden of his struggle outside of his body. Damn you.

“Let’s see,” he trailed, his hands moving to rest on your thighs, his touch light but grounding. “I thoroughly enjoyed our last time,” he admitted, his words tentative at first, but gaining confidence as he felt your weight settle more comfortably on him. “And it was… comfortable,” he added thoughtfully, as though revealing a truth he hadn’t quite allowed himself to accept before.

You smiled, leaning into his warmth, your hand brushing softly over his shoulder. You didn’t push, didn’t rush him, giving him the space to guide the conversation.

“Standing, eh, is not my forte, as you saw,” he continued, his hand trailing off to the side as his gaze followed, lingering somewhere beyond you. His voice was steady, but you could hear the faintest hint of self-deprecation beneath it.

“It’s not my favourite either,” you mused, your fingers threading gently through his hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. You could feel the subtle shift in his body as he relaxed beneath your touch.

“Don’t lie, you liked it. I saw you,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at your face, though the glint of amusement in his irises betrayed him.

Your laugh was soft, playful. “I liked it because it was with you,” you breathed, your voice carrying a teasing innocence. You leaned in to place a sweet kiss on his lips, feeling his judgmental hand fall back to your thigh.

His grip tightened slightly, and a sly smirk curved his lips. With a sudden, playful jolt of his hips, he snapped you out of your little act, making you gasp in surprise before laughter bubbled out of you again.

“I like when you suck on my thumb,” he said, his voice lower now, softer, yet carrying an unmissable heat. His hand rose, pressing the pad of his thumb gently against your lips. You parted them immediately, your lips warm and soft as you took him in without hesitation. Your eyes fluttered shut at the quiet praise that followed, his voice like a thread of warmth weaving through you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his tone laced with a mix of encouragement and wonder. His thumb moved, brushing against your tongue, the sensation grounding him in the present moment.

You opened your eyes to find his gaze fixed on you, his expression softened, the guarded edge that usually shielded him nowhere to be seen. Vulnerability still lingered, but now it was met with acceptance, even a flicker of confidence.

“You’re good at this,” you teased, your words a whisper as you gently pulled his hand away to press a kiss against his knuckles. “Being open.”

His laugh was quiet, a breath more than a sound, but it was genuine. “Don’t get used to it,” he warned, though the slight smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

You simply leaned in, resting your forehead against his, your weight steady but light enough to remind him that you would follow his lead. “One step at a time,” you murmured, your hand resting over his heart.

In your touch, in your gaze, Viktor found a quiet reassurance that spoke louder than any words. And for the first time, the fear that had gripped him so tightly began to loosen, slipping away into the quiet intimacy you had built together.

“I like to see you,” Viktor murmured, his voice soft yet steady, as his hand cupped your face lovingly. “Doesn’t matter if you’re on top or I am,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “Though I had to admit, this setup you had us in here was… appealing.” His lips curved into a faint smirk before he pulled you closer, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was as tender as it was deliberate.

“Oh, and I will never say no to a good head,” he whispered against your mouth, the teasing edge in his tone mirrored by the smirk tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, your eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “A good head? Are you trying to tell me something?” you quipped, shifting your hips against his, eliciting a groan that vibrated through him.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied innocently, though the way his hands tightened on your hips betrayed his composure. He rolled his hips beneath you, his movements fluid, deliberate, and taunting. “All I’m saying is that practice makes perfect, and I am… willing to be your study buddy,” he finished, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction as the corners of his mouth quirked upward in a smile.

You found yourself slightly breathless at his audacity, but you refused to falter. Instead, you leaned in closer, your teeth grazing his lower lip in playful retaliation. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you teased, your voice low, though it carried a spark of mischief that only made his grin widen.

The tension between you shifted, turning softer, as Viktor let out a quiet, contented sigh. His body, once taut with uncertainty, now felt pliant beneath you. A gentle heat spread through his veins, chasing away the lingering shadows of shame and fear. For a moment, he simply gazed at you, his expression thoughtful, as though weighing his next words carefully.

“I... want to be wanted,” he finally confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his honesty. “I want you to want me—not to see me as—”

He faltered, his brows knitting together as his words trailed off. His hand moved to rest over yours where it lay on his chest, grounding himself in your touch. Viktor’s gaze searched yours, wary yet hopeful, as though testing the waters of how much more he could bare to you.

You tilted your head, your fingers lacing gently with his as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t,” you said softly, your tone steady and resolute. “I see you as you, as exactly who you are. Consider me… bewitched.”

A wave of affection swept through him, soothing the raw edges of his vulnerability. You didn’t push, didn’t demand anything more from him than what he was willing to give, and it was in that quiet understanding that Viktor felt something shift.

It wasn’t just trust—it was something deeper, something that made the walls he had so carefully built around himself tremble and, piece by piece, begin to fall.

“And Viktor, I want you… so, so much,” your voice barely a whisper against his mouth as you gave him a longing kiss, your hands cradling his face as though he was the most precious thing in the world.

Your words ignited a spark deep within him, fanning the embers of confidence that had smouldered under layers of doubt. Viktor’s hesitation began to wane, replaced by something more primal and eager. His lips moved against yours with renewed hunger, his body responding to you in ways he could no longer suppress.

He hummed, the sound low and rumbling, as his hands found your waist and pulled you closer, his movements deliberate yet restrained, like a man rediscovering his footing. “Hmm, tell me how much do you want me,” he muttered hoarsely against your lips, his breath fanning over your face.

His hands travelled lower, gripping your ass as he guided your movements, your tongues tangling in a slow rhythm. You rolled your hips lazily on his cock, feeling him grow hard beneath you, his groan vibrating through you as you murmured, “So, so much, it hurts. Fuck me, Viktor,” against his lips.

Viktor let out a low chuckle, the sound rich with both amusement and arousal. “Ask me nicely,” he teased, his voice steady now, laced with a familiar confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

Your gaze locked with his, a flicker of playful frustration dancing in your eyes as you bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. His hands slid under your sweatshirt, cupping your breasts with deliberate tenderness, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made you gasp softly.

A tremor ran through you as you exhaled, your fingers threading through his hair. You hesitated, your pride momentarily warring with your desire before you finally gave in. You voice was quiet but filled with emotion as you whispered, “Please, make love to me, Viktor.”

The words melted over him, and he felt last bits of doubts leaving him. His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply, his lips warm and unhurried against yous. This wasn’t just about reclaiming your passion—it was about finding something sacred in the spaces between your bodies, something that belonged only to you and Viktor.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand travelled between your bodies, and you could feel his fingers playing idly at your entrance. He couldn’t fight a smile blooming on his lips when he found out how much indeed you wanted him—your core hot and fluttering on his tender skin as he lazily guided the head of his cock inside.

It was easy to claim you. It was easy to be with you now. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, and you both let out soft groans of relief, filling each other's gaps. For a moment, neither of you moved, letting gentle twitches of your connection guide the growing feeling of pleasure bubbling between you.

Viktor started with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips; it was almost painful, and he felt himself wanting more and less at the same time. With a quiet gesture, he started rocking your hips on top of his, letting you find her own flow. When he felt your movements grow more balanced, he handed the control over to you and savoured the sight of you swaying on top of him. You lazy, sensual rhythm carried both of you in tandem, as your bodies grew closer and closer together. He got himself busy with kissing your neck and kneading the flesh of your ass.

As your rhythm grew more frantic, the strain of holding back visible in your furrowed brow, he pulled you closer by the back of your neck and muttered into your ear, “Touch yourself for me.”

It was both a command and a plea, and you placed your timid hand where your bodies met. You felt momentarily exposed as Viktor’s eyes studied your face, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You held his gaze and seeing there was nothing else but admiration in it, you put herself on display for him. You let him take in your face, the movement of your wrist, all the quiet sounds you made as your hips stuttered and you came on his cock with a loud “Fuck!” muffled by his neck.

He watched you, fascinated, his own mouth agape, as he felt your walls clenching around him. His own pressure was rising, when he pulled you closer, caging your arms with his and let his thrusts take over. He pushed his hips up with a gentle force, your body already melting around him, as he traced a slick trail up your neck with his tongue.

Seeing his searching eyes and the strain in his forehead, you leaned in and encouraged him with a barely audible, “Come for me.” Viktor’s breath grew hot, and you swallowed the moan he gave you when you whispered a quiet praise against his skin. “You fuck me so well.”

“Fuck, I’m—” he squeezed you flush against him, as the final pants and groans fell from his mouth and he spilled himself inside you, his face pressed against you neck. Feeling him shift beneath her, you hugged him tighter and soothed him with a soft, “Stay."

You remained straddled on his lap, your bodies cooling together in the quiet aftermath. Your fingertips traced lazy, featherlight patterns over his shoulders, grounding you both in the stillness. Viktor's hands rested on your hips, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly over your skin, as though to memorise the moment. Only your breaths, soft and calm spilled into the silence of Viktor’s room.

***

“Of course. Breaking the law, as usual,” Viktor smirked, catching you smoking a cigarette outside the window in between a study session with Sue. “How many times do you think I should let this go?”

“Three,” you deadpanned. “I will have one more that way.” You were so fucking tired. And Sue was completely useless, already snoring soundly in your room.

“How is it going?” he asked, plucking the cigarette from your fingers and taking a drag. You shuffled on your feet with a long sigh and shook your head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to learn all of this in such a short time and then remember it for the rest of my life.”

“You are not. You will forget it briefly, and then it will come back,” he said, passing the cigarette back to you.

“The visions of the future,” you murmured, tracing your open hand toward the window, as if it held the vision itself. “The only future I see is the break. Unless I fail. Then, possibly Starbucks.”

Viktor scoffed. So dramatic. “Such a baby,” he muttered, tracing his thumb over the swell of your lips. It was tender, and he wanted to tell you he was proud of you.

The last time had stirred something very scary within him. His guard was down, ruined. It was never coming back up—it was so ruined. So, he had to be sure. But now, of course, wasn’t the time. You were elbows deep in genetics, chemistry, and other subjects that Viktor had no interest in.

“I think I should switch departments,” you sighed, the sound too heavy for a joke, even though it was, and you smiled weakly. Viktor only blinked slowly, taking the cigarette back.

“Eh, you are doing great. I was much worse during your year.” He hugged you with one arm, the other lifting the cigarette to your lips. You raised your brows in question, though no answer came.

“My mother says changes are good.” This time you put more effort into the joke. “Though she also tells me to wear red knickers to exams and tests, so… I don’t know how trusted she can be.”

“Oh, they work. How do you think I am where I am?” He chuckled, warming your shoulders with his hands. The rumble of his laughter carried itself through you, down, down to your toes. “Not all changes are possible, though.”

“Viktor, if you’ve changed, anything can.” Your voice was wistful, as if you didn’t know what you were saying.

He hadn’t changed.

“I haven’t changed, though, have I?” A hysterical thought tore through him. “Look at us, back here, at the beginning. You, deep in thoughts, and me—” Deep in love with you.

“Viktor, what… what are you doing?” You blinked, unsure. He was stalling. His shoulder left yours as he leaned against the windowsill, just like he did then. You put the cigarette out and flicked it outside. “Do you want to talk about something?”

“Not really, I’m just stating a fact.” I want to tell you; I just have to be sure.

“Fact being?” You swallowed it down—the fear that had started crawling up your throat. You smothered it and pushed it back down, bitter on your tongue.

“That some things don’t change.” He made sure to sound unfazed, to make it sound non-threatening, just natural—an obvious truth about him.

“Why are you being so defensive?” you asked, your eyes narrowing.

“I just… don’t want you to jump into something you’re not sure of.” You have to be sure. He allowed himself a shrug and a faint eye roll for the effect. He watched you, your body completely still as you watched him back.

“I haven’t jumped anywhere yet,” you said, measuring your words, gathering your composure. A month ago, it would have made you claw his eyes out, but now you knew. Because you felt the same. He loved you, and he feared it, and you felt the same. “I’ve barely dipped my toes.”

“What are you saying?” Were you saying what he thought you were saying? It felt like a challenge, and for once, he didn’t like it. It felt more serious than back at the beginning. He had more to lose now. “What do you want from me, really?” He meant to keep it in his thoughts, but it shot out.

“Change is inevitable. I don’t want games. I want you.” A countdown of statements. Dry and measured, said with no affection, just stating facts, like he was. Was that why it had felt so hollow?

“You can’t just walk into a relationship with the intent to change somebody. I won’t. This won’t,” his voice rose dangerously, echoing through the empty corridor. He pointed to his leg and pushed his cane firmly into the floor, as if to steady himself.

“That’s not what I said. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I’m merely saying that changes happen,” you said firmly, letting your arms drop from their defensive cross on your chest.

He hesitated. You were right, somehow, and he was right as well. “What do you want from me?” Just say it. So I can be sure.

“Do I have to know now?”

It was so different from your fight in the snow. He had guarded himself back up, came prepared. You had to improvise. No, you knew. You knew him already. He’d said he’d give you his princess heart, and he did, and now he was asking if you would take it.

“I have to know now,” a shuddering breath escaped him. I have to know now because I won’t be able to walk away later. I have to know now. I have to know now.

“I… brood. I put my work first because it’s the only thing I had for the longest time. I will become boring. And this will become hard,” he began counting it down and couldn’t see the end. “I am… aware that people grow apart. I accept it. But—”

“Viktor,” you interjected. “Why are we talking about growing apart when we haven’t even started anything properly?”

“Because it’s important. And because… yesterday. What you did yesterday, I don’t think I—” I don’t think I can live without it.

You stared at him, breathing evenly, as if you were forcing the breaths inside you.

“You haven’t seen me at my worst. You really haven’t,” he added, noticing you formulating a scoff. Each word was such a strain. Each and every one tried to crawl back down, deep into his stomach, and stir there with all the bile and cigarette smoke.

“I get so jealous. I get so angry. I get angry because I can’t fuck you the way I want to. My leg hurts, and I remember everything. I never forget anything. I will use everything I can against you if it comes to it. So what do you want from me?”

“All of it.” Blunt, almost painful.

He pleaded weakly with your name on his lips. He was so tired. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.

“I want it all. Now, and later. I will keep it safe.” I will keep your heart safe; I promise. “Viktor, I also remember everything. I get jealous and angry. I will use the things you didn’t want to say against you, probably, and I’ll regret it after. I’ve beaten you up in the snow. What you’re describing is human.” I love all your human things.

All the while, you stood at arm’s length. Viktor came closer, swallowing it all down. The words he had said let themselves out, and he swallowed your words too—they coated his stomach with warmth. He swallowed it all down, awash in it.

He pulled you in, slowly, his touch tentative. “Okay,” his breath fanned over her face. “Okay.” I love you so, so much that it hurts.

“I think… I’m in love with you.”

He thought a current of vomit would take him, but it didn’t. Instead, it was your hands holding his as you stared at him, wearing your sweatshirt with a torn collar and his boxer shorts, barefoot, a blanket loosely wrapped around you.

“I love all of you. I promise,” you whispered, meaning it with all your fluttering heart. And Viktor knew you meant it. He knew by the way your hands cradled his ribs, your body slotted in with his so he could feel the drum of your chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you tightly and allowing himself a relaxed exhale, which felt like the first one he had ever taken, as the game was truly over, and you both had won.

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing — Roman Reigns x f!Reader x cuck!Cody Rhodes 🖤 Summary — Sequel to Animal In Me. Roman takes Cody’s girlfriend on a date. Cody is their chauffeur. 🖤 Word Count — 5.7k 🛑 Warnings — Handjob, oral (m receiving), semi-public, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, Daddy kink, Tribal Chief kink, degradation, name-calling, hair-pulling, cuckolding, cum 18+ 🖤 Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!  🖤 MASTERLIST

One of the many things you loved about Cody Rhodes was that he enjoyed a handjob just as much as he appreciated a blowjob. Smiling at this well-known fact, you leaned over, spitting on the head of his aching cock before spreading it down the shaft, continuing with your slow, purposeful strokes. Cody’s insistent hand on the back of your neck brought your lips to his in a searing, earth-shattering kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, as if you were the one getting manual stimulation, but you’d refused when he’d offered, telling him tonight was all about him, though you suspected he would disregard this and have his way with you—not that you’d complain or turn him down. But Cody was such a giver, always so concerned with your pleasure, and sometimes you just wanted to return the favor.

“I know you wanna do it again,” he suddenly mumbled against your swollen lips. Your eyes opened slowly, hand losing its momentum on Cody’s dick as you considered what he’d said. Suddenly the air around you was thick and heavy, like a weighted blanket over the both of you. “With Reigns,” he clarified, but of course you knew exactly what and who he was referring to.

“Cody … ” you whispered.

“I think about it all the time,” he sighed, his warm, recognizable hand closing around yours on his length, pumping just a little faster, and his thumb moved yours over the weeping head. He groaned when you took control, leaving his hand atop yours as it rose up and down, squeezing every now and again. “I can’t … do that to you, but …”

“You like watching someone else do it to me,” you finished for him, the flood gates in your cunt busting wide open, and you plastered sloppy kisses all over his cheek and neck, nibbling and licking at the red, white and blue tattoo. Your heart pounded from the confession, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, too. Or touched yourself while thinking about it. And it wasn’t just Roman who occupied your mind. Your boyfriend watching you get railed by someone he truly disliked had done something to the chemicals in your brain.

Cody nodded, eyes closed. “Faster,” he breathed, and you’d never heard or seen anything more endearing than Cody Rhodes’ lisp. The corners of your mouth quirked into a smile as you did as requested, and once he removed his hand from yours, you switched your grip, and Cody crushed his wet lips to yours once more for a stalwart kiss that had you leaning forward, matching his energy, your mouths smacking together lewdly and with a practiced precision for several moments. “I can’t be tied up again,” he said, shaking his head, and you nodded, agreeing. “But I can’t—fuck—I can’t be able to get to you, though. The ways I imagined killing Reigns last time …” 

“It’s fine,” you said. “We’ll figure something out.” Cody was moaning, head lulling back, and your hand squelched quickly up and down his shaft. “I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll put on a good show for you.” 

“Fuck!” Cody shouted, launching ropes of cum into the air, which inevitably landed on your hand, his cock and his thighs. Once he was able to think clearly, he looked at you. “This isn’t weird?” he asked.

You smiled, squeezing his chin with your clean hand, pressing your lips to his. “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done. I loved you watching me get treated like a whore … and then looking down to see how fucking hard you were. And this might be bad, but I … I liked how angry it made you.”

Cody smirked, rolling his eyes. “That’s probably the least bad thing about all this.”

After making all the arrangements, never once feeling nervous, you were furious at the butterflies in your stomach as you got ready. You’d even done this before and your nerves were still frayed. You spun around in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting your dress this way and that to be sure there was no slack and it clung to your body everywhere it was supposed to. Your hair was in its signature style, as was your makeup and the jewelry adorning your ears, neck, and wrists, and you knew your boyfriend would forget his own name once he saw you, but you had to wonder about Roman.

The Tribal Chief was the last thing on your mind, however, when you turned the corner into the living room and nearly ran into Cody as he was attaching the golden chain to his vest. He’d chosen the maroon suit for tonight, the one with the long coat, and he was so fucking beautiful, your chest ached and your pussy wept. His big hands were on your shoulders, and you hated that it was so easy for him to see how anxious you were, but you adored him for taking the time to acknowledge it and make an effort to help you feel better. Instead of words, his lips touched yours, the muscles moving together with practiced ease, and as your hands slid up his chest, bound for the back of his neck, the doorbell rang. 

“Don’t forget who you actually belong to,” Cody reminded you.

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again. “We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting,” you said, caressing Cody’s cheek before heading for the door.

Roman’s suit was black on black, shoes shiny, hair pulled back in a sleek bun. He smiled as you invited him inside, leaning down to place a hot kiss to your cheek, and your skin burned from your neck to your cheekbones. The Tribal Chief’s aura was almost too much to bear, and thankfully Cody made himself known, slowly shaking Roman’s hand, and you imagined they were in a silent battle over who could squeeze the hardest. 

“So are we good?” Roman asked, nonchalant to the point of aggravation. “Same plan we talked about?” You and Cody both nodded, Cody slipping an arm around your waist possessively. “Well, let’s get this show on the road,” Roman smiled. “I’m starvin’.” He patted his flat abs to emphasize his declaration before he turned and started toward the vehicle you and Cody had chosen for the evening: the sleek black Lexus.

Cody exhaled heavily through his nostrils as you and he stepped out of the house, you waiting with your boyfriend while he locked the door. “This may not be enough to stop me,” he remarked, hand sliding around your waist again, fingers playing at the swell of your ass.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Pull over if you have to,” you reminded him.

Roman had already folded himself into the backseat of the Lexus by the time Cody opened the front passenger door for you. You climbed inside and your senses were suddenly full of Roman Reigns’ scent, his hulking presence directly behind you, and your waxed pussy clenched. 

“You look good, baby girl,” Roman growled. Your heart thrummed, breath hitched, eyes watching Cody round the front of the car, bound for the driver’s seat. “You ready for our date?”

You gulped. “Yes, Daddy,” you whispered just as Cody opened his door and settled behind the steering wheel.

The ride to the restaurant was suffocating. The handsome man beside you was desperately in love with you, so much so that he was allowing you to seek satisfaction from another man. The alpha male behind you had no feelings toward you either way—his only true intentions being to ruin you, use you, and send you back home to that boyfriend who loved you so dearly. And you couldn’t deny how much the entire situation just turned you the fuck on. 

Upon arrival at the restaurant, Cody pulled up front and smoothly put the car in park. You turned to him, and he painted on a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. He liked the part about watching you and Roman together, but he was less thrilled about the two of you going on a date without him. But it had been Roman’s stipulation, and he’d promised he had no ulterior motives—just a propensity for fooling around in public. And the thing about WWE superstars? They were incredibly popular, but were hardly, if ever (and for reasons unknown), followed by paparazzi.

Roman slapped Cody on the shoulder before exiting the backseat, slamming the door behind him. Cody’s crystal eyes winced, and you reached over to cradle his face. 

“I love you,” you said, pressing your lips to his.

Cody sighed, warm air rushing across your face. “I love you, too. If you need me—” 

“I know.” One final kiss, and you rubbed the residual lipstick off his mouth before you opened your door. Roman’s hand was suddenly there, and you glanced at Cody while  slipping your hand into Roman’s and stepping out of the Lexus. Roman slammed the door with his free hand, slapping the hand that had been holding yours onto your ass cheek where it stayed as the two of you made your way inside. You fought the urge to again glimpse your boyfriend over your shoulder, the pang in your chest becoming more noticeable, an image of him eating alone down the street haunting your thoughts.

You and Roman were seated in a round booth in a fairly private corner of the dining room. Your soft, bare leg gently touched Roman’s meaty thigh as he eliminated the space between you. His aroma enveloped you, overwhelmed you, and you were suddenly slightly dizzy, overdosing on Roman Reigns before you even actually got started. But that’s the effect he had on you, on most people, you were sure. He threw off a lot of heat, and so you couldn’t be sure if you were blushing or just physically being lit on fire. You still didn’t know the answer as he laid an arm across the booth behind you, so smooth, so apathetic, as he ordered an expensive bottle of wine from the nervous waiter. 

“So,” Roman broke the silence first, eyes surveying the other patrons of the restaurant, “did you follow the rules?” His inky eyes eventually landed on you, your thighs twitching, squeezing. “Made sure to wear panties?” 

You swallowed what felt like sand. “Yes, Daddy,” you confirmed. You gasped, back straightening and bumping into the cushions behind you, as Roman reached over and casually lifted the bottom of your dress. You had one leg crossed over the other, so there wasn’t much to see, but just enough to prove you’d obeyed his instructions. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his full lips kissing you delicately on the temple. And so enchanted were you by Roman’s odd gentleness, you didn’t notice as he took hold of your hand, sliding it over his brawny thigh, settling it atop the lump between his legs. “Nice and slow,” he said, winking. “We got all night.”

You set to work massaging him, squeezing, rubbing, even pinching the fat head of his cock, which caused Roman to jump just the slightest bit in his seat. Fear swept through you, but the Tribal Chief merely grinned, shook his head, and took a sip from his glass of red wine. He quickly hardened under your touch, straining against the zipper of his expensive slacks, and pride swelled in your chest at how easy it was for you to bring Roman Reigns’ monster cock to life. Though you were quickly deflated at how indifferent he was about it. Aside from the tiny jump, and the fact that he was hard as fuck, he gave no other indication that he enjoyed your ministrations. No more smiles, hardly any glances in your direction, and he certainly wasn’t touching you despite his arm still lounging on the booth behind you. This is what you asked for, you supposed—Roman hadn’t signed up for the boyfriend package. 

“Take it out,” Roman said. Biting your lip, and as stealthily as possible, you used both your hands to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. Once those were out of your way, you revealed the Tribal Chief’s impressive shaft, sighing as you wrapped your tiny-in-comparison hand around his length. The size, the weight, the warmth … your panties were soaked already. “Good,” he praised. “Now spit on it.”

Your heart sped up, but your mouth watered, making your task that much easier. After glancing around to be sure no one was paying either of you any mind, you bent over, and dropped a perfectly formed glob of saliva on the fleshy head of Roman’s cock. Your fingers smeared it around, sliding it down his cock, and it made your strokes much more enjoyable for him. You were even able to hear a faint moan emanate from his chest, and it was about this time your waiter decided to check in on you a short while after he’d served your entrees. 

“I’m good,” Roman smoothly replied, and then you looked at you. “You good, babe?”

Your hand was frozen on his cock, but with the angle of your arm, it was clear your hand was in Roman’s lap. The waiter’s eyes dropped briefly to see if he could get a peek of whatever was going on, coming back to your face almost immediately when he realized he wasn’t able to see anything. “I—I’m good,” you stuttered. The waiter excused himself, glancing over his shoulder briefly before disappearing around the corner. 

“Keep jerkin’ me,” Roman commanded, and you hadn’t realized you’d stopped at all. Before you could get a full stroke in, Roman leaned until his lips grazed your ear, growling, “You’re gon’ get a spankin’ for that. You don’t stop until Daddy tells you to stop.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whispered. With your free hand, you grabbed your own glass of wine and quickly swallowed three mouthfuls, never once pausing your manual stimulation. Neither of you had touched much of your expensive food.

“Now tell me why, if Rhodes loves you so much, he won’t give you what you want?”

You weren’t sure why he was asking, or why the answer was important, but your response was quick. “Because he’s a good guy.”

Roman looked at you. “Does that make me the bad guy?”

You flicked your thumb over the head, and Roman licked and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Aren’t you?” you breathed, brow arched.

Roman’s eyes narrowed briefly, and then he smirked, shrugged. “Why don’t you kiss Daddy’s cock?” Knowing better than to waste time by making sure no one was looking, you leaned over and touched your lips to the head of Roman’s cock, and you straight away tasted that familiar salty flavor of precum, of the Tribal Chief. You were licking the head and tonguing the slit as if you had permission to do so, as if you weren’t in public, and Roman had the honor of reminding you which of the two of you were actually in charge. He fisted your perfect hair, bringing his fingers as closely to your head as he could, so he was able to pull and cause pain without actually moving you and thus drawing attention, and he slowly lifted you back into your original position. Somehow, you managed to continue stroking him. “Did I say you could lick me?” he fumed. You shook your head, tears springing in your eyes from the stinging in your scalp. “That’s gon’ get you another spankin’.”

You nodded, slowly, barely. “Yes, Daddy.”

Roman also nodded, gazing down his nose at you, and it was like a downburst in the middle of the restaurant—all the tension, both sexual and nervous, the attraction you had for one another, the arousal, the spark—it all came crashing down onto your shoulders, sucking the breath from your lungs. You knew better than to touch him if you weren’t told to do so, so you settled for placing your free hand on your thigh, which was grinding into its twin without abandon. Roman’s sinful eyes descended just there, watching a moment as your fingers dug into your muscle to keep from reaching out for him. 

“Why don’t you call your boyfriend?” he suggested, your eyes locked on his plump lips. “Think I’m ready to have his girlfriend.”

You struggled to extract your phone from your purse with just one hand—you heard Roman snort softly—but you were triumphant moments later, tapping your way to a phone call with Cody.

His tone was tight when he answered after only one ring. “Hey.”

Roman’s long fingers slipped under your chin, gently tugging until you looked at him, phone to your ear. His brows rose, head tilted down—a silent reminder.

Your hand still stroking his cock, eyes captivated by Roman’s wicked chocolate pools, you said to your boyfriend, “Daddy and I are ready to go.”

Roman waggled the fingers that had just been on your chin, and your heart skipped several beats as you slowly handed him your phone. “Get the lead out, Rhodes. Your girl’s got me hard as fuck.” Without waiting for a response, he disconnected the call, grinning like a fool as he returned it to your possession.

You and Roman weren’t waiting long outside the restaurant before the Lexus came speeding up, squealing to a fluid halt. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to gauge Cody’s mood early. Roman opened the back door, and you anxiously licked your lips as you crawled inside. Sliding to the middle of the seat, you caught Cody’s crystal eyes in the rear view mirror—two stone sapphires, revealing nothing of what was going on behind the scenes. It was difficult to not reach out and touch him, hug him, kiss him, but you hadn’t been given permission to do so, and you already had two spanks coming your way. Roman’s hulking frame followed you, closing the door behind him, and he was roughly the same distance from you now as he was in the restaurant, but in the enclosed space of the vehicle, you suddenly felt claustrophobic as his presence surrounded you. 

“Alright, let’s get these off,” Roman said, pulling at the bottom of your dress. You lifted your hips, and his hands disappeared under your dress so he could slip your panties down your legs—you carefully maneuvered your heels out of the material so as not to rip it. He examined them, and it was almost like he was examining you, but the wild grin on his face made you feel better about his actions. Suddenly, he tossed the garment at Cody, the black lace hitting him delicately in the neck, and you heard Cody sigh heavily through his nostrils. “Just give those a smell, Nightmare.”

Your eyes rounded as you watched your boyfriend lift your panties from his shoulder, holding them up, and the wet spot you’d created was unmistakable, glistening in the gentle light of the car. You gasped, Cody bringing your panties to his nose, and his inhaling was the loudest thing you’d ever heard, but fuck it all if you weren’t simply becoming wetter and wetter. 

“That’s just from jerkin’ me off,” Roman pointed out, “and the little kisses and licks on my cock.” He snatched your face, much rougher than he had just a few moments ago, and you focused your attention on the Samoan god. “That reminds me,” he growled, “you got two spanks comin’ your way, don’t you?”

A car honked from behind the Lexus, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The two men were calm, however, and Cody used the hand holding your panties to put the car in drive so he could pull out of the restaurant parking lot. As your boyfriend chauffeured you and Roman back to your house, the Tribal Chief ordered you on your knees and to once again pull his now semi-hard cock out of his pants. 

“Now, your boyfriend can’t see you, so make sure he can hear you,” Roman advised, now with the freedom to shove your face into his crotch, your mouth opening just in time to accept his hot length, and the man was big enough to make you gag without even being completely hard. “That a girl, but I know you can do better.”

As Roman pulled your dress up, you impaled your throat on his cock, choking, coating the shaft in spit and drool, which allowed your hand to slide easily up and down, covering the area of his dick your mouth wasn’t able to reach. Roman’s coarse, capable hand barely grazed the soft, sensitive skin of your ass, and your heart drummed as you awaited your punishment. The smack came, hard, jarring your body, and you grunted around Roman’s cock, forcing it down your throat as far as you could as, what, a thank you? Penance? 

“What do you say, slut?” Roman roared.

Your mouth popped wetly off his dick. “Thank you, Daddy,” you answered breathlessly, and he thrust his cock back in your mouth before you even got daddy all the way out. In and out, deeper with each pump of his hips, coughing, gagging, tears streaking your otherwise perfectly made up cheeks. The second spank came out of nowhere, jolting you once more, and you held his cock deep in your throat until you absolutely had to breathe. Pulling off, you sputtered, “Thank you, Daddy.” 

“Goddamn shame your own man can’t take care of you the way you deserve,” Roman said, holding your face close to his eyes, admiring the mess of your mouth and chin. “But don’t you worry your pretty, little head … Daddy’s gon’ take care of you. Fuck you like a real man. Fuck you like the slut inside you deserves.” You grinned up at him, suddenly lethargic, enraptured by Roman’s beauty, reveling in his undivided attention. “So turn around and sit on my cock. I want you to be able to look at your little boyfriend.”

The two of you worked together as he slid to the middle of the backseat, and you turned your back to him, your thighs on either side of his, grabbing hold of those sinewy muscles before sinking down slowly onto Roman’s fat cock. 

“Fuck,” you mewled, head falling back, eyes fluttering, fingers squeezing closer to Roman’s knees. Two hot vices gripped your hips, squeezing into the tender flesh, and you were encouraged to lean forward until your elbows were propped on the armrest between the two front seats. Then you were told to bounce.

So willing and more than able to obey your Tribal Chief, you squeezed your thighs against his and did just as instructed—you bounced. Roman released your hips briefly so he could lower your dress and release your breasts, which were without the hindrance of a bra, and then he returned them to your already-bruised skin. So as you bounced, so did your tits. You felt Cody’s eyes burning into your every now and again, as he had to watch the road, but your gazes finally connected, and the explosion of his pupils were like two tiny volcanoes erupting, spewing ash all across the land. You knew that look, you knew those eyes, and you gasped, jaw dropped, pussy clenching around Roman’s thick dick as your hips continued rising and falling, your ass undulating every time your bodies came together. 

“Tell him how bad you needed the Tribal Chief in your pussy,” Roman said. 

Looking up at your boyfriend, who was now attempting to focus on the road, you panted, “I need the Tribal Chief in my pussy so fucking bad. I feel so fucking empty when he’s not inside me.” Cody reached down to adjust himself, and your attention fell to the incredible bulge threatening to stretch out Cody’s tailored pants, and you’d known he’d be turned on, but it was still a welcomed sight—validation. 

“And tell him how much of a fucking slut you really are.” 

You couldn’t help the diabolical grin that spread your lips, teeth slowly sinking into your bottom lip. “I’m such a slut, baby,” you told Cody, almost blissfully. “I can’t help it. I fucking love this shit.” The drool from the face-fuck earlier was sliding down your neck, making its way to the valley between your jiggling breasts. “I love fucking the Tribal Chief in front of you. I love when he fucks my face and spanks my ass. I love calling him Daddy.”

Roman guffawed, yanking your head back by your hair. “Listen to that mouth!” he hollered. “Never had a slut like this before. Riding me in front of your boyfriend? Slutty as fuck.”  

“Fuck yes, my Tribal Chief,” you moaned. Cody squirmed in the driver’s seat, loosening his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt. “Such a fucking slut for you.” 

“Turn the fuck around,” Roman suddenly demanded. “Put this cock back in that filthy mouth.” Eyes on Cody, you lifted your hips, slowly allowing Roman’s massive cock to fall out of your dripping cunt, and then you turned, knees on the seat as you bent over. He snatched your head and stabbed his drenched cock straight into your throat, wrestling that strangled choking sound from you that he seemed to love so much. You tasted a hint of his salty precum, but mostly you tasted your own luscious essence, which thickly coated Roman’s dick from root to tip, and as soon as you were able to quickly catch your breath, you went straight back down for more, stuffing his cock as far as it would go. Roman’s hand was on the back of your neck, lithe fingers curved around the column so he could feel the bulge in your throat with each pump of his steel cock. “Mmm, listen to that sound, Rhodes!” Roman exclaimed. “You like it when I choke your slutty little girlfriend with my cock? Hmm?” He abruptly yanked your head back, your scalp screaming, pussy throbbing, and he forced you to look at him. “Give your boyfriend a kiss,” he spoke quietly. “I want him to taste my cock in your mouth.”

As Cody changed lanes, you maneuvered your way back between the front seats. Cody’s cheeks were a dusty rose, his sapphire eyes bulging, and he had one hand controlling the Lexus, the other massaging his cock that appeared to be mere seconds from launching itself through his slacks and smacking against the steering wheel. This specific moment hadn’t been discussed beforehand or between you and Cody at all, so you weren’t quite sure which avenue to take. If you didn’t obey your Tribal Chief, you’d probably be in for another spanking, unless he thought of a more creative way to punish you. And if you did follow his instructions, how would Cody react? He liked watching and listening, that much was incredibly clear, but how involved did he want to be?

You settled for a compromise—you planted sloppy, sticky kisses to Cody’s cheek, the corner of his mouth the furthest you were willing to take it without the okay from your boyfriend. Cody’s tongue snaked out of his mouth, gathering the residue left behind, and his eyes fluttered. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. 

“Come here,” Roman ordered, “get back on this dick.”

He had you face him this time, straddling his hips, lowering yourself onto his still-rock hard cock. Gripping his shoulders, you set your hips in a moderate rhythm, feeling him nudge each and every corner of your cunt, tapping your cervix, and you cried out. 

“So fucking wet,” Roman gushed, licking one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth, giving your other breast the same attention. “I’ll remember that for next time. That all I gotta do is take you to a fancy restaurant, give you a little taste of my cock, and I get to fuck you stupid in front of your boyfriend.” He grinned like a damn fool, brandishing his sparkling teeth, and all you could was keep grinding on him, panting into his mouth, too afraid to go in for a kiss. “And I could just roll this window down and show the whole city what a real whore looks like.” Whimpering, you dropped your perspiring forehead onto Roman’s, thankful he allowed you to remain there, however short-lived it was. “What do you say, slut? If Daddy wanted to roll the window down …”

You gulped, immediately thinking of Cody, but you knew better than to turn and check on him, and the way Roman was fucking you would have made it impossible for you to move anyway. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, hips rocking to meet his, drawing him deeper inside you. “I want the whole fucking city to see how much of a slut I am for you.” 

Roman’s brows knitted together, and he sucked and licked and nibbled at your breasts. “Beg for Daddy’s cum,” he mumbled against your skin. 

“Please, Daddy?” you gasped. “Your dick isn’t enough for my slutty pussy. I need your cum, too. I need your cum all the fucking time.” Roman touched his damp, fleshy lips to your ear, whispering, and you sighed as his scorching breath ghosted along your neck and shoulder. You licked your own lips before following his orders, glancing over your shoulder, and asking, “Can Daddy please come inside me? I need it more than anything.”

Cody inhaled through his nostrils, cobalt eyes lifting to the mirror. “Yes,” he rasped, “he can cum inside you.”

You turned back to Roman, fully prepared to ride him for all it was worth, reaping the benefits of his load inside you, but you were disappointed when he whispered more filthy things for you to repeat. “Baby,” you gained Cody’s attention again, “tell me you wanna fuck me with the Tribal Chief’s cum inside me.” 

“Fuck you, Reigns,” Cody erupted.

Roman howled. “Come on, you know you want to,” he taunted Cody. “Imagine how fuckin’ messy her cunt’s gonna be when I’m done with it. Goddamn slip-and-slide.” You collapsed against Roman’s chest, head on his shoulder, his cock scratching that itch deep inside your pussy. “Don’t get me wrong,” he went on, “still tight as fuck.” 

“God, I’m gonna cum,” you groaned. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Roman warned. “That little blonde boy doesn’t tell me how bad he wants to fuck you—” 

“Baby, please,” you whined, near tears, squealing as Roman pinched and pulled at your nipples just because he fucking felt like it. “Please … I need to cum.” 

“Come on, Nightmare,” Roman sing-songed, out of breath. “You really gon’ let your girl get fucked, and not let her cum?” 

“Fuck, goddamn it, I want it,” Cody babbled. “I wanna see your fucking cum dripping out of her cunt before I shove my cock inside her.” 

“Let me get that cum, baby girl,” Roman said to you, and your spine arched as you screamed, throwing your head back. Your pussy clenched around Roman’s cock, your entire body wracked with shudders. “Come on, you whore … milk this fuckin’ dick so the American Nightmare can get it up for you.”

Roman unloaded inside you just as Cody pulled the Lexus into the garage of your home. He thrust into you so many times afterward, you thought he was trying to get off again, but he was simply making sure he’d deposited every last drop of his cum inside you. Without warning, he lifted you slowly off his lap, your cunt pulsing as it mourned the loss of fullness, and laid you in the seat beside him. He grinned at you as he tucked himself away, adjusted and smoothed his suit, and opened the door, stepping out, where he came face-to-face with Cody. You watched, heart pounding, having no idea where this was headed, but you could feel the furious tension that was laced with arousal in the air. You gaped as Roman extended his hand, shit-eating grin on his face. Cody, massive bulge on full display as he doffed his jacket, shook Roman’s hand, and you could see their skin turn white from the amount of pressure being applied. 

“Better get in there before my nut leaks out,” Roman advised, slapping Cody on the shoulder before strolling out of the garage, bound for his own vehicle parked on the street. 

“Cody, baby, please,” you begged your boyfriend, who stared after Roman, fists clenched. “I need you.” 

That seemed to break the Roman spell, and Cody looked at you. You jumped at the opportunity to slide your hand across your breasts, tweaking a nipple, as you scooted closer to the door. You spread your legs, Cody’s cerulean irises instantly drawn to what was probably an incredibly wrecked pussy. You felt Roman’s cum begin to seep from your used hole, and Cody suddenly reached out for your knees, holding them open, pushing them closer to your chest. 

“My god, I’ve never seen anything so fucking sexy,” Cody admitted, leering at your entire body, but mostly your swollen, weeping pussy. He made swift work of his belt and pants, his long, slightly curved cock popping out. The head was red and seeping precum, and you licked your lips as your mouth watered, as it did every single time you looked at Cody’s dick. He adjusted your hips to the correct angle and height so that he could comfortably—for him, anyway—slip his cock deep within your cunt. He groaned, eyes closing briefly before opening again so he could watch as he leisurely pulled out, his cock coated in not only your cum, but also Roman’s cum. 

“Oh, my fucking god …” you sobbed, your boyfriend squelching his way in and out of your flooded pussy. “Baby … I’m gonna cum again …” 

“Do it, baby,” Cody encouraged, and your body contorted with the extra strength of this orgasm. “Because I’m about to …” 

“Yes,” you mewled, body bouncing as Cody fucked you. “Please cum in my pussy. Please, please, please …” 

“Fuck!” Cody cried out, hips slamming into you one final time before he paused, his muscular body, hidden behind slacks, a shirt, and a vest quivering much the same way yours had. After a moment, he chuckled, “You’re overflowing right now.”

You nodded dreamily, relaxing against the seat as Cody delicately pulled out, and you watched him as he watched all the thick cream he spoke of ooze out of your cunt. “I love you,” you said. 

Cody smiled, shaking his head, still focused on the mess that was you. “I love you more,” he replied.

[becauseimswagman1]

Illusion vs Reality: When Did the Lines Blur?

Content Creator!Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Virgin!reader

--Reader is sick and tired of her family asking where her man at so she buys one--

A/N: this is a request! AND it's part 1 (idk what it is about breaking up fics into parts but I'm addicted! I get so caught up in the plot that I need to break it up). And boy when I say this spoke to me on a personal level, I mean it!

warnings: shenanigans are afoot.

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

Your family could be so mean sometimes. They constantly made you feel bad for not being like your older sister, married with children.

But you were only twenty-four, you had plenty of time to do all the things they wanted you to do… NOT! You wanted to live a little more than you already have… that literally just means losing your virginity. 

That’s right, a hot girl like you is still a virgin, by choice. You had a love-hate relationship with sex. Combine that with too many rom-com movies growing up, you wanted things to be special. But as growing up would have it, things were not like the movies. You were not a prude, but you never felt too comfortable with the guys you grew up with to take their time and not jackrabbit inside you. 

And by the time you turned eighteen, it seemed like everyone was getting their back broken! 

Now you weren’t a complete virgin though, you’ve done things like given blowjobs and sent nudes (of like your breasts and maybe an ass pic here and there). It’s just no one has touched you there, except yourself.

Fast forward to the big twenty-four and you’re more confident than you’ve ever been about everything except having sex. And that’s okay! Everyone moves at their own pace. 

It’s not like you never had the chance to do it either! You never trusted anyone enough AND once you got to the point with a guy where you’d tell them you’re a virgin, they either acted weird about it (“Oh you want me to be the first to tap that?”) or they wanted nothing to do with you (“I don’t know if I can be with someone that’s a virgin. I’m sorry.”). 

And with Thanksgiving coming up soon and no man in tow… you’re gonna be roasted alive by your family. But not this year! You were determined to figure something out. So you face-timed your bestie, Brianna. 

Thank God she answered for real, “Hey, Bri! I got a silly ass question.”

“Wassup girl?”

“How does one get a man in less than a month?”

“...You want a real relationship and not a situationship right?”

“Duh.” you thought that was kind of obvious.

“OH!” She laughed, “ Yeah girl that’s a silly ass question. Don't ask no shit like that again!”

“Whatever! You got an actual answer or what?”

Bri sat up in the camera, “You have a better chance at buying a man than getting one that’s not in it for sex in less than a month.”

You had an evil look on your face.

“Oh hell no! Don’t tell me you’re actually considering that shit?”

“I mean… I could! Just for Thanksgiving weekend.” It's not like you had a better idea.

She sighed, “I’m gonna trust you with this cause you gone do it anyway. Just make sure he’s a stand-up guy at least, girl.”

“Well, I kinda have someone in mind already.”

Brianna's eyes grew wide, “ALREADY?! You work too fast for me.”

You giggled, “I know. I’ll text you if it works?”

“Duh, girl! I gotta see how this plays out.”

You blew her a kiss, “Muah! Thank you again for the idea! And I love you!”

“I love you, too, girl!”

You hung up and opened your laptop. You really did have the perfect guy in mind.

—--------------------------

Kelvin Harrison Jr. The perfect guy’s name is Kelvin Harrison Jr. He’s an on-the-smaller side content creator with a super loyal fanbase. He’s become your internet crush. He’s so real (as real as the camera makes him look) and so damn funny! It wouldn’t hurt to shoot him an email with the proposition of being your fake boyfriend for a weekend, right?

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

taglist (comment to be added, dm to be removed): @gaydakiss @sharmelasworld @ayeeeitsmiracle @femdisa @luvrsluxe @papithetia @mzv11 @gg-trini

[thezombieprostitute]

Constant Change - Part 5

Summary: You and Nick must navigate the new territories of pregnancy and parenting while managing the continued hostility from the outside forces.

A/N: Reader is AFAB, in her late 30's, early 40's. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: Family stress, Pregnancy issues, Smut, Wedding stress. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 4 -- Part 6

Series Masterlist

Looking back on it, it was quite silly of you to expect Nick to treat the morning of your wedding day like it was just another day. You were woken up by him kissing you along your neck, his strong hands roaming your body. He only increases the intensity when he realizes you're awake.

"Thought we were supposed to wait for tonight," you joke as you lean into his touch.

"Can't help myself," he chuckles breathily. "I woke up and realized I was going to be able to call you 'my wife' by the end of the day."

"I hope you're this enthusiastic when the pregnancy hormones kick in and I'm insatiable."

Nick groans, "I'm looking forward to finally living the dream of keeping you in bed all day."

You chuckle as you try to push him away to get ready but he's determined. He playfully growls and gives you a look that makes your knees weak. You smile wider and let yourself give in to your soon-to-be husband.

At The Cairo Hotel you and your mother are laughing as you're getting the place decorated. Though it's certainly not the wedding you pictured for yourself, you have to admit, it's looking even better than you could've imagined. Not because of the grandeur, of course, but because of how you it all is. This wedding isn't for everyone, it's for you and Nick. The fact that it can be so much to your own personal taste and it works so well with Nick's personal preferences just speaks volumes to you about how good you are together.

The thought sparks a wave of joy and you start crying a little from how happy you are about all of it. Ellen sees your tears and lets her own flow.

"I can't tell you how happy I am for you," she gushes. "Nick seems like a very good man. Even after just a few minutes with the two of you anyone can tell how in love with you he is. He's certainly going to take good care of you and that's all I could ever want for my daughters."

"I really am lucky," you tell her.

Unfortunately that's the moment your morning sickness decided to kick in. You rush to a waste-bin to throw up. Ellen is quick to comfort and, thankfully, it's over quickly, but you're still embarrassed. Even more so when she waves down one of the staff to take out the bin and replace it with a clean one.

After you've settled and had some water she sits next to and asks, "are you pregnant?" You don't react right away so she continues, "the ginger ale at dinner. The loose clothing. The light meals while we were out. Now this? And don't think I didn't see you slipping pills here and there around meal times. Are they anti-nausea meds? Or are you on drugs?"

Taking a deep breath you decide it's best to confess. You'll explain to Nick later. "We were going to wait until the second trimester started. It's a risky pregnancy given my age, after all."

"I just need to ask, is this why you're getting married? It's clear he loves you, but are you only making it official because of the baby?"

"He proposed before he knew I was pregnant." She nods as if you're confirming something for her.

"I'll do my best to keep quiet until you're ready to tell people, I will have to tell your father. But I have to admit, I'm so excited about being a grandma!" She wraps you up in a big hug and you chuckle, relieved at her response.

With help from Ellen and Teach, you're dressed and ready, hiding behind an impromptu dressing room that was really just a cordoned off section of the room. The bouquet of hydrangeas, cornflowers and delphiniums complimenting the blue flowers on your new dress.

Your mother comments you just needed something old and something borrowed to complete the set. She holds out a small, frayed velvet box to you. Opening it you see a set of pearl earrings, likely from the 1920's!

"Those earrings have been passed from mother to eldest daughter for a few generations now," she explains. "I'm so happy I'll get to see the tradition carried on!"

That just left something borrowed. Thinking fast, Teach ran out to the main desk of the hotel. When she came back, she was carrying a blue lotus pin, worn by the employees of the hotel. "It goes with your outfit and has to be returned."

"Excellent thinking!" you reply with a hug.

You put in the earrings and Teach pins the blue lotus to your dress while your mother continues to take pictures with her camera. She's tearing up and you feel like you are, too.

There's a little cough and you all turn to see Hal, Nick's "friend" assigned to the photography. "They're all ready when you are," he says.

"Oh, okay! Let's do this!" you nod.

He nods in confirmation and gives a thumbs up to the people outside the "room" before readying his camera. Nick had insisted on not seeing you in all your getup before the wedding and Teach had suggested getting photos of Nick's reaction. You thought it was kind of silly but when you stepped out into the main area and saw Nick's eyes soften and his smile grow, you're glad there will be photos.

The ceremony is shares many similarities with your and Nick's relationship. Short, but meaningful. Subdued, but fervent. Not a big deal to many, but intrinsic for the two of you. You both speak your vows with an earnestness, a conviction, that confirms for all in attendance that they are meant and will be kept. If anyone in attendance had any doubts, they were gone.

When the officiant finally proclaims you "man and wife" Nick doesn't even wait for permission before bringing you in for a breathtaking kiss. You swear you feel him trembling, but maybe that's your own nerves.

He finally lets you breathe and his eyes are a little misty. "Thank you for this, most beautiful, gracious Lady."

"It's my pleasure, I assure you," you confirm before giving him a quick kiss.

The party is slow to move to the restaurant as Hal is insistent on getting all of the family and friend combinations he can. It isn't until Nick gives him a look that he finally relents. Though even in the restaurant he's not taking a seat, preferring to keep moving around.

The next several hours are spent chatting happily. When you're finally ready to call it a night and head home, you're stopped by Curtis. He hands Nick a card key to the hotel.

"We got you a week at the Honeymoon Suite," he says with a smile. "Courtesy of the company. And yes, that includes any room service or anything you get from the mini-bar."

Your jaw drops and you look to Teach, standing behind him. She nods in confirmation and you give both her and Curtis a big hug. "That's so sweet! Thank you so much!"

You say your goodbyes for the night, promising to meet your parents in the same restaurant for lunch tomorrow.

As you're going up to the suite you comment, "we don't have any clothes to change into!"

"No worries," Nick coos. "You're not going to need any for tonight." You chuckle and give him a playful smack to his chest as heat rushes to your face. "I'll go get us some clothes tomorrow morning," he promises.

"Thank you, Nick. I'm glad you work with such good people."

As you get to the door of the suite Nick moves to pick you up. You try to stop him, telling him you're too heavy but you see the spark in his eyes that says, "challenge accepted" and concede. Sure enough, he's able to carry you across the threshold, all the way to the giant, heart shaped bed, before gently laying you down.

"Now let's get this beautiful dress off of you so I can see how gorgeous you are."

"You act like this is the first time we've ever had sex."

"It's the first time since we've been married," he retorts. "And if I ever stop treating sex with you like the treasure it is, I want you to call me out on it."

Your reply is cut off by Nick's kiss. His hands work to unzip the back of your dress. As he removes it, he kisses along your shoulder, down to your breasts (gently so as not to trigger the pains you were having the other day). You lift your hips so he can finish removing the dress and he kisses down your belly. He spreads your legs as he kisses down to your core.

Nick licks his lips before using it to play with your clit, making you moan. He takes his time, slowly, gently licking your pearl. His hands kneading your thighs. He pulls away just enough that he can move to start fucking you with his tongue. You both know he knows your favorite spots but he seems intent on avoiding them. When you give him a glare for getting you so wound up he smirks, silently encouraging you when you wrap your legs around his head, pushing him to where you want him.

As you do, he increases his intensity, making you gasp in pleasure. He's eating you like you're the most delicious meal in the world. Your legs tighten around him, a plea for more. You want so much more! You're so close! He lifts your hips, giving him a new angle and your legs spread wide as you cum on his tongue. He doesn't stop until you're ready for him to. His ability to read your body's cues will never cease to amaze you.

"How are you always so gorgeous when you cum?" he breathes. "Well, let's face it, you're always gorgeous."

You chuckle a little, dazed from feeling so good. From finally being past the stress of the wedding and your parents and trying to hide the pregnancy from them. It's your honeymoon and you're going to enjoy it. Especially if Nick has any say in the matter.

He moves off the bed so that he can strip down. You swear he knows how to strip in such a way that it always gets you riled up. Then again, maybe it's just that muscular physique. The one strong enough to carry you, strong enough to make you feel safe. Your legs open up a little more in anticipation and he grins.

"You're so eager for me already?"

"When am I not?"

"Fair," he smirks before crawling over the bed until he's hovering over you. He gently kisses your lips. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"I'm so happy you think that," you say before you start kissing along his jawline, gently biting down his neck to his shoulders.

"You really don't know how happy it makes me to see you wearing that ring," he rasps, your lips leaving marks. "How happy it made me that you were willing to marry me."

"Easiest decision I've ever made," you affirm.

He lines himself up with your core before slowly delving into you. You moan and wrap your arms around him, delighting in the stretch, how he fills you like no other has.

When he's fully sheathed he starts rolling his hips. He's going slow, being gentle, but you want more. You wrap your legs around him and try to push him at your preferred pace.

"Oh," he grins. "My Lady wants more?"

"Damn right," you smile.

"Well then I should be a good husband and make sure my wife's needs are met."

He increases his pace and you throw your head back in pleasure. Nick's hands and lips are on you, seemingly never stopping. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping while you let out keens of pleasure. You love the feeling of practically being smothered by him. He makes you feel safe. Makes you feel wanted. Makes sure every time together is pleasurable for you.

Your breath hitches as you recognize the feeling of your orgasm building like a coil winding tightly. Nick senses it and pushes himself off of you making you whine.

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you."

Sitting on his knees he lifts your hips, adjusting himself so he feels even bigger inside of you. Letting out a moan of pleasure, you let yourself enjoy the sensations, the rhythmic rocking of his hips. One of his hands moves to your clit and you start crying out in pleasure, "so close! Please Nick, I'm so close!"

When the coil finally snaps you cum with a cry. Nick never stops fucking you, never stops telling you how gorgeous you look, how good you feel milking his cock, how beautiful you sound. He wants to last longer but the way your squeezing him feels too good and his rhythm starts stuttering as he reaches his own release.

"My beautiful wife," he whispers in your ear as he kisses and caresses you.

"My handsome husband," you respond, returning his kisses.

Later that night, when you're sound asleep, Nick calls Curtis.

"What's going on?"

"There were some unwanted guests trying to crash the party," Curtis explains. "Per your request we made sure Pine had the sister and her husband marked as 'not allowed'. They tried to crash the wedding, but Pine took care of them. We just had Hal cover for him with all the excess photos so your Lady and her parents wouldn't know."

"And the restaurant?"

"The two hung outside, trying to get attention. We made sure the parents were seated away from the windows and Hal would frequently move between Lady and them."

"How long until they get their gift?"

Curtis chuckles at that. "Jake's already delivered the photos to the sister's phone. She really shouldn't be too surprised her husband's cheating. He cheated with her, after all."

Nick gives a cold laugh. "Now give me the truth about the honeymoon suite."

Curtis sighs. "It's a safety measure. Franco the Elder was spotted near your new apartment building. Could be coincidence but I think you and I both know better than that."

Nick's blood freezes. Had Franco learned it was him that killed his brother? Was he scouting the apartment for Nick, or for you?

Curtis continues, "we've got surveillance on the place but keeping the two of you at the hotel for a week should be good for giving us time to establish a pattern, maybe throw him off the scent for your living quarters. But neither of you is to leave that hotel for the week. Understood?"

"You don't order me around, Curtis," Nick bites back.

"You're right, you're not under my purview. But if Barnes hears you went out, leaving your new wife alone in the hotel, he's going to have more than just some words with you."

Nick groans in frustration.

"Just a week," Curtis reiterates. "And Teach is going to make sure you've got clean clothes for the time as well."

Nick is silent for a few moments.

"You focus on your wife this week, Nick. She's the one you need to worry about, understand?"

"I understand."

Part 4 -- Part 6

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ronearoundblindly

[itsnesss]

𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | forced to work together on a school project, your rivalry with minho turns into unexpected romance as you uncover his softer side

warnings | fluff, slow burn romance, mild academic rivalry

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The first day you exchanged words with Min Ho, you knew you wouldn’t like him. Everything about him screamed perfection—from his perfectly styled hair to the arrogant way he glanced at you from his seat in the classroom. There was something infuriating about his air of superiority, as if he believed the entire world revolved around him and every word he spoke was an indisputable truth.

That first interaction happened during a literature class. The professor had asked a question about the protagonist of the book you were reading, and Min Ho, of course, raised his hand with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

“It’s obvious the protagonist is the villain of his own story,” he said in that careless tone of his, glancing around as if expecting applause for his brilliance.

You leaned forward in your seat, crossing your arms as you studied him. There was something about his statement that felt simplistic, almost shallow.

“Do you really think the protagonist is the villain just because he makes difficult choices? That sounds more like an excuse not to explore his moral complexity,” you said aloud, drawing everyone’s attention.

Min Ho raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your comment.

“It’s obvious you didn’t understand the subtext. It’s not moral complexity; it’s pure selfishness. Maybe you should read it again, this time paying attention.”

The entire class held their breath, waiting for your response. But you had no intention of letting him win that little battle.

“Maybe, or maybe you should stop seeing everything in black and white and realize people are more complicated than that.”

Min Ho didn’t respond immediately, but the small curve of his smile told you he wasn’t done with you. From that moment on, it was clear there was no escaping his sarcastic remarks, challenging stares, and, of course, his strange need to prove he was always right.

Weeks passed, and his presence became a constant annoyance. It didn’t matter if you were in class, walking through the hallways, or even in the cafeteria—there was always a reason for him to approach you with some critical observation or a comment that made your blood boil. But you didn’t hold back either; your sharp retorts and solid arguments left him speechless more often than he’d probably admit.

Your dynamic with Min Ho hit a new level of tension when the literature professor announced a group project that would count for 40% of the final grade. To your misfortune, fate—or perhaps the worst kind of luck—decided that you and Min Ho would be partners. There was no way out.

The first time you sat together in the library to work, the atmosphere was, at best, uncomfortable. Every time you suggested an idea, Min Ho found a way to question it.

“Are you sure that’s the best way to approach it?” he asked, leaning over your notebook with that critical look that irritated you so much.

“Are you sure you have to comment on everything I say?” you shot back without looking at him.

He shrugged, as if your annoyance didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“I’m just trying to make sure our project doesn’t turn into a disaster.”

“And I’m the one who’d ruin it?” you asked, turning to him with incredulity.

Min Ho smiled, a smile that had no right to be as attractive as it was.

“Well, someone has to make sure it doesn’t.”

Your dynamic continued like that for the first few weeks of the project: constant arguments, challenging glances, and, occasionally, moments where you forgot you were supposed to hate each other. Because, though you didn’t want to admit it, there was something about Min Ho that started to intrigue you.

One afternoon, while working in the cafeteria, it started pouring rain outside. Neither of you had brought an umbrella, and you were on the verge of panicking because you had an important meeting to attend.

“Don’t worry,” Min Ho said, taking off his designer jacket and holding it over your head as you ran toward the exit. “Just make sure you don’t ruin it.”

“Do you always have to be so pretentious?” you asked, though you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at the gesture.

He glanced at you sideways, with a smile that, this time, didn’t seem arrogant but genuine.

“And you’re always so ungrateful.”

It was in that moment you realized Min Ho wasn’t exactly what you had imagined. There was something in his demeanor, in the way he interacted with you, that began to feel less like competition and more like… interest.

The project finally came to an end, and when the professor praised you both for your excellent work, Min Ho looked at you with something that felt more like respect than condescension.

“You did a good job,” he said as you both walked out of the classroom.

You looked at him, surprised.

“Was that a compliment? I think I’m in shock.”

He laughed, and the sound was so unexpected that it almost made you smile.

“Don’t make it a big deal. I’m just saying you’re not as terrible as I thought.”

That night, you couldn’t help but think about him. The way he had spoken, the way he had looked at you… something was changing, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

Weeks later, you ran into Min Ho at a school party. You were chatting with a group of friends when you saw him approaching. His presence, as always, was impossible to ignore.

“Can we talk?” he asked, ignoring the curious stares of the others.

You followed him to a quieter corner, wondering what could be so important.

“What is it?”

Min Ho hesitated, something completely out of character for him.

“I just wanted to say something.”

You looked at him, waiting.

“Since we started working together, I’ve… changed my opinion of you. You’re not as annoying as I thought at first. In fact, you’re pretty impressive.”

Your heart skipped a beat, though you tried to remain indifferent.

“Is this your way of apologizing for being a jerk?”

Min Ho smiled, but this time there was no trace of arrogance in his expression.

“Maybe. But I also wanted to tell you that I like you.”

The confession caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“What?”

He shrugged, as if trying to downplay the moment.

“I just wanted to be honest. I like you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to process what you had just heard. Finally, you smiled.

“You have a very strange way of showing it, you know?”

Min Ho laughed, and for the first time since you’d met him, you realized he might not be as insufferable as you’d thought.

[starry-songs-canvas]

Talking Him Down

Whenever Damian thought of his twin brother, he thought of his kindness. His fascination with the stars, his willingness to take the fall for Damian whenever sick or hurt animals were found in the compound. His aversion to killing or torture, which thought of as a weakness in the league, Damian had secretly admired. He thought of Danny talking him down from mistakes he knew Damian would regret.

He never thought the positions would be reversed.

Yet there his somehow alive brother was there, standing over an already bloody Vladimir Masters with rage-filled cold eyes and a knife in hand.

“You should leave, Dami. Before things get too messy.”

[floralovebot]

MADE EDITS i couldn't stop thinking about their outfits and like,, the aspects i liked and thought felt very winx and in line with the individual characters and the aspects i Hated and thought sucked dookie SO i made some edits :)

biggest changes are to musa, aisha, and stella! actually changed the clothes there. flora and tecna i just adjusted the colors (in flora's case to further unwhitewash her and saturate her clothing more and in tecna's case to bring back her pink hair and green and cyan).

explanations on changes below!

I'll start with the simpler edits!

For Tecna, I just wanted to play around with her og colors lol I actually LOVE her new look and I would love to see this be the final design!! It's SO tecna and fits in with the rest of the winx i love it soo much :') I do think they should bring back her pinker hair though! And again, would love to see the green and cyan make an appearance. I feel like neon green is just very classy techy character. And while it is cliche, I do love it akjgd plus I think it looks good on her and makes the other colors stand out more imo! (but maybe this new, pinker look will make people like her more idk :') justice for tecna my beloved :'))

For Flora, I darkened her skin more for obvious reasons. And then I added more saturation to the colors and added back the warmer tones they took out. Imo, the darker, desaturated, and cooler toned look for Flora only works in very specific circumstances. Color theory rainbow!! Bring back the brightness! The color!! The warmth!!

Which brings me to Stella ohmygod,,, please,,,, please stop desaturating her she looks so pale and sick and lifeless STOP please :') Anyway lol, obviously brought back the brighter orange! I also took away the random sleeve. It's cute but it just didn't feel very Stella at the time? The tube top look is Very Classic Stella (very much giving s3 casual but in orange). Tbh, I don't love the dress itself, but I do think it looks better once you add more of Stella's colors. I also tanned her skin more and made her hair more yellow + brighter! Just like with Flora, color theory is important for media!! This Stella design just does Not give sunny, optimistic character. It's giving the gap (aka BORING aljdhg)

Aisha's design stumped me for a bit, I won't lie. I couldn't figure out exactly what I didn't like. But I got it!! One, way too symmetrical imo. Yes, Aisha does have some very symmetrical looks, but like 80% of her looks are very asymmetrical. I also didn't love that it didn't incorporate more of Aisha's powers. It really just went for *vaguely sporty* and didn't try to bring anything else to the table. And some people might say that Aisha's og looks were like that too, but I disagree! They told a story! She's a brave adventurer, a dancer, a princess, etcetc!! This tells me "oh yeah this girl might like to do yoga. cool."

Anyway! So I made Aisha's pants baggier because let's be fucking real for a sec. Changed the design on the pants slightly to make it asymmetrical and incorporated a wave design. Took away that bottom shiny fabric of her shirt. I tried to keep it but it just wasn't looking great with the pants changes tbh. Added small waves to the bottom and made it one shoulder! Also added her classic little circle wave design 1. because it's cute and 2. so Musa wouldn't feel so out of place with a design. Tbh, I still don't love the pants... I think maybe that hem could be higher?

For Musa! I've spoken about this before but I do not like the bodysuit. I liked the concept and the vibe it brings, but it looks So uncomfortable and s1 Musa was alllll about being comfortable. It's why so many people think she hates wearing dresses (even though she doesn't). So I kept the vibe, but changed it to the same mesh that's on her right arm! Which like!! I didn't even see that until I started the edit!! It's so,,, unnoticeable which like,, isn't a bad thing? But also? I think the mesh being on her stomach too makes the design as a whole a little more balanced (and it's a nice callback to her og magic winx!). As for the color changes, really just wanted to go back to her reds and dark blues. I don't Hate the color scheme, but I also don't love it. And I think this feels a lot more like Musa yknow? Also darkened her hair cause fuck that dude

Anyway lol it's not the best edit so don't look too hard :') I just wanted to explore what I liked about the designs and what I didn't. We did get to see a little bit of Bloom's casual, but I want to wait until we get a closer look to speak on it/make edits. Also tbh, I don't really love Flora's outfit but I didn't want to completely redesign her and I concede that this is something she would wear (although it feels more like s4 cowgirl time/s5 casual and not s1 new student time but Fine). For now, I'm gonna pretend the trailer showed us my edit of Stella and not what it really showed. I can't get pale pinterest stella out of my head,,, aggghhhh

[idaaadivock]

not to talk about dune on main but like. lisan al-gaib became an instant meme in the theater i was at. like great acting amazing music (thank you hans zimmer you're a real one) phenomenal photography and setting and fight choreography

but stilgar's LISAN AL-GAIB in every circumstance possible was so funny it made the whole theater erupt into laughter directly after the fight with feyd-rautha which is supposed to be like. poignant ig and powerful and an overall vibe

y'all hit the wrong vibe besties 😭😭