#i added the first thing that came to mind

[lovscb97]

tags: park sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, size kink, strength kink, bulge kink, d/s dynamics, dom!sunghoon x sub!reader, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, degradation (slut, whore), praise kink?, nicknames (baby, princess, angel, hoonie, etc), slight fluff, lowkey pwp, reader is described to be shorter than hoon and is easy to pick up/throw around, reader is also very down bad for him (aren’t we all), etc

wc: 2.67k

add. notes: hoon won the poll i put out so i present to u my first ever enha work :3 thank u very much to everyone who voted n this will def not be the last enha fic i put out so do not worry there is much to come for hyung line!!! also icon creds to @/v4mpjay :3

. . . 

sunghoon doesn’t know how much longer he can take this. 

it all started when he began going to the gym regularly, slowly bulking his figure up and feeling himself grow out in his clothes. what used to be his lanky frame that greeted him in the mirror gradually turned into a built man with lean muscles and sharper features, adding to what was already there initially. it wasn’t like this wasn’t what he wanted though, albeit the entire reason why he even started working out in the first place being to improve his health and build better habits for himself, but the outcome wasn’t too bad in itself. he got used to feeling stronger, more lighter on his feet or less out of breath when he climbed the stairs, and it was enjoyable to know that he could lift twice his weight and still feel good as new. in some way, things felt like they were going swell.

that is, until you came into the picture.

now, sunghoon’s always known that you’re small compared to him. even when standing side by side, his height next to yours is a little laughable, though he supposes you’re used to that considering you’ve always been shorter than most of your peers. he’s well aware of how you have to go on your tippy-toes when you guys kiss, and the soft feel of your little hands in his is something that spins in his mind constantly when your fingers lace together. it doesn’t help that you always ask him to fetch your favourite mug from the top cabinet too, his larger physique towering over yours each time he leans over from behind you. he likes to tease you about it, revelling in the way you pout cutely back at him whenever he makes fun of you jokingly despite the small smile playing at your lips, but little do you know about the twisted fantasies breaching his thoughts every moment you spend together. he wonders if you would be disgusted? would you dump him and tell all your friends about what a creepy loser he was? sunghoon can’t help but imagine the worst case scenario, and it would be easy to bury these emotions down the hatchet had it not been for the fact that he’s started to think he is going mad too. 

every time sunghoon comes home from the gym, every time he enters your shared apartment, sweat dripping down his forehead and his water-bottle empty, he swears on his dead grandmother that you start checking him out. it doesn’t help that he's always been attentive either, always needlessly easy at picking up the cues of your discomfort when you're outside in a social space for too long, or being able to tell instantly when you're anything other than the happy go lucky girlfriend he usually sees you as. so, when your lingering gaze begins to trail across his arms a little too long whenever he passes your shared bedroom on his way to the shower, or when your mouth opens and closes to swallow before you're pressing your thighs together subtly each time he moves to wipe himself down each time he’s home— it all sparks something in him. it told him to finally, finally indulge in the nasty thoughts he’s kept tucked away to himself once and for all.

except he doesn’t. because at the end of the day, sunghoon is a gentleman. he pulls open the doors for you with nonchalance written all over him despite his burning ears, and he brings you back your memorised coffee order alongside a few sweet treats when he knows you’re on your period. he holds you close when you’re asleep in bed together, rubbing a gentle thumb against the skin of your cheek because he’s aware that’s what it takes for you to fall asleep, and makes sure you know he’s always going to be there for you in any time of need, even if he’s a thousand miles away. he’s never once made you doubt him, never once given you any reason to suspect he could be anything beyond the perfect, storybook written boyfriend he’s always been. 

until today, at least.

it was a day like any other, a day where you wouldn’t have expected things to take the turn they took at all. you and sunghoon were tangled up in your lavender sheets with your leg thrown over his, the morning sun streaming through the beige curtains you’d picked out on your ikea date together, and no alarms were intact to disturb you as it was the weekend. that’s probably why you both found yourselves in your current situation, your mouths meeting sloppily for short kisses and your boyfriend’s cock buried to the hilt inside you, thrusting ever so gently every other second as he whispered sweet praises to you between the meshing of your lips. the only sounds heard beyond the chirping of the birds outside your window were your soft moans and his low grunts, alongside the quiet noises of your slick dragging against his dick.

“fuck, baby. you feel so good.” sunghoon mumbles, pressing gentle smooches along the skin of your chin and jaw. you reply back something unintelligible, too lost in the euphoria he’s providing you to even form a coherent answer, which only makes him chuckle. he pulls back to admire your figure underneath him, a smile spreading across his lip at the sight of you laid out oh so pretty and pliant just for him. for him. all for his use. his use and his use only. the eventual thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and sunghoon momentarily slows down his movements in fear he’ll accidentally lose control of himself and fuck you into the sheets. his loss of momentum causes you to whine out loud though, large doe eyes blinking up at him in wonder, almost as if asking what happened, which does not make your boyfriend’s job any easier.

“hoonie, faster.” you beg softly, one hand coming up to grip his shoulder as the other bundles up the duvet underneath you. “please, wan’ it so bad.” sunghoon feels like his resolve is on the brink of snapping at your words, and he quickly resumes his previous pace (albeit still slower than what you wanted but better nonetheless) with gritted teeth, trying to think of something, anything that would distract him from the realisation of how fucking small you look under him, or how soft your hand feels resting on his skin. it doesn’t help that the sounds spewing from your lips are so cute, only spurring him on further to do what he longs to. 

“yeah, angel? want it faster? want hoonie to fuck you deeper?” he groans out instead, biting his lip at the sight of you nodding almost instantly to his words. your hole clenches even tighter around him as he speaks to you, and he shudders at the sensation. “shit, don’t do that, princess. might cum too quickly.” he exhales shakily, confused when you shake your head. “don’t care. cum f’me. wanna feel it, please.” you plead almost instantly without thinking, sunghoon’s eyes darkening as the request leaves your mouth. his pace comes to an immediate halt after that, and you make a noise of complaint at the loss of pleasure in your lower region, legs kicking up slightly in protest as you eye your boyfriend who’s currently trying to compose himself above you.

“don’t.. don’t say stuff like that.” sunghoon sighs, eyes closed shut as you cock your head to the side. you’re about to ask him why when he speaks up again. “i won’t be able to hold myself back if you do.” he professes darkly, opening his orbs back up to look deep into yours, his smouldering gaze making you shiver. you involuntary tighten around him at his confession, and he hisses at the feeling, head snapping to look down at you and the blush spreading across your cheeks. 

“i-i don’t.. don’t want you to hold back.” you mutter whilst looking away meekly before he can even comment on your actions. you meet his stare again after a beat of silence, but there’s something dark and sinister swimming in it now, and by the time you can even process what it is, he’s suddenly sheathing himself back into your warm walls, plowing into you with a heightened pace as if this is the last time he’ll ever get to fuck you. your moans tumble out of your mouth before you can even stop them, and you swear you hear sunghoon growl at the way you keen from his movements. 

“yeah? don’t want me to hold back? want me to absolutely destroy this wet cunt with my cock? ruin it for everybody else and mould it to the shape of my dick?” he grunts, a smirk spread across his face as you wildly nod at his words. “what, too fucked out to speak now, baby? where’s that confidence from before, hm?” you whimper at his condescending tone, the noise travelling straight to his core as he curses, continuing to plunge himself deep into you. the tip of his cock brushes against that spongey spot inside you, and you cry out when he angles his thrusts to hit it each time he drives inside your pussy. 

“who knew you were such a slut, huh baby? tell me, how long have you wanted me to spread you open and fuck you like i hated you?” sunghoon pants, tongue lolling out to lick at the sweat gathering on your neck. “s-so long, hoonie!” you mewl in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bites down on your skin. “wanted you to— hnng, wanted you to bend me over and throw me around so bad!” sunghoon laughs breathlessly at your answer. 

“yeah, pretty? want me to use my big arms and toss you onto the bed? you should’ve told me sooner that you were such a whore.” you clench at the degrading name, and sunghoon almost stumbles into you at the sudden jolt of shock. “would’ve done everything you wanted me to. wanted it just as bad as you, did ya know that?” he grits out, pace unrelenting and unforgiving as he proceeds to pound into you. “you’re so fucking small, baby. makes me so goddamn hard every time i think about it. just want to, oh fuck— want to hold you down and make you take it.” 

“do it! do it, hoonie, please do it! make me take it, i wan’ take it for you.” you sob, and sunghoon physically feels the last of his self restrain break in half. he’s far too fucked out now to go back to his old ways, far too gone in the dizziness of making you feel good. his only goal now is to make you cum violently around him, and he’ll stop at nothing to achieve that. “gonna do it, baby. just wait, gonna fuck you so dumb, you’ll be begging me to stop.” he pauses momentarily to grab at the plush of your thigh and tosses your leg over his shoulder, resuming his past actions in the blink of an eye as you cry out at the change. he hits deeper, more harsh this way, and you swear you can feel him battering your cervix with each thrust delivered to your abused cunt.

“fuck, look at that.” sunghoon laughs in disbelief, his eyes fixed on the slightly evident bulge of his cock thrusting in and out of you in your stomach. “taking my cock so well, princess. you gonna cum for me soon, yeah? gonna cum for hoonie and make a mess of me?” he coos at the way you’re drooling, swiping a thumb up to wipe at the spit leaking out of your mouth before sucking it off, the visual of it only making you whine even more. by now, the bed is stained with your leaking arousal, but neither of you care, especially not when he involuntarily moves his hand to press down on your stomach. his movements only cause you to double over in pleasure, and before either of you know it, you’re shaking through an orgasm, thrashing and wailing as tears stream down your face.

“shit, shit, shit! that’s so hot, oh fuck.” sunghoon moans. “you did so well, angel. did so fucking good for me, you deserve a reward, don’t you? don’t you, my baby?” he rambles, and you whine in overstimulation as his thrusts grow more frantic and misplaced when he begins chasing his own release. “get ready, princess, ‘m gonna fill you up. gonna breed you so, so good and make you take it, yeah? you’ll take it, won’t you? take it so good for me like you always do.” by this point, you’re both trembling and whining out loud, sunghoon pistoning his hips into you as he desperately fixes to cum. he can feel the pressure building up, his balls tightening with each harsh thrust he delivers inside of you, and you’re more than ready to feel him ooze out of you, encouraging words spilling from your lips.

“do it, hoonie! do it, please! make me full and fuck it back into me. i’ll take it so good, so good, please baby, please.” you’re babbling by now, too fucked out to think let alone speak, but your words seem to send sunghoon over the edge because by the time you’re even halfway through your sentence, he’s shooting ropes inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed. there’s so much of it that it almost leaks out despite his cock keeping you plugged up, and you watch his beautiful face contort in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes clenched shut as he continues filling you up. 

“fuck..” sunghoon sighs out once he’s come down from his high, looking down to grip his cock and pull it out slightly only to push it back in when your cunt gushes with his release, causing him to bite his lip at the sinful sight. you whine when he moves back into you, his large arms caging your smaller frame in as he leans down to pepper salty kisses all over your face. “my good girl.” he whispers, slightly collapsing on top of you to catch his breath. his weight on you feels comforting, almost natural as you wrap your tired arms around his back tightly, pressing your bodies together even more than they already are to feel closer and connected to him.

“i didn’t know you were into that.” sunghoon speaks up after a moment of silence, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. he moves so he’s laying on his side, cock still keeping you plugged up despite the awkward position. “into what?” he deadpans at your reaction, and you giggle. “c’mon, babe. you can’t seriously look like that and expect me to not be feral for you.” you smile, and sunghoon huffs out a laugh, spooning an arm around you as he pulls your body closer to his warm one. “still, who knew my girl was so freaky?” you swat at him, and his chest rumbles with laughter, the sound sending an odd pool of warmth flowing through your chest. you both lay there in silence after that, basking in each other’s presence and enjoying the serenity and afterglow which comes from what was quite literally the best sex of your lives. 

“i love you.” you hear sunghoon mumble suddenly, his voice drowsy as he yawns cutely, a large grin spreading on your face at the simple three words which leave him. you reach out for his hand, lacing your small fingers in it before bringing it up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to the back. “love you more, hoonie.” you sigh out in satisfaction, eyes slipping shut slowly as sleep welcomes your tired senses.

you gradually drift off, thoughts filled with sweet dreams of your boyfriend and his precious laughter. 

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[flemingology]

kitbag chronicles ─ alessia russo x reader

in which: you voice your love for alessia through the notes you put in her kitbag

warnings: none, tiniest bit suggestive if you squint

wc: 1.4k

a/n: finally got around to writing something for my number 1. this is so incredibly random and it's all over the place, but idk i lowkey kinda like it... i think? idk i probably shouldn't reread it because i might hate it if i do. hope you enjoy!

Ever since you and Alessia started dating, the England striker had made it very clear that she loved the little things you did for her. Memorising her coffee order, remembering her favourite flowers, new scented candles in her favourite scent on a bi-weekly basis. If you asked Alessia, she would say you were the most thoughtful person she’d ever met.

You’d grown to love the smile you put on your girlfriend’s face with those small displays of affection. You were forever seeking new ways to show your love for her, without stating the obvious over and over again. It kept both of you on your toes, always working on your relationship and making the other fall in love with you over and over again.

The last couple weeks, you'd found something new to do for Alessia. Her busy schedule keeping her away from you almost every single day of the week, you had to find ways to work around it and to remind Alessia that, even when she was at the club, you were thinking about her.

Since a couple months, it had become a little tradition that you prepared Alessia's kitbag. It wasn't much work at all, all she put in there were a shirt and a pair of trousers, or shorts – based on what the weather was like that day in London. You insisted that you did it for her, claiming that that way you felt like she had a little part of you with her during the day.

Today, though, you felt like trying something different. When you were younger, your mum always prepared your lunchbox for when you went to school. To make it a little extra special, she always added a little note for you to discover when you had lunch. It could be something funny, a drawing or simply a reminder how much she loved you – you didn't mind the teasing that came with it from your friends.

You figured it would be something Alessia loved, seen how much she usually liked it when you did little things like that for her. So this morning, after putting the blonde's training top and trousers in her kitbag, you grabbed a note and started writing something down. You decided to keep it simple for your first time of doing this, something you knew would just give Alessia a little spring in her step for the rest of the day. "Go get em, Lessi. Can't wait to have you home with me again tonight," is what you decided on, quickly putting away the pen and putting the piece of paper in her bag before she could see what you were up to.

When Alessia left later that morning, you pushed her kitbag in her hands, as you did every day. With a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips and a quick hug, she was out the door with the promise of cooking together later that night. Love goes through the stomach, or whatever they say.

It was no longer than 30 minutes later when your phone chimed with a message from your blonde lover.

From: Less 🤍 I got the note, baby. So cute. I love you so much :')

You smiled brightly at your phone screen, a warm, fuzzy feeling coursing through you at the idea of Alessia opening her kitbag and finding the note. You quickly typed a message back to her, wanting her to read it before she inevitably had to get her day going at the training centre.

To: Less 🤍 It's true, though. Counting down the hours until you're home, like every day. Go kick ass, my love. x

With you working from home, it had been quite the adjustment. Normally, when Alessia went to the training centre, you'd also leave the apartment and be on your way to your office. But with Alessia's recent transfer to Arsenal, swapping Manchester for London, it wasn't so straightforward anymore for you to go into the office everyday. 2 hours 30 on the train or easily 4 hours by car, it just wasn't doable anymore for a daily job. So you and your boss agreed that you could work from home in London, with one visit to the office a month. You were forever grateful for the opportunity, very glad that you didn't have to find a new job in London, but it brought its hardships too.

Quite frankly, you grew quite bored at home. You had your work, and you always managed to fill the best part of 8 hours with whatever you had to do that day, but the house felt empty without Alessia. A new city, new surroundings, new apartment, you hadn't quite accustomed to it all yet and you hadn't failed to make it known to Alessia that you missed her terribly whenever she was out at training.

Nonetheless, you would never stand in the way between her and her career, it was just another obstacle that you two would have to face and manoeuvre around, but you were certain that you would navigate it perfectly. You had a strong relationship, and everyone around you would probably say that you were made for each other.

With the knowledge gathered that Alessia enjoyed her little note, you took it upon yourself to give her some more frequently. Not every day, because you didn't want her to grow old of them, but you sprinkled some in throughout the week – keeping her on her toes.

It wasn't until one particular morning at the Arsenal training centre that Alessia realized that her notes wouldn't just always be you loving up on her. She'd left you high and dry that morning before leaving, feeling you up and kissing all over your body until her alarm went off. She was reluctant about finishing what she had started, despite your whining when she left you alone in bed and had started getting ready for her day. She didn't want to be late, understandably, but she also left you with a very uncomfortable throbbing between your legs. Her promise of continuing her ministrations later that night hadn't really convinced you, and you decided to tease her a little about it through a note.

This time, unlike all the other times you'd left a note in Alessia's kitbag, you didn't receive a message about. Not just that, the Arsenal striker hadn't texted you all day and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about what you did. You didn't want to push it too far, but you were starting to feel like you did. You texted her a little after lunch-time, wishing her a good gym session, but you got left on read.

Later that day, when Alessia came home, you were nervous to approach her. You were upstairs, finishing up on a couple of e-mails, before you went downstairs and joined the blonde who had plopped down on the couch and turned on the football. "Hi, baby," you said softly, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Alessia tried to put on a sour face, but her resolve weakened quickly when you pressed another few kisses all over her face.

"That was mean, you know?" cocking her head at you, eyebrow raised and index finger pointing at you. You couldn't hide the smile that crept on your face. "Don't give me that, Russo! If anyone was mean, it was you. This morning. Leaving me all worked up like that," you reasoned, pointing your index finger right back at her, poking her nose in the process causing a small smile to form on her lips.

"You know what, you're probably right," your girlfriend started, leaning closer towards you and trapping your body in between her arms, positioning the two of you so she was hovering over you on the couch. "That was so incredibly unfair of me and I think it's only right that I get the opportunity to make it up to you."

Alessia dipped her head towards your neck and started pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. You hummed and tangled one of your hands into her hair, slightly tugging when you could feel the scrape of her teeth on your sensitive skin. "You're lucky I love you, Russo," you breathed.

"Oh, I know. Now let me show you just how much I appreciate you, please."

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 6

SDE MASTERLIST - FEM!reader (POC!reader)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4845

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: talks about blood & nightmares (nothing too graphic!)soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

NOT proofread

to be added to taglist

As you slipped into your sleep, you found yourself wandering through memories—familiar, cherished memories—it all came flooding back, slipping into your mind like whispers and playing before your eyes like a movie. It was a bright, golden afternoon by the Black Lake at Hogwarts. You could see Ron, Harry and Hermione.

They were sitting on the grass on a picnic blanket you’d brought, laughing over something Ron had said, his face red with barely-contained laughter. Hermione was reading out loud from a book, clearly exasperated but smiling, and Harry was watching them both with that look. A look that he always had when he was at ease, a rare smile.

Harry’s glasses are slipping down his nose as he squints against the sun, his hair as messy as ever. Ron stretched out lazily, one arm propped behind his head as he reaches for a pumpkin pasty with the other.

“It’s so good to see you,” you say softly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You felt a pang of longing, realizing how much you miss this easy, familiar closeness.

“Oh, you’re stuck with us, don’t worry,” Harry says with a grin, his green eyes bright and reassuring. “We’d never leave you.”

“Absolutely,” Hermione adds, nodding earnestly and closing the book on her lap. “Besides, who else would help us figure out all these mysteries? You’re as much a part of this as we are.”

Ron chuckles, taking a big bite of his pasty. “Not to mention, someone has to be there to keep you two from overthinking everything. Imagine the chaos if it was just the three of us.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth in your chest.

“You know,” you say, glancing at the lake where the water shimmers in the sunlight, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Just… having a picnic, no worries about anything else.”

Hermione reaches over and gives your hand a squeeze. “We’re here, whenever you need us. Even when things get difficult, remember that.”

Harry nods, his expression softening. “Don’t let anything make you doubt that. We’re always with you.”

You felt a rush of warmth and nostalgia hit you, drawn into the comfort of those days you had spent with your friends. You could hear their voices as clear as day. Their laughter mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle breeze. It felt safe, like nothing could touch or hurt any of you, like the years hadn’t drawn you apart.

But as the warmth of the dream lingers, something shifts. Colours started to fade, darkening the sky. The warmth of the sky dissipating into a cold shadow. The laughter thinned into silence, Hermione’s face contorting in worry as she looked toward the darkening horizon. You reached for your wand, only to find nothing. You looked up towards your friends.

One by one, they started to fade—Ron’s freckles dimming into the darkness, Hermione’s eyes lost the fear as her face became indistinct, until only Harry remains. He’s staring at you, dead in your eyes, his expression haunted, as though he knows something you don’t.

The familiar faces of your friends became twisted, their eyes wide and hollow, black, staring past you, as if you weren’t even there.

“You've never been alone in this.”

You turned your head towards the sound of Harry’s voice from behind you. Suddenly, you’re no longer sitting on the grass. The world around you seemed to shift and distort, like the walls of reality were bending in on themselves.

Instead, found yourself in the Great Hall, but it’s ruined, twisted. Broken. There’s rubble everywhere, and you’re alone with a figure moving slowly through the debris. You look down to find your wand in hand, trembling, but no matter how hard you try to call put, no sound leaves your lips.

The figure points behind you and unwillingly your head turns with the hand, behind you could see them, all of them, your friends—Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and the twins. They were standing at a distance, eyes empty and staring straight through you. They look lost, hollow, shadows of who they once were.

A faint dripping sound pulls your attention away from their faces. You glance down and notice a small puddle of blood pooling at Hermione’s feet. Your gaze shifts up to her arm, slick with blood, where something is scrawled in crimson against her arm.

Tears formed in your eyes and you looked away, towards Harry, the hollow in his eyes having a faint green look in his eyes. As soon as you noticed it, it left.

You tried to move toward them, but your feet felt glued to the spot. A wave of helplessness surged through you. The only thing you could do watch as figured emerged from the darkness, out of the walls—hooded, faceless shadows  that closed in around your friends. 

Distant screams echoing as they were dragged away, lost in the darkness.

Your heart pounds painfully, the sense of helplessness crushing you. A chill crawls down your spine, the cold seeping deep into your bones. Your breaths grow shallow, the weight of guilt pressing down like a heavy stone.

And then, in the depth of the moment, the figure approached you—a pair of cold, dark brown, calculating eyes fixed on you, a face shrouded in darkness but recognisable everywhere. Tom.

He’s looking at you, a small, chilling smile playing at his lips. His voice echoes, low and taunting. “They’re all gone because of you,” he said, voice soft yet sharp. “Because you couldn’t change a thing.”

Your breath hitches, and you stagger, trying to escape, to wake up, but his face looms even closer. His presence filled the void with even more darkness, casting shadows that seemed to cling to your skin, creeping up your spine like ice.

“Why are you even here?” his voice echoed, smooth and unfeeling, carrying a weight that felt like judgment. “Do you really think you can change anything?”

You woke up with a start, heart racing and gasping for air, the cold sweat clinging to your skin as the remnants of the nightmare cling to your mind. You sit up, images of twisted faces and dark shadows still burning behind your eyelids.

You sat up, wiping at your face with shaky hands, only to realise they were wet—tears had already started to flow, now completely blurring your vision. You wiped them away with a shaky hand, but they just kept coming, as though all the fear, all the frustration, all the loneliness you’d been bottling up had burst free. 

Looking around the empty dorm room, you realized it was Sunday morning. Your roommates had already left for breakfast, leaving you in a silent room that suddenly felt too big, too cold.

With your chest tightening, you stumbled out of bed, grabbing a sweater and tugging it on over your head, fingers fumbling with the sleeves. You barely took the time to slip on shoes, leaving them unlaced as you hurried out of the dormitory. Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and the cold, early-morning stone floors of the castle did little to calm you as you rushed through the corridors, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you navigated the winding halls, your mind locked on one single thought: Dumbledore. he had to send you back. you couldn’t take it anymore. 

It wasn’t long before you reached the familiar stretch of hall leading to professor dumbledore’s office. 

The portraits along the walls watched you as you rushed past, whispering among themselves. You climbed staircase after staircase, fueled by a mixture of fear and anger, until finally you stood in front of the stone gargoyle guarding dumbledore’s office.

“Let me in,” you whispered hoarsely, still crying, your voice cracking. When the gargoyle didn’t move, you let out a strangled yell, slamming your fists against the cold stone. “let me in! please!”

As if in response to your desperation, the stone gargoyle slowly shifted aside, revealing the spiral staircase. You scrambled up, each step feeling like it took forever, until finally you burst into his office. He was seated behind his desk, calmly looking over a stack of papers, but he looked up immediately when you stormed in, concern flickering in his eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said gently, closing the door behind you. “What brings you here so early?”

“Professor,” you choked out, standing in the middle of the room, your body trembling as the flood of emotions poured out, “Send me back. Please, send me back. I don’t want to be here anymore, I… I can’t do this.”

You swallowed, the words coming out in a shaky rush. “I can’t… I can’t stay here. I want to go back. please, I need to go back to my time. I miss my friends, my parents… everyone. i can’t do—” 

The weight of everything came crashing down as you spoke, your voice trembling. “Please, professor, I don’t belong here… I want to go home.” your voice broke, and a sob escaped you. you covered your mouth with one hand, the tears coming faster now, blurring your vision completely.

dumbledore’s eyes were full of understanding as he stepped closer, guiding you gently to a chair. “take a seat, my dear,” he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. “i know this must feel unbearably difficult.”

“No, you don’t understand!” you interrupted, your voice coming out in a broken yell. “I don’t want to sit down! I want to go back!”

“I don’t belong here! every day, every second i’m here, it feels like… like i’m suffocating. i miss my friends, i miss my family, and i can’t…just pretend everything is okay. it’s not fair! you brought me here, and now i’m stuck. i never even had a choice!”

Tears were streaming freely down your face, your fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms. Dumbledore took a step toward you, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

You sank into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to catch your breath, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It’s too much,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I feel so alone… everything here is different, and I don’t know how long I can pretend I’m alright with it.”

he took a seat beside you, his expression pained but kind. “Your feelings are entirely valid, and your courage to speak up about them is admirable.” he paused, studying your tear-streaked face with that same intense, searching look he often wore. “Being out of one’s own time is a very heavy burden to bear. You have been given a task that no one should be asked to bear alone.”

“Don’t tell me to be brave, don’t tell me this is for some greater purpose!” you shouted, voice breaking. “I don’t care about the greater purpose! I want to go home! I don’t want to be here, living in constant fear, watching every move I make. you don’t understand what it’s like!” 

Your sobs overtook you, racking your whole body as you sank deeper into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself from falling apart. “I miss them so much. please… please, just send me back.”

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, watching you with a sadness that only deepened the ache in your chest.

“If I could, child, I would,” he said softly, his voice filled with an unfamiliar heaviness. “But, you know why you’re here. There are things that must be done, paths that must be taken.”

“I do not say this lightly, and I do not expect you to forgive me for the burden I have placed on you. but the future depends on it.”

“I don’t care about the future right now!” you yelled, the anger burning bright through the fear and pain. “I care about now! I care about my life and my friends and my family.”

“Why should I have to give all that up? I didn’t ask for any of this! I lost my life—freedom for you!”

Dumbledore nodded slowly, as if weighing each of your words. “Sometimes, life asks of us sacrifices we would never choose,” he said quietly. “I am deeply sorry for that. But know this—you are not alone, and you do have the strength to face what lies ahead.”

He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “And strength, my dear, does not mean the absence of pain or fear. Strength is simply the willingness to keep moving forward, even when it feels impossible.”

You stared at the floor, the weight of his words pressing down on you. a part of you wanted to believe him, but another part just felt… tired. bone-deep tired.

“I don’t even know if I-I’m doing it right,” you managed to whisper, your fingers gripping the edge of your sweater tightly. “What if… what if nothing changes? What if Harry still… still dies?” 

“I understand your fears,” he said softly, “But I am here to help guide you. And while I cannot give you a clear answer about the future, I can tell you that your presence here has already changed things, even if it may not be obvious.”

You wanted to believe him, but the doubts gnawed at you. “I feel like I’m losing myself, professor. every day, it feels harder to remember who I am, or who I used to be.”

“Your identity is not lost, even if you feel disconnected from it,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. “It is within you, no matter what time you find yourself in.”

You looked down, sniffling, trying to draw strength from his words. “It’s just… Everyone feels so far away.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes soft with compassion. “You are allowed to feel this way. It is human, after all, to yearn for those we love.”

After a few moments of silence, he added, “If you truly wish to return, I can explore the possibility of sending you back to your time. However, I would ask you to take a little time to think it over first. Sometimes, in the midst of hardship, we cannot see the strength that lies within us until the storm has passed.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding, though the ache in your heart still lingered.

He offered you a reassuring smile. “Whenever you need to speak, my door is always open.”

The gentle waves of the black lake lapped at the shore, the water shimmering under the soft morning light. You sat by the edge, hugging your knees to your chest, staring out across the lake as memories of Harry, hermione, and Ron surfaced, vivid and sharp. The ache in your chest felt endless, like a hollow, sinking weight that refused to leave. 

The spot felt haunted now, a cruel reminder of everything you’d left behind—the laughter, the closeness, the feeling of home that was slipping further from your reach with each passing day. You felt yourself fraying at the edges, unraveling beneath the surface of your forced smiles and brave face.

You barely registered the sound of footsteps approaching until someone sat down beside you. Turning your head, you found Lucas, his usual easygoing grin replaced by a look of gentle concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging you with his elbow. “you look like you've got the weight of the entire library on your shoulders. what's going on?”

You tried to respond, to tell him it was nothing, but the words caught in your throat. The mere kindness in his voice, the familiarity of it, broke something in you. All at once, the tears started to flow, again, hot and unstoppable, and you buried your face in your hands.

Lucas’s arm immediately wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close. He didn’t say anything, didn’t press you for answers. He just held you there, letting you sob against him, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “Cry all you need to. I’ll even throw in a free shoulder to soak.”

You let out a choked laugh through the tears, but the laughter quickly turned back into sobs. You clutched onto him tightly, as if he could anchor you back from the overwhelming tide of pain and loneliness that threatened to swallow you whole.

“I… I’m sorry, I’m a mess today.,” you managed to say between sobs, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I miss my friends so much, Lucas.”

He nodded, squeezing you gently. “I know, I know. That’s got to be the hardest part of all this—being here, away from everyone. But you’re not alone, okay? i’m right here, and i’ll stay here as long as you need me to.”

“Besides, we can always send them letters, they’re only in France.”

You stayed there, clutching onto his warmth, letting his words settle over you like a balm. ‘Only in France’

You swallowed fresh tears. 

After a few moments, he leaned his head closer, his voice soft but with a familiar mischievous edge. “Besides, who else would put up with me if you weren’t here?”

You sniffled, managing a small, wobbly smile. “Probably, like, everyone. you’re everyone’s favorite flirt, Lucas.”

He grinned, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, that’s true. But nobody gets my best material like you do. I save all the good jokes just for you, y’know?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey, insults aside, at least I got you to laugh. My work here is almost done.”

You smiled a little, feeling a bit of the heaviness lift, if only for a moment. Lucas’ arm stayed around your shoulders, solid and steady, like a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed so badly.

“You’ve got a lot on your shoulders,” he said, his voice turning gentle again. “And I know it feels impossible, but you’re stronger than you think, Y/n. and I’ll be here every step of the way, even if you’re too stubborn to ask for help.”

You let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his reassurance settle over you. It wasn’t home, it wasn’t Harry, Hermione, or Ron, but Lucas was here, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. And for now, it was enough.

“Thank you, Lucas,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. 

He gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Anytime. I mean it. Anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to charm the socks off the Slytherins just for fun, I’m your guy.”

You laughed again, and this time, it felt genuine. Lucas gave you a smile that was soft and warm, and as you sat by the lake together, you felt, for the first time in a long time, that you might be able to make it through this—one small step at a time.

Lucas nudged you with his shoulder as he reached for a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Alright, Y/n, here’s a question: if you could switch places with anyone in the entire wizarding world right now, who would it be?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. “Easy—someone on holiday. preferably somewhere sunny.”

Alicia laughed, tossing a piece of bread at you. “That’s cheating! I thought you’d say someone exciting, like an auror or the minister of magic.”

“Can’t blame her,” Lilith chimed in, grinning. 

“A tropical holiday sounds pretty thrilling after being stuck in potions all morning.” Maeve nodded her head, agreeing.

“You’ve got a point,” Lucas said thoughtfully, grinning at you. “Although, if I could switch with anyone, I’d probably pick Slughorn. Imagine all the secrets he must know, all those weird stories about famous people.”

“And you’d get to throw endless parties for yourself,” Lilith pointed out, a rare smile tugging at her lips. 

Maeve smiled, “it would be the ultimate ego trip.”

Everyone laughed, and Lucas shrugged, clearly not bothered. “Hey, the guy knows how to live. He’s probably got more gossip than all of us combined. Speaking of parties,” he added, raising an eyebrow at you, “Ready for the slug club soirée, miss Riddle’s date?”

You groaned, feeling your cheeks warm as the others turned to look at you with intrigued expressions.

“I still can’t believe he just… declared you his date and walked off,” Alicia said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You didn’t get a single word in?”

“Not one,” you admitted, laughing. “He just looked at me with that infuriatingly smug expression and then left.”

Lucas leaned in, smirking. “And you, Y/n, are seriously going along with it?”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I mean, he’s kinda… hot.”

“So… yes, I guess I am.”

Alicia nearly choked on her pumpkin juice, eyes widening. “Hot? He’s terrifying, Y/n! Have you seen the way he just stares at people? It’s like he’s plotting their downfall.”

“Yeah,” Maeve added, shooting you a half-amused, half-bewildered look, “But I get it… he’s got that whole brooding dark lord-in-the-making vibe. still, I wouldn’t want to be within hexing range.”

You couldn’t help but laugh uneasy, brushing off their reactions. 

Lilith shoved some cauliflower onto her plate, “oh, come on, sure, he’s intense, but there’s something about him that’s… intriguing.”

Lucas, however, looked horrified. He leaned back, crossing his arms dramatically. “intriguing? no, no, Lili, intriguing is a new flavor of bertie bott’s beans or a strange ingredient in potions. Not Tom Riddle.”

Maeve nodded absentmindedly, “He does look like a good snack.”

Lucas gaped, “Sorry, what is wrong with you?”

Maeve shrugged her shoulders, “Don’t act as if you wouldn’t like a little nibble from him, even though you’re like—into girls and stuff.”

You straightened up, feeling Lucas tense beside you. So, you were the first person to know. Alicia also having noticed this, she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Lucas,” Alicia teased, nudging him. “I think we’re all just a little scared that she’s going to show up to the party in some hypnotic trance, spellbound by his ‘intensity.’”

Lucas rolled his eyes, pretending to be unimpressed, but you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, if that’s what you want. But personally, I think he’s the human embodiment of a dark cloud, and I’d rather not be around for the thunderstorm.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” you replied with a grin. “It’s just one night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lucas gave you a long, exasperated look but then sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “I feel like you’ve just jinxed us."

“But, if it makes you happy, I suppose… but just remember, if he starts getting that ‘plotting world domination’ look, I’ll be there with a rescue plan.” 

You grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “I’ll keep an eye out for his ‘dark cloud’ side.”

Maeve leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “And what are you wearing?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Lucas said proudly before you could respond. “We’re matching.”

The entire group burst into a chorus of excited gasps and laughter, peppering you with questions. Lilith just nodded approvingly.

“Trust Lucas to make sure you two are the best-dressed at the party,” she said, a hint of admiration in her tone.

“Hey, if she’s going to suffer through a night with Riddle, the least I can do is make sure she looks fantastic,” Lucas said, grinning. “We’re talking silk, elegance, mystery—the works.”

“I don’t know about suffering,” you said, shrugging, though a part of you felt slightly on edge about the party. Tom Riddle’s attention still felt unsettling, but you didn’t want to think about that now.

“Oh, come on, I bet he’s actually a terrible dancer,” Maeve said with a wink. “you might have to lead.”

“That would be hilarious,” Alicia added, snickering. “Just don’t let him step on your toes.”

Lucas laughed. “If he does, you have my permission to hex him right there in front of everyone.”

You couldn’t help but smile, comforted by the light-hearted teasing. As you looked around the table, a warmth settled over you, the tension from this morning melting away.

“If anything, I know you’ll be having a great time, Lucas,” you said, nudging him.

You stood up from the table, giving Lucas and the others a quick wave as you grabbed your bag. “I’m going to the library to study with Ben,” you said, smiling weakly. “I’ll see you later.”

Lucas shot you a mock-salute, his expression playfully suspicious as if to say,  ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ You grinned and waved him off, heading down the hall with the familiar comfort of your new friends’ laughter fading behind you.

The corridors were quiet, the muffled hum of the Great Hall lingering in the background as you made your way toward the library. You had only made it a few steps when, from the corner of your eye, you noticed someone falling into stride beside you. It was Tom.

He moved silently, his steps measured and smooth, his hands tucked into his robe pockets. You hadn’t even heard him approach, yet here he was, looking as composed and unreadable as ever. You tried not to tense, but the memory of his last intense gaze lingered. 

You didn’t look at him but raised an eyebrow anyway.

“You’re walking alone,” his voice came from just next to you, and you could almost feel his gaze on the side of your face. “I thought I might walk with you.”

“Y/n,” he said, voice calm but direct, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

You hummed in reply, wondering where this conversation was going to lead you this time.

 “I saw you by the Black Lake earlier.”

You kept your gaze forward, unsure where this was going. “…And?”

His tone was quieter than usual, though still carefully controlled. “You were …crying.”

The words struck you, not because they were untrue, but because you hadn’t realized anyone had seen. You felt your cheeks warm slightly, defensive instinct kicking in.

“Why do you care?” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “It’s hardly any of your business, Riddle.”

He looked at you, brow raised slightly. “It’s not,” he admitted. “But I’m asking.”

You glanced at him, his face composed but his eyes watchful, curious in a way that felt genuine, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything about him was calculated. Even so, he had a strange intensity about him that made it hard to dismiss him completely.

You stiffened, your fingers tightening around your bag strap. “I’m fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, your gaze fixed ahead. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing,” he repeated, almost sounding amused. “You’re lying.”

“If you must know, it’s because… I had a difficult time, with….something,” you kept your words vague, unwilling to open up fully but feeling oddly compelled to say something.

“Difficult?” Tom echoed, his voice betraying the faintest hint of curiosity. “You seem perfectly capable of handling yourself. What could possibly make you—” he paused, almost as if the word felt foreign to him, “—upset?”

You shrugged, keeping your tone guarded. “Being capable doesn’t make someone immune to, well… feeling lost, different? I don’t know. It’s not like everyone here is exactly friendly.”

He nodded, considering your words in silence as you turned the final corner toward the library. “You sound like a Hufflepuff.”

After a beat, he spoke again, his voice almost softer. “Perhaps.”

“It is just very odd to imagine someone like you feeling out of place.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I wonder why that is.”

Something in his voice made you feel exposed, as though he was peeling back layers you hadn’t even known were there. You were confused how he spoke so, elegantly for someone so rough.

You looked away, shrugging. “Maybe because I’m just a girl, at the end of the day.”

You caught a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of interest in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “I understand that feeling, you know. Not fitting in. It’s a powerful motivator.”

The words lingered between you, unspoken layers hidden in their simplicity, and before you could form a response, he glanced down the hallway.

“We’re nearly there,” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual detached calm. “Don’t forget, by the way—Slug Club party. You’re still my date.”

He gave you one last look, his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Then, with the same silent precision, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone outside the library, a strange sense of unsettledness trailing in his wake.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—some subtle, quiet thing—had shifted between the two of you because of that little conversation. And you weren’t sure whether it was unsettling or… strangely comforting. But you could feel it in your stomach.

A/N: sorry for late postinggg, hope you enjoyed it though!! also, I'm having problems with tagging, so i apologize if your tag didn't work :(

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[greengoblinswifey]

first, i’m a big fan of your work! i’d like to make a request for the fratboy!nicholas series. i was listening to rude boy by rihanna just now and that inspired me to think about nicholas finally channeling his inner dom. i need HIM! i’m talking praise and degrading, but his cute ass would still ask for consent of course and reader is hyping him up.

Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings— SMUT. dom!nicholas, fingering, oral, face fucking, choking, consent checks, unprotected sex, rough sex, degrading kink, praise kink, hair pulling, ass slapping, face slapping(with dick), creampie, overstimulation, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— thank you and i love that song omg🫶🏽requests are still open and i’ll answer all as soon as i can, it’s been a rough few days with the whole election and kamala’s unfortunate loss. this is a bit long but enjoy!

Nicholas arrived at your dorm that night with a new energy, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by something more intense, more purposeful. He didn’t bother with the small talk or the sweet smile he usually gave when he saw you. Instead, he stepped in and closed the door behind him, eyes locked on you with a focused determination you hadn’t quite seen before.

“Tonight’s different,” he said, voice a bit lower than usual as he took a step closer. “I- I’ve been thinking. About us. About trying things, uh, differently.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised but intrigued. “Oh, really? What brought this on?”

He chuckled, a bit of his usual lighthearted self breaking through. “I love when you take the lead but I decided I’d like to see what it’s like for me to take the lead, for both of us. I wanna be dominant, so I can make you feel as good as you make me.”

Moving closer, he reached for your hand, his grip firmer than usual. “If it’s something you’d be into, of course,” he added. His intent was clear, he wanted to create an experience for both of you, one where he could be the one guiding things, setting the pace.

You gave a small nod, lost for words, both surprised and excited by this new side of him. “Alright, Nicholas. Tonight, ima let you do your thing, show me what you’ve got.”

He smirked, confidence growing as he took in your approval. “Oh, I plan to, tonight I’m gonna give it to you harder,” he said, the playfulness still there but mingling with something deeper. He gently brushed his hand along your arm, lingering, studying the way you reacted to each of his movements. His touch, though familiar, held a new sense of authority, as if he’d spent time thinking this through and knew exactly what he wanted.

“You know,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours, “I think I’ve always been drawn to letting you take control. But I want this to be different, for both of us. I want to explore it with you, because you’re the first person I’ve trusted with this part of me.”

He pressed his body close, his hand moving up to rest firmly around your neck as you sat on the bed looking up at him, the action sending a spark through you.

“You like this?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes searching yours. You nodded, lips parting in anticipation, but he only gave you a soft smile, raising an eyebrow. “I need to hear you say it, so I know you’re 100% comfortable. Are you okay with this?”

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice just as steady as his. “I’m okay with it. I’m more than okay.”

He smiled, a glint of mischief lighting his expression. “Good girl,” he replied, “because tonight, I don’t plan to hold back.” His hand lingered at your neck as he leaned in closer. “But we need a safe word. I want you to know we can stop at any time.”

You thought for a moment, grinning as an idea came to mind. “Banana. You know I hate bananas,” you said with a smirk.

He chuckled, his grip easing as his thumb brushed lightly over your skin. “Alright pretty girl, banana it is.”

His intensity ignited something deeper in you. This was a side of him you’d never seen, but it made you crave him even more. In that moment, you realized that this shift in him wasn’t just about trying on a new role, it was a way for him to show how much he valued and trusted you, a way for you both to explore something new together in a safe environment.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb gently ran across your lower lip. “Open,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding. You obeyed, letting his thumb slip past your lips, your gaze meeting his as you sucked on it. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as he watched, a mix of curiosity and control.

“Good girl,” he praised, though there was a hint of a smirk that made his words feel more teasing than sweet. “I knew you'd be an obedient slut for me.” His fingers followed, and you could feel the arousal between you both growing as you took his fingers in your throat, this new dynamic thrilling you in ways you hadn’t expected.

He slipped off his shirt and then his pants, revealing the toned muscles underneath and his hard cock swinging. You felt your heart race as he looked down at you, his expression filled with lust and a look in his eyes as if he wanted to devour you.

“Your turn,” he said, a trace of a smile on his face. “Fucking strip.”

You followed his instruction, stripping down piece by piece. When you got to your underwear, he reached forward, and with a quick, decisive motion, tore it off. “I’ll buy you ten more,” he promised with a wink, his voice filled with an excitement that made you grin.

He tossed your torn underwear onto the bed with a grin. Gently, he used his hard cock to trace along your cheek, spreading his pre cum all over your face as his onyx eyes met yours.

“Stick that tongue out,” he murmured, his voice low and you felt your pulse quicken. You followed his request, sticking your tongue out and he used his cock to slap on your tongue, the taste of his pre cum making you moan.

“You’re doing great baby,” he murmured. As you met his eyes again, you could see how much he was enjoying this newfound confidence, his smile widening as you took him into your throat.

“I’m gonna treat you like a slut yeah? Gonna hold on to your pretty curls and fuck your throat, remember your safe word if you want me to stop at any time or just tap my thigh twice,” he said, taking himself out of your mouth and rubbing it all over your lips.

His eyes searched yours for any reluctance or fear, only to find pure admiration and lust. Smirking, he held on to your curls, and shoved his cock into the back of your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on not gagging as his hips snapped forward.

“I like the way you pull my hair,” you muttered around his cock.

“Fuck yeah, take it baby, take my fucking dick down that throat,” he moaned, his head falling back.

He pulled out, looking down at you with his face contorted in pleasure as he used his dick to drag across your face and slap your cheeks.

“You like that sweetheart? Is that okay?” he asked and you nodded frantically, wanting him back in your mouth.

Sensing your desperation, he began fucking your throat again, this time his pace never faltered as he began chasing his orgasm. You swirled your tongue over his cock as much as you could, he made your mouth feel so full, just the way you liked it.

“That’s my good girl, my good fucking slut just taking my cock in her mouth, that’s all you’re good for isn’t it?” he chuckled, darkly.

You hummed around him sending jolts of pleasure throughout his body. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum down your throat and all over that beautiful face, get ready slut, stick that tongue out for me again.”

With a deep moan, turning you on even more, his load spurted on your tongue. He began stroking his cock vigorously, making sure every drop was either in your mouth or all over your face.

“That’s my girl,” he moaned, “you look even prettier with my cum all over your face. My fucking slut. Make sure you swallow it all.”

After his high subsided, he pulled you into a close embrace. “That was more than I could’ve hoped for baby, are you okay? Was that okay?” he asked warmth in his tone that left you feeling closer than ever.

“It was more than okay, stop worrying,” you smiled, playfully nudging him, “I like when you take control.”

He smirked and his demeanor immediately shifted again. Nicholas pushed you on the bed, the shy virgin since forgotten.

“Spread those fucking legs,” he demanded. You complied, spreading your legs and revealing your pussy glistening.

“You’re soaked baby, does me being in control turn you on? You like when I take the lead?”

You nodded, dipping your fingers between your thighs trying to subdue the throbbing but he grabbed them before you could. “That’s my fucking job and I’m the only one allowed to touch this pussy unless I instruct otherwise, got it?”

“Yes sir.” You throbbed even more at his firm words and he swore his cock twitched hearing you refer to him as ‘sir’.

“My slut is learning, good girl.”

He knelt down, his mouth immediately engulfing your pussy without warning and you cried out.

“Nicholas,” you moaned, your hands instinctively going to his hair as you squirmed under his touch.

“Mm— stop fucking squirming and take it,” he murmured in between licks.

You struggled to contain your moans as his tongue focused on your clit and giving you no room to adjust, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them and immediately finding your g spot.

“Fuck, you taste amazing, baby,” he muttered, his licks now becoming more precise as you clenched around his fingers.

“Please don’t stop, please, keep going, just like that,” you moaned, your back arching from the bed as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Oh I’m not fucking stopping until you squirt for me baby, so go ahead, squirt on my tongue,” he commanded.

As soon as the words left his lips, your legs clamped around his head but he forced them back open, his slurping, sucking and fingering relentless and you squirted all over his fingers and in his mouth, still sucking everything that came out of you.

“What a good little slut, that’s my good girl, keep gushing on my tongue baby, you taste amazing.” He continued fingering you and flicking your clit through your orgasm, getting as much as he could out of you. You tried to squirm away, the pleasure was becoming too euphoric but he continued until there was nothing left in you.

“Give me a kiss, you did so good for me baby,” he said, voice thick with lust. You leaned up and kissed him, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his body between your legs.

“Eager now are we? Calm down sweetheart, you’ll get this dick, I know you want it,” he smirked.

“I absolutely love this side of you,” you beamed, giving him another kiss on his wet lips.

Before you could say anything else, you gasped as his cock filled you, inch by inch.

“Fuck Nick, baby, you feel so good,” you whimpered.

“I know baby, I know, just lay there and take this cock, I’m gonna fuck you hard.”

Your gasps filled the room as Nicholas began pounding mercilessly into you. Somehow, he managed to fit every inch inside you each time he bottomed out and slammed back in. Your nails dug into his back as he kept bruising your cervix. His pelvis snapping against your clit sent shockwaves through you and you could feel the impending orgasm.

“Scream for me baby, I wanna hear you scream like a whore from how good my cock makes you feel.”

His request was granted as he pushed your legs behind your head, pounding into you deeper with his hand around your neck.

“You look so fucking sexy spread open for me like this, I fucking love this pussy,” he moaned, his grip tightening just enough to have your head spinning.

You closed your eyes, clenching tightly around him and getting lost in the pleasure.

“Hey, open those fucking eyes, I want you to look at me when you’re cumming on this cock,” he murmured.

Opening your eyes, your jaw fell open with sweet moans leaving it as you came on his cock. Your body quivered but he kept going, determined to take everything out of you.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, I know it feels good baby, I know.”

He let go of your throat and you wrapped your arms and legs around him, pulling him close.

“Oh it’s not time for cuddles yet sweetheart, I wanna make sure this pussy remembers the fucking shape of my cock,” he said, his voice low but rough.

You were dripping for this man. He was so sexy dominating you.

He swiftly flipped you onto your stomach and pulled your ass up to him. “Arch that back for me, just the way you know I like it, slut.”

You arched your back and he spread your arousal all over your hole with his fingers making you shiver. You loved the way he touched you there, the way he showed you what he had.

He slapped your ass, admiring how sexy you looked with your ass in the air for me. “All for me, all mine.”

He rubbed the bulbous, leaking tip up and down your folds before slowly slipping inside you.

You winced at the intrusion, his cock slowly filling you. “Hey sweetheart, is everything? You remember your safe word right,” he asked, his demeanor changing and his cock pausing inside you.

“I-it’s okay, give it to me, baby,” you begged.

He leaned down and kissed your shoulder before the switch flipped again. He firmly gripped your waist before thrusting the entire length of his cock into your tight pussy. You moaned in unison, feeling each other fully and hearing the sound of your pussy squelching.

“Hear that baby? You get turned this on from being fucked like a slut?” he laughed, slapping your ass as he pounded into you from behind.

You moaned from the sting of the slap, your pussy clamping around him.

“Wow, you’re such a cock slut, my cock slut, take it.”

Muttering incoherent words, you shivered under his touch, all you could think about was how good it felt to have his dick just constantly pounding into you.

“Do you like it?” you managed to croak it, “you like fucking me like this?”

“You know I do,” he grinned, slapping your ass before grabbing your curls and pulling you back to his chest, “now rub that clit for me.”

You did as you were told, your back arching off his body as he held your hair, pulling your head back and sucking on the sweet spot on your neck. “Cum for me baby, be a good fucking cock slut and let go.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed and you squirted on his cock, soaking him and the sheets below you.

“I never get tired of this gushing pussy,” he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m gonna keep fucking you and I want you to cum one more time for me.”

You whimpered in response, your body weak, not sure if you could cum anymore.

“I know a slut like you can cum one more time, take it, make me proud.”

His hand moved to around your neck, squeezing gently as he pounded into you.

“Take it, take it, take it, take this dick,” he moaned, his pelvis slapping against your ass.

“Mm- mhmm,” you moaned, willing this side of him on as you tried your best to take whatever he gave you.

“Your pussy is gonna have my cock forever engrained inside of it,” he chuckled, his pace now faltering.

“C- cum for baby, I know you have it in you, be my good girl, my pretty fucking girl and cum for me,” he said, breath shaky.

A cry left your lips as the fountain erupted from your pussy for the last time.

“M’ so proud of you baby, now take my cum deep inside your slutty fucking pussy.”

You both moaned as he pumped his load inside you, your pussy tightening around his thick cock that stretched your walls as he filled you to the brim.

“Good girl, that’s it sweetheart.” He thrusted slowly, making sure every drop was deep inside you before pulling out.

You both fell on the bed and he quickly pulled you close, turning to face you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands.

“Are you okay my love? Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, a worried look in his eyes as he saw your tear stained face.

“I’m okay baby and I did, so so much,” you smiled.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, wiping away the cum and tears from your face.

“You didn’t Nick, it was perfect, I love this side of you, thank you for telling me you wanted this.”

After the intense moments you’d shared, Nicholas softened, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, his fingers brushing through your curls in soothing, slow strokes. You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his touch calming you, grounding you.

He whispered, “You did amazing,” his voice soft and filled with affection, his eyes still holding that glint of admiration. He continued to hold you for a moment longer, his thumb tracing gentle patterns along your shoulder.

After a while, he shifted, carefully slipping out of bed. “Stay right here,” he murmured, giving you a reassuring smile as he found a warm cloth and returned to your side. With tender care, he helped clean you up, his touch gentle, a quiet attentiveness in every movement. When he was done, he wrapped you back up in the covers and climbed back in beside you, pulling you close once more.

Nestled against him, you felt a mix of peace and contentment, the atmosphere in your dorm was now replaced by a calm that only he seemed able to bring. His fingers traced soft lines on your arm as he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

[kiiwiola]

GET A WORD OUT OF YOU

amongst minji’s rowdy life, there was someone whom she couldn’t help but be heavily intrigued by.

Fluff, quiet x popular (?), first attempt at writing a one-shot 😛

Amidst the bustling hallways minji could still spot a familiar pair of eyes standing just by their locker with her gaze focused on something.

There was something about the girl that had always gave minji this intrigued feelings. And no it was just about looks of course she had good looks too but it her quiet and shy demeanor. The girl wasn’t one those type of people to demand attention by being unnecessarily loud.

She captured most people’s hearts in her own way.

Minji took notice of the girls usual reserved nature. She hardly spoke in class mostly exchanging one to two words with others, in her zone her mind always seemed to drift off to something.

There was something mind found cute about the way Yn would shyly blush or smile whenever she receives a compliment or get called out by the teacher.

Her nervous smile would plaster across her face while her eyes drifted around the classroom.

Minji had always been one with the crowd since she was young. Always gaining attention and popularity wherever she was. So she found it quite refreshing to experience something new.

One fateful day, the home room teacher had paired both minji and Yn to make the classroom as spotless as possible not caring a bit on how they were going to do it.

The silence thickening in the air was awkward at first well maybe for minji and not for YN. It was something that best described her so she was probably used to it by now.

But it gave an awkward tension for minji. She thought that this might be her chance to engage herself in a conversation with her. “Uhh YN what do you mostly do during your free time?”

“Sleeping”

A frown formed on minji’s lips at the girls brief response. She was definitely expecting more. She thought of giving it another try. “Do you enjoy cleaning?” She nervously bit her lips. That would probably get a yes or no answer.

YN’s gaze flickered over to minji for a brief second “Hmmm….meh. I do it when I’m mostly bored or it’s an order given by my mom. But it’s mostly fun with your ears plugged in” YN explained her eyes staring at the ceiling while she’s day dreamed for a bit before returning to the given task.

“Ah I see” minji nodded in agreement. The unbearable silence returned back.

As the cleaning continued minji made it her mission to engage Yn in a few if not many conversations. Asking her questions about herself but nothing too personal. She didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

The more closer they became during the period. Minji noticed a side of YN she had never seen. Her response were more longer and animated. A smile constantly popping up on her face when she was yapping her whole heart out.

“Wow I didn’t know you could talk this much. You’re so adorable when you’re free” minji confessed with a sly smile her tone carrying a hint of disbelief.

Yn looked up at minji with a face that said ‘really?’ Her cheeks turning to a light shade of pink. “I wouldn’t really say I’m adorable maybe you are….”

“Yes you are” minji chuckled at the girls response. Attempting to tuck a small strand of hair behind her ears.

The cleaning of the classroom some how came to an end quickly. Yn and minji had chatted away they didn’t even realize when they were done.

On minji’s walk home, her mind was filled with her previous encounter with YN. Recalling every single thing that had happened. A smile tugging the corner of her lips.

She couldn’t believe that she had finally succeeded to get to a side of YN nobody probably knows about. And most of all she couldn’t believe she got to make the girl blush. What she had been day dreaming of doing One day.

With a sigh, minji collapsed onto her bed. Her mind drifting to what could happen at school the next day. Each thoughts only added to her anticipation and eagerness.

She couldn’t resist wanting to explore more of YN. She knew Yn was more than this. Gosh was she so impatient for the next day to roll in.

[whalemleck]

Will you make Bee's attachment/trust chart? Like how much does Bee trust them, or likes being around them, or probably feels responsibility over them, or how much he despise them, or just dont care

I didn't really think about it until you asked, so thanks a lot!

Bee would have written himself attachment/trust chart on Cliff's advice, since after the events of TPF1 he has very mixed feelings about the whole situation

Cliff, out of curiosity, looked through this list when Bee was not there. The Sentinel always came first, but after meeting brother Bee, he wrote a question mark next to Prime. The list was not updated for some time and remained empty, since he was always using responsibilities, bodyguard was not up to dating, until after a while Cliff saw the names written illegibly at the bottom and with comments in parentheses

Orion Pax (can trust? To study, to observe)

D-16 ( can trust, but a little less. Orion's Friend, To study, to observe)

after the events of TPF1 Cliffjumper will be surprised to find that the Sentinel has been completely crossed out, and he himself was at the top of the list, as well as new names added to the list

Sentinel Prime (master, can trust?) He's dead, forget about him.

Cliffjumper (Sparkbrother, can trust. He has always been caring towards you, it is your turn to take care of his well-being)

Orion Pax (can trust? To study, to observe) Optimus Prime (sort out your feelings. can be trusted)

D—16 ( can trust, but a little less. Orion's Friend, To study, to observe) he is no longer who he was

Elite one (she trusts me, i will do the same)

Prowl (can trust? he doesn't seem to mind my company, I hope I don't disturb him. (don't forget to attend his therapy sessions))

Jazz (I like him.)

Ratchet (At the moment he is my attending physician, he seems to be happy with my company and grumbles less when I am around.)

Arachnid (still trust her.)

Sentinal's former right hand was jailed for her complicity and many of the things she did under his command. And to the surprise of most, she said nothing about B, didn't reveal his actions, but only wished him luck and advised him to visit her in prison, as her advice would still be useful to him. (and it was)

there was no one he truly hated or despised because he was always indifferent to the behavior of others. (he still thought he betrayed Sentinel, but he also understands that this bot didn't see him as anything more than a weapon)

[jarofstyles]

Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

-------

Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated. 

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts. 

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company. 

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased. 

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her. 

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous. 

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy. 

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead. 

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out. 

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap. 

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?” 

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.” 

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship. 

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.” 

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward. 

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?” 

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day. 

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap. 

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night. 

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim.  “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too?  Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it. 

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It’s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him. 

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting,  but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words.  "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. “Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.” 

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return. 

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.” 

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Older

This is for the @6esiree contest that they are holding! I hope you enjoy it, and even if it doesn't perform well, I am glad to have made something long! Word Count 3.5k Alastor x Gen Z Reader Based on Song Older by Isabel LaRosa TW: Sexual content, stubbornness, gen gap, age gap, tentacles, begging

Dying wasn’t the first thing on your list of exciting things to do. I mean, yes, you were a 23-year-old living in 2024, so of course, your will to live was low, but that didn’t mean you were ready for it when it happened. No, instead, death came hard and fast, all because you had some serious FOMO and a quite pitiful YOLO moment. 

One minute, you were having a great night out with friends, you had a handsome silver fox wrapped around your finger, and then the next thing, you woke to a red landscape of what you only assumed was hell. With your life, it made sense why ‘Hell’ was where you ended up. You died partying and sleeping with the older man, so it only made sense that this was where you would consequently end up. 

A deep sigh left you as you looked at the chaos around you. The only good thing you saw so far out of this event was that you didn’t have bills to pay anymore. It looked like as long as you played your cards right, you could get anything here without needing money. As that thought crossed your mind, an ad for redeeming sinners played on a nearby radio. 

The voice on the radio was alluring as all hell and had you questioning your life and undead choices. Not even five minutes into being dead, and you are already fawning over an older man's voice. It's good to know that living habits don’t die with you in the afterlife. 

Your resolve not shaken, you make your way to where the voice spoke of the Hazbin Hotel and find yourself at the base of a hill, looking up at a grand building with flashing lights. A shiver runs up your spine as you realize how powerful whoever runs this place must be. Maybe pretending to want to be saved would be well worth your time, then. 

Let’s get one thing straight here: you are no damsel; you may like your men older, but that doesn’t mean you need one. No, you are an independent queen who can do what she pleases. She just also realizes when to fold and when to hold her hand. Right now, seeking refuge from the fires and sex work was worth it; however, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t earn your keep all the same. 

While you thought about these prospects and made your way up to the door, you noticed it was open without you even having to knock. Pushing your head through more of the door, it was clear to see what type of establishment this was…a chaotic one. 

Just standing in the entryway, the sights before you were hilarious and intriguing. A cat at the bar grumbled as he watched a spider dance on the bar. A young lady resembling a lamb hurriedly tried to stop the provocative dancing while a gray woman yelled at the spider. A cyclops laughed hysterically while tossing what you could only imagine was a bomb. A small woman rushed around laughing and stabbing the air while a man who looked a little like the lamb girl walked through the room. 

The deer caught your eye the most, though, and it seemed you caught his, too, as he was the only one looking at you and your entrance. You two held eye contact, a shiver running up your spine. Oh, you definitely could get used to staying here. 

Nodding more to yourself than the deer man, you walked in further and cleared your throat, everyone stopping to look at you. With a slight wave, you smiled brightly and introduced yourself.  “Heya, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet ya,”

The room was silent, causing you to laugh awkwardly. As you slowly backed away, thinking maybe this wasn’t a great idea, the lamb girl came over and jumped on you. Holding your arms and bouncing, she spoke excitedly. 

“Oh my goodness, a new arrival! Hi, my name is Charlie. I am the hotel's owner,” She beamed proudly at the statement and motioned to the others all in the lobby area of the room, “And this is the Hazbin Hotel residents and staff! The cat is Husk, then Angel Dust, Vaggie, Cherri, Nifty, my father,” She leaned in and whispered, “Also known as Lucifer,” 

Laughing at your surprised face, she pointed to the deer man last. “This is Alastor. He is the hotelier; he helps me run the hotel! Was it his broadcast that brought you in?”

You shook your head at the information overload and laughed softly. Nodding to the question, you looked at everyone around. “Yes, I actually passed not too long ago, and as I was weighing my options on where to go, I heard the message on the radio.” 

Charlie beamed proudly at Alastor, who just smiled at you precisely as he had been this entire time. You couldn’t lie. He was drop-dead gorgeous. He was tall and fit, and if his voice sounded anything like how it did on the radio, you would be a goner for sure. He was an enigma and one you knew you had to be careful of if you wanted to make it out of this hotel with your head screwed on straight. 

“My my, I am quite honored my radio show was able to bring in a petal quite like yourself, dear,” He spoke so smoothly, and you knew right then how right you were; you were a goner. “I do hope you are staying here with us to be redeemed as Miss Charlotte wishes; I am eager to learn…more about you, miss Y/N.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding. Looking at the others, you laughed and began some small talk while they decided where would be the best place to put you. The conversations ranged from how everyone died to how people got here, and you learned more about how hell worked. Learning that Alastor owned many souls only made him more appealing and dangerous. 

As Charlie led you to your room, she made sure to inform you of the dangers of getting mixed up with Alastor. Being mindful of her warnings and the blaring alarms in your head that did not match the alarms between your legs, you made it a goal to avoid falling for Alastor at all costs. Oh, how wrong you were for that. 

Alastor had his eyes on you the minute he felt your presence near the hotel. You were unlike any other woman he had seen. You looked young and still full of life, so how could someone like you have died so carelessly? Not to mention, he did find you oddly attractive, and your calm demeanor was refreshing. He wanted you and in more ways than just your soul.

He knew the best way to any woman's heart was to court her and get her to fall for him slowly till she needed him and him alone. However, you were a tricky one to get under the skin of. You were so damn stubborn and stuck in your ways of being the lead in your own life that allowing him any control seemed futile. However, the challenge you possessed was all the more thrilling to him. 

It started off simple: He escorted you around the hotel. He wanted to lead you around like a gentleman, but you had your own plans. As he talked and explained a specific part of the hotel, your attention was elsewhere in your explorations. 

“Y/N, dearest, are you even paying attention?” he asked you sharply as you looked at the paintings for the millionth time since your arrival. You really wanted to listen to him, but this was kind of boring. After becoming close with the others, you were eager to hear more about their lives than be trapped with the man you swore not to sleep within this proximity to you. 

“Sorry, Alastor. Yes, I am listening. I was just wondering about some of the paintings; they are quite pretty.” You were honest, at least in the fact that you enjoyed the paintings. Someone had a knack for art, and you were not shy to admit it. However, when you soon learned it was he who chose all the art minus a handful, you quickly shut down your praise. 

The next time Alastor tried to win you over and claim your soul was when he began opening doors for you. He never thought the day would come when he saw someone challenge him so brazenly. However, that was probably the day he fell in love with you, as he allowed it to happen.

“Uh…Alastor, what are you doing?” You looked at the opened door with your arms crossed, your body still midstep from when he raced ahead to open the door. 

“I am being a gentleman, Miss Y/N, that is all.” He looked so innocent, but you had heard more stories and learned so much about him from the shadows. He was no innocent man but a cold-blooded killer. You wouldn’t lie, though, that his past and present only made you that more attracted to the idea of him. You wanted him biblically, and it only made you hate his advances more, as you didn’t want to lose your soul. 

“No, thank you, Alastor. I can open my own doors.” You quickly took the door from him, closing it and reopening it before walking through. The look on Alastor's face was akin to pain and frustration. He was not a fan of your independent attitude and was willing to bet he could break you before the year ended. 

Alastor resorted to making sure you always walked on the right side of the road, that your chairs were pulled out for you, and that your food was pre-cut; he even went out of his way to acquire a simple ruby necklace for you to wear so others knew you were accounted for. However, you were stubborn and not taking on his advances. All you would give him was that Cheshire grin and stubbornly push his buttons by mimicking his chivalry with your version. 

When it came to Alastors courting skills and all his advances, you managed to turn them down in the same stubborn way. However, it didn’t go amiss by Alastor that each turn down went from cold and distant worry to more playful and light-hearted jests on your part. Was it possible you were falling for him, too? 

He admitted to himself a while ago, just as you had that the immediate attraction you two felt despite the age and generational gap was mutual. He didn’t know how to break you while you were too worried about becoming his next meal, even though the way he wanted to eat you was not how you were thinking. 

That was until one fateful day when the hotel was barren except you two. You had sat perched in the library reading some trashy romance novel, hoping to get yourself off while Alastor was busy with his work. Busy working till his shadow happened to inform him of what you were reading. 

The book you had chosen was interesting in that the main female lead was a time traveler who managed to end up in the olden times as a helpless damsel needing a strong man to care for her—the complete opposite of what you were as a person. However, you wouldn’t lie that the thought of letting Alastor take care of you wasn’t electrifying; it just went against everything you stood for. 

However, reading the book and getting to the more intense sex scenes where the woman is restrained and taken care of sexually only caused you to feel more of a heated desire for the man who had plagued your thoughts since you made eye contact with him all those months ago. Sighing deeply, you flipped to the next page and moaned softly at the words, wishing it to be you. You wondered how long your and Alastor’s game of cat and mouse would play out until one caved.

Alastor entered the room and looked over your shoulder. He was enamored with you rutting into your leg as you read the heated pages. He smirked as a tentacle wrapped around your throat and pulled your attention up from the book to his eyeline. “My dear, what do we seem to have here?” He practically purred, and you whimpered softly. 

You were already so close to release on your heel that you didn’t realize the pleas coming from your lips. You needed an older man badly; you needed Alastor—someone who would worship your body. As the pleas left your lips, it didn’t take long for Alastor to pounce on you, his pent-up desire for the independent brat growing. 

Alastor wasted no time and already had your sleep shorts pooled at your ankles,  ratty nightshirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. Your inner thighs were slick and glistening with arousal from your earlier menstruations while reading.

 Alastor hummed in amusement, bending you over the couch, his cold tentacles holding you in place as he moved down your back. His soft breaths tickled you as much as they excited you. He hummed as he saw your pussy in full view, a smile growing on his face. He touched it softly, slick coating his hand as he spoke, “My dear, you are already soaking; you were thinking about me, weren’t you? Thinking about me taking you just like that man does in that book.” He smiled wider, lining his face with your slick. “All you had to do was ask, beautiful.”

A tender hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the soft plush of the couch arm, his other hand grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where Alastor’s face is lapping at your dripping cunt. Soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp his head, fingers tangling through the soft red and black locks, being mindful of his ears. He only grunts in response as he continues his onslaught on your most sensitive area.

What felt like minutes and hours at the same time passed; your legs were trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar. Your quiet, strained cries did nothing but aid the tightness in Alastor’s dress pants, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyond. Every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the fabric, sending a groan throughout your pussy.

Alastors noises vibrate against your cunt, shocking your overstimulated and oversensitive clit. All you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless and selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, you're begging for him to relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your core, and you writhe under his hands. The cold slick of his tentacles digs into your skin as he takes hold of your ankles and wrists now to keep you open. 

Everything becomes overstimulating as the world begins to spin. Your jaw goes slack, and saliva pools in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips. Tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy, and your eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.

Alastor finally pulls his face away from the space he has claimed as his between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste gathering all of you he could. The tentacles held you tighter as he smirked and sat upright, admiring the mess he had made of you. A slick shimmer on his face as he licked his lips, ��Delicious, better than any venison I have ever had, dove.”

As he stands up, his hand on your back pushes you back onto the couch arm. He kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him. His hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. A small yelp escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive area. Your frayed nerves against the soft material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases. 

You whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen quickly before he pulls away from your hips. His movements are hasty, and he does not waste any more time as he uses more tentacles to help not only hold your wiggling form but also get his clothes off him. He liked this sight of your half-dressed attire as he held purchase over you, dominance you refused till now to give up.

Once he was undressed, he bleated softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubbed his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your willing slit. He groans at the tightness that welcomes him; the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of cum. 

Your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cock is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your sweet spot as you feel him abuse your need for him. You can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls; they're practically ingrained in you as your pussy is molded to take his dick.

A creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he pushes his length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches. He doesn't give you time to compose yourself. He's selfish tonight, unapologetically so, because you had been toying with him for too long. After almost a year of cat and mouse, this is finally how he takes you. You drove him mad.

It isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistoning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. His pace isn't lovely; he's mean, relentless, and bruising.

"Fuck sweetheart, so needy for me; you could have just told me how much you wanted this from the get-go. Saved us both precious time," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. Claws out, he uses his hands, kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid using your cunt.

He was growing more and more pussy-drunk, drool forming in his mouth and pooling in his permanent smile, leaning over to place his lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. He pressed lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the marks and bruises from his teeth as his demonic form began to take precedence.

With how hard he was holding on to you with his hands and tentacles, you were covered in bruises. He was marking you as his not only with chivalry and jewels but pretty marks that will mar your skin for weeks. He tightened his hold around your throat, pulling you up to a sitting position. He pumped into you harder, watching your stomach grow with his length in you. He groaned heatedly as he transformed more; his hand was pulling you up while his other hand began pushing down on the spot on your belly where he was poking through. 

As you both whined and felt relief, he growled in your ear, “I will make you all mine, my Doe. Not a single person can have you now.” He pushed harder for a few more pumps before you two were spilling over one another. He filled you to the brim, his seed spilling out before he could even pull out of you. With a satisfied hum, he let his body slowly return to normal as he slid out. 

You were fucked out beyond belief. He smiled, gently picking you up and placing your clothes back on you. He held you in his arms and sighed, acting as if he didn’t just release eons of pent-up sexual tension on you. He snapped his fingers, redressing, and walked with you in his arms to his chambers. There, he would repeatedly remind you who you now truly belong to. Soul or not, he was the one to dominate the disobedient brat you were.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 15 - Spanking

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the Kinktober episode for the « spanking » prompt. And as you guys probably expect it, it is a continuation of the « Pet play » and « Kneeling » episodes. 👀

CW : D/S dynamic - BDSM - Spanking - Aftercare

That first weekend of Marshall « vetting » you as a sub turned out to be rather successful. By the end of it, you were absolutely drained and, though you would have expected it to be because of bedroom activities, it was not the case. The whole time had been about you getting familiar with his rules, learning more about what it meant to be a sub and his rules and expectations. And, as it turns out, there were a lot of things to remember and imprint in your brain.

Thankfully, he had been pretty patient with you, giving to time to adjust. You enjoyed the way submission turned off the noisy part of your brain, but it didn’t exactly come naturally to you. Neither did staying silent until being asked to speak. And your bad habit of running your mouth made it quite clear that you required a lot of explanations before following some rules. At the end of the first day, Marshall had ordered you to put your bag in the guest room, earning the biggest side eye from you. « I’m not sleeping in your room ? » you asked in a tone that failed to hide your disappointment. « You heard me » he simply hummed. However, the exhaustion of the day made it hard to follow the initial command of letting him be in charge. « But… why ? » you asked again with a frown. « Because I sleep better on my own » he sighed. « Not that I owe you an explanation. I’m in charge remember ? ». You nodded sheepishly but couldn’t resist asking yet another question. « Then why did you let me sleep with you last time ? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. He sighed again and rolled his eyes before getting up from the couch and facing you. « Y/N. I set the rules. That’s what I do. And last time was an exception. But the rule is still in place. » he said sternly. You nodded again. « Is sleeping in the same room that important to you ? » he finally asked. « I don’t know. I guess not » you shrugged. « It’s just… I figured that… you know. If we were to sleep together we’d actually sleep together too ? » you added. He looked at you and smiled before cupping your face. « You do realize it’s not only about sex, right ? I could very well be your dom in a totally platonic way. » he said calmly. You opened your eyes a little wider, thinking that maybe you had completely misread the situation and that the forms he’d asked you to fill regarding your bedroom preferences were a formality that didn’t mean anything. As soon as he saw the change of expression on your face, he chuckled. « Yeah, some of my plans include sex. But that’s not the core of what we’re doing. And after some sessions, you might actually want some space, too. A lot of subs do enjoy being able to unwind without their dom being around. » he added. You nodded one last time and went to settle in the guest bedroom.

The rest of the weekend proved him right : you actually enjoyed having a space you could claim as your own. You didn’t really have anyone you could compare him too, but you doubted Marshall could be described as a difficult dom. In fact, he was patient and, apparently, pretty lenient too. However, getting familiar with all those rules proved to be exhausting and you weren’t sure you’d be able to rest as much if you had to pay attention to your posture or anything else you were required to mind in his presence. That being said, he made sure to let you know he was there if you needed him. Especially after he fucked your brains out. He cuddled with you until you came to yourself and waited until you had regained some composure to ask if you needed him to stay longer. It was only after you sleepily shook your head and murmured a small « no, you can go, Sir » that he pressed a kiss to your forehead, praising you one last time and put his clothes back on before leaving you to rest.

Marshall was apparently quite satisfied with you and, before you went home, he suggested you come back the following weekend. Soon enough, a small routine was put in place : you spent most weekends at his place, in a D/S dynamic. The rest of the time, however, you were just friends. Especially when you were handing out in group settings. You quite liked it and it didn’t take long for you so develop some Pavlovian habits. On Friday evenings, when you showed up at his place, your brain was already in « sub mode », your inner noise quieting before you even reached the front door. And as weeks went by, you did a better job at following orders. You thought you were thriving. Until, a few weeks in, you arrived at his place in a bad mood. The last few days at work had been exhausting, your boss had been an ass and you were a ball of nerves and frustration.

It didn’t take long for Marshall to take note. You seemed unable to focus, failed to call him « Sir », asked him to repeat orders twice. He stared at you with concern but, whenever he asked what was up with you, you simply apologized and assured him that everything was alright. He was patient with you, though. At first, at least.

It wasn’t unusual for you to have rough days, and normally she found peace and comfort in your new dynamic. But tonight, something felt off. Every little thing seemed to grate on your nerves, and instead of the usual calm that Marshall’s presence brought, you felt like snapping. The first time you rolled your eyes at him, he let it slide with a warning. « Y/N, » he said in that low, controlled tone that always managed to get her attention. « Watch it. »

You had heard the warning, had even felt a flicker of guilt. But instead of responding with your usual obedience, the irritation bubbling just below the surface pushed you to defy him again. You rolled your eyes a second time, this time more deliberately, almost daring him to react. His gaze hardened, his voice dipping lower. « I’m not going to warn you again. » You should have stopped. You knew it. But something inside you rebelled against the authority in his voice, against the command in his eyes. Maybe it was the way the week had weighed on you, or maybe you were testing limits you hadn’t yet reached, but when he asked you to do something simple—hand him his phone from the coffee table—you rolled your eyes one more time as you did it.

The silence that followed was heavy, and in an instant, you knew you had gone too far. Marshall didn’t speak right away. He didn’t need to. The intensity in his gaze said everything. Your stomach tightened as you watched him stand from the couch, his full attention now fixed on you. Your heart started to race, the frustration that had driven your rebellion quickly giving way to something else—anticipation. You had never been punished before.

« Come here, »he said, his voice calm, but there was no mistaking the authority in his tone. You hesitated for a split second before obeying, stepping forward until you were standing directly in front of him. You didn’t meet his eyes this time, the weight of what was coming settling heavily in your chest. Your heart pounded as she realized the seriousness of your actions. Marshall stood tall, his posture firm, hands at his sides as he looked down at you. « What did I tell you about rolling your eyes at me? »You swallowed hard, your voice small. « Not to. »

« And how many times did I warn you? » he asked sternly. « Twice, » you answered, your voice barely a whisper now. Marshall nodded slowly, his expression unyielding. « Twice, » he repeated. « And you still chose to ignore me. » Your chest tightened. The defiance that had driven you earlier seemed to vanish, leaving behind a feeling of nervousness. You hadn’t expected to be pushed this far, hadn’t expected the punishment to feel so imminent. « I know you had a rough day, » he continued, his voice softer now but still firm. « But that doesn’t give you the right to disrespect me. » You felt your cheeks flush with guilt, your eyes dropping to the floor as the full weight of your actions sank in. You had crossed a line, and now you would face the consequences. « Go to the bedroom, » he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. « Undress and wait for me. »

Your stomach twisted at the command. The reality of what was about to happen settled over you, but you knew there was no point in resisting. This was part of the dynamic and you knew it. You had broken the rules, and now you would be held accountable. « Yes, Sir, » you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned to leave the room. Your hands trembled slightly as you undressed in the bedroom, folding your clothes neatly and placing them on the chair. The room felt colder than usual, or maybe it was just the nerves setting in. You knelt by the bed, your knees sinking into the soft carpet, your body tense as you waited for Marshall to come in.Your mind raced as you tried to steady your breathing. You trusted him completely, but this was uncharted territory for you. You had never been punished before. There had been reprimands, yes, but never something so formal—so intentional.

When the door finally opened, your heart skipped a beat. Marshall stepped into the room, his expression unreadable as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t speak right away, letting the weight of the moment settle between you. He circled you slowly, his presence commanding the room in a way that made you feel both vulnerable and safe all at once. « Look at me, » he ordered. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were steady, focused, and there was no doubt that he was in control. « What happens when you disobey me, Y/N? » he asked, his voice even but firm. « I get punished, » you answered quietly, your voice shaking just a little. « That’s right, » he said, stepping closer. « And why are you being punished tonight? »

« Because I disrespected you, » you whispered, cheeks burning with shame as you spoke the words aloud. Marshall nodded, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek before he moved around you again. « I don’t punish you to hurt you, » he said, his voice calm and steady. « I do it to remind you of the structure, to keep you grounded. You need to know that when you push, there will be consequences. That’s how this works. » You nodded, your throat tight. « Yes, Sir. »

« Stand up, » he commanded, and you obeyed immediately, rising to your feet though your legs felt shaky beneath you. « Hands on the bed, » he instructed, his voice low but firm. « Knees apart. » Your heart pounded as you bent over, placing your hands on the mattress, your knees spreading as you positioned yourself the way he had asked. You felt vulnerable in the position, exposed, but you knew this was part of it—part of the process of learning, of submitting.

Marshall stood behind you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. « This is going to hurt, » he warned. « But I need you to remember why it’s happening. » You braced yourself, nodding slightly as you whispered, « Yes, Sir. » The first smack landed on your bare skin, sharp and firm, sending a jolt of pain through you. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to cry out, but the second strike followed soon after, and then the third. Each one was deliberate, measured, not too hard but enough to make you wince, enough to remind you of the line you had crossed. By the fifth strike, tears were welling in your eyes. It wasn’t just the physical sting—it was the emotional release, the overwhelming sense of guilt and submission flooding your senses.

Marshall paused, his hand resting gently on your back again. « You’re doing well, » he said softly, his voice soothing. « Just a little more. » You nodded, your voice too thick with emotion to respond, but you trusted him. You trusted him to know your limits, to guide you through this. When the final strike landed, a tear slipped down your cheek, but you didn’t feel broken. You felt relieved, grounded again in a way that only he could provide.

Marshall’s hands were gentle as he pulled you up into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. He held you tightly, his lips brushing the top of your head as he murmured softly, « It’s over now. » You buried your face in his chest, letting the tears flow freely as the last remnants of tension drained from your body. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you as he reassured you with his presence, his touch. « You’re mine, » he whispered, his voice soft but filled with conviction. « I take care of you. Always. » You nodded against him, your heart finally at peace, knowing that you were safe in his hands, no matter how far you had pushed. Your breath was still shaky as you nestled into Marshall’s chest, the sting of the punishment still lingering on your skin. The tears that had slipped out were slowing, and though your body felt drained, your mind was beginning to clear. The chaos that had swirled inside you all week was gone, replaced with a sense of calm that only Marshall seemed able to bring you back to.

But even as your breathing steadied, you knew there was still more to come—more than just the punishment. There was the moment after, the moment when he would make sure you were okay, because that was just as much a part of this as anything else. Marshall held you close, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back as your tears began to subside. He hadn’t spoken yet, letting you come down from the emotional high in your own time. His warmth, his solid presence, was grounding you, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into the safety of his embrace.

After a few moments, he shifted slightly, tilting your face up gently to meet his gaze. His eyes softened when they met yours, all the sternness from earlier replaced with concern and care. « You alright, Y/N? » he asked, his thumb brushing away the last tear that clung to your cheek. You nodded, though your throat still felt tight. « Yes, Sir, » you whispered, your voice hoarse from the emotions that had poured out of you. Marshall studied your face carefully, as though he was looking for any signs of lingering distress. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. « You did well, » he said softly. « You took that punishment exactly how you should have. But now, I need to know how you’re feeling. »

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch. You weren’t sure how to put everything you were feeling into words. The punishment had been hard—physically, yes—but more than that, it had been emotional. It had been your first real experience with punishment, and while it had stung, it also left you feeling lighter, like some of the tension that had been building inside you had finally been released. « I feel… better, » you admitted, your voice soft. « It hurt, but… I needed it. I didn’t realize how much I needed to let go until it happened. And… I guess it’s not as scary. » Marshall nodded, his fingers brushing gently through your hair. « Sometimes that’s how it is, » he said quietly. « Punishment isn’t just about consequences. It’s about helping you let go of what you’re holding onto. But I need you to know, —you don’t have to carry things on your own. When something’s bothering you, you come to me. That’s what I’m here for. Understood? »

You nodded again, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest. It wasn’t just about the punishment. It was about the structure, the trust, and knowing that he was there to take care of you, even when you didn’t realize you needed it. « Yes, Sir, » you whispered.

Marshall’s hand moved down to your back, pulling you closer into his lap. He held you like that for a while, his touch soft and soothing, letting you come back to yourself in her own time, as he always did. The tension in your muscles slowly unwound as you breathed him in, his scent familiar and comforting.

« You’re not in trouble anymore, » he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. « It’s done. You’ve been forgiven. This is just about making sure you’re okay now. »

You let out a long breath, the last of the weight lifting from your chest. His words, simple as they were, meant a lot. Your connection was still there. You were not lost in your own head anymore—you were here, with him, and that was all that mattered. Marshall shifted again, this time tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. His thumb traced your lower lip as he spoke, his voice low and calm. « I want to make sure you’re not feeling any doubt about what happened. You know why I punished you, right? »

You nodded, your voice more steady now. « Yes, Sir. I disrespected you. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.  Marshall gave a small nod, his expression firm but kind. « Good. But listen—if you’re ever feeling frustrated, if you’re having a rough day, you don’t have to test me to get my attention. You can come to me, tell me how you’re feeling, and we’ll deal with it. » His words hit you deeply, more than you could have expected, and you felt a lump form in your throat again—not from fear, but from relief. You had pushed him earlier, and instead of meeting you with anger, he had been understanding.

« I’m sorry, » you whispered, the words heavy with sincerity. « I didn’t mean to push you like that. »Marshall’s thumb brushed over your cheek again, his eyes softening even more. « I know, doll, » he said gently. « And I’ve already forgiven you. This isn’t about punishment anymore. This is about making sure you’re okay. Are you? »

You took a deep breath, nodding. “Yes, Sir. I’m okay.” He smiled softly at you, his hand moving to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss on the forehead. « Good girl, » he murmured against your skin. The praise made your heart swell, and you felt herself relax fully for the first time that night. You melted into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his arms wrapped around you again. There was no tension left—only the quiet, comforting hum of knowing you were safe there.

Marshall held you like that for a while, his hands moving in slow, soothing patterns across your back. He didn’t rush you, didn’t push you to move or speak. He simply held you, his presence a steady anchor in the aftermath of everything you had just been through. After some time, he shifted slightly, pulling the blanket from the edge of the bed and draping it over your shoulders. « I want you to rest now, » he said softly. « You’ve been through enough for one night. »

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion finally catch up to you. You let him guide you to lie down on the bed, your body feeling heavy but content. Marshall tucked the blanket around you, his touch tender as he made sure you were comfortable. « Stay with me? » you asked quietly, your voice small but hopeful.

Marshall’s expression softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. « Of course, » he said, slipping in beside you. He pulled you close, letting you rest your head on his chest as his arms wrapped protectively around you. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body sinking into the warmth and safety of his embrace. The day’s struggles, the punishment, the emotions—it all felt distant now, fading into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid presence of him beside you.

« Thank you, » you whispered, your voice barely audible. Marshall’s hand stroked your hair gently, his voice soft as he replied, « I’ve got you, Y/N.»

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Billionaire's Wife | Bruce Wayne/Batman x  Magician!Reader

Synopsis: After seeing an article that reduces her to some typical “billionaire’s wife” with a lot of sexism, offensive gender roles, and instigations of a gold-digger, Vivian finds her footing in the complex world of Gotham's elite and realizes that she doesn't always have to be the demure wife who smiles a lot, and she will show them that no one messes with her, especially in her own house.

Vivian sighed as she read the headline on the online article that greeted her on her browser-news. MRS. VIVIAN PRYOR WAYNE, A LIVING RAGS TO RICHES STORY by some contributor to Gotham Gazette's online articles. She's been reading the article for some time now and has memorized every line with how much she's scrolled through it. At some point she just slammed her laptop shut because she felt like she was adding to the page's traffic which only boosts the press to write such stuff. 

God, she didn't understand why this was happening again. The first time it happened was when she was just dating Bruce. People started writing how chummy they were during the second take of her book launch, and how Bruce was spoiling her with gifts that she was living every woman's dream by going on yacht trips, michelin star restaurants, luxury brand gifts, and a handsome man that had a reputation for being a playboy. 

Opening her laptop again, Vivian groaned and read through the article to figure out how they even got that shot and how they thought that her day going shopping with Bruce and Tim, and having the man carry majority of the shopping bags full of clothes and school things for the new addition of Tim to their home became “Mrs. Vivian Wayne dragging billionaire Bruce Wayne and his credit card through Gotham's shopping district.”

First of all: She was Vivian Pryor-Wayne. She just sticks to “Vivian Pryor” for her books and her teaching, and other things but since marrying she was legally Vivian Pryor Wayne. She just uses Vivian Pryor for her professional name and for her books. She willingly added the name Wayne to her name to show her love. As a joke she would call Bruce “Mr. Pryor” which he doesn't mind at all.

Second: she does not drag Bruce and his credit cards around the shopping district. She has her own black credit cards, all of which she pays on her own hard-earned cash. 

Third: How did they not see Tim in that photo? The kid was right there with here. She was holding his hand! And they really should have blurred his face since he was a minor. She'll be talking to their lawyers about this later.

“Everything alright, Viv?” Tim came down, all dressed up for school.

“Yes!” Vivian slammed her laptop to hide the article. “Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be fine?”

She didn't seem fine. Tim and Alfred exchanged looks before he took his place across from her and Alfred placed breakfast on the table. 

“Okay,” Tim took a bite of his toast. He watched her for a while, noticing how she drummed her fingers on the surface of her laptop and the contemplative look on her face, that looked like she was planning a murder. Tim would know. He's been working with Batman for a while now as Robin, and before that he's been a really good detective with learning who Batman and Robin really were. “Is it about the thing?”

“What thing?”

Tim gave her a sympathetic look. “We all know that's not real… it's just the press making gossip to give people to talk about.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about,” Vivian drank her coffee.

Tim sighed. What is it with the people in Wayne Manor? It seems stubbornness and pride were a common denominator with all of them. “I saw the article, Viv.”

Vivian was quiet for a time, eating her jam on toast before asking, “Does Bruce, know?”

“The fact that you asked, and the fact that he's not here telling this yourself means he doesn't.”

Vivian sighed and looked at him with a small smile, “Save the detective work after school, okay?”

Tim grinned and shrugged. “It's second nature by now. But seriously, Viv, we all know it's not true. I was there, remember? And I've been living here for a while now to know that what you and Bruce have is real and special.”

Vivian got up and walked around the table and embraced him from behind, “Thanks, Timmy.”

“Anytime, Vivian,” Tim smiled.

“You're heading to work now?” Bruce entered the room all dressed for work.

“I am,” Vivian squeezed Tim's shoulder, a message to not mention anything to Bruce. 

“This early?” Bruce slightly frowned. He got up quite late and wasn't able to have breakfast with her.

“We already spent enough time earlier before I got out of bed to get ready,” she kissed his cheek. “I'll make it up to you when I drop by your office after work for our three-o'clock meeting for the Wayne Foundation event.”

“Alright,” Bruce took her hand just as she was going to leave with her bag, and pulled her down for a kiss. Tim rolled his eyes and focused on his breakfast, while Alfred just focused on packing her lunch and extra coffee. After tasting the coffee that Gotham University had in their campus lounge, he started packing her a thermos of coffee that would satisfy her for the day. “Have fun at work.”

“I will! You too – and Tim, have fun at school!”

After thanking Alfred for the packed lunch and coffee, and the discreet way of saying, “all will be well,”, Vivian left. It was only when they were sure she won't be coming back for something that Bruce spoke, asking, “What's wrong?”

“As always, Sir, nothing gets past you,” said Alfred.

“What's wrong? Vivian didn't even finish her breakfast,” Bruce pointed out. She always cleans her plate before leaving. 

“Nor did she steal from the cookie jar before leaving,” Tim added.

“Nor did she give you as much attention as you required before going to the office,” Alfred jests.

Bruce only looked at the two, waiting for an answer. Alfred was a tough nut to crack, but Tim…

While Tim would put the mission first and Bruce trusts him with Batman's identity – he is Robin now after all – he can't always hide something from Bruce when it comes to Vivian. Especially when placed in a hotseat. But later, as he grows older and becomes more independent, he starts to learn how to keep things from Bruce regarding Vivian. As long as it wasn't life threatening. 

“There was an article online,” Tim sighed. “Sorry, Alfred, I know I wasn't supposed to but…”

“Not to worry, Master Timothy. It takes more than just fighting crime in a bird costume to stand up to your commanding officer. You'll one day learn that sometimes it's alright to give them a good smack.”

“Is that what you did when you served?”

“Tim,” Bruce told him to continue. 

“It's an article on Gotham Gazette – you know those anonymous writers they have to write some tabloid bullsh –”

“Master Timothy!”

“Sorry, Alfred — but you get the point.”

“What's this article about?” Bruce opened his laptop that he had beside him to check. 

“You'll know when you see it.”

And he did. The moment Bruce opened the Gotham Gazette's website. While it was for supposed to be showing current news on Gotham, such as the latest bank robbery by Two-Face which Batman and Robin stopped, or some new thing the new District Attorney was going on about, the headlining article on the homepage was the photo of them three with the photo's caption making him frown. 

Is that what Gotham was painting a picture of his wife? Some gold digger? Bruce thought as he read the article. It infuriated him that they were making such stories based off of stone shots, especially when Vivian has proven so many times that she was a hard working woman, that she was more than just a “billionaire's wife”. The title itself was offensive since she was more than just Bruce Wayne's wife. Before they married — hell, before they dated she was already building her name in her profession. She got a couple of Doctorates under her belt, wrote books and studies, and has contributed works into Gotham City's historical archives. She was awarded by the mayor for her works that depict Gothams City's history! Aside from that she's been an active contributor to Wayne Foundation charities, both the Thomas Wayne Foundation and the Martha Wayne Foundation. A part of her profit from the books she gives to charities to help Gotham City.

“I'm heading to work. Alfred, I'll leave Tim with you,” said Bruce as he got up.

“Very well, Sir,” Alfred sighed as Bruce left with his things and drove off. “I know now who I'm not telling where I hid the biscuit jar next time nor the shotgun.”

Tim sighed. “Oh brother.”

~*~

Walking through Wayne Enterprises’ building, Vivian tried her hardest to ignore the looks she was getting from some of the staff walking about. She would still greet them with a smile and a “hello”, but after that she would try not to notice the look on their faces that says they saw the article. Maybe she should have just taken the stairs than go through the long walk to the elevator. She'd gladly just open a portal to the floor itself then go through this long walk. But it would be too suspicious if she were found to be on the floor so suddenly. 

“Mrs. Wayne!” One of the members of the board appeared. “Vivian, heading up?”

Vivian kept the smile, “Hi William. Yes, I'm going to see Bruce.”

“Special visit?” He gave a suggestive look.

“No. We have a meeting with the Wayne Foundation for the charity event this coming Friday.”

“Is that so?”

She hoped that was the end of it or that the elevator would end their talk but William hopped into the elevator just as she was going to press the doors to close. William Earle was one of the people Vivian didn't like that much that was part of Wayne Enterprises’ board. Since she started coming over he would always make rude comments, such as, “you should come over more and loosen up Bruce. I'll be sure to fill in on some of his meetings.” She hasn't told Bruce about William Earle's little conversation starters but Bruce was well aware of Vivian's dislike towards the man.

“By the way, I saw the article on the Gazette,” said William.

“Did you now?”

“I don't really see the problem, I mean come on. Every married man knows this – happy wife, happy life.” He laughed.

Vivian didn't laugh. Is that what they all think of her in Wayne Enterprise?

“Professor Pryor!” Lucius entered the elevator and stood between her and William, to her delight.

“Lucius, wonderful to see you,” Vivian greeted him sincerely.

“Heading to the Wayne Foundation meeting?”

“I am.”

The elevator finally closed and they were heading up. 

“Then I guess we're heading the same way then,” Lucius offered his arm to her.

Vivian laughed lightly and wrapped her arm with the man's. “Good thing you are, I don't think I'll have much patience in these things. I’m all in for doing but planning the whole thing, I just get lost.”

“That's what we're here for, Professor Pryor. You and Mr. Wayne dream it, and we'll do the grunt work on making it happen.”

“I promise to help out as much as I can, Lucius.”

“Your expertise and your presence alone in those events are more than enough. And I believe you've provided the list of collectors who are looking to sell — I never knew you were well acquainted with Rossi.”

“Rossi?” William tried to chime in.

“Sebastian Rossi – he's an Italian artist whose paintings have agreed to put some of his private works to auction. A fixed portion, of course, will go to him, but the rest will be put in the Wayne Foundation.”

“It just so happens Sebastian Rossi is a professor in art history as well, and I went to his lectures when I was still in uni.”

“Did you now?” Lucius said. “Well, Mr. Wayne does have his network in Gotham's elite and powerful, and sciences, but you Professor brings the classics to our doorstep.”

“Somebody has to keep Wayne Enterprise from becoming some robotic corporation.”

They arrived at their floor, and Vivian and Lucius said goodbye to William as they went to Bruce's office.

“Saved your behind from an awkward elevator ride, didn't I Professor?” Lucius teased.

“Yes, and you are my hero today, Lucius,” Vivian sighed. “I'm sure you've seen the article on the Gazette?”

“Everyone has. It's probably one of the reasons why Bruce is a little distracted today at our nine-o'clock. Don't worry, your husband might have his mind preoccupied but he still manages to operate well.”

Vivian sighed. “I am trying to keep an upbeat attitude.”

“I'm sure the charity event will change some perspectives in the coming future.”

“I hope so.”

Entering Bruce's office, they saw the man deep in work while taking a call on his bluetooth earpiece. The moment they opened the door, he told the person at the other line that he'll call them back later then stood to greet Lucius and Vivian.

“Lucius,” Bruce said to the man and then turned to Vivian and kissed her cheek, “Viv, I guess it's time for the meeting.”

“Yes, it is,” Vivian told him.

“But Marge usually takes her time with preparing our coffee. I'll head over to make sure everything is alright. You can come after ten minutes, Mr. Wayne, Professor Pryor,” Lucius said and left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Vivian turned to Bruce and said, “Marge doesn’t take too much time with preparing coffee.”

“No, she does not. But I appreciate Lucius’ efforts in giving us some time alone. It's been a busy week.”

“Both in your day job and night job,” Vivian placed her bag on the seat and leaned back on his desk. Bruce stood before her and removed the tie that's keeping her hair to a bun, then massaged her scalp.

“That feels nice,” she hummed. “How's your day?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“You saw.”

“You should have told me.”

“I just don't want to think more about it. But going through that procession just to get to the elevator didn't help. William Earle didn't help either. Is that what I'm reduced to? A wife you got to please so I'd drop by your office to give you head before a meeting?”

Bruce frowned. “And you said you weren't thinking about it too much,” he leaned down and placed each of his hands on the table to cage her there. “Hey… for better and for worse, remember?” Vivian smiled and pressed her forehead on his. “And your shit is my shit too.” She laughed. 

“Why did we even add that to our vows?”

“It was your idea, and I think it's romantic. But you get the gist.”

“Of course, it was my idea,” Vivian brushed her nose against his and closed her eyes. “I miss the times we sneak around and act like we're good at it.”

“You're not just my wife Vivian, and nor are you just someone I please to get a good fuck. You're my partner in everything. Your achievements are your own and you’ve made a name for yourself in your field, and I am proud of you for it. And you put up with me and the demands of my other life.”

Vivian smiled, she slung her arms around his neck and enjoyed his company. “I should get an award for that. You don't see anyone else who supports their husband and their nightly hobbies of running around in a costume. Let alone a bat costume. And also consulting him and his friends on their Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.”

Bruce chuckled. “I'll get you a plaque for it.”

The door of his office opened and Bruce had to remove himself from his wife, displeased, to face them. It was William Earle. 

“Whoah, didn't mean to walk-in on you both like that,” he joked.

Vivian rolled her eyes, luckily Bruce was big enough to hide her from William's view.

“Will, what brings you here?” Bruce asked.

“Lucius has everyone in the conference room now.”

“But you're not in that meeting.”

He wasn't, but William Earle has always been a suckup.

William shrugged, “Saw them ready for you and thought why not save Marge the hassle of walking all the way here to tell you, you know.”

“Thanks, William,” Vivian got off the table and took her bag. “We'll head there now.”

Taking Bruce's offer of his arm, Vivian and him left the office and went straight to the meeting.

~*~

Veronica Vreeland was one of the few people that Vivian would call a real friend of Bruce Wayne. She remembered meeting the woman after Bruce said his friend demanded they have a double date with her now ex-husband. It was fun getting to know Veronica, and while the two of them were complete opposites, they found some common ground that became the foundation of their friendship. 

Which was dress shopping.

Vivian always loved clothes. She remembered going to the shopping district in Liverpool with her mother and going through the thrift shops to find clothes she liked for a cheap price, then Madeline would fix them up or alter them to fit her preference. For a time she learned how to use a sewing machine just to alter her existing clothes to styles she always wanted, and she did the same for her siblings when they started to become picky with their clothes. 

Oliver was more of the tweed jackets and white shirts and trousers.

Olivia liked rock and roll.

Vivian preferred to sew Olivia's clothes since it was more ripped than actually attached. 

When she got a job, the first paycheck she got, Vivian bought a really nice blazer – not from a thrift shop but a new one that fits her perfectly. It served her for years into her profession until it no longer fits. Later, she started buying clothes that would fit her profession and have that Dan Brown's Robert Langdon aesthetic.

Then she started seeing Bruce Wayne who invited her to galas and fancy dinners, and charity events, and press runways, and she had to look into more appropriate clothes. Luckily, her first gala event as Bruce’s date happened after she met Veronica Vreeland, and the woman invited her to go dress shopping before the event, and got a really nice dress that – in her words – “would have Bruce begging they head home before they even get to the venue.”

Now, here they were again, looking through luxury brand stores for a dress for the upcoming charity auction they were hosting at Wayne Manor. It was a Saturday which meant Tim had time to go through cases in the cave than be a kid, which had Vivian dragging him through their shopping with a video game to play with. 

“You are probably the only kid who I will ever enable to play video games instead of studying,” she told him as she handed him a video game and told him to sit at the bench.

“Or I could just play video games at home,” Tim said.

“Yeah, with Alfred coordinating with the caterer, Bruce at work, and me here, so you're unsupervised and can go to the basement to study? No.”

Tim groaned and took the game. 

Now standing before the mirrors trying out the dress that Veronica picked out, she did a good turn to see how it looked on her. Before she could give her opinion, Veronica told their assistant for the day, “No. She's a world renowned professor in symbology and iconography – in basic terms she's damn smart. Not eye-candy. She's the host for the event, not the hubby's accessory.”

“Of course, we'll find something that might interest us.”

After changing out of the dress and back to the robe that was provided, Vivian laid on the couch beside Veronica and sighed. On cue, the woman handed her a glass of champagne and a slice of cake. 

“Thanks for that,” Vivian said.

“No problem,” Veronica took Vivian's legs and had them on her lap, making the latter laugh. “I hate it when they always choose the dresses my grandmother would wear or whatever Rebecca Fallbrook as in her closet.”

“Which is?”

“The most clothing you'll see on her is probably the Princess Jasmine costume she wore on that New Year's Eve party. And I mean the red Princess Jasmine costume.”

They both laughed at the memory and drank their champagne. 

“I miss shopping with you, Ronie,” Vivian sighed. 

“Well, you've been busy.”

“And you've been on so many honeymoons now that I rarely see you in the country.”

Veronica smirked. “Those honeymoons got you that fantastic fur coat from St. Petersburg and that beautiful coat from Italy, mind you. So, what's up, Vivian Pryor-Wayne? Four years into the marriage… how's living with Gotham's snobs?”

A long and dragging sight. “I miss not being labeled an alcoholic whenever I order beer at ten in the morning. I also miss not seeing my face on the headlines of some tabloid being called as a gold digger.”

Veronica gave her a sympathetic look. “Gotham press and Gotham's socialite are not that welcoming to new money – or those who marry into its circle. They know they can't do anything to you because of Bruce, so they pay the media to do the shaming.”

“I miss Liverpool. There people can call each other wankers and get on with their day. None of this backstabbing shit.”

“Did you stab them when they're looking?”

“Usually.”

Veronica laughed. “If only Gotham is like your little neighborhood in Liverpool… but I hope this doesn't get between you and Bruce though.”

“It doesn't. He has been extra loving lately, and while I enjoy his morning greetings,” Tim mimicked someone vomiting, “I just want this to die down. I mean, I enjoy the gesture but he can't always go on his knees just to cheer me up, right?”

“VIVIAN!” Tim covered his ears with pillows.

“What do you expect? It's Bruce, he likes to please people. But seriously, Viv. Anything you need, I'm here — even if it means trashing someone's car to let out some steam… say Rebecca Fallbrook? Listen, I think this is just going out because you're hosting this event for the Wayne Foundation, and people are not happy that you've been getting good media publicity from the Daily Planet and the press in general. I can smell a rich-man's bribe anywhere.”

Vivian sighed and pulled Tim so she could mess with his hair. It always calms her to do that with her boys. And Tim doesn't mind, it was a free head-massage.

Before Vivian could say anything, the store assistants came back with some outfits that she would like. On in particular caught her eye, and both her and Veronica pointed at it and said, “that one.”

Later that day, a photo went around Gotham Gazette’s page and social platforms with an article that highlights her and Veronica, mentioning that she was once again cashing in Bruce's money with luxury clothes. Vivian slammed her laptop shut and counted the days until the auction. Once that's done all of this would be over… until the next event.

~*~

The grand hall was packed with Gotham's socialite, the press, and guests who show expertise on the pieces that Sebastian has finally opened up to sell. As everyone was socializing downstairs, Vivian watched from the railing as she tried to look for someone she knew so she could run to them immediately and not get caught in all the whole small talk. She saw Veronica there but she was conversing with Suzie Vanaver and Heather Earle, who were not the most welcoming in their little circle. Veronica called them snobs and would rather have champagne at the corner but she was forced by her father to interact with them and be a “good girl” for the evening. And not hunting for husband #4.

“You look like you're playing that crane game we went to with Ms. Vreeland the other day,” Tim said to her as he came out with Bruce. Both wearing matching tuxes that complimented her white jumpsuit. 

“Don't you look handsome,” she told Tim. “I saw Bernard down there, why don't you save him from getting his cheeks pinched by old ladies.”

“You don’t have to bribe a friend so I can give you both some alone time you know,” Tim snickered and left.

Alone, Bruce took Vivian's hand that's been fiddling with Jason's locket and smiled sadly. Even in death, Vivian still finds comfort with Jason's memory. He took her hand and kissed the wedding band and her engagement ring before kissing her lips. 

“You look fantastic,” he told her.

“I’m a complete mess,” she sighed. “It's weird how I know everyone in this room, I can smile and talk to them but I feel utterly alone.”

“But you're not,” Bruce told her. His eyes glanced over her should an the crowd as he said, “and I think you'll be happy to see someone in this crowd right now.” He had her turn around to see.

Waving frantically from below, where he gained looks from the other guests, Sebastian Rossi called out to Vivian with a grin, “Bella! Vivian!” Rossi called for her with his thick Italian accent.

Vivian laughed and waved at him, “Professore Rossi!”

Sebastian Rossi gestured for her to come down. Taking Bruce's hand, they both went to greet the artist who was accompanied by some of her colleagues who were apologizing to the others he surprised with his loud entrance.

“Professore Rossi,” Vivian greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. “How was the flight?” She asked in Italian.

“Professor Vivian Pryor – eh!” Sebastian caught himself, “Professor Vivian Pryor-Wayne, I hear now.”

“Yes,” she then switched to English as she introduced Bruce. “My husband, Bruce Wayne.”

“The lucky man,” Rossi laughed as she shook Bruce's hand.

“Indeed. It's nice to meet you as an artist and as Vivian's good friends. How was the flight?”

“Very appreciated – I think I enjoyed it too much in first class. Now, I heard you have adopted a few boys. I brought presents,” he took out three wrapped boxes from his bag. “I remember reading about it in our emails. The youngest, where is he?”

Bruce called for Tim from the snackbar and had him come over. 

“Ah, you are Tim. Yes?”

“Yeah,” Tim said.

“For you. Vivian said that you liked puzzles, so I got you something to get you off the video games.”

Tim snickered and turned to Vivian. “Look at that, an intellectual game that a normal kid could play that’s not a video game. Thank you, Professor Rossi.”

Rossi patted him on the head – messing up his hair – and had him returning to where he was finishing all the snacks with Bernard. “Now, Richard?”

“Dick's not –”

“Here, I am,” Dick crossed the crowd, all dressed up for the night. “Bruce said it was your event, I can't miss that.”

Vivian smiled and thanked him. “I'm glad you're here, kiddo.”

“Here, my boy. I did the math – mind you I am not a mathematician so I made a good guess on your age. So, here. From Tuscany – Italy's wine region.”

“Thank you… hold on, when you said bad in math, how old did you think I was?”

Rossi shrugged. “Sixteen?”

“He'd be underage. He won't be allowed to drink then,” said Bruce.

Rossi scoffed. “I've been drinking wine since I was Timothy's age.”

“An exaggeration,” Vivian reassured the people around them.

“But thanks,” Dick said. 

“Now. I know that Jason is gone, but he will always be here with you. Here, for you and Mr. Wayne. It is a replica of the Argo — you know, Jason and the Argonauts.”

“Thank you, Professor. This means so much…” she gestured for Alfred to come and the butler approached them and held out his hand to take the gift.

“I'll put this in his old room,” he told her.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Vivian said before he left. “This means so much, Professor –”

“There is more.”

“Please, no more. You have already given so much.”

“No, no! For my favorite student – do not tell the others that –”

“We're right here,” said Kirk. “We were also your students during our semester in Italy.”

“— I made you something for your wedding. I was supposed to give it to you during the celebration but I ran out of time. I can't give it to you now but I had it transported here along with my other works.”

“Please don't tell me Sebastian Rossi just made us a painting as a wedding gift,” whispered Bruce.

“I think he did.”

“And you do know that a Rossi costs about at least six million dollars in the market, right?”

“I know,” Vivian whispered. “And I thought getting him to pour me wine is an honor enough.”

“Here,” Rossi showed the catalog, specifically at the painting. “For your personal collection.”

“Thank you, Professor Rossi,” Vivian said. “This means so much.”

“Specifically around six million dollars,” Dick whispered to Bruce. “Did this add another zero into your joint account?”

“It did,” Bruce answered.

“Now, I shall leave you to your event,” Rossi said.

“No, you are the guest of honor, I would be a rude host to leave you just like that,” Vivian had her arm around her old friend and brought him around to meet Lucius Fox and the others.

The auction went smoothly with Vivian giving an opening speech to discuss more about Rossi's works, and a few words from the artist himself, then everyone was bidding to get a hold on one of Italy's rising artists whose paintings cost just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It ended when Bruce himself purchased a painting called Aphrodite Urania Seducing Ares where the goddess is depicted to be having red hair and is naked as she bathed in sea water, and at the side the god of war was watching with lustful eyes.

“I think we both know why Bruce bought that painting,” Dick said as he removed his hand off of Tim and Bernard's eyes when the photo of the painting was no longer on display.

“You don't say? You think he'll put it in their bedroom?” Tim muttered.

“I know he will.”

With the auction finished, people enjoyed the afterparty and got to know the artist who they just made very rich. As Rossi spoke with Bruce and the others, Vivian was whisked away by Veronica who teased her about the last painting which Bruce bought.

“That wasn't me,” Vivian told her. “Okay, technically that wasn't me, it was a model, but Rossi admitted he made the hair red on purpose because he really liked my red hair.”

Veronica laughed. “Tell me where Bruce is going to put it, alright?”

“Please don't tease him about it.”

“Viv, that's what friends are for. We tease you but with good intentions. It keeps you grounded.”

“Thank you for coming tonight, Ronnie. And for buying that piece,” Vivian sighed. “I don't know how I would have gotten through this night without you.”

“You would have. I barely talked to you, Viv.”

“Well, you kept the hoard from getting me tonight.”

Veronica laughed. “That's what I do… congratulations, Vivian. Now, go and mingle with the other rich people in Gotham. Remember, it's the connections that give you power.”

“I will,” Vivian said and went to the direction of some of the families who bought a piece from tonight. “Mr. Vanaver, Mr. Fallbrook, I'm glad that you're enjoying the evening.”

“Mrs. Wayne, good to see you,” Patrick Vanaver said.

“I hope you're happy with your purchases for tonight.”

“Not as happy as Wayne, though,” Oscar Lawford snickered. “He got the best one there is. Right, Viv?”

Vivian breathed through her nose and reminded herself about the network and the image she needed to keep. “I remember when Professor Rossi was still halfway through painting it – he was having trouble on Aphrodite's hair and then one day he just made it red to make her stand out.”

“Is that right? He just suddenly decided to make the goddess of love and sex have red-hair, huh?” Said Patrick. Vivian frowned. “You know, Professor, we really thought you were one of those quiet type of girls. We never thought you to be well acquainted with big people.”

Vivian forced a smile. “It's part of the job. Traveling, meeting people.”

“You know, I'm a painter myself, not as good as Professor Mario over there, but I can do a decent piece. How about you model for me on a piece” said Patrick.

“Excuse me?” Vivian's brows furrowed. 

“Come on now, Viv. It's just a joke,” said Oscar Lawford.

“You know, I can understand why Bruce wanted that painting. I can see it now.”

Vivian looked at him for a moment then did something that certainly would stick to every Gothamite in this event. She took Patrick Vanaver and Oscar Lawford's drinks and handed them to the nearest server on sight. Before they could question what she was doing, she asked the same man to tell the person at the coats and the valet to get Mr. Vanaver and Mr. Lawford's coats.

“What the hell, Viv?” Oscar told her.

“Don't Viv me. It's either Pryor or Mrs. Pryor-Wayne. While I do appreciate your attendance and we appreciate your donation to the cause, I would humbly ask for you to get out of my house.”

Silence came to the room and everyone was looking Vivian.

“Viv, come on it's a joke!” Oscar scoffed.

“Professor Pryor, the valet are now bringing Mr. Lawford and Mr. Vanaver's vehicles to the front, Ma'am,” Alfred came to her side. “Your coats will be waiting for you at the front,” he told the two men.

“What the – Wayne, are you hearing this right now?” Patrick turned to Bruce who was marching up to their space.

Bruce went to Vivian's side and only looked at the two men, joining him were Dick and Tim who looked at them with menacing glares. “Vivian is the Mistress of Wayne Manor, Patrick. She runs this house. What she says goes. I'm sure the valet already has your cars at the front. And don't worry about Suzie and Heather, they can stay. We'll personally secure their mode of transportation home.”

“Bruce, you can't be serious!” Oscar scoffed.

“Trust me. I am. And Oscar, Patrick,” Bruce towered over them and said in a threatening tone, “Insult my wife again and I swear… it will be the last. Don't think I didn't hear what you said to her along with the anonymous writer you have contacted in the Gazette.”

Vivian smirked. “We thank you for your donation to the Wayne Foundation, gentlemen. And we'll make sure that your paintings will reach your homes securely.”

“Now,” Dick spoke. “Get out.”

The two men turned to their wives and told them to come along, and they did, both embarrassed with what had happened. As soon as they were in their cars, Tim and Bernard ran up to the front with a couple of tomatoes – which Vivian magically conjured discreetly from the kitchen and handed to the boys – and threw it at the two men's windshields. The boys laughed and high-fived as the men started cursing and wiping the tomatoes using their expensive scarves.

“Are you alright, my love?” Bruce asked Vivian.

“Yes,” Vivian sighed. “I am now – a lot better since last week.” Since that article she saw.

“Scotch, neat, Ma'am,” Alfred handed Vivian her favorite drink.

“Thank you, Alfred. I can always count on you for this. And,” she turned to Bruce, smiling, “I can always count on you to have my back.”

“Partners, remember?” Bruce leaned down and kissed her softly.

“Well,” Veronica approached them. “Demure and commanding, I am proud of you, Vivian. The hulking husband is a nice touch, too, Bruce.”

“Ronnie,” Bruce greeted her. 

“What do you think is going to happen after that?” Vivian asked them. 

“Public shaming, give the Vanavers and the Lawfords a couple of days out of the sun – maybe a vacation to their villas – and they'll be back. Scarred and won't dare to come near you, but still close enough to be in the inner circles of Gotham's socialite,” Veronica answered.

“That's nice to hear,” said Vivian.

“Congratulations, Professor Pryor, you now know the ways on how to say ‘fuck you’ like a snobbish Gotham elite,” Veronica clinked her wine glass with Vivian's scotch. 

Tim and Bernard returned, both grinning from ear to ear.

“We got them good,” Tim said.

Vivian knelt down and kiss his cheek. “Thanks, detective.”

“Vivian!” Tim groaned and tried to push her away but couldn't as she had a good hold, making Bernard laugh at him.

[ttjisung]

BOSS k. jungwoo

kim jungwoo x fem!reader ᡣ𐭩 ceo au written imagine!

"i became the boss for you."

preview wc: 1.4k ᥫ᭡ official wc: ?

in which everyone fears your boss, kim jungwoo, and so do you, yet your reason feels more personal than the rest.

Thinking about how much I love Jungwoo's hair in the BOSS music video which stemmed to a fanfic about him. I'll be releasing the full version soon! Once it's out, I'll link it below. Content warnings will be posted on the actual released version. Hope you guys enjoy the preview <3

FULL VERSION HERE

For as long as you could remember, you had always heard everybody complain about their jobs. As a child, it was your parents raving about another long night shift. As a teenager, it was your friends ranting about getting fired from Wendy’s for stealing a small order of fries. It simply appeared to be in human nature to have distaste towards your job. None of what you heard had prepared you for the disdain you’d feel entering your first official office job, though. 

You had been miraculously hired as a secretary for a CEO of one of the largest companies in the country, which came as a shock to all of your friends considering the job was incredibly strict about who they’d hire. There were always rumors roaming around about the strict boss who everyone either feared or kissed up to, scaring you slightly yet bills were due and you had no other option than to clock in.

The first day was possibly one of the worst of your life, gaining stares and whispers for being the newbie. You had people below your label asking you to make them a coffee, or shutting the elevator on you when you obviously were running to catch it. It was all incredibly exhausting and the only thing motivating you was the thought of clocking out and crying to your cat while drinking a glass of wine, yet this fantasy was also shut down immediately as you were requested to meet the CEO after hours. 

Your nerves were tame at first, possibly from the misery numbing your mind, yet it spiked as you stood outside his door, stalling as you held the handle for two minutes straight. Eventually deciding to get this done with, you opened the door and stepped in. The shiny nameplate that read out Kim Jungwoo taunted you as you shifted closer to where he was. His figure sat at his obnoxiously huge chair, staring down at his desk in a manner that covered his face with both shadows and his own hair. Nonetheless, his stance was intimidating and you wanted to do nothing but submit your two-week notice and run away. Stepping into the room felt like walking straight into a predator’s cave, and the noise of the door closing behind you added to the overwhelming emotion. The noise it made caused you to flinch, and it was then that he finally looked up to observe you. 

Had he not been someone with the power of evicting you straight out of your small apartment with one snap of his fingers, you would’ve swooned. He was beautiful, and it was rare for you to say that about a man. His lips were plump, and you almost wondered if he had put lip gloss on prior to your meeting, considering they were shinier than yours have ever been. His nose could be someone’s inspiration for a nose-job, and if his eyes weren't sharply staring at you, you would compare them to that of a puppy. 

Nothing about him screamed nice though, and the clearing of his throat as he noted your dazed look reminded you that he was indeed not a puppy, and was actually your boss. Immediately straightening out your posture and paying him your attention, you silently scolded yourself for possibly angering him. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice engulfed the room, becoming another trait of his that you’d be envious of, yet this time you knew not to dissociate, shaking your head, “No, sir.” “Hmmm… You see, I wanted to meet our newest employee.” His words were stern, and his eyes remained coldly locked onto yours, forcing eye-contact that made you uncomfortable. Noticing your silence at his words, he tilted his head as if he was challenging you. “What’s your name?” “I-It’s Y/n. Y/n L/n, sir.” You cursed yourself out for stuttering; the last thing you wanted was for him to sense the fear in your wobbly voice. You straighten your posture once more, realizing you had subconsciously curled into yourself as a defense mechanism. “Well, Y/n, I have to say I’m impressed,” you almost thanked him, yet the words that continued made you falter, “One day and you’re already seemingly disliked by your fellow workers. Tell me why.”  “I’m… Not quite sure actually, sir.” For the first time since you had met him, his facial expression changed, his lip shifting to a grin, bunny-esque teeth peaking out onto his lips and his eyes staring at you with an intense look, yet it felt different. “It’s ‘cause you’re new. Always happens, doesn’t it?” You had no clue as this was your first job.

“Anyway, Y/n. The truth is, I wanted to meet you because I was the one who chose to hire you.” You choked slightly as his words, looking at him with confusion obviously etched on your face that made him laugh out lightly, the sound shocking you further. He let out a sigh before standing up and walking up to you, as you had failed to sit on the chair that was put in front of his desk. “I saw your resume, which I must say was impressive, yet this is your first job. Interesting, right? That’s why they all hate you. It’s jealousy, Y/n.” The way he kept repeating your first name felt informal and made you a bit nervous, but you nodded to his words, not wanting to get on his bad side. “Thank you, sir. For umm… Hiring me. I’m very grateful-” “Save all that. I don’t need to hear it. It gets tiring after the hundredth person or so.” Nodding again, you closed your mouth and chose to not answer again unless asked to. “Wanna know why I hired you, Y/n?” “Yes, sir.” “Sure, your resume is something to rave over, although you had little to no experience. Yet, the reason I hired you was because…” He drew out his words, motioning you to come closer with his hand, and you realized his grin had become teasing, almost cheeky like a little kid planning something evil. You were already closer to him than you wanted to be, yet his motion forced you to step closer, increasing your anxiety. Leaning into you, he whispered his words into your ear as if it was a secret to tell. “I have a thing for pretty women in power.” 

Your face felt like it was on fire and shock consumed you at his bold words, considering you could probably file a complaint about his actions and have him go through several consequences, yet it was almost as if you had completely missed what he had said, looking up at him with a mouth wide open. Not only was the sentence incredibly inappropriate, his growing smile piled more unease onto you. “Wh… What?” Was all you could let out, causing him to laugh. His body moved away from yours, returning to his seat. “That would be all, Y/n. It was nice meeting you.” He waved at you from where he sat, his eyes now wearing a fuzzy infatuated look, almost as if you were his boss and he was the worker licking your shoes. The whole scenario gave you whiplash, from his flirty words to his cheeky expression. It was too much for you to handle, already worn down from a hard day, yet the words that followed his only served to add to the stress. “And call me Jungwoo, not sir. Although I like how it sounds from you, I want us to be more familiar.” You were going to faint, you were sure of it.

Walking out of his office, you had to pinch yourself several times to make sure what had occurred was reality, and not an odd figment of your imagination after watching too many work based K-dramas. Flinching at the pain from your fingers twisting your skin, you came to the horrid conclusion that what he said was indeed real, and you were going to have to face him every day for the rest of your employed life. After an hour of debriefing the situation with your cat once you arrived home, you decided to fall asleep as it was extremely late. Your last thought before your head fell onto your pillow and your eyes closed was a confirmation to the accredited conception you had known your whole life. Bosses truly were the worst thing to exist.

a/n: this is for the anon who has been asking for a jungwoo fic ^_^ don't worry i'm still releasing a full series for him after i finish my smaus but that'll take bitttt so i decided to write a one-shot instead for now :3 boss jungwoo save me NOW!

leave a note or message me to be added to the taglist once it comes out c:

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 31

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 30 🟣 Part 32

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August, Sherlock, Charles, Melot and Napoleon

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: ongoing vampire shenanigans, Melot's ongoing identity crisis gets worse (courtesy of Mikey), lore (buckle up)

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Alright, as promised! Major thank you to @geralts-yenn (as usual) and @wa-ni for putting these babies back in my brain. I hope they're there for the long run because OH BOY did I dream up some filth that I'm desperate to share with everyone...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo @mysweetlittledesire

Melot didn’t show up for dinner. He’d kicked you out of the room too, seconds after Mike had left, and now you were sitting at the dinner table, opposite questioning looks from the others.

“He wants to be alone,” Mike said. It was easier to get everyone to believe stuff like that when Mike said it. After all, the man knew what he was talking about.

It came as no surprise, then, that everyone dropped the subject. You ate dinner, mostly in silence, with ‘pass me the salt’ being virtually the only exception. It was hell.

Then, a flick of a switch. Off, on. Off again, and back on. Fast as lightning, and it sure as hell wasn’t the light. The feeling had come from somewhere inside you…

“You found him.” Marshall nodded approvingly from across the table, casting a few quick glances between you and Sherlock.

“Sherlock?” you asked. He looked at you with raised eyebrows and hummed by means of a reply. “Do that again, please.”

A smile spread across his handsome face at a glacial pace while a sigh of relief escaped you.

“As much as I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t mind you couldn’t find me, I must admit I am quite glad that you did manage,” he confessed.

“Where did you go?”

“I brought Melot a plate,” he explained. “Whatever Mike did — Mike, don’t bother — it shouldn’t keep Melot from August’s exquisite risotto.”

Dessert was the richest, creamiest and probably only homemade chocolate mousse you’d ever encountered in your life so far. It didn’t taste anywhere near as good as it should have.

“We should go talk to him,” Mike said. He'd practically inhaled his own dessert. You slid what was left of yours — about half — over to him. He made quick work of that, too, and then got up.

“I thought he wanted to be alone,” you said.

“He does,” Mike responded indifferently. “But just because he wants the sky to be green and the grass purple, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.”

“He’s already working himself into a frenzy,” August added.

“Being alone is not good for Melot.” You were surprised that Charles even cared enough to weigh in on the situation, but you kept your mouth shut. Seemed like the smart thing to do.

“Absolutely correct.” Marshall threw a knowing smile your way.

Mike dragged you out of the kitchen, picking you up without asking to rush you to Melot’s room. He didn’t bother to knock.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Melot was lying on his bed, curled up in a ball, knees tucked tightly into his chest. His shoulders moved, although he didn’t make a sound. As soon as Mike spoke, Melot was on his feet, and in a split second the two were standing toe-to-toe with each other.

“You,” Melot snapped. “What did you do to me?”

Mike burst out in laughter. “What did I— you’re joking, right?”

A sharp smacking sound, Mike reaching for his cheek… Your eyes opened wide at the sight. Before Melot could strike again, Mike grabbed both of his wrists.

“I know you’re not seriously accusing me of what I think you just tried to accuse me of,” Mike snarled, baring his teeth. “It’s fine that you’re not sure how to handle this, but this” — he made a general gesture with his arms, dragging Melot’s along like he was a puppet  — “is not it.” He let go, his eyes suspicious.

“This is not who I am,” Melot stammered, his voice tired and broken.

“Oh, but it is, Melmel,” Mike said with a taunting grin. “You like boys.”

He what? You hadn’t seen that coming, that’s for sure. Okay, maybe a little, but you’d written off your interpretation of that strange, tense moment between the guys as a projection of a kind of fantasy you never even knew you’d had. Only it hadn’t been a fantasy. You’d simply seen that for what it was.

“I don’t—” Melot started, but Mike put a finger on his lips to shut him up.

“It’s the twenty-first century, baby!” He pulled his hand back again, draping his arms loosely around Melot’s neck. “Say it. I promise you’ll feel better.”

“I guess I’m… not gay, I mean, but maybe—”

“You’ll have plenty of time for the whole identity crisis later,” Mike said. “Just acknowledge what you know you’re feeling right now. It helps, trust me.”

“I like…” Melot’s voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. “I like at least one boy.” As soon as the words left his mouth, a sense of calm washed over him: he let his breath out on a dramatic sigh that turned into an exasperated chuckle, his shoulders dropped half a mile, and he leaned his forehead against Mike’s.

You’d watched the whole thing in silence, with an open mouth, and afraid to breathe or do anything to draw attention to yourself, but when Mike leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss on Melot’s lips…

“Aww.” Christ on a bike, what an award-winning response…

The boys turned their heads towards you. Mike raised an eyebrow, Melot looked shocked — as if he’d completely forgotten you were even there to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “But you two are surprisingly cute together.”

They both glared at you — Mike’s face morphing into a grin well before Melot’s did.

“Do they know?” Melot asked, his voice soft and brittle.

“Who? The mind-reading bunch of vampires, most of whom you’ve been living with for multiple centuries?” Mike raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. It looked so silly that you couldn’t help but laugh.

The whole situation felt strangely comfortable, yet at the same time you felt incredibly out of place in it. Should you leave them to it? There was clearly a lot to unpack here, still, and you weren’t sure if you had any business being there to begin with.

“Don’t leave,” Mike said, once again grinning like a fool. “As badly as he wants me, he wants you more.”

Melot let out a frustrated cry before launching himself onto his bed in the most dramatic way. It was adorable. He scrambled to get under the covers, and hid his face in a pillow.

“Too bad those aren’t going to keep me away,” Mike said as he slowly stalked towards the bed.  “Come on, sweetcheeks. He needs cuddles!”

You hesitantly walked over to the side Mike hadn’t claimed, and looked at Melot. He pulled the covers back, inviting you into the bed. A wave of relief rushed through you as you got into bed with the guys.

It was quiet for a long time, in which Melot kept looking back and forth between you and Mike, unsure what to do, what to say… “How can I want you both?” he finally whispered on an exhale.

“Sexually, the answer is easy,” Mike said. “We’re both smoking hot, and you like that, so—”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Melot muttered, his cheeks slowly coloring pink. “Okay, for her, sure — no offense. But you…”

“None taken?” you half-said, half-asked carefully. Mike chuckled.

“You’ve never been attracted to me, actually,” he said casually. “Not until last week, anyway. You were always so distant, so… high above all of us. Why?”

“I was the eldest — in a way. I had a responsibility,” Melot explained. “It always felt unnatural” — he considered his words for a moment — “well, not always. It’s complicated. I felt incredibly out of place in the old, authoritarian coven I was a part of before Charles and Sherlock… And when I turned them, I was able to finally break those bonds, but it left me with this strange power over them.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I took care to use that power as little as possible. Charles fought me for the position more than once.”

“But, why?” you asked. The story didn’t exactly provide great publicity for Charles… Not that that surprised you.

“He thought I lacked experience,” Melot said. “He wasn’t wrong, per se. Charles and Sherlock both managed to hold onto their positions at court, even shortly after they were turned. I was constantly plagued by my visions, starting to discover my healing ability… Ancient vampires are widely known for having the impulse-control of a toddler on crack.”

Mike coughed — a poor attempt to cover up his laughter. Melot glared at him and continued: “I had spent five centuries staying out of everyone’s way, living in a large coven, away from human society.”

“Why did you leave?” you wondered.

“Remember what I said before? About you making me kneel by your feet like a dog?” Yeah. You remembered. “I didn’t make that up. Catharine — the Queen of that coven — kept me as one of her personal pets. I was her prized possession. Or rather: my gift was. She’d seek my counsel, and proceed to ignore it, punishing me when things invariably went completely sideways. I’m sure she cursed herself for training us and our gifts so well, when I finally ran. It allowed me to stay out of her hands for nearly two centuries before I was finally able to sever the bond with the help of Charles and Sherlock — mostly Charles.”

“How did you do it?” You snuggled closer to him — Mike did the same on his other side.

“I’m not proud of it,” Melot said, tears forming in his eyes. “She came after me once again, sweet at first, begging me to come back, pulling the strings with all her might. I thought she’d pull my heart right out of my chest. I’d only ever been able to resist her pull and run, but with Charles and Sherlock behind me, helping me… When I refused, the bond snapped. That’s when she attacked me. Charles took her out — he almost died doing it… If she’d come around a decade sooner, I wouldn’t have been able to save him. I owe him my life, in more ways than one.”

“That still doesn’t explain the high and mighty attitude from before,” Mike joked — was it a joke? Not completely…

“We agreed on a fairly democratic structure. It became more difficult when Sherlock created Marshall, and August somehow found his way back to the coven. You can’t imagine the amount of fighting I had to shut down between Charles and August.”

No, actually you could imagine that perfectly well.

Mike laughed. “You really can’t. They’ve been very civil since you got here.”

“And they’re more afraid of Sherlock than they ever were of me,” Melot added, finally smiling again. “I can’t say I mourn my involuntary resignation. I finally have the opportunity to see who I am, and who I want to be, and what I want to do.”

“And two of the things you want to do are in your bed right now,” Mike said, pressing his lips to Melot’s shoulder.

He shrugged him off. “Don’t make it sound so lewd,” he snapped. You ran a finger down his cheek, hoping to calm him as well as get his attention. It worked; he turned his head to you.

“Don’t listen to Mikey, you know he means well. He can’t help it he’s such a mess,” you said softly. Melot chuckled — it turned into full-blown laughter when he saw the adorable frown on Mikey’s face. “What do you want to do?”

Melot stared up at the ceiling. “I think I want to go to college,” he said slowly, chewing on every word.

“Hell yeah! You could probably start next semester,” Mike immediately chimed in cheerfully, a grin stretching across his face. “I mean, it’s too late to get a dorm but we can be roommates, and—”

“Mike!” you said, reaching over Melot to put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t scare him!”

“Why would I want to live in a dorm to begin with?” Melot asked, surprised.

“For the experience,” Mike explained.

You virtually begged for an explanation. What experience could he possibly mean? Constant noise, people everywhere, having a tiny bed in a tiny — and shared — room that always smelled of microwaved whatever?

“Yes! That experience!” He rolled his eyes at you when you pointed out he himself hadn’t been staying in a dorm last semester, either. “Sweetcheeks, this is my third degree.”

What? As it turned out, Mike had degrees in journalism and computer science. You stared at him when he told you, trying with all your might to keep your face in check.

“I'm not as much of a clown as you think, Sweetcheeks. Just mostly.” He grinned at you before nuzzling Melot’s neck. “I think you should talk to the others, Mel.”

“What if they think it’s a bad idea?” he said softly, pulling you closer. “What if they think I shouldn’t leave this place? That I'm not ready?”

“Just apply to a few schools. Enroll in a few community college classes, even. You can always cancel if you really don’t feel ready by the end of summer!” Mike was clearly excited about the idea of Melot going to college. “Talk to Sherlock first, if you want to be certain of support! There’s no way he won’t let you go!”

“Quick question,” you interjected before Mike or Melot could start another monologue you wouldn’t be able to break in to. “Why wouldn’t you be ready?”

“Think back to ‘follow the teeth’ for a moment,” Melot explained. “They’re always on the lookout for human blood. I’m an incredibly powerful vampire who has been shielded from humanity for an incredibly long time. To set me loose in an environment packed with humans — a school, for example — would be…”

“A choice,” Mike finished. “And a particularly poor one, too.”

“But with you around…” Melot smiled apologetically. “Please don’t think you’re no more than food for me, I… It’s not fair to ask this of you already. Any of it. I’m so incredibly sorry.” He tried to turn away from you, but Mike pushed him back.

“Melot, when I offered to let you feed earlier, I was not planning on that being a one time thing,” you said, stroking his cheek. “We may not know each other well yet, but I’d love to change that. Let’s take some time to hang out this summer, and you can feed with the same freedom as the others… And we’ll see how it goes. But please, at least keep your options open when it comes to college.”

Melot nodded slowly before pulling you in for a hug that Mike joined in on as soon as he could. “Thank you. Both of you.”

You cuddled in silence for a while. It was amazing — Melot finally felt warm, Mike let out a chorus of happy humming sounds, sometimes interrupted by adorably disgruntled ones as you and Mel both kept reprimanding him every time he tried to get handsy.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be in bed with two people and knowing they both want to fuck you, and to then just… get nothing?” he finally grumbled.

Melot almost jumped out of bed listening to Mike’s complaint. “What? I never said— I don’t… I—”

 “It’s okay, Mel,” you said. “Sometimes” — you glared at Mike — “our brain needs a little time to catch up to whatever carnal desire Mike already picks up on. And that’s okay.” You hissed those last words specifically at Mike.

“I promise that I am trying my very best to behave!” Mike huffed. “I really am! But he’s reacting to visions he’s having of things that will probably happen and it’s driving me insane! Mel is really making this hard for me — interpret ‘this’ either way.”

“How do you know they’re visions I’m reacting to?” Melot wondered.

“There’s a difference between a simple desire and anticipation,” Mike said like it was supposed to explain anything. One look at your — and Melot’s — confused face made him roll his eyes. “It’s like… We always want blood, right? Well, that desire feels differently when we’re about to sink our teeth into someone. It becomes more present, heightened…”

“That doesn’t explain how you know he’s reacting to visions — which, by the way, you told me weren’t actually visions, Melot?” you noted.

“Call them visions for simplicity, I really couldn’t explain it. You’ll see for yourself, at some point.” Melot’s confidence when it came to this statement was haunting. “Back to the question: Mike… how?”

“You react in a similar way to immediate anticipation,” Mike explained. “It’s subtler — duller, almost — but it’s distinct.”

You both looked at him in awe. “How is your gift stronger and more sophisticated after four decades than mine are after fourteen centuries?” Melot exclaimed dramatically.

“I use this gift all the time,” Mike explained with a big, goofy smile. “It’s not like seeing the future, which isn’t a stable gift to begin with — yeah, I pay attention to the things Sherlock says sometimes — or the healing, which you literally just admitted to not practicing for the first few centuries of your existence. Bet you could get into med school with that…”

“I don’t want to,” Mel whispered.

“See? You can’t complain about not developing a gift you refuse to use.” Mike saying something that smart and logical was a phenomenon that just never got old. “Right now, what we should be developing, anyway, is your ability to function around humans.”

You just so happened to have an idea on how to do that…

[thuganomxcs]

━━   ❝   𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧' 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝.   ❞  Yusuke said now that it’s his turn, Botan had done A LOT for them to get that robot with collective points after all. The semi-deflated balloons hid well with the big and fat ones to give an illusion that the game was fair..but Yusuke’s eyes has seen the works of conmen and this was sloppy compared to what he’s witnessed. So, spinning the base of the dart along the tip of his fingers Yusuke’s eyes began scanning for the ‘high scores’. The big fat ones were a nice medium number that’d get them just FAR enough to win what they came for but Yusuke wanted to send this man packing.

But for now, he’s done as Botan has requested, with two darts he’s popped two big ones and just for that babe comment he wanted to show off a little. So, he deliberately focused his attention towards the unpoppable balloons, popping the very first one that led the man to open his eyes wide in shock. Luckily for the man no one was able to see it’s solid yet rubber shell fall to the floor. Yusuke of course followed up by popping a few more of these with pin point accuracy. The secret? Adding a little bit of reiki toward the tip of the needle for a little extra destructive force, courtesy of Genkai.

“What’d ya know, we got lucky.” Yusuke said with a cheerful grin on his face. There wasn’t a reason to be..THAT snarky about his victory,he figured that’ show some of these games worked..the least the man could have done was be easy on the kid, only THEN would he had been spared from Yusuke’s WRATH. “We’ll take that Robot ol’ man, perks of bein’ an adult..I get all the friggin’ robots I want now.” Regrettably the man took Yusuke’s prized robot and hands it to him.

It was quite large, and battery-operable. Yusuke inspects it but then sighs out of disappointment. “Eh, it looked a lot cooler from a distance. I’ve got no use for this damn thing.” Yusuke then squats towards the child’s level. “Mind takin’ this outta my hand kid, got no room for it on my shelf anyway.” Said Yusuke.

It was a nice heart-felt moment. The mother (or father, forgot which parent was there) looked at Yusuke and smiles before bowing in a grateful manner. “You have such a kind heart, thank you very much.” She said.

“Yes, thanks a lot Mister.” Said the child.

Too much praise…it might make his face heat up, even now he rubs the back of his neck. “Tch, you guys are givin’ me too much credit. I jus’ didn’t like the thing.” Then he turned around tucking his hands into his pockets before walking away to find something else to do. “Don’t you give me no looks either, I just know the kid would’ve gone home feelin’ like shit and the thought alone pissed me off..I did it for me.” There he goes, always hiding his obvious GOOD NATURE behind a plate of delinquency. “Wanna hit the tea cup ride next?”

BOTAN WAS SURPRISED when Yusuke reached out to grab her hand. But, well... it's not like she hasn't grabbed his hand before. So it's definitely not going to embarrass her! She's determined to remain steadfast. And she's definitely going to find a way to get her revenge.

Botan doesn't have much time to dwell on it when she's quickly distracted by all the sights and sounds of the carnival. All of the games look so interesting but judging from some of the sour faces coming off of them, they must be difficult.

When Yusuke stops at the dart toss game, Botan also notices the young child vying for the prize. But rather than watching the boy, her eyes drift to Yusuke. And her smile softens. For all his bravado and show boating, his steely tough guy attitude, he has a warm heart deep down.

He tries to brush it off, calling her babe and stepping up to the counter. Botan freezes for a second, fighting the blush warming her ears. He says it so casually too...

She rolls her eyes a little, stepping up to the booth. "If you're really in pain I guess we should go home," she mumbles before turning to the booth. She tries not to look at the vendor in case he's decided to read her shirt.

Instead, she focuses her attention on the balloons pinned in front of her. They don't seem to be filled to any regular volume, some looked quite deflated. The tip of her tongue sticks out from between her lips while she thinks up a plan. She was eyeing the deflated balloons, thinking they might be easier. But... wouldn't that make them squishier? It would be easier to pop a bigger balloon if she were using her hands.

Well, she had five darts to figure it out, they needed more than seven darts between the to of them. She throws the first dart toward the smaller balloon and while she hits the mark, the dart bounces off. She bites further on her tongue, brow furrowed. She tries once again without success. Okay, so the little balloons are are too soft to break. Next she tries a large one and manages to pop it. When she does, her eyes light up and she smiles.

"Bingo! I've got it," She tries again in the same way and pops her last two darts. She bounces excitedly before rushing over to Yusuke. Her eyes are alight from her success. "Aim for the bigger ones, they're more tense so they break easier," she says pridefully. As she passes him to let him take over, she leans in close, feeling a little brave with her victory. "You need to get four darts to win the robot toy. Babe." she says quietly before giggling and stepping to the side.

[end3rm0cha]

WOOHOO CAN YOU BELIEVE IT ??? 21 !!!

There is still a bit more than one week to fill in the form for anyone who wishes to participate !

(please there is only a 4 to 17 author to artist ratio the fanfiction business is doing terrible /j dont feel pressured by this haha you're still more than welcome if you are an artist)

[dr3am-b3an]

That One scene from the new FNF merch ad but with The Grapes(TM)

(Reference below)

[c0rpsedemon]

oh yeah. the reason why i decided to reread tbhk (and thus it was able to hit me like a truck this time around) was actually not bc of mitsukou going canon but actually bc i maybe accidentally started a tbhk book club w my kids at work and wanted to check the contents of it justttt in case before i put the books in their hands