#they decide to be romantic and there's a roll on whether it feels like a toddler giving you crumpled flowers or a horrifying act of violenc

[lyraarylfyrefly]

OSP's videos are great, especially the ones about power ups (superpowered evil sides my beloved) so I thought of a story wherein a supporting cast character that happens to be a ghost fucks off somewhere because they're being called by something and that something turns out to be their corpse or well their very undamaged body that is covered in the blood of the monster they died killing and the moment they're in range of their body's arms, they get pulled in and they wake up in their body, alive and sharing a mind with the creature they killed

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 8.5k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Pre-season 1. Voice kink. Oral sex. Unprotected sex.

Summary: You're a huge fan of Homelander but you always feel too awkward to ever meet your hero at a meet & greet or similar events. Your friends enter you into a Vought competition, where you've got a chance to win a phone call from Homelander himself.  

Author’s Note: My first Homelander fic! Also, this is the first time I’m publishing my work. Obligatory English isn’t my first language so apologies if there are any strange turns of phrase but I happily take on criticism so feel free to correct me. I want to get better! I’m also not very good with sticking to the right tense. This is very self-indulgent so read with caution. 

You can’t decide whether to hug or strangle your friends. They’re trying to be nice, you get that. But this goes against everything you’d ever do! Lovely as they are, they’ve entered you into a competition to meet your hero. To meet Homelander. The thought alone makes your head spin, your heart pound and stomach twist on itself.

‘It was just 20 bucks, what’s the worst that can happen? You win?’ Reads your friend’s message. You roll your eyes, hearing the teasing tone in your head. They know about your not-so-hidden obsession and at the end of the day they just wanted to brighten their friends day.

And sure, you are a fan. Okay, fine. You’re a big fan. Obsessed even. Every-wall-of-your-bedroom adorned-with-posters-and-promotional-materials obsessed. But you don’t want to appear like that. Last thing you’d want to come across as to your idol, you hero, is an annoying screeching fan begging for his attention.

You don’t want to be part of the crowds pawing at him, inching as close as they can just to graze his uniform with their fingertips. You don’t want to look like a feral fan. You have manners. You don’t want to be just another face, just another adoring fan begging for him to look your way. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you’ll never be more than a fan. So you don’t go to meet & greets. You don’t go to premieres. You don’t pay exorbitant fees just to meet your hero.

You’re a romantic at heart. You always imagine the first meeting to be one for the books. Maybe he saves you from a burning building flying you down, his stars and stripes billowing in the wind as he looks at you with concern etched into his handsome face, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries as he talks to you with a soothing rumbling tone that sends shivers down your spine. You can clearly imagine him going, Are you okay miss?, as he descends to the ground. Or you just happen to bump into each other but he catches you with his strong arms and fast reflexes and just like that it’s love at first sight. Scenarios after scenarios. All varieties of ‘meet-cute’s play in your head on a daily basis. You spend your time getting lost in your head, dreaming of the day when it will be your turn to be the protagonist of the story. When will you be the damsel in distress? But you sigh and move on with life, because this isn’t a romance novel.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself (and others) when people ask you why you haven't tried to meet your hero. 

Oh I just don’t want to be a weird obsessive fan. Plus it’s expensive!

Meeting heroes is technically easy. Vought gives people many opportunities to see their heroes for a pretty penny. They parade their heroes around like exotic animals in a zoo on a daily basis. 

For you the reality is that you simply can’t handle seeing your hero up close and personal, let alone talk to him. How are you not meant to get flustered in front of what you considered to be perfection? How are you meant to find your words or even come up with words worthy of being uttered in his presence? You’re meant to look into his eyes, tell him how much of a fan you are and not fluster and burst into tears from the anxiety coiling in your gut as you wait your turn? 

You don’t want that. You don’t want to be just another babbling fan. You want to stand out. You want him to remember you. You want him to think about you.  But you’re also a realist and you know that at most he’ll think you just another annoying fangirl if he even grants you a passing thought. So you spare yourself those hurt feelings and you avoid meet & greets, you avoid all the fan-targeted conventions, events, promotional campaigns or competitions. 

Or you always have. Until now it seems. You again scroll up in the group chat where your friends surprised you with an entry to the newest competition Vought advertised. It was presented as a fundraiser. All proceeds are planned to be donated to Samaritan’s Embrace. A simple $20 entry that would grant you a chance to be one of five lucky winners to get a personal phone call from Homelander. 

A fat chance of that, you thought when you first saw the competition announced on both Vought’s and Homelander’s twitter accounts. With a competition that invites Homelander's country-wide fanbase, there really is no chance of you winning. You half-comfort yourself with that thought. You don’t know where you’d even start should you win. Part of you thinks that maybe ‘meeting’ him over the phone could be bearable as he wouldn’t be able to witness just how badly you’re holding it together.

But then you think back to all the videos you’ve watched. The reels and the tiktoks you’ve saved. The podcasts and interviews that at this point you play almost religiously. He's perfect in every way but you're particularly fond of his voice just rumbling in your ear when it gets nice and low as he talks in lengths about the upcoming movie or his most recent save. A while back you bought yourself a decent set of noise-cancelling headphones with great audio quality and suddenly it felt like he was right behind you just purring into your ears. Very few interviews record with good enough microphones to capture how mesmerising his voice is but those that do get saved and played on repeat sending shivers down your spine, following you to bed and invading your dreams. So no, maybe a phone call wouldn’t make the experience any easier on your poor heart. 

You calm down after the initial panic reaffirming yourself with the reality where there’s no chance that you’ll get picked anyway. You text your friends again, kindly thanking them for thinking of you as you shook your head with an amused smile. That’s that done and forgotten about.

Or so you think. Few weeks down the line the mental discourse has long left your mind. The conversation moves on and your friends don’t mention anything since. That’s why it’s no surprise when you pick up the unknown call after the third ring with ease, casually answering with, “Hello, Y/N speaking.” 

Homelander looks through the list of winners Ashley brought to his desk with a scowl on his face. He’s grumpy, having to jump through everyone’s hoops is grating on him, slowly chipping away at his showmanship armour. This is just another nail in the coffin. Now he has to make private phone calls?

He wants to be revered, loved. With people bending over backwards just to get his attention. Sure, that’s right up his alley. Get the crowds to scream his name, be grateful for his divine presence. What he isn’t a fan of is making others think they’re special. He’s the special one. Where does Vought get off thinking that he’s got the time to call and visit his fans one-on-one.

He rolls his eyes looking through the unimpressive line-up that Vought carefully curated. One of each demographic, trying to hit all the targets Vought wants him to improve his numbers with.

Each candidate has a sheet of talking points assigned to them, things to highlight, mention or even promote to each one of the fans. Normally Homelander would throw Vought’s carefully crafted response straight back to their faces but right now he’s not in the slightest interested in being clever or the fans' idea of ‘authentic’ so he’d rather rattle off a few lines from a curated list of party lines. At the end of the day he doesn’t care for this. Talking to five individual fans doesn’t help him in the grand scheme of things. This isn’t happening in public, there’s no one here to witness his generosity. Nobody to witness a god, looking down and gracing his followers with his benevolence.

Vought believes the individual approach will be worth it in the long run. That apparently fans will come running to any future events and competitions seeing as real people they might know have won in the past. All Homelander sees is at most five twitter mentions from a few nobodys.

He’s got about an hour in the calendar to get through all of these. Though he's banking on this taking a lot less time. There are many more important things he could be doing instead. 

He flips through the files again, each profile is filled out with a name, number and a photo, deciding on the least painful order. A young boy, an elderly woman, a middle aged comic enthusiast, some punk teenager and you. Homelander looks at your profile with mild interest. You’re the only one who Vought didn’t manage to find a good quality recent photo of. Clearly you don’t do social media. Yet the quality doesn’t take away from the intrigue your profile inspired. You’re easily the most interesting in the list but that’s not that hard to do. Still, Homelander puts yours at the end of the list. Saving the best for last.

“Hellooo and congratulations! This is Homelander and you’re one of the few lucky cookies who get to have a little chit chat with me.” All air gets sucked out of your lungs and the ease with which you picked up the phone is gone. Your eyes widen, breath caught in your throat only coming out in confused little stutters. This isn’t real. It can’t be!

Whether it’s a particularly vivid dream or your world is actually turning upside down you’re glad this happened at home. Your knees buckle, your ass landing straight on your bed, your legs trembling with nervous energy as you sit down.

“W-what?” You manage to blurt out, more breathy than not. Your heart is pounding like never before. You wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it over the phone, it feels loud to your ears.

“The competition? You entered, right?” His voice. His fucking voice was right in your ear and you felt like melting into a puddle of goo. Anything to spare you the embarrassing words that are surely about to come out of your mouth one way or another.

“Oh… um…” You are blowing it. There’s no other word for it. Totally embarrassing yourself. Not able to say a word, still trying to calm your heart down.

“Are you not a fan? Have I got the wrong number–?”

“N-no no! No…I mean yes. I mean sorry…fuck.” You are totally losing it. The hand holding your phone is shaking with nervous energy. 

“Hey hey hey…. Come on now. Take it easy. Now take a deep breath aaand relax.” His voice is rich and sweet like honey, just like you’ve heard on TV but here it feels intimate. Just for you. He’s not talking to anybody else. As he hears your stuttered intake of breath and a mildly calmed exhale he coos again. “That’s it. Breathe with me. Now in.” If only he knew that this is making things so much worse for you. “And out.” 

“I’m so sorry. I meant to say, I am a fan but I don’t do this.” Your voice still trembles with each word but you’re a little more composed. 

“What? Call people?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, he's clearly pleased with his little joke. 

“No.” You can’t help yourself but chuckle, your lips spreading in a wide grin. Your heart is still pounding but it’s more excitement than embarrassment. You’re actually talking to Homelander. And you have already embarrassed yourself beyond belief but he’s still here! He’s still talking to you. He doesn’t even sound upset. “I mean I don’t meet you guys. Heroes. I don’t really know how to do this. I mean I pretty much live on your doorstep and I’ve never met either one of you.” Now that he calmed you down, getting you talking, you can’t stop talking. 

“Really? Some fan you are.” Were you of a sound mind you’d hear the joke but now all you could think is that you’ve upset him. And you can’t have him think that. Sure you’ve always wanted to stand out but not in a negative way! You take it to heart and you apologize.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to offend. At all! Really! It’s just, you don’t need another person begging for an autograph that they can brag with to their friends or sell online for a quick buck.” 

He exhales a little breathy laugh that has your whole body flush hot. “Oh, aren’t you adorable.” The panic that was inflating in you like a hot air balloon finally fizzled out. Instead it’s replaced by a throbbing heat in between your legs and you place your free hand over your heart, almost trying to will your body into behaving normally. “You know if you want I can send you some, would be a shame for such a sweet fan to not have anything personalised. I’ll sign it with your name.” He offers, a nice gesture, really, but you are currently having a whole body meltdown to even appreciate it for what it was.

“O-oh,that isn’t—You don’t have to—” 

He continues nonetheless. 

“Y/N, is it? Beautiful name.” Your name rolls off his tongue perfectly, all soothing and sweet. And there you go, melting into a puddle just for him. 

“You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t bite. At least, not over the phone.” You let your hand trail down your body. He’s just talking. He’s just making jokes. He’s just trying to strike up a conversation to make such a freaked out fan of his a little calmer and there you are getting your rocks off on this. 

“Sorry. It’s hard not to be. I’ve been a fan of yours for a long while. I didn’t expect I’d ever get to talk to you. It’s kind of you to do things like this for us fans. I’m sure you’re busy. Thank you for taking the time.” You distract yourself from the throbbing that’s just calling for your hand to settle heavily in between your shaking thighs. 

“Oh no problem. Wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for all my loyal fans, right?” You should really stop moving your hand down your body. But you can’t help the effect he has on you, you’re not acting normal! 

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the fame that makes you special. It’s you.” You breathe you all dreamy before realising this isn’t just one of your fantasies. No. You really are talking to Homelander. You cough a little, pretending like you had something stuck in your throat. 

“It is?”

“I think so. Change into civilian clothing and I’m sure you’ll still be turning heads.” You speak normally now but you bite your lip at the end, your hand now just above your pubic bone. 

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this plenty.” Oh, of course you have. Your body is screaming at you to take the plunge, to slip your hand down your panties, and make yourself feel like this is more than just a friendly fan call. But your mind is, correctly, telling you that this is beyond inappropriate. 

“Ah no! I just mean that you’re perfect at what you do. There’s nobody like you. Noone could take your spot. So it’s more than just fans.” You’re surprised you’re still carrying on. You feel like your brain is turning into mush with each word he’s saying. 

“What can I say? I take my job very seriously.” He goes on to talk about being a leader of the Seven, you guess he’s just trying to fill space seeing as you’re such a blubbering mess. Even with all his efforts at making this normal, your brain turns all the innocent words into the filthiest dirty talk.

“Look, I’d love to talk to you some more but I’m afraid I’ll have to end it there. I’m late for a talk show interview.” You retract your hand as if it got burnt and instead you grab onto the comforter you’re sitting on, stopping yourself from doing anything impulsive. 

“O-of course.” Your heart rate is elevated again, something about the thought of him leaving and you never getting the chance to speak to him again makes you want to scream. 

“Tell you what, I don’t want to be unfair to you. You hardly got your prize. I’ll call you later. You free in the evening?” 

“Y-yes.”

“Perfect.” 

Perfect. You’re fucking perfect. Homelander can’t stop the way his lips stretch into a predatory grin. You are exactly what a fan should be like. Swooning over him. Grateful that he’s even bothering to grace you with his presence. You were practically kneeling, bent over before him on the floor, kissing his feet as he gave you a taste of his divine presence. He has half a mind to take care of the uncomfortable hard-on pressing into his rigid suit. He couldn’t help himself when you were being such a sweet little thing. He feels no remorse at having rubbed himself through his suit as you were there on the other side of the phone, undeniably shaking in excitement, all flustered and tense and most certainly aroused. But no, he wants to wait his turn. He needs the real thing. He’s not planning on letting you go that easy.

Originally he was pissed that most of his time on the phone was taken up by the elderly woman who was talking his ear off. Now he’s thinking about sending her a gift basket. He has a real excuse to see you. 

When Homelander wants something he’s like a hunter, doing everything he can to lure his prey into his trap. In this case he abuses his powers to get the Crime Analytics team to dig up your address and in the meanwhile he sits through a mind-numbingly boring interview at a low-tier talk show he really shouldn’t need to waste his time on. 

The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that you might be watching. You seem like a big fan. You surely wouldn’t dare miss out on his live appearances. The thought alone gives him enough drive to not laser through the talk show host everytime she asks a stupid question and instead he imagines he’s speaking straight to you.

When the show is over he takes off before his team can steer him towards another boring chore. No, he has more pressing matters to attend to. Like any good predator he observes. He waits until it’s the right time to strike. That’s why he’s perched at the top of the building that’s opposite yours. He’s got a clear line of sight to your apartment but he’s careful in making sure you can’t see him. 

He watches, his grin reappearing every damn time he sees you reach your phone, checking if your ringer is on for the tenth time. You are an easy target, he can swoop in anytime and sweep you off your feet but he wants it to be perfect. With sick fascination he keeps watching you, your behaviours and patterns as you pace around your room trying to preoccupy your mind with mindless thoughts. He knows that nothing you do can now fill the void that he left behind. What else can replace the purr of his voice in your ear, soothing and exciting you at the same time. Nothing. There’s nobody like him. You said it yourself.

An hour of self-indulgent watching later he decides to end your misery. You just look so upset and disappointed and he knows you’ll just melt in his presence. He needs to be close to you. He got a little sprinkle of what you're like over the phone and now he’s got a craving for the real thing. He needs to feel you, smell you, hear your poor heart trying to keep up with the excitement right in his ear.

So with a quick drop he descends.

The day has gone by torturously slow for you. You spend every minute checking your phone in case your ringer randomly fails you and you won’t catch the second call from Homelander. Just thinking that makes your thighs quiver. The thought of having him purr into your ear any longer wets your panties all over again. But over the coming hours your enthusiasm deflates. It’s getting late and your chances of ever getting a call back are low. 

You emerge from the bathroom, fresh and clean, in your pyjamas ready to sleep today’s rollercoaster of emotions away. Or you would be if it wasn’t for a knock at your balcony door interrupting your thoughts and making you flinch in surprise. The flash of red and blue still so vibrant and colourful against the midnight sky has your breath catching in your throat. What the fuck?!

You open the balcony door in shock, and if you had the strength to do so you would have ripped it off its hinges with pure eagerness. There he is in all his patriotic glory. Homelander. A wide grin on his face, posture ramrod straight as he clasps his gloved hands behind his back, puffing his chest out.

“H-Homelander?!” Your voice quivers at the proximity, your heart picks up speed again and you feel your entire body flush both in embarrassment and excitement. Your first thought goes to how you currently look rather than questioning his motives or how he even found where you live in the first place. 

Trying to regain your composure you shake your head, blinking as if he was just a figment of your imagination. Maybe your devout obsession with him is finally damaging your mental state, making you hallucinate.

“Good evening, Y/N.” God, how does he do that! The way your name slips off his tongue so easily, with such familiarity makes you clench and part your lips with a gasp. Any sort of composure you’ve regained crumbling to dust. Now you are just awkwardly gawking, in awe at the unreal figure in front of you, in the flesh. Homelander doesn’t wait to be invited in, strutting into your modest apartment like it belongs to him, the confident strides of his red boots loud and heavy against the creaky floor of your apartment. He takes up the living space confidently, somehow making you feel like you don't belong in your own space. His presence took priority, anything else secondary—you included. 

“How did you—” Your question of how he found where you live doesn’t even get fully asked, let alone answered. He cuts in, not actually caring about your justified worry over having your address handed out willy-nilly. 

“Our call was a bit too short to my liking. You don’t mind a little late-night visit, do you?” You feel disarmed. His voice turns gravelly, lowering with each word. His tone teasing as if he was telling you a secret, so unlike his television persona where he’s all American apple pie values and open arms with clear intentions. Here, he grinned widely—all teeth with his sharp canines bared to you like the predator he is. Like you’re his next meal. “Ohohoo, would you look at this. Maybe you are my biggest fan, huh?” 

You are distracted by his voice, his presence, just him that you fail to notice his eyes wandering around your apartment. Your face flushes red in embarrassment as you see him assessing your safe space, or what felt like your safe space before this ambush, all with an amused grin on his face. 

“These are all limited edition. Must have cost you a small fortune.” Holding a breath you watch him take his gloves off one by one, placing the leather on your table with a soft thwack. It feels forbidden, not meant for your eyes. The public doesn’t get to see Homelander as anything other than perfect. His image manicured, perfected to the tiniest details. Seeing his surprisingly elegant bare hands, this up close feels intimate yet threatening like he’s unsheathed his sword, revealing one of the many hidden weapons he can use against you. 

You watch as he brushes his fingers against limited edition action figurines, box sets, posters and trinkets featuring his likeness or the logo emblem Vought associates with him. If it was anyone else you’d tell them to keep their paws away from your most prized possessions but it's Homelander. Who else gets the right to touch special limited edition merchandise of his own likeness? 

You watch as he paces the room with an unreadable expression. The embarrassment you feel transforms into an apology, heavy on your tongue as you force your mouth open, letting your shame out into the world. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed in his presence.

“I-I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” He turns his head over his shoulder with a curious expression. A swoop of his blonde hair handsomely falling into his face. He puts down one of the figurines he picked up earlier as he scouted the area. 

“All this stuff.” You wave your hand around, the grand display of what can only be described as the Church of Homelander, a shrine dedicated to his divine existence. You see how it looks, how it makes you look like a rabid fan. Though you’re anything but. “I know it’s a little strange. I don’t want to make you feel like a museum piece. Or-or-or a circus animal! I just admire you. A lot.”

“You do?” 

“I do.” Your breath catches in your throat as he turns around fully, facing you head on, one slow step inching towards you at a time. You gulp, feeling like you’re left in the dark regarding his intentions as you hopelessly struggle to read him. On the opposite spectrum you’re there, an open book, your heart on your sleeve, your every thought written so clearly on your face you may as well give him your diary to flip through. “More than anything.” Breathlessly you add, meeting his eyes as a challenge. You’re devout, as loyal as it gets. You’d do anything for him if he asked.

Homelander rises to your mental challenge with a grin so sharp you feel the metaphorical bite coming before he even opens his mouth as he steps closer. He’s so close now. Any ordinary man could feel the thud of your heartbeat, but to his keen senses it’s a war drum and he’s marching to a battle he’s already won. His bare, elegant hands make their way to your jaw caressing it with a surprising gentleness. You flinch. Even though you watched it happen with wide eyes, you didn’t expect his hands to leave you unmarred. You almost expect your skin to sizzle, unworthy of his divine touch.  

Homelander’s grin disappears, his tongue gliding along his teeth as if he’s cleaning them before he devours his next meal. All that leaves you is a little whimper before he pulls you in, his hands thrumming with incomprehensible strength as he kisses you. He kisses the air out of your lungs as if you could survive without it like he can. As if you could meet him in the middle. But dammit you do your best to. He’s a passionate kisser, incapable of sticking to soft kisses. No, he devours. He licks your lips open, his tongue gliding along yours. You brace your hands against his chest, already feeling weak in the knees. The heat of his breath and the wetness of his tongue in your mouth is nothing compared to how hot and wet you feel in your panties.

It doesn’t help that he’s vocal. You kiss him harder anytime he growls or moans into your lips, his voice vibrating against your lips just possessing you more. And soon it turns into a game of who can dish it out harder. Each devoted kiss makes him hum and purr which in turn melts you into a pile of goo, making you kiss him harder. Your lips feel hot, swollen from the ferocious kissing. You’re nearing the limit of what your lungs can manage without resurfacing for air.

Homelander pulls away but he doesn’t give you any time to recover. As if you could. How do you recover from that? Instead he’s adamant about making your heartbeat hit record heights. His hands glide down your body, featherlight touches that make your skin break out into goosebumps as he settles on your hips, trailing the waistband of your pants. His pink wet lips spread into another predatory smile and before you know it he leans closer to your ear, practically purring, “Tell me, if I take these off will I find you wearing Homelander panties too?” 

Flustered squeak escapes you as he laughs wholeheartedly at your embarrassment. You know he knows. He’s teasing you for a reason. “They’re comfortable.” You eventually grumble, pouting like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I bet they are.” He sinks down to one knee, his hands taking the waistband of your pants with him as he pulls them down over your thighs, letting the fabric pool by your ankles. He pats your ankle, prompting you to step out of them. You comply, kicking the fabric away earning a little word of praise from him. “Attagirl.” You’re visibly trembling as he kneels in front of you, his eyes locked on the sight of your blue panties with his emblem and name right across the middle in gold, all accentuated by a red trim. It would be far from sexy in any other circumstance but he purrs at the sight. All pleased like the cat that got the cream. “Got my name across your pussy all day long?” 

Before you could react like any other person would, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. You yelp, losing your balance trying to grab onto his head or shoulders for support but he puts his arm on your back, sliding it right under your top keeping you straight and secure whether you want it or not. You’re not leaving until he says so. “Might as well fucking taste it seeing as it’s already mine, don’t you think?” He gives you a hungry look licking his lips before hoisting your other leg over his shoulder, standing up with ease. He walks you back against a wall as he eagerly inhales the scent of you, his head perfectly in between your warm thighs. 

“Woah!” You stabilise yourself, finally having more surface to lean against. The fabric of your top glides along the surface of the glossy posters he has you pressed against. Making you the centerpiece, surrounding you with his likeness. You finally process what the fuck is happening as you feel his nose pressing into the soaked fabric of your panties. “Homelander! Y-you….ohh…” You whimper, your hands automatically finding comfort and safety in between his golden locks. 

“Fuck you smell good.” Homelander growls, his hands now on your ass, holding you in place as he sticks his tongue out, pressing it wetly over your soaked panties. The taste of you already coating all his taste buds.

“O-oh fffuuck. OH god…yes…yes please.” You don’t stop yourself from moaning freely, the time for embarrassment long gone as Homelander lifts one hand from your ass, impatiently pulling the fabric of your Homelander panties to the side, his tongue already slipping in for a taste before his hand even makes it back to squeeze your ass. “Taste just as fucking good.” His voice strained, uttering filth in between your thighs.

His thick tongue pushes through the slit of your weeping pussy, lapping up what you’ve so graciously prepared just for him. And as you watch a mop of blonde hair greedily slurp at your wetness like he’s parched, you think back to the fantasies that drove you to orgasm after orgasm as the imaginary Homelander ate your pussy. 

Well, for one the real thing is a lot more enthusiastic than you ever imagined him to be. He is sucking on your clit in rhythm that has you throb harder, making your toes curl. “Ohhh, Homelander!” You reward him with a loud moan of his name, like a prayer on your lips. And you repeat it with each masterful lick around your clit that has you squirming in his hold, legs quivering around his head, fingers tugging at his hair.

The second thing you never considered was how much his powers would come into play. Here he is with a deathly strong iron grip around your ass, easily holding you up on his shoulders against the wall while pushing you as close into his face as he can. The thought of not being able to escape his grip exhilarates you as much as it terrifies you. His lack of need for air makes him a perfect devout lover. Because this is pure devotion except it seems he forgot who was meant to worship who.

You’d be embarrassed by the obscene sounds you two are making if it didn’t feel so good. You moan for him prettily as he licks up all the wetness he’s coaxing out of you. You breath hitches as you feel your orgasm building. He's consistent, giving you just the right pressure. Homelander looks up at you, eyes glassy and blown back with lust before he swiftly repositions you, needing just one arm to make you feel weightless yet secure in his hold as he takes his free hand plunging two fingers into you revelling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around him.

“Oh there there there! Ahhh!” You guide him, his fingers pumping into you and with his tongue still working magic on your clit you whimper out, “oh fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna–.” You fall apart in his arms, cumming on Homelander’s tongue like you’ve imagined many times over. With you thrashing around you rip the poster right behind you unaware of the mess you’re leaving behind. He licks you through the waves crashing through you. He’s smug, you can feel the smirk against your pussy as he gives it one more kiss before easily slipping you off his shoulders, preening with satisfaction. “Mhmm you did so good.” His voice purred and even in your post-orgasm haze you flush with fresh heat at the praise.

He gives you time to compose yourself but you don’t want it. You want him. You need him. Your legs feel like jelly so you immediately sink to your knees, nuzzling your face into his crotch. Too eager to wait. Homelander cooed at your enthusiasm, “Look at that. Didn’t even have to tell you.” He chuckles, voice thick with lust, his lips and chin still glistening from the way he feasted on you.

Wobbly and out of your mind, you reach for his belt, unable to figure out how to unclasp it, your dexterity not quite there either to be able to wiggle the hem of his pants underneath it and pull them down.

You look up at him with the face of a kitten that’s not getting what it wants. Pouting and pleading for help. 

“Christ, let me help you with that.” Homelander unclasps his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud and heavy clang and the thought of it denting the cheap flooring doesn’t even graze your mind. He unzips his pants and the hiss alone makes your mouth water. He pushes his pants a little lower and you stare wide eyed at where his thematically red briefs are tented, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum into the thin fabric.

Okay, this you can do. Your hands slide up his thighs, getting a little feel of the bare skin of his thighs. Unmarred, smooth and hot. Your hand briefly squeezes around his cock through his briefs, forcing Homelander to hiss through his teeth. You pull down his briefs, bunching them down with the thick fabric of his suit. 

You try not to stare and drool but you’ve imagined his cock in your dreams and fantasies so many times that seeing it in real life just kind of blows your fucking mind. It’s perfect. A bit longer than average but especially nice and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation. His hand rests on the back of your head, giving your hair a tug.

“You gonna keep staring or will you put those pretty lips to work?” His gruff tone tears you from the haze. 

You blush, being caught staring. Wanting to please your hero you apologize, “sorry, it’s just so perfect. You’re perfect.” You breathe out in pure adoration. 

“Come on then, be a good girl and open up for your hero. I want my cock wet before I slide it into that needy pussy.” He looks down at you with a sharp smile, his other hand rests on your jaw before moving up squeezing the hollow of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Not that he has to, you’re more than willing to deliver. You open wider, making his hand withdraw as you take matter into your own hands. Literally. You grip the base of his cock, feeling how hefty and hot it feels. It hits you in that moment that you’re holding Homelander’s cock. Fuck. You’re gonna be dreaming of this moment for years to come.

You look up, giving him one more doe-eyed look before you stick your tongue out easing the swollen red head in between your lips. The salty, musky taste of his pre-cum on your tongue makes you whimper, your eyebrows furrow with concentration as you focus on banking the memory of his taste in your head. Eagerly you get right into it. Down and dirty. You focus on him, coating him with an ungodly amount of saliva until anytime you pop off him you’re followed by strings of it connecting you two. His grunts and heavy breaths just urge you to do better. So you take him deeper, slurping around the saliva you've made for him, bobbing your head up and down.

You nearly lose your rhythm when he lets out such a needy wanton moan, making your pussy throb.

“Thaaat’s it, come on—fuck!—deeper, yeah yeaahh you got it sweetheart. God fuck that’s fucking it.” He’s nearly whimpering, so lost in the sensation. And you're eating it up. Each whimper and word goes straight to your pussy and at this point you wouldn't be surprised if you were making a puddle on the floor.

His hand forces your head down deeper and you gag, choking around him as for a second your nose bumps the neat thatch of hair above his cock. He's not easily dissuaded and he pushes again, a little softer this time. You almost feel the tremble of his hands, he's so close to unravelling. Just for you. The swell of pride pushes you forward and you take him deeper. He takes the chance to push both hands into your hair as he starts fucking your face.

“Take it. Take it.” He grunts, his voice more and more broken with every thrust. You're just about to push his thighs back, attempting to fight against his unyielding force but his hips stutter and he groans, letting out broken moans as he spills on your tongue.

As if on command you swallow and he pulls out, wiping the residual dribbles of cum on your lips. Now that he’s done you realise just how fucking badly your jaw aches. You whimper at the ache of your jaw and the ache between your legs. 

You’re still kneeling on the floor, a picture of pure devotion, with your mouth messy and lips swollen. He grumbles at the picture in front of him. He pulls you up by your hair, kissing the taste of himself out of your lips. You can still taste your pussy on his lips and tongue as he shoves it into your mouth. “Bed?” He's somehow more than ready to continue and mentally you add his extraordinary refractory period to the list of his many talents. 

You nod a broken, “y-yeah, this way,” the taste of him still heavy on your tongue as you lead him to your bedroom.

He lets out a little chuckle at the state of your bedroom, just as decorated with his brand as was the rest of your apartment. “Fuck me, you really are my biggest fan.” 

You’re about to apologize, again, and he can read you like an open book already shushing you. “Shh, don’t say it. C’mere, take this off instead. Want to see you.” He tugs at your top, wanting you to take it off. Like unwrapping a present. You let out a few breathless ‘okay’s and pull the top over your head baring your entire body to him, save for the panties that were still uncomfortably pushed to the side. He clearly wants you to keep them on and you’re not sure whether that’s his narcissism or possessiveness talking. You don’t dare comment on the fact that he’s still fully dressed. You’re not gonna start demanding things from the Homelander now are you? 

With a step closer he purrs, pushing you to the bed intensely watching as your tits bounce when your back hits the comforter. He follows as he lays over the top of you but he doesn't look at you. He picks up the grimacing Homelander plushie he sees on your pillow— the one that's predominantly advertised to kids. He holds it up for you to see with a raised eyebrow, the look almost condescending. “What? They make no other official plushies!” You defend yourself. 

“Is there anything you don't have?” 

You don't know what possessed you to answer, “yeah, you,” but Homelander eats it right up as he grins at you.

“Cheeky slut. Well you're about to. On your side.” He says sliding off you to rest on his side looking you up and down hungrily. You’re clearly surprised at his choice of position and he grumbles with annoyance as you take forever to move the way he wants you to. His impatience gets the best of him and he effortlessly manipulates you to your side, slotting right behind you. Homelander grips your inner thigh lifting your leg a little higher, as he nestles his cock right against your wet cunt.

You sigh with partial relief, feeling him solid against you feels good. Feeling him inside you would feel even better. “Jesus, you're still so fucking wet.” 

“It's all your fault.” You whimper trying to wiggle in his unyielding hold. He just tuts at you gripping you tighter, cusping on pain.

He pulls you close, his cock sliding in between your slit, immediately getting the top of his cock wet. His lips trail up your jaw until he reaches your ear. He growls, low and sexy, nipping at the sensitive skin of your ear. Your heart skips a beat, your pussy throbs as the sound of him just ripples through you. 

“Maybe it is. You know, I've been thinking. You're such a nervous little thing.” He grinds his hips into you, dragging his cock back and forth, teasing you. His voice got quiet, dropping a register lower. All slow and drawled out he continues rumbling in your ear clearly aware of what it's doing to you. “You were beside yourself when I called you. So there I am thinking nobody gets that nervous, not unless they’re trying to hide how fucking turned on they are.” He keeps fucking talking and talking, making you shiver to the point where you feel goosebumps rise all over you. Your breath ragged, your eyes fluttering shut.

You're starting to understand why he was particular about this position. After all, he could read you like a book from the get go.

“At first I thought it was just me because you're such a big fan.” He coos in a condescending tone. He licks the outer edge of your ear and you shriek, thrashing in his uncompromising hold. “But no no nooo. It's not that. Because everytime I spoke, your heartbeat sped up. You know, I was worried about you there for a minute. Then there was your pussy. You get so wet the air is thick with it. I can't even fucking breathe without tasting your sweet cunt.” You let out a broken sound, close to a sob, you pussy throbbing so hard he must feel it even without being inside you. You didn't even consider that his senses can easily sniff your secret out.

He’s still rubbing his cock in between your folds, sliding the whole length of it up and down. It’s slick and loud and so good and holy shit your clit is burning from the way his head catches on it with every thrust. You're so close and your body is on fire. You so desperately want to cum with something inside you but he’s cruel. He's not gonna give it to you just yet. “And look at that, you're still getting wetter. They do say it's always the unassuming ones.” He chuckles into your ear, low and vibrating against you.

“Is that it? Do you get off to the sound of my voice? Do you watch videos of me, listening to interviews while you finger your little pussy?” He's going harder, the wet sound of your pussy slicking his way in between your slit is deafening, embarrassingly loud. “Tell me.” The little command growls in your ear and you force your lips open.

“Y-yes! Yes….I-I find your voice sexy.” You admit to your little shameful secret. You admit that one of the reasons you never met him was because you didn't want to get sopping wet in a crowd full of screaming fans. “Don't stop, please.” You moan out, quiet and broken, your embarrassment making way to pure pleasure. Now that it's out in the open, what is there to hide?

“Do you even care what I say? Huh? I could be reading out the fucking phone book and your pussy would still get wet. Greedy little thing. What’s it gonna be? You gonna cum to my voice or are you gonna be difficult?” You're burning hot, your body so so tense, the leg he's hitched up a little trembling against his strong grip. His cock is still hitting your clit in the perfect fucking way and you're so so so close. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Oh fuck, Homelander—don’t—ahhh!” The dam bursts, a wave of pleasure sweeping over you as you scream. Homelander pulls back and with one deft stroke he slides his cock inside you. He doesn't move. He growls at the feeling of your cunt just pulsing against him. He's so thick inside you, stretching you wide, filling every crevice. 

He whimpers and you feel how tense he is holding off the orgasm threatening to burst inside him.

Just as you think this must be the end of it, your mind just a buzzing noise, he pulls out moving back and he pushes you on your back. 

You never expected him to be so active in bed but he's already in between your legs, his hands clamping down on the clammy flesh of the back of your thighs and he spreads you open. He's on his knees, his hands slide and curl from the back of your thighs to the top as he pulls you in, slowly sliding his cock into you in one push. 

He doesn't wait for anything. He just fucks you. Hard and fast, really getting himself off more than you. Surrounded by posters and merch all carrying his likeness while he plunges into you again and again. Your hair is plastered to your forehead as you watch your hero utterly ruin you. You're sweaty, absolutely spent and tired while he's pushing into you without breaking a sweat. 

This round isn't for you yet it's gonna be a memory you'll frequent the most. The look on his face, pure lust and torture as he's fucking you with as much strength as he allows himself. 

With how he's got your hips propped up he's managing to hit all your best spots as your overstimulated nerves light up, giving him one last finish, your pussy’s quivers pushing him over the edge as well. 

Then there's a little hot spurt of him inside you but you're surprised when he pulls out shooting most of his load with a few strokes of his fist all over your panties and stomach. 

“Ahh fuck. Look at that, finally got your first autograph.” He snorts, amused, admiring the sight in front of him. His cum has already soaked into your panties, the ‘Homelander’ text changing into a darker colour as both his cum and your slick from the previous round drench the fabric. 

You flush hot red and you shake your head, amused by his antics. “That's disgusting.” But strangely, you're charmed. 

“I should take a picture. You look great like this.” 

He notes as he slides off your bed pulling his briefs over his finally softening cock, tucking himself back into his suit.

“Stay?” You say softly, offering him the space for his benefit more than yours. Even though you'd like him to stay for a cuddle you know you'll be out of it in a minute.

“Can't do I'm afraid, duty calls.” 

You nod, understanding. “Thank you, I really feel like a winner.” You snorted, thinking back to how the day even started.

He looks at you almost fondly, but your orgasm-hazy brain might just not be working anymore. 

“Until next time.” He says as a goodbye and you end up tucking yourself into bed. The last thing you hear is the click of his belt he picked up from the living room, the creak of the leather gloves he slides back on and the sonic boom of him flying away.

And you know that when you wake up if it wasn't for your ruined panties, your throbbing cunt or even the ripped poster in the living room you wouldn't believe any of it was real.

You sure hope there will be a next time.

[Part 2]

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[lanawinterscigarettes]

More Important (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Summary: you not feeling well is far more important than work in your boyfriends' eyes

Warnings: the reader is sick/doesn't feel good but it isn't specified the reason why so it's pretty much up for interpretation, House and Wilson are both loving and worried boyfriends, kind of hurt/comfort given the themes, brief and mild swearing, they/them pronouns are used to refer to the reader one (1) time in a gender neutral manner

A/N: I felt awful when I woke up the other day and when I went back to sleep I had a dream with House and Wilson that ended up inspiring this fic

When you woke up that morning, every muscle in your body ached as if someone had dropped a sack of bricks on you while you slept. As much as you wanted to just stay in bed, you unfortunately had to get up to use the bathroom.

House was still asleep next to you, letting out the occasional peaceful snore despite the time indicating he'd be late for work if he didn't wake up soon. Not that he cared.

Wilson was already up and ready, from what you could tell. That assumption was later confirmed when you stumbled to the bathroom, the sight before you making it seem as though your boyfriend was being serenaded by the sound of the blow dryer as he fixed his hair.

"Are you almost done? I need the bathroom," you mumbled groggily, leaning up against the side of the doorframe while you waited for him to finish.

"Well, good morning to you, too," He responded in a voice that was far too chipper for your taste given how early it was. "And yeah, almost." He shut off the blow dryer and turned to face you, his big brown eyes studying you with a slight look of concern. Being a doctor, of course he could recognize when something was physically wrong.

"Are you okay?" He tentatively asked, trying to approach the subject in a delicate manner. After all the time he'd spent with House he knew not everyone wanted to talk about their feelings or even admit when something was wrong.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Jus' have a slight headache." Technically it wasn't a full lie, as your head did hurt, but you were greatly underexaggerating the pain level in hopes he wouldn't worry.

Big mistake. Almost as soon as you shut the bathroom door did Wilson turn and head towards the bedroom with the full intent of waking up your other boyfriend.

By the time you were done, both House and Wilson were standing close together, presumably discussing your supposed symptoms, even if you couldn't hear what they were saying.

"I know you guys are talking about me," you grumbled out the accusation while shuffling back over to the bed. Wilson looked a bit guilty to be talking about something involving you behind your back, but House just seemed amused you still had the energy required to dish out snark despite not feeling good.

"Whatever led you to that conclusion?" House asked rhetorically. "We very well could've been discussing what traffic will be like on the way in to work, or our favorite romantic movies." At that, Wilson rolled his eyes in annoyance. House ignored him, finishing with, "Not everything is about you, y'know."

"Don't play dumb with me," was the only thing you could manage to get out as a response given how tired you were. Collapsing onto the bed, you curled under the covers in hopes that maybe all you needed was a couple hours of extra sleep.

Too exhausted for your brain to work properly, you only picked up bits and pieces of their conversation. From what you could tell, they were trying to decide whether or not they should stay home from work to look after you, and if so who it should be out of the two of them.

"I'll stay here with them. Just tell Cuddy I can't come in today because of a medical emergency," House offered while glancing over at your blanket clad form. As much as he acted like he didn't care, he didn't enjoy seeing you in pain, even if it was over something small.

"Are you sure?" Wilson questioned, just to double check in case he wanted to change his mind.

House nodded his head to confirm, uttering "yeah, I'm sure" in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching, feeling as Wilson leaned down to press a kiss to your face, murmuring the words "I have to go to work, but I'll be back soon". You just nodded, too weak to say anything more than a quiet "love you".

After he left, House made his way back over to the bed, gently nudging what he assumed to be your leg with his cane. "Move over," he commanded in his usual gruff manner that led little room for argument.

Obliging, you shifted over on the bed, giving him the space to lay down in his normal spot. "Sorry."

He let out a sigh as he got on the bed, feeling a little bad he was so rude given just how pathetic you looked. "It's fine."

The two of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke up again, your voice sounding a little hoarse. "I'm sorry you got stuck here with me. I'm sure you'd rather be doing anything else other than this."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, hearing you say that hurt his heart a little. Then again, he couldn't necessarily blame you for thinking that. "Not true. Why would I want to be in a hospital full of sick people I don't even like when I could be with only one sick person I can at least tolerate?"

You let out a snort of laughter, fully recognizing the jest in his tone. He obviously cared, the grumpy bastard, even if he didn't show it very often.

He felt accomplished when he heard your laugh, continuing in a softer and more genuine tone. "Besides, some things are more important, anyway."

"Mhm." Humming softly in agreement, you moved closer to him on the bed until your head was resting against his shoulder, making sure to give him the space to get up and stretch his leg if he needed to later on. "I love you."

A faint smile formed on his face at your words, one of his arms reaching over to wrap around you protectively. "I know." It was his own way of showing his love for you without having to say the words.

Feeling comfortable and safe in his arms, you must've dozed off because the next thing you remembered was being woken up by the sound of a door opening and shutting.

"Could you be any louder?" House's irritated voice rang out through your ears, the sound not being entirely unpleasant even if it did manage to wake you up more.

"Sorry," you heard Wilson apologize in a hushed tone. There's no way it was evening already, which meant he must've gotten off work early.

"What are you doing back here?" You called out, your voice sounding tired yet curious. "You're supposed to still be at work."

"I couldn't stay knowing you were home sick," he responded as he slipped under the covers next to you, not even bothering to change into more comfortable clothes first.

"Oh, sure, just forget all about me," House complained in mock offense, something that Wilson chose to outrightly ignore.

"But the hospital- I mean, you're the head of oncology, you can't just-"

"Some things are more important," Wilson gently cut off your worries, his hand reaching out to rest on top of yours.

"Hm, that sounds familiar," you muttered while giving House a look that said 'I know you two have been talking about me again'. He looked back as if he had no clue what your deal was.

"Go back to sleep, honey. We'll both still be here when you wake back up." It was hard to ignore the command of the oncologist next to you, especially when he spoke in such a low and soothing way.

"Okay," you agreed without a fight, snuggling comfortably into the arms of your two boyfriends as you closed your eyes and allowed sleep to overtake you yet again, starting to feel a lot better already.

End notes: I feel like I'm not very good at writing fics with poly couples which is a damn shame because I really love doing it </3

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[matchaelette]

gif by @yoongi-bts

when jungkook is a vessel of love, and love is as beautiful as the poets said it was

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, the first time 'I love you' was spoken out aloud. the more earlier stages of their relationship. yearning, tenderness, fluff, it's all sickeningly full of love.

genre: fluff

warnings: none.

word count: 3.4k

notes: life updates. one: i'm back. obviously. two: jung hoseok is back and ksj 1 is coming (!!!) three: I am officially a uni student and majoring in civil engineering. classes start from the first week of december. four: I have decided to officially name this drabble series *drumrolls* the hopeless romantic series. so, without further ado, welcome back, our hopeless romantic couple!

you’re in love with jungkook.

no, you’re not allowed to say that.

fuck what you’re allowed and not allowed.

you’re desperately, helplessly, hopelessly in love with jeon jungkook. your gorgeous, gorgeous boy.

yours.

then why are you not allowed to be in love with him?

because you’ve been dating him for three months. three months.

only three months, since you decided to stop pining after him, decided it was enough, after god knows how long. three months since that decision led you to be extremely nonchalant around him, calm and collected to a point where it almost looked fake (you’re a terrible actor), and the next thing you knew, you were heavily making out with him in the chilly air of a fall night. calm and collected, indeed. three months since you learned that jungkook was pining for you in the same manner, if not more, and three freaking months since both of you decided to date, being head over heels for one other ever since.

it's too soon to say ‘I love you’. even if you know deep down that you were in love with him even before dating him– but there’s no way you’re treading that water. the realization of being in love with him right now is enough to freak you out. no, it’s definitely too soon to declare ‘I love you’.

because you don’t know whether jungkook feels the same way. although it’s not like you need or expect him to feel the same way you do. just because you’re in love with him doesn’t mean he has to be. you can happily wait until he’s ready and feels the same way.

you’re just scared that he doesn’t want to feel that way. that you’ll scare him away.

look at him. does he look like he feels the same as you?

jeon jungkook looks like a slow-motion daydream, standing in front of you. tight-fitting jeans, snug around the well-defined muscles of his thighs, and a black checkered shirt, sleeves rolled up, displaying the protruding veins of his arm. his curly hair covers the vein in his forehead, almost reaching down to his lips which were pouting in distress.

yeah, you don’t care how he feels. you’re in love with him.

but you are a graveyard of all the people you ever loved.

you can’t have jungkook join those ghosts of the past.

“this thing–”, the boy of your dream grumbles out loud in real life, breaking your thought train, “–hates me!”

oh, that.

“three hours now. we’ve been trying to fix it for three hours.”, you shake your head, frustrated. you’ve been out all day today and the last thing you wanted to do when you got back home was your laundry. but the lack of fresh clothes compelled you to do it anyway. and everything would’ve been fine had you not entered your laundry room to discover the whole floor flooded with water. panicked and disoriented, your first instinct was to call jungkook, despite it being past midnight. when your boyfriend heard what had happened, he immediately demanded you step aside and that he was already on his way over to your house.

now, it’s four in the morning and you’re both dripping wet, absolutely drained, standing in a puddle of water and soap. all you could do is to stare dejectedly at the washing machine. it was a losing battle.

“oh my god!”, jungkook cries out in indignation, “a minute ago it was sprinkling water in my face, now it’s sprinkling soapy water!”

“jungkook, move away”, you hurriedly pull your boyfriend away from your washing machine. he rebels under your grip, the patience he displayed half an hour ago was now transformed into rage.

how can someone be so cute when they’re mad?

“let me go, ash”, he points a threatening finger at the washing machine, “you wanted a fight, buddy? I’ll give you!”

“jungkook!”, you laugh and wrap your arms around his waist, “it already won! look at us!”

jungkook stares down at your attached bodies, soaked from top to bottom, while the washing machine looks like it is having a field trip.

“okay, I give up”, he sighs and rests his chin on the top of your head, “unless–”

“no unless.”

“hear me out first”, he smooches your hair, “you smell amazing by the way. anyways, unless– wait, what was I going to say? I was supposed to say something amazing.”

“I’m sure it was amazing, babe”, you chuckle with fondness, “but that thing is a lost cause. I’ll call maintenance in the morning. let’s take a shower and go to sleep, okay?”

“mhm. yeah”, he replies in affirmation but only tightens his arms around you.

“I’m sorry for calling you so late. I should’ve just– I don’t know. I mean, it was just a minor inconvenience. not a big deal. I don’t know why I freaked out–”

“princess, ssh”, jungkook coos, “you have a problem, you call me. doesn’t matter how small or big it is.”

“kook, I literally called you at one in the morning.”

“and I am very glad that I am the first person that crossed your mind. even though I couldn’t help you. I swear to god, this washing machine has a personal grudge against us.”

“thank you anyways”, you mumble against his chest.

“hey, this is what boyfriends are for.”

how is it possible not to love him?

you wake up to the humming of a honey-caramel voice in the distance.

you yawn and grab the crisply folded silk robe from the foot of your bed. the clothes haphazardly tossed on the ground last night were nowhere in sight, and neither was the person who did so. yet you could hear his hums, feel his warmth.

you smile.

the clock on the wall reflects a bright 11:10, and it’s safe to say that you’ve just woken up. after staying up with your rogue washing machine till four in the morning, you can’t really blame yourself. you feel very well-rested though, for the first time in a while.

jeon jungkook’s presence has that kind of power.

you make an effort to stay silent in your own house. your bare feet tiptoe against the icy floors, carrying you to the sweet melody you’re fairly certain is your boyfriend in the kitchen. and undoubtedly it is. jeon jungkook has his back turned towards you– white tee clinging to his physique, his hair damp and disheveled, singing softly to himself while doing the dishes.

you hold your breath and hug him from the back, resting your cheek against his spine.

jungkook, momentarily confused, laughs when he realizes it’s you.

“good morning princess.”

“good morning jungkook”, you inhale him in. he smells like peaches and baby soap. and fresh laundry. “you smell heavenly.”

“I just came out of the shower–”

 “–hey!”, you cut him short when he gently peels you off him, unexpectedly devoid of warmth, but jungkook hugs you back in an instant; your ear against his ribcage, his chin on the top of yours.

“mmm, that’s better”, you mumble, “did you do the laundry? you smell like detergent.”

 you can almost reach out and touch the outlines of his smile. “you couldn’t do it last night so I thought I’d take some work off your shoulders. I folded your clothes as well!”

“aww, you didn’t have to do– wait, the washing machine is fixed?”

“yeah, I called the repairmen in the morning and they said they were coming over. I was pretty surprised at how quickly they arrived.”

“what happened?”

“one of the pipes got leaked somehow. I think I also did some damage when I tried to fix it. but don’t worry, it’s as good as new.”

“not worrying”, you let go of jungkook and let muscle memory guide you to the coffee machine, “why did you wake up so early?”

 “it’s one p.m. in the afternoon. what’re you talking about?”, jungkook laughs.

“it’s one p.m.?!”, you choke on your coffee, “the clock– but it was eleven–”

“it’s out of battery. I got new ones though”, jungkook points at the bags sitting on your counter.

“you went grocery shopping? you spent an entire lifetime while I slept!”, jungkook chuckles at your awe, “tell me from the beginning. what did you do?”

“well, I called the repairmen as soon as I woke up and then I went to take a shower. they were here by the time I was done. I made us breakfast while they fixed your machine, went grocery shopping afterward, came back and did laundry, here I am now”, jungkook kisses your forehead, “all while someone slept like a baby.”

“oh my god. thank you so much.”

I love you.

“you’re welcome, babe”, he smiles, “I gotta leave now. but listen, I got you ice cream, popcorn and those salty chips you seem to love so much. call me if you need anything else.”

“huh? why though?”, you peer in confusion. you’re usually not very big on snacking. and jungkook knows that. unless it’s your–

“your period is supposed to start tomorrow, genius”, he rolls his eyes, “you don’t remember, do you?”

you clearly didn’t.

apparently, he did.

you tiptoe forward to hug jungkook, too stunned to form any coherent word. you hope jungkook doesn’t notice the tears filling your eyes but when he lifts your face to gently kiss your eyelids, you realize that he knew you were gonna cry.

yeah, I definitely love you.

“hello, jungkookie’s girlfriend!”

kim taehyungs’s visibly enthusiastic face beams at you through the screen of your phone. your initial reaction is to wave brightly at him, despite the slight confusion of whether you accidentally called him when you picked up the phone to facetime your boyfriend.

“hi, tae!”, you say heartily, “gosh, it’s been a while since I saw you.”

“and whose fault is that, huh?”, taehyung’s voice is a warm breeze on a spring evening, “jungkookie tells me you’ve been like… hella busy”

“I was. I mean, I am. it feels like I am always busy these days”, you sigh, “but never busy enough for you guys! how are you?”

“good. busy as well, but good.”

“kook told me last night. you guys work way too hard.”

“wait”, taehyung exploded into laughter, “jungkookie was at your place last night?”

“...yeah?”

“our manager was looking for him and jungkookie was going on and on about how he was in his room all night and manager hyung didn’t knock loudly enough!”

“oh my god, he wasn’t supposed to be at mine yesterday?”

“no, I mean, he was done working but he didn’t tell anyone before leaving the dorm!”

“that might be my fault”, guilt fills your eyes, “I was doing laundry last night and my washing machine started leaking water everywhere. I panicked and called kook. I’m sorry”

“hey, it’s okay, no harm was done”, taehyung looks amused, “so you were doing laundry at midnight? no wonder jungkookie is obsessed with you.”

“obsessed with me, huh?”, you smile playfully, concealing the tiny somersault your heart does.

“he literally never stops talking about you”, taehyung grins widely, “bro is whipped”

“hmm, I did call bro’s phone, right? or did I accidentally call you?”

“how do accidentally call taehyung instead of jungkook? one starts with t and one starts with j”, taehyung suddenly looks disgusted, “unless you saved him as something weird, in that case, I don’t wanna know–”

“kim taehyung.”

“or you can just tell me that you missed me, you know”, taehyung flips his phone camera and you spot a dancing jeon jungkook in the middle of a huge practice room, “but since the only person you care about is jungkookie–”

“kim taehyung–”

“–you called him, okay?”, you hear taehyung’s laughter, “I was playing games on his phone. he’s practicing extra today.

“practicing extra?”

“he said you guys made plans to hang out tomorrow.”

“we– we did”, you’re puzzled. jungkook continues to dance furiously, his quick and precise movements almost defying gravity, completely unaware of his surroundings, “wait, we planned to meet tomorrow because both of us had a clear schedule. why is he practicing extra today?”

“hobi hyung was asking him the same thing”, taehyung nods his head in mock disappointment, “we don’t really have a free schedule tomorrow. but he said that if you couldn’t meet tomorrow it’d be a while before you did. right?”

“y-yeah”, you blink.

“soooo, yeah. as I said, bro’s so whipped.”

oh god. be still my wild heart.

“this boy”, you finally exhale after a pause; feeling bad that he’s overworking himself to meet your needs, feeling grateful that it’s worth it to him.

“this boy, indeed. no, actually, we’re kinda proud of how amazingly we raised him.”

“you really, really did. ya’ll should give out parenting lessons.”

taehyung chuckles, “okay, I’ll give the phone to him.”

“tae, don’t”, you smile, quickly stopping him from calling jungkook, “just tell him to call me whenever he’s free, okay? I’ll be up.”

“okay, then. take rest, okay? don’t overwork yourself.”

“look who’s preaching”, you shoot him a stern look, “the kings of overworking themselves. take care, okay?”

taehyung laughs, “yeah. come over to the dorm whenever you’re free. we all miss you.”

“I will. bye!”

“kook– stop it–”, you say in between a few puffs of breath, “you’re– god– tickling me!”

“am I?”, jungkook wiggles his eyebrows, and smothers his face on the exposed skin of your tummy once again, causing you to almost choke with another round of laughter. the sensation of his lips against your tummy has the butterflies inside going frenzy, but a part of you is scared shitless that it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with yourself.

you want to laugh; you want to cry. you wanna twirl into a knot and fly up in the sky. jungkook has no idea of the power he has over you– his body molds into yours, one his hands have shaped, a design he has drawn, kissed it into a sculpture.

you love him, you love this human being staring at you from between your legs with all the love in this whole fucking universe, kind and whole and happy and real, jeon jungkook, you love him so fucking say it.

I love you. I love you so much that I can’t deny it any longer, the promise stays silent on your tongue.

you wanna cry.

at least, you think you do.

“your heartbeat is going crazy”, jungkook calms down once he’s done tickling you out of your wits. he moves between your thighs and presses his ear against your heart space while gently laying his head on your chest.

yeah, do you know that is because I love you and not because you tickled the living lights outta me?

“princess?”, he asks quietly.

say it.

“princess?”, jungkook raises his head and looks at you, mildly concerned “are you okay?”

say something.

instead, you stare at him. you stare at his eyes. if eyes are actually a mirror of people’s souls, jungkook’s eyes perfectly represent his– filled to the brim with tenderness, tranquility, and mirth. a few years ago, you had read somewhere that humans were created from the burned-out embers of stars. you never believed it. the same folks who start wars, spill blood, stealing lying deceiving and doing everything evil, cannot be created from something so divine.

however, jungkook, over and over again, contradicts that belief. you have no doubt he’s born out of stardust. and fiery comets, northern lights, solar eclipses, everything magic.

“why are you crying?!”, jungkook’s anxious voice snaps you out of your reverie. without realizing you find yourself getting pulled up to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs. “is it me? did I do something?”

“itsh nn-not”, you utter weakly but the words come out as a stifled sob. when jungkook doesn’t understand what you’re saying, he completely loses his composure. he lets go of you and attempts to pry himself away, fairly convinced that he must’ve done something stupid. but you dig your fingers in his arms, trying to communicate with your firm grip that he did nothing wrong. it’s you, you’re the stupid one.

it takes him a few more seconds to realize that you’re crying for something else altogether, and only then does he relax. he wraps his arms around you, letting you break down in his little protective bubble.

what is wrong with me? why does every feeling of mine come out as tears?

“it’s okay, it’s okay”, jungkook coos, “breathe. breathe with me.”

“inhale with me”, he holds eye contact and carefully guides your breath, “good. now exhale. in. and out. it’s okay. I love you. you’re okay, princess.”

and

everything

just

freezes

for a moment.

for a moment?

seems like a lifetime.

you never realize how many types of ‘I love you’s there are until they’re spoken out aloud. most ‘I love you’s are expressed as a confession, while there are some which are born out of panic. I love you. do you love me back? these ‘I love you’s are full of anxiety, and a desperate longing for reassurance, for arms that’ll keep them safe. some are born out of anger and frustration. I’m doing this for you, because I love you, why don’t you understand? then there are those which are born out of pure terror because I love you but I’m afraid that all I’ll ever do is hurt you.

jungkook’s ‘I love you’ sounded like it was nurtured, a flower that bloomed inside a long time ago. like a blanket woven from your favorite human on the entire planet and falling asleep with someone inside your heart no matter how alone you feel outside; a promise.

not that any of you were in the right state of mind to realize that.

you and jungkook realize at the same time. the words that have been spoken out to existence.

he stares at you; you stare at him. devastated, mouth hanging, eyes bulging. none of you breathing.

jungkook closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again.

“that was not a mistake”, his voice is deep and low. you hold your breath, afraid to miss a single sound that comes out of his mouth, “I do. I will if you allow me to. not that I can help it– I mean, even if you don’t allow it I can’t help myself. I love you. it’s not like I can just un-love you! wait, why do I need your permission anyway? it’s my feelings we’re talking about! okay, but it does concern you”, jungkook looks mortified, “but still, you don’t have to say it back. it’s great if you do but like, there’s no pressure. just don’t tell me to un-love you because that one is none of your business, oka–”

you kiss him. you kiss the living lights out of him. jungkook doesn’t even register what’s happening, he just accepts everything– the way your lips smashes against his, the way your tongue envelops his, finding you in every corner of his mouth, feeling you in every inch of his skin; a drunkard clinging onto every last drop of alcohol yet never having enough.

jungkook is literally panting when you let go of him.

 “I was crying because I am in love with you. I have been in love with you for a while now and I didn’t know how to say so”, you confess. only a few words are enough to make realization flash in his eyes. after all, he knows you. he knows you well enough to know everything, even the things he doesn’t.

“I must’ve been a saint in my past life to deserve this”, jungkook closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours.

“I think this is your first life. you’re like the sugar in a cookie.”

“what? I thought I was the cookie!”, jungkook furrows his eyebrows, offended, “also, sugar isn’t good for you. what are you talking about?!”

you giggle in response.

“hey! take it back”, he overpowers you in a swift motion. he reels your bodies backward to hover over you, pinning your hands down on the mattress, smirking. “otherwise you’re gonna regret it.”

“regret? nah, I think I will enjoy it”, your smirk wipes off the one on his face.

“oh boy”, he sighs.

“jungkook?”

“yeah?”

“say it again”, you whisper.

“I love you.”

“again.”

“I love you.”

[zzprompto]

☆ our teachers are gay?!

gojo satoru x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: you and gojo are both teachers at tokyo jujutsu high. your students start catching up on little things about the two of you, coming to a conclusion that their teachers are gay, but is that the truth? (meant to be viewed as romantic, hints at an established relationship.)

the lowercase is intentional !

satoru and [name] had been teaching at tokyo jujutsu high for a few years now. the two have made memories, had laughs and even arguments during the time. the students loved their teachers, always finding them amusing.

this years first years were a first, though.

"he's definitely gay!" a student yells. "no, he's not! he definitely has a wife and two kids!" another student yells. the person that they were talking about? [name]. itadori and nobara were arguing about whether or not they thought their teacher was gay for their other teacher or not, whilst megumi just sat there listening to their bickering. nobara thought [name] was gay, whereas itadori thought he wasn't.

megumi just sat there, listening to his friends arguing. it was constant, but he knew it was just banter after all. megumi had a small smirk on his face as he listened.

megumi knew the truth, well, half of the truth. he knew of gojo's feelings towards [name], but he never knew of [name]'s feelings towards gojo. megumi and gojo were practically father and son, not that megumi would admit that, so he could tell how gojo felt. megumi was the only reserved first year, so he learnt to pick up on people's emotions and feelings quickly, which included gojo's.

it was clear, by megumi's perception of the world, that gojo was definitely into [name]. gojo always tried to, and not so subtly in fact, flirt with [name]. yet, it always ended up in [name] saying a bunch of curses with a red face. maybe [name] did like gojo back? but, how was megumi going to know? he's not [name] and maybe the red face megumi always saw was just his teacher embarrassed, not flustered.

megumi also noticed how close the two teachers were. there were always together eating lunch or talking or supervising training sessions where they also talked more. perhaps it was because they could only talk to eachother, they were the only teachers there excluding the principal. or.. maybe it was something else? it did seem like there was more of a rivalry going on between the two men in megumi's eyes, but who knew. only gojo and [name] did.

a certain someone clears their throat after hearing all the bickering down the corridor. "and what are you three talking about?" the voice asks, and it just so happens to be gojo. itadori and nobara are in big trouble now.

itadori looks at gojo in horror, already accepting that he's been caught. nobara just looks at gojo with a small, innocent smile, hoping itadori won't mess up and say something wrong.

"uhm.. we were just talking about [name]'s love life-" itadori starts before nobara jabs him in the stomach to get him to shut up. "we were discussing what places we can visit in tokyo during our days off!" nobara cut in. gojo had a smirk plastered on his face. it was so obvious that he knew the truth about what they were talking about.

megumi sighed and he rolled his eyes at his two friends. "you idiots.. look at his face. he knows what you two were talking about." megumi muttered under his breath, shaking his head at how stupid his friends were. "plus.. his six eyes probably sensed you guys were talking about [name] anyway." megumi decides to add his own snarky comment.

"ah, so my suspicions were true." gojo chuckled. "if you really want to find out more about [name], why don't you ask him yourselves? although, he'd probably want to punch me if you told him i suggested the idea.." gojo spoke his thoughts aloud.

as if on queue, [name] steps into the room with a confused look on his face. "what are you all standing around here for? i thought training was meant to start ten minutes ago.." he sighed, a hand resting on his hip. the three first years all look at eachother before rushing out of the room to go to the field.

[name] just shook his head as he watched his students leave. "what were you doing in here with them, satoru? because it definitely wasn't reminding them that training was about to start." [name] said, looking at gojo as he spoke. gojo just shrugged at [name]'s question, starting to follow the first years out to the field.

the first years quickly got to training. they were practicing their cursed technique skills and hand to hand combat whilst [name] and gojo kept a close eye. the two teachers were standing close together, smiling as they occasionally made small talk.

"so, what about that date i was talking about earlier?" gojo pipes up, smiling at [name]. [name] just scoffed in response, punching gojo in the shoulder. "don't ask me about dates whilst we're infront of our students, satoru." [name] chuckled and gojo joined in.

gojo then snaked an arm around [name]'s waist, pulling him in closer and giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "okay, okay. but we're still going on that date after work, right?" gojo asks. "you're not helping yourself!" [name] replies, pushing gojo away with a huge smile on his face.

of course, the three first years saw this play out. when gojo and [name] thought they were being so subtle, they were caught in the act. the three first years stopped what they were doing and stared at their teachers in shock.

gojo and [name] just watched their students with smiles on their faces. gojo still had his arm wrapped around [name]'s waist as he pulled his lover in for a kiss, not caring about their students. they had already been caught, so what was the harm in sharing a kiss in the end?

"see! i told you he's gay! you owe me big time, itadori!" nobara yells out, starting to chase itadori around the field.

☆ author's note: ill try get requests done soon, sorry if you're waiting on one. do request some more, i have barely any ideas of my own.

☆ request ▪︎ masterlist

[igotanidea]

I am Robin : Damian Wayne x reader (pt 1)

Summary: Damian x fem!s/o, who has no idea he's Robin. And who is scared of Robin. And who one day happens to meet Robin...

***

They weren’t living together, and definitely not in a leaving toothbrushes at each other’s place way. But their relationship wasn't casual either. After almost a year together, given Damian’s character traits, it could never be casual.

But Y/N wasn’t the type to rush him into anything and definitely not nagging to start sharing space. It was all right if he didn’t want to stay the night too. He was committed to his family and that was okay. Considering the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne himself, the Gotham’s persona, who tended to act a little eccentric, it was completely understandable that Damian wanted to check on him more often than not.

Who knew what kind of crazy idea could possibly enter the bored mind of a rich man.

It truly was no one’s wish to find some scandalous news from the first pages of the magazines.

So yes, she was full aboard on the idea of Damian’s checking on his father and his family.

Who seemed a little weird from the very beginning either way. The first time she met them all his siblings were nice, even awfully so, but she had this crazy feeling of being watched like a prey.

If only she knew why.

But yes, it was okay, because at least she wasn’t in a relationship with Mollycoddle, who demanded care and wanted to be treated with kids’ gloves.

But sometimes, only sometimes, she was wondering if it would be like that forever.

That she would have to sleep in the bed alone, wishing for him next to her.

That she would be forced to deal with her nightmares and loneliness and after work tiredness alone.

That almost every time she asked him to stay over he would prevaricate, giving more or less vague answers.

If only she knew why.

***

He was in the middle of patrolling with Batman and the rest of the family when Barbara’s voice came through the comms.

“Robin.”

“Yes? What is it, Oracle?”

“Y/N keeps blowing off your phone.”

Oh.

Obviously Damian did not take his device with him and definitely could not check whether his girlfriend was trying to contact him.

Barbara, on the other hand, was in charge of everyone’s notifications while they were busy during night hours, just to keep up the pretences of the batfam being completely normal citizens.

“Shall I respond?” Babs muttered to the comm, mentally rolling her eyes at the fact Damian was still keeping Y/N in the dark about his other identity. He was treating this girl seriously, it was obvious and even Batman would see reason in ensuring his blood son didn’t blow up a chance at happiness. Even with a civilian. And if not, Barbara would be more than happy to throw Bruce’s own mistakes in the area right at his face. And most likely the other batkids would gladly join her in this quest. Just for funsies. And for Damian obviously.

“Don’t you dare touching my phone, Oracle!” The last thing he needed was his more or less romantic and more or less spicy conversations with Y/N to come into the light!

“Do you want me to read the text to you?”

“Don’t you dare touching-“

“Robin, why can’t you just come forward and tell her?”

“Cause that would be putting a target on her back!”

“You are putting a target on her back by keeping her in the dark!”

“This is not—” Damian tried to argue, but never finished the sentence, realising, somewhere in the half of it, that Babs was actually true. “I don’t know what to do.” He finally settled on a deep sigh.

However, before Oracle could give him any relationship advice, Batman’s voice echoed from another line, calling his accomplices to order and stopping any personal discussions.

***

Meanwhile, Y/N was standing in front of the club, unsuccessfully attempting to reach Damian.

The party she was dragged to was a surprise to one of her work friends, who broke the news about getting married. Some of the girls decided it was a perfect opportunity for unofficial celebration and the party moved from club to club in the entire Gotham district.

It was impossible to not go. Y/N would be called antisocial, unfriendly and stiff the very same night.

But then it was late and cold and dark and she found herself far from her apartment, not sure how to proceed. Obviously, walking alone was a huge mistake, considering the location, but standing like a salt pillar was starting to turn even more stupid, as the lonely and bewildered woman unmoving on an empty street was the easy target for any thug.  

And Damian was not picking up his phone or responding to texts, that started to become more and more desperate as Y/n lowered herself to almost begging for help.

When nothing came in return, with a heavy and a little broken heart she decided to try and get home by herself.

It was better than being a sitting duck and freezing to death.

***

“Robin.” The voice came through the comms again

“What do you want, Nightwing?”

“I got eyes on Y/N.”

“And why do you bore me with such unimportant details?” Damian muttered, not really paying attention to what his brother was saying. The youngest Wayne was simply too focused on his target for the night.

“Um… Robin?”

“I am busy, Nightwing.”

“Damian-“ Dick dared to say Robin’s real name, getting  a bit desperate to get his attention.

“What now?!”

“I got eyes on Y/N!”

“Wh-what? What do you mean you got eyes on Y/N? She’s supposed to be home, safe and tucked under the cover, turning over on the other side while sleeping!”

“Well, she is not. She’s walking the street with someone on her tail, clearly chasing her.”

“What street?!”

“I’m going to take action now-“

“Don’t you dare, Nightwing.” Damian’s cold voice almost bore a hole in Dick’s head through the comms. “Oracle, give me Y/N location. I’ll be the only one taking the action when it comes to her.”

***

She knew she was being followed.

The man wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to it after all.

The heavy clatter of his boots echoed through the entire empty street, in perfect sync with the accelerated beat of her heart.

Headlines from the newspapers from the entire previous year flashed through her mind.

Rape.

Murder.

Assault.

Unexplained disappearance.

Y/n started to curse herself, instinctively reaching for the pepper spray, greedily clutching her fingers on the tiny, yet effective, bottle.

Though before she could actually use it, there was a loud thump behind her and she stopped with shaking hands and eyes closing, already saying goodbye to her life.

The man sure had a gun and that was the sound she heard. She was already dead. And no one will even know. She will bleed on the street, dying alone and in pain in the dark Gotham street, no news about her till the early morning and-

“Y/N.”

She spun around immediately. Whoever was talking, be it the man who was chasing her or someone else, he knew her name.

Robin. Batman’s sidekick.

The street light colours palette Robin.

Robin, the Gotham’s vigilante.

And one of her worst fears.

***

The thug was lying on the ground, blood was everywhere, including Robin’s uniform and she couldn’t make a single movement.

The most natural thing would be to thank him for the rescue and run away before he got too focused on her, reading right through her, seeing everything she did wrong in her entire life and bringing her to justice.

But she could hardly breathe let alone form one coherent sentence.

When he took a step towards her, she took a step back, almost tripping over her own feet, but miraculously finding balance.

He stopped, looking at her with a predatory smile, tilting head, waiting for a moment to strike.

His teeth shone in the dim light of a street lamp, growing, becoming sharper and she could almost imagine them tearing at her throat like a werewolf or some other supernatural creature, causing her pain for all the bad things she did and—

“You’re safe now.”

She blinked a few times, brought back to reality by his voice that was surprisingly soft. Calm, a little cold perhaps, but gentle regardless.

There was no blood, he was not a werewolf, and she was not in danger of being torn to pieces and having her insides dragged through the entire street.

But she was still scared, and not because of the thug, but because of the vigilante himself.

***

“You’re safe now.” Robin said calmly, keeping his distance. From Damian’s perspective under the mask, it was the worst thing he ever had to do in his life. Instead of rushing to her side, taking her in his arms, and giving her comfort and reassurance he had to keep hiding his face in the shadows. Unbeknown to him, Y/N was more than grateful about this fact.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered, making Damian want to hug her even more. She was so shaken after being chased like this. After being put in danger.

It didn’t cross his mind, that she could be scared of him.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” This was not really a question in his head, but it was important to slowly assure her she was now protected.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered again, with wide eyes and pale face, that Damian blamed on the aftermath of terrifying events.

“Okay.”

It was hard to not reach for her hand, envelop her in warmth and walk with her to her apartment. Making her her favourite tea and cuddling on the couch (a weakness he would never admit to his family). But he had to keep his mask, literally and figuratively. Therefore, having escorted her to her building and spinning on his heel, he left her alone.

Not for long though.

***

It took him fifteen minutes to change from Robin costume into regular, civilian clothes, almost searching for a phone booth like a freaking Superman, knowing that if Jon knew it, he would never let him live through it.

Meanwhile, he finally got hold of his phone and read through the desperate messages she’s been sending him for the last hour.

“Dami, please come pick me up. I’m at the XX”

“Dami, please…”

“I don’t know why you are not responding, but if I did something to make you mad, I am sorry…”

“Dami, I need you…”

“Please, it’s cold and I’m scared…”

“Dami… 🥺”

Oh no.

As if seeing her scared after dealing with the threat was not enough, now he also got the insight of what she was feeling and thinking while walking home alone.

That he left her.

That he didn’t care.

That she was alone.

And it made him speed the pace of the changing even more.

And causing Robin to make one, teeny-tiny mistake.

***

A knock on the door made her almost jump, settling on pretending she was not at her apartment. Or that she was sleeping – whichever seemed more plausible at 3 am.

“Y/n!”

The voice seemed familiar, but it could have been just the whispers of her stressed mind, combined with a desire for the presence of that one person she so desperately needed.

“Y/N! Open up, it’s me! Damian!”

She whimpered and moved deeper into the corner of the sofa, covering her ears.

He had to change tactics.

“I know where you keep the spare key. But if you don’t open in five, I’ll kick the door without the need to get it!”

An empty threat that could have only been made by him.

Four seconds later the bolt on the door rattled and Y/N stood face to face with Damian, who had absolutely no intention to put his words into action, just getting her to open.

“Y/N.” He sent her the most comforting and reassuring smile he could muster.

“Dami…” she sobbed, diving into his arms. “why weren’t you picking up your phone? I was scared and – and this guy-”

“Hush, dear.” His hands wrapped around her, taking a few steps forward so they were now inside her apartment and not in the hallway. “You’re safe now. I’m here and no one will hurt you.”

“But why weren’t you picking up?” she repeated nuzzling into him, the mix of emotions finally finding a way out in the form of uncontrolled sobs.

“My apologies, beloved. It was never my intention to make you feel abandoned. But I’m here now.”

“Mhm…”

“You’re okay. Shall I make you your tea? It will ease your nerves after being chased on the streets like that.”

“Yes, please…” she whispered and then a thought hit her. “Dami? I- I never told you I was being chased…”

“You know, it was quite evident. It’s Gotham. It’s late and your text was pretty clear-“ His green eyes met hers in a poor attempt to cover up for the obvious fail, trying to fill in the holes in the facts and silence her questions before they even arise.

But it was too late and she was too smart for being played like that.

There was no way Damian could have simply figured out what happened solely from her messages and ragged pieces of information.

His first question, right after comforting her, should have been what happened?

And how the hell did he get into her apartment almost right after she got in?

Right after Robin escorted her here?

“Dami--?” she stuttered with wide eyes, pulling slightly back, causing a little struggle when he tried to keep her in his arms.

Causing a little too much movement.

“Y/N, listen to me, I can—hey, are you all right?”

She was not.

She was not okay, seeing the familiar and well-known domino mask that fell from Damian’s pocket onto the floor in her apartment.

“You- you are—” her stuttering mixed with paleness and terror reflected in her eyes made him travel back to the conversation they had a few months earlier. 

Oh, no…

How could he forget…?

to be continued...

Part 2

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 2/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 here. Word count: 5.1 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Part two! I don't usually rec music for my fics but if this fic was a song, it would be Dead can Dance’s In Power we Entrust the Love Advocated.

You wake up with a giant plastered on your back.

His bed is far more comfortable than your own, soft and cushy, and there must be flowers somewhere in the hay because there is a surprisingly pleasant odour lingering in the air as you come to. The mattress overall doesn’t reek of too much sweat: some poor slave must change the fillings often enough for König’s stench not to settle on the bed. Actually, you’ve slept quite nicely, despite being embraced by an ogre the whole night.

König has slept like a stone, too, but stirs when you start to shift. You turn on your back and find his drowsy stare on you: it’s generous and warm as he pulls you closer to him. You could roll your eyes when you notice he’s hard down there again – he’s probably hard all the time, whether in bed with a woman or raging on the battlefield, sticking his swords into some poor man’s gut.

“Gut geschlafen?” He asks, and you reckon he’s trying to ask if you’ve slept well – in his domain, in his embrace, after he just slaughtered half of your village.

You give him another pout, which is starting to become your signature expression now. He replies to your grumpiness with a smile, his own trademark move, the one that threatens to strip you from all your arms. He squeezes you fondly against his chest, and then his hand starts to wander: he plays with your tits again, then slinks further down to brush your navel. When he crosses the border and heads straight toward your womanhood, you seize his arm.

He whines softly at your refusal, but to your surprise, he actually stops. You let him go as he moves back up and stay immobile under his touch, amidst the flowery scent and the faint stench of dirt and man sweat, sighing as he cups your breast again. He doesn’t seem to get enough of them, and they’re beginning to feel sore: he gave them so much attention last night already and is now at them again.

You pull his hand away, but this time, he doesn’t respect your wishes but resists you. Trying to hinder a man who’s as strong as a bull is futile, but you have an attempt at it anyway. It turns into a play fight: you wrench his hand down, he drags it back up. Up and down and up and down, as if your breast is a hill he needs to conquer at all costs. But he’s the only one who finds any amusement in your silly game: eyes narrowing again with a smile, a few soft chuckles under that hood telling you he enjoys it when you fight him a little.

It all ends when you finally slap him.

It’s neither a good nor a hard slap, and his mask muffles whatever sound was supposed to give you at least some measure of satisfaction. 

But he stops... And laughs.

“Ja, ich weiß. Ich habe deine Leute getötet. Ich verdiene eine Ohrfeige.”

His language is harsh and throaty, abrupt, and you tell him that, safe with the knowledge that he can’t understand a word you say either.

“You talk ugly,” you complain and watch him up and down, searching for a clue that would tell you that he somehow understands your insult. König simply thunders with another mirthful laugh at your morning crank.

“Es ist schön, mit dir zu reden. Aber jetzt muss ich weg.”

He looks down at you like he’s the Sun God now, thoroughly life-giving and kind. Then he dares to bend forward and press a kiss on your forehead.

“Go away,” you try to push him back with your hands - the hood prevents you from feeling his skin and breath and lips, but the… intimacy is still too much.

“Brute,” you want to spit the word out but end up sounding like a child attempting to quarrel instead. And he’s laughing at you again, both with his eyes and his mouth, covered by that darned hood. You don’t know why on earth you would think that such a charming laugh must come from an equally charming mouth.

He finally retreats and rises from the bed, stretching out his arms. The broad muscles on his back are exposed to the frigid air and his cock is jutting out, long and veined, completely unaffected by the cold. This beast is ripe and ready for another day, and you swallow when you see him in his full glory again, tall and wide and strong, looking like he’s about to eat an entire boar and fuck ten women in the process.

“Schön,” he comments as he turns to look down at you, lying naked and sweet there in his bed. He looks at you like you are the most lovely, adorable, difficult little thing. He even gives his horse cock a few good strokes while taking your sleepy little pouts in.

“Ugly,” you slur back, and he winks at you. 

Gods… You’re too hot and riled to even speak.

You choose to vehemently stay in bed as König starts his day: eats some fruit from the table - still naked - pours himself some wine and washes his mouth with it, tears a handful of bread from a loaf and starts to eat with his mouth open, munching loudly under that hood, walking around without bothering to cover himself and that ungodly erection that is bouncing in the air without a care in the world.

You, on the other hand, escape back under the warm covers of the furs, but your eyes never leave König. He draws the draping flap of his tent aside - still naked - giving his soldiers a good view of his morning wood, a lovely chance to get a look at their champion. Perhaps it’s his way of saying good morning, you think bitterly. Then he leaves, probably to take a piss, and you’re more and more convinced that this man is the worst beast that has ever walked this earth.

You’re still under the furs when he returns and finally gives you the grace of clothing himself. It’s stupid that you mourn losing the sight of those shoulders and feel a bit disappointed when his cock disappears under the red tunic. His manhood doesn’t look any less intimidating even when growing soft; it’s still long and veiny and thick, and you find yourself… curious. Just curious.

He doesn’t put his armour on this time, chooses to wear only his tunic and sandals and a pair of hard-boiled leather cuffs to protect the vital veins on the wrists. He does take one Gladius with him, though - a sign of distrust in his own men or a Roman custom, you can’t tell.

He’s already at the mouth of the tent when he turns and points at you, now with a good amount of sternness in his voice.

“Du. Bleibst.”

…

He’s away the whole day. Probably drawing plans at some field war council, eating and drinking and bouncing some poor girl on his knee. 

Even the thought makes your nose wrinkle and your stomach churn. Of course there are other trophies, and of course men want to show them off, pass them around, give their commanders a chance to give each woman a good squeeze. König has probably stuck that cock into a few women by now. Moaning, screaming women. 

Or then he just settles for annoying their poor senses out of them…

You can’t deny that you’re relieved he hasn’t thrown you to the wolves yet, not even after you denied him. Wondering why on earth he would even want to listen to your wishes gives you an awful headache, and the image of him laughing at - or with - some other shy captive girl is making you uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that you throw the skins away after noon, and decide you’re not going to just succumb to your fate, least of all give in to sadness and apathy. 

You eat this and that from his table like you’re not a slave girl but an honoured guest, a queen. You eat his figs and his bread and some smoked meat; you even drink some of his wine, as sour as it is. You’re a bit tipsy when you go through all his belongings, which are not as abundant or exciting as you thought they would be. 

You thought you’d find tiny chests filled with gold coins and rings. You thought you’d come by dried body parts taken as trophies, perhaps the crown of some long-forgotten Hibernian king. But there are only a few trinkets under his bed, a huge bow and some arrows, his armour and the second Gladius, perfectly stored above the ground so that rust and mould wouldn’t bite them. There are jugs of wine and some firewood and oil for the braziers, there’s water and benches and the table and lots and lots of candles in different shapes and sizes… But that’s it. There’s no hoard, no treasure, nothing to prove to you that this brute is just another Roman soldier trying to gather a fortune by raping and pillaging so that he can go and retire early from all the bloodshed.

And it makes you shiver. Does he do this just for the sake of it, only because he enjoys killing so much? What is his reason to fight?

The only item that sends an odd sting in your heart is a small wooden statue. You feel like a thief when you rummage through a small satchel you find next to his breastplate, the only place you didn’t feel like peeking into because it looked so… personal. 

Proving to yourself that you don’t care about his privacy or feelings, you end up pushing your fingers inside it anyway, meeting this peculiar carved piece of wood. There is nothing else there in the satchel, just the statue, and you feel yourself swallow a lump in your throat as you see it depicts a lush, buxom woman. Her breasts are nearly the size of her belly, larger than her head, and you realize that it is clearly the statue of the Great Mother this brute carries with him.

You put it back quickly, feeling a tingling in your fingers and a rapid flutter in your heart, as if you had just poked into something quite sacred. And it is sacred, the Mother. You wonder why, for the love of all the gods, this man would keep such a divine and fertile amulet near him. The statue is supposed to be a vessel for wishes and fortune; it is an idol of worship. König seems like the last man on earth to take up worshipping women.

You just want to get out of this place but can’t. There’s no one to go back to: your chief is dead, the people have fled, the rest of the warriors are scattered across the land. You have no idea where your brother might even be. 

You have no wish to escape this tent; you have no desire whatsoever to step a foot outside and show yourself to his hungry men. 

König comes back after nightfall and is not surprised at all to find you haven’t escaped. He’s not surprised that you have eaten some of his food either; he doesn’t even scold you. But then the eternal groping starts again as he gets undressed and lays himself down next to you.

You don’t even know why you allow him to touch you. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s better to just let him caress you if he wants; it’s better to suffer the weight of his hands on you if it means he won’t rape you with that cock. If you don’t complain, perhaps he will settle for squeezing and petting and stroking you.

But your body is a traitor: it’s hungry for him, for some ungodly reason, and always craves for more. You say to yourself that you only allow this to happen because it’s a condition, a compromise, a meeting in the middle. You never acknowledge the way your nether lips puff up like a fat flower every time he fondles your breasts. You pay no attention to how wet you get when he caresses your face, your waist, even your thighs, every part of you except the place between your legs, the place you kind of want him to touch... If only he would be gentle and didn’t get too excited, you’d let him touch you there, too, as sick and accursed as it is.

And it’s all good until he starts to hum. 

It may be some song from his homeland, the land of ugly brutes, but it’s not a crude giant song… In fact, it’s a rather beautiful, melancholy tune. Your body is relaxed and your pussy is wet; your nipples are tight and pleased as he pets you slowly, lovingly - but that song is too much. You don’t want him to see you cry, not even a single tear, and now there’s an entire flood about to occur.

“Don’t touch me,” you whisper, trying not to choke on your sorrow. He doesn’t stop - of course he doesn’t. He gets bolder by the day, and he can see that you’re enjoying yourself. In a way.

"Magst du es gestreichelt zu werden?" He asks, soft and tender, so incredibly gentle that the tears are about to burst forth at any given moment now.

“Ich glaube das tust du,” he rumbles when you don’t answer him. His hand is heavy and broad on your hip as he finally stops caressing you. You squeeze your eyes shut, and it causes the glimmer in your eyes to fall. Tears roll down your cheeks and into your hair, as you lie there next to a titan, about to shatter into a million pieces.

“Wurdest du schon einmal berührt…?”

You want to shout at him to shut up already, to stop talking so gently, asking you questions you don’t understand, to stop trying to find a way to communicate with you through song and hum and touch. The hand on your hip moves, slowly, with devastating cunning towards your core. He’s about to touch you there, to try and feel if you’re wet... If you’d like it that he pounded you a little. You wonder if he would do that gently too, and almost laugh through your tears. It will be your undoing if he finds out that you’re soaked all the way to your thighs, aching to feel him inside you, even a finger, just something…

“No… Nein,” you rule out sternly, opening a new way of communication. You don’t know if the word is correct, but he catches it immediately and stops. 

“Nein?”

He sounds both happy and sad; happy that you try to use his language, sad that you use it to give him such a disappointing command.

“No touching,” you repeat and open your eyes, finding his hazy figure hovering above you. You barely discern the gulf of sadness in his eyes, but it is there: undisguised, trying to reach out and join with yours. Gods… How strangely appropriate it is that you are both so very alive, wanting to be devoured by each other’s hunger and lust, only to find yourselves on the brink of tears and hollow loss.

“No... No touching…”

“Verstanden.” 

He takes his hand away from you and turns, not even joining you under the fur tonight.

…

The next morning, you wake up attached to him.

Somehow you’ve managed to wriggle under his furs and, on top of that, crawled to hug his side like this. You blame the spring cold for it, of course. Your heart bangs against your ribs as you notice how tightly you’re squeezing him, breasts pressed flush against his hard middle, belly fluttering against his hip. You’ve even draped your leg across his so that your poor, lonely cunt is resting right there over his thigh. 

You swear in your mind with all the words and terms you know and can think of.

How the hell are you supposed to detach from a giant without waking him up? His arm is around you, holding you loosely in a warm, pleasing shackle. He feels so, so good - blazing, big and safe, so incredibly nice. You never knew sleeping next to a man could feel so nice. You’re half asleep still, mainly because his body and scent make you feel like you’ve had too much wine again.

You allow yourself a few more moments before you rip yourself off him. Or at least, try to: the arm snares you the instant you attempt to move. It prevents you from leaving him, and you end up hovering awkwardly there, almost on top of him, tits pointing straight at his face, panicked, doe-eyed stare guided to his unwavering blue eyes, open, and regarding you with warm love.

And the damned man smirks again.

“No touching?” He inquires with silly, completely feigned shyness.

“Shut up,” you breathe and try to get off of him, but his other hand comes to brush your cheek next, and you freeze.

“Schön… Pretty,” he tries, and you nearly whimper at the sound of your native tongue in his mouth. 

Pretty… Is that what the word means, the odd ugly word he has repeated ever since he stole you?

His eyes are warm and his hand is gentle as he caresses your cheek, and the snare around your waist tightens. Softly… Invitingly.

“Stop it,” you whisper, on the brink of tears again, because this time, your shields and armour and weapons are gone. You just woke up to a feeling of odd contentment, fulfilment, even joy. 

And it’s not right. 

He has no right to be this gentle with you.

You sniffle and sigh, and cast your eyes down to the chest that belongs to a giant. But you can’t deny that there must be a heart under there. A human heart under your palm. Your hand is right there over the strong beat because you’ve tried to push yourself away, and he won’t let you go. Another tear falls somewhere in the hair of his chest, and he rumbles with such compassion that you want to slap him again, hit his chest with your tiny little fists and bawl.

What you do instead is break down and let the ocean take you. You cry and sob and wail, right there in front of him, until he turns you on your stomach and comes to rest halfway on top of you. Through your tears, you understand that he’s trying to soothe you with his weight. It’s pure insanity how well it works. It releases a whole well of grief, and you start to shake with the cries; your whole body shudders with the sorrow as you retch it all out while König continues to caress you like a pet. He strokes your hair, pets your back, he even pats your ass as if you’re just a baby.

You cry long and hard, so long that he eventually lets out a long, deep sigh. When you’ve calmed down a bit and remain still, sniffling occasionally while squeezing the furs in your fist, trying to remember what it is to be an animal with feelings other than just sorrow, he leaves you.

He simply rises, and gets dressed, and leaves.

That is very much what you don’t need right now, much to your surprise. He was good at consoling you, as odd as it sounds.

Cold starts to creep in when there is no warm body next to you, and your skin misses the calloused gentleness of his palms. You wouldn’t mind if he wanted to hum that song to you now. But the darned bastard had to leave just when you were about to turn and cup his hooded face in return...

König comes back after a short while, but he’s not alone. You gather the furs against your chest, horrified and angry when you notice he returns to the tent with a short old man, vigorous and busy, but so tiny in stature that you doubt he was ever a warrior. You wonder if this is another foreigner or if you have the dubious pleasure of meeting your first genuine Roman.

They both stare at you, quite nonchalantly, while you sit there on the bed and try to cover your nakedness with animal skins while having red eyes and a pair of uninviting, quivering, puffed-up lips. 

The short fellow looks you up and down, then turns to talk to König in what appears to be this giant’s mother tongue. It’s a curt suggestion, muttered under his breath, and you realize König must’ve fetched a translator for you.

Oh, good Mother... Great Mother.

You watch these two men before you in a state of stunned shock, as König looks at you, then back at the old man, and nods. The Roman looks slightly vexed as if he just got up too. Then he starts to speak.

“Excuse our manners... We are men at war. If you wish to get dressed, we will wait outside.”

You blink at your own language being spoken to you, perfectly discernable but accompanied by a thick accent. You nod, and the men leave, returning only after you’ve dressed and cleared your throat in the tent.

“He asks if he killed your husband,” the translator starts immediately while König goes to sit on his favourite Roman bench. You’re wide awake now, and the nauseating feeling of being suddenly in the middle of an interrogation rises to your throat with a clot.

“He… What? No,” your eyes dart to König, who is looking at you with his undying ardour. For a man with so much sadness in his soul, he’s surprisingly carefree when he wants to.

“Do you have a husband?”

You gulp at the questions levelled at you. König keeps watching you intently, and you choose to look at the old translator instead, shaking your head slowly. The men exchange a few words, and the Roman turns to scold you with his stare.

“Master reminds you that it is wrong to lie,” he says, putting a lot more weight on his words this time. Roman or not, he calls this giant master, which means that he is just another slave in this camp. You swallow again and try to think, think, think; all the while König’s stare strips you of all your pretences, garments and words.

He thinks you’re trying to hide some imaginary husband, you understand and consider whether you should say that you have a husband: if there is any benefit you could gain from such a lie. König would only probably try to hunt him down… But what if he found out you were telling him tales? Would he feed you to his horny war dogs then?

“I’m not lying,” you say through slightly gritted teeth.

There is another exchange of words before the translator turns to you again.

“Are you untouched?”

“What…?”

“Master asks if you are a virgin.”

The translator is utterly unfazed, and mainly looks like he has better things to do than get to the bottom of whether there has been a cock inside you yet.

“That’s none of his business,” you hiss. The old man turns and starts to translate your words with a dull look.

“Wait—don’t tell him that,” you take a panicked step forward. 

Oh good Father in the Sky… Strike these men down so that I may be freed from them.

They pay you no attention; a few sentences pass from mouth to mouth, and the old man nods.

“Master says you are clearly a maiden,” he declares. You peek a glance at König, who is looking at you with hunger, and not the kind of hunger people look at their breakfasts with. Your breathing is getting out of hand, and when he opens his legs wider, clearly making more room for a rising cock, you decide to throw caution in the wind.

“You know what? Your master can go fuck himself with a stick for all I care…!”

The old man turns. He doesn’t even care to sigh; he merely opens his mouth to give your words to König.

“Don’t you dare translate that!” 

Finally, the old man sighs. He looks at the ceiling as if begging his gods to take him away from this tent. König’s stare flashes between you two, and he is evidently curious. Clearly, this is the most exciting conversation he’s ever had.

“Was sagt sie?”

“Tell him that I want to be freed,” you hurry to say before the translator can tell your insults to König. After a brief conversation, König leans forward in his chair to see the effect his words have on you.

“He says he can’t do that,” the Roman informs. “His soldiers will find you and take you.”

You close your mouth and try to even your breaths. No one says, You don’t want that. Everybody in this tent knows you don’t want that.

“He asks if he killed your brother or your father.”

You sniffle, quite involuntarily.

“No. He didn’t.”

“Then why are you angry and sad?”

There is a hint of genuine interest in the man’s voice. Both of these men are confused as to why you would bawl your eyes out after the massacre of your people.

"Because… Because he…"

“He says it is a man’s duty to die in battle. You should be proud of your fallen ones, not cry and feel sorry for them.”

“Tell him that he can go fuck himself,” you shout, not giving a single shit anymore about whether he translates the words or not. 

To no one’s surprise, he does.

“He says he’d rather fuck you,” he returns to you with König’s message.

You can’t bear to look your captor’s way, and still, that’s exactly what you do. You look at the giant as he stares at you, keen and hard and patient. But you know his patience has its limits. It’s almost like a promise, the way he leans forward in that chair and looks at you from under the hood, shameless and challenging.

“Never,” you guide your words to König now. It’s a brave little whisper, but you know that it’s a lie. Even the Great Mother knows you’re lying. You almost hear the cackle of the old woman rising from the earthen ground, from the chthonic depths, to mock you and your vows.

You hear the old man’s words from somewhere far away, from underwater, as König’s stare wrestles you down and takes away your little knife. He subdues you even when he’s sitting, and shares a string of words: a harsh promise. You hold your breath as his cock gives a pulse under that tunic, and your eyes fall, fall, fall onto it, because there’s no escape…

“He says he can make you feel good,” the voice says, and you can’t even hear who speaks. Your mouth is full of water, but you swallow it down, then shoot your way up to the surface, up, up, up into the sunlight, until you can breathe again.

You rip your eyes from König and look at the Roman translator with loathing and contempt.

“You can leave now. This conversation is over.”

Then you turn, trying not to pay any attention to the hushed conversation that proceeds behind your back. The man leaves the tent: you can hear it, and you can also hear how König rises from the chair and walks right behind you.

“No… afraid,” his hands come to rest on your shoulders, but you don’t even flinch. You knew he was going to touch you again. Perhaps you were even looking forward to it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you start to argue, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“You like trees?”

He speaks your words, not good, but he speaks them. You wonder if he has known parts of your tongue all along and has simply concealed it. Has he understood what you’ve said to him…? All the slurs and stupid things? Mother, grant mercy…

“Why would I like—What kind of question is that?”

“Climbed a tree,” he explains cheerfully behind you. You turn and look up, yet again rendered weak. Giants are supposed to be stupid. They’re not supposed to know the language of faeries…

“Nosy,” he brushes your cheek with a smile in his eyes.

“Nosy?” 

You huff - as if you wanted to be there and witness him.

As if you had a choice after the seer pushed you on this insane, cruel path.

“Wanted to see me so bad?” König tilts his head playfully.

Gods… You can only look at him with brows curling with helpless frustration, lip trembling from how he seems to know your every little secret. He nods when you don’t say yes or no. He’s perfectly happy to read all the answers from your eyes.

“Ich wusste, dass es so war,” he changes into his own language, and you don’t need to understand the words he says.

You know he knows. He knows you, he knows you to your core, and it doesn’t really matter in which circumstances you two met. He knows far more than you, something about souls and how they’re supposed to meet, how little squirrels and giants belong together, as crazy as it is. That there is no chance in life: no, it was meant that you two meet. To him, it was no coincidence that you practically dropped into his lap from that tree.

“Did you like what you see?”

He holds your shoulders gently as you quiver and shake inside.

“No,” you peep.

“I like what I see,” he declares; a benevolent god.

…

A/N:. Thank you so much for your love and interest in this fic! As you may have noticed the fic now has 4 parts, which is because the 3rd chapter got too chunky and I had to split it �� Next part might take a while because I'm moving soon, but let me tell you... These guys will be put into *situations*. Oh, and a reminder that I don't have a taglist for this so please check any future updates from my pinned masterlist post 🩷

Translations:

Gut geschlafen? - Sleep well?

Ja, ich weiß. Ich habe deine Leute getötet. Ich verdiene eine Ohrfeige. - Yes, I know. I killed your people. I deserve a slap.

Es ist schön, mit dir zu reden. Aber jetzt muss ich weg. - It is lovely to talk to you. But now I have to go.

Du. Bleibst. - You. Stay.

Magst du es gestreichelt zu werden? - Do you like being petted?

Ich glaube das tust du. - I think you do.

Wurdest du schon einmal berührt…? - Have you ever been touched…?

Verstanden. - Understood. 

Was sagt sie? - What does she say?

Ich wusste dass es so war - I knew it was so.

[writerfromshikahr]

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Lath’halani - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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Lucanis knelt, examining the small flowers scattered across the ground. Their vibrant pink petals caught his eye, delicate and striking.

“Whatcha found?” Bellara asked, her curiosity piqued.

“These flowers, they’re beautiful.” Lucanis’s gloved fingers brushed the petals with care.

Bellara leaned over his shoulder, her eyes lighting up. “Oh! I know what they are. In Dalish they are called "Lath’halani", it loosely translates into "Love's Healing". The story goes, if you give them to someone special, they’ll always take care of your heart, and you.”

“A flower can do all that?”

“Well, not literally,” Bellara admitted. “It’s just a myth, but a romantic one! And sometimes, we all need a little more tenderness in our lives, right?”

Lucanis stood, levelling her with a look. “I’m a Crow, Bellara. What part of my work screams ‘romantic’ to you?”

She grinned impishly. “Which is exactly why you should pick some and give them to....” She stopped abruptly, her mouth snapping shut.

“Give them to who?” He frowned, waiting.

“Well,” she began, shifting awkwardly, “Look, you didn’t hear this from me because I don’t like to gossip—”

“Could have fooled me,” he interrupted dryly. “Go on.”

Bellara forged ahead, unbothered. “But I’ve noticed... something between you and Rook. The way you two sneak glances at each other, honestly.... it’s adorable. Like one of those stories where they don’t kiss until chapter thirty, but the tension is delicious. She’ll probably tell you, one star-filled night in Treviso, that you’re the only person who’s ever made her feel safe. And, in the end, you’ll save each other. Classic.”

“You got all that just from me looking at someone and smiling?” Lucanis muttered.

“Uh-huh.” Bellara’s energy remained as bouncy as ever. “I swear, I’m writing this down later. The Assassin’s Promise—a tale of love, danger, and...”

“Bellara,” he cut her off, his tone sharp. “If you write anything about me, I’ll swap your sugar for salt the next time I cook.”

“Fine, fine,” she relented, though her grin said otherwise. “All I’m saying is maybe you should pick some flowers for Rook. Take them back to the Lighthouse. I think she’d love them.”

Lucanis regarded her for a long moment, then knelt again, plucking a few blooms. He wrapped them carefully in his handkerchief and tucked them into the small pouch he usually reserved for poisons.

“I knew it!” Bellara squeaked, clapping her hands.

Lucanis shot her a look and sighed, “What exactly did you know?” His tone was flat, but a flicker of curiosity lingered.

“That underneath all the grumpiness and doom, you’re just a big softie. A romantic at heart!”

Lucanis rolled his eyes so hard that Bellara feared they might stick.

“I assure you, Bellara, whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s exactly what someone in denial would say.” She clasped her hands behind her back and practically skipped alongside him as they headed back to the Eluvian. “You’re going to give those flowers to Rook, aren’t you? You should. She’d love them. She’d look at you with those big, doe eyes and probably blush to her ears. So sweet.”

“Bellara…” His tone carried a warning, though it lacked bite.

“But I digress,” she continued breezily. “If you’d rather be the brooding type who stares longingly across the room and never acts on his feelings, that’s fine too. Classic slow-burn. Delicious tension. So much angst.”

Lucanis stopped abruptly, fixing her with a flat stare. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not when it’s this much fun.” Her grin was unapologetic.

For a moment, Lucanis debated whether or not to toss her into the nearest river. Ultimately, he decided against it, if only because she’d probably swim back with more commentary. Instead, he shook his head, whispered something in Antivan to himself, and resumed walking.

Bellara trailed behind him at a respectable distance or perhaps a strategic one, but she couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “Just think about it, Lucanis. You, Rook, flowers, romance… a story for the ages!”

Lucanis didn’t dignify her with a response, though his fingers brushed the pouch at his side, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

[r0-boat]

Can I get a mcfuckin uuuhhhhh yandere Elliott from sdv getting pussy drunk? Whether that's just eating reader out or can't stop fucking them is up to you, I just have a need 🥺👉👈

-🍜

Yeeeeeeee

My God Elliot my first husband my love.

There is a yandere Elliott mod that I love with all my heart I will be using this as a basis!

(if you don't know there's a part in the mod where he kidnaps you and keeps you how arrested in your own farm if you try to leave the farm you'll get a cutscene where he pretty much tells you that you're 'very sick' and you need to come back)

Okay without further ado

Yandere Elliott x AFAB gn!reader

Drunk off your pussy

Nsfw

He insisted on carrying you back to the cottage in his arms. Elliot had been so busy with his next book that he had not noticed that you snuck out of the house on your own. He'll have to watch you more closely from now on.

Looking at you now, even with your heaving breaths, your chest rising and falling, your eyes red and wet with tears as you cling to him. It was hard to stay mad at you as much as he wanted to bend you over his knee and make your ass red for disobeying. He spent so many nights without you and his arms and underneath you; seeing you like this just made it harder even to consider punishing you for your actions.

To your surprise, instead of being over his lap, you lay gently on the bed. Elliot, instead of a look of disapproval, it was a look of hunger.

"You disobeyed me, my dear, normally I would punish you like I always do...but I've decided that perhaps I should... Change my methods of punishment." He purrs, licking his lips as he begins to roll down your pants, taking your underwear with it.

Not wanting to make your husband angry or change his mind, you submissively obey. Spreading your legs sweetly for Elliot.

He hums at the sight of your pussy; It had been so long since he had you like this. Maybe that's why you ran. Was it was all just for his attention? "Don't worry, my sweet, I'm here now." Elliot murmurs, his smile morphing into a crazed one. He spreads your lips apart. You felt a hot breath against your cunt before his wet tongue slid inside you.

Tasting your sweet wetness for the first time in a while He shutters.

"mmh, fuck! I've miss this."

Normally your husband would make moments like these more romantic whether it be candles around the cabin too rose petals in the bed, but. You did not deserve these pleasantries.

"No! Spread wider. Don't make me get the spread bar again. If you won't part these legs, then I will make you."He smiles.

If you were going to run away and flirt with some other man like a whore then you were going to be treated like one. Right now you are not his perfect beautiful spouse. You were his play toy pet, writhing and moaning underneath him your hand gripping his hair Your body fighting on whether you should push him away or bug against him. You had your answer You want pleasure struck like lightning feeling his fingers slip inside you in his mouth curl around your clit. Elliot knew all the best ways to pleasure you.w hat kind of husband would he be if he didn't know how to make his precious spouse cum? With him suckling your clit and his fingers working your sensitive spot inside. You tried to stifle your noises. Which made your husband frown.

"come on, my sweet, let me hear you."He begs, his eyebrows furrowing as he kisses your inner thighs.

He plays with your clit in a way you cannot resist and his fingers pick up their pace slamming knuckles deep inside you every tense of his arm.

You tried to close your quivering legs, only for Elliot to remove his hand and mouth only too strike your cunt with his hand after prying you open. Youre loving husband striking you in any way stunned you. He was sorry to hurt you like this, but if you do not listen, there'll be more where that came from.

As he feels you get close, he removes his fingers, replacing them with his eager tongue, not before licking them clean, not wanting to waste a single drop of your delicious cunt

his thumb pressing against your swollen throbbing clit.

"I miss the taste of your cum on my tongue. Are you going to be good and give it to me? Do I have to ring you out for every last drop you have? Hm?" Elliott purrs, dragging his tongue across your wet lips.

To wasted no time diving his tongue inside, brushing his nose against your clit as he licks and sucks you out like a starving man. Feverishly trying to spread you even wider, pressing your hips, making you grind your cunt against his face. You arch your back cumming on his tongue, and he rides out your orgasm moaning and bucking his own hips as he drinks every last drop of your cum.

His mouth glistens with your juices as he parts from you. His tongue lulled out, and his eyes glazed over with lust and bliss. He thought he had his fell as you tried to squirm away. He holds you down, nuzzling against your inner thigh.

"Where do you think you're going, beloved? We're not done. This is a punishment, remember?"

"I will eat your pussy; I'll make you flood my mouth over and over till You're too tired to even move from your bed tomorrow. Maybe then you'll finally stay put."

[blueberrylixie]

yes, sir

part two of the yes series

to read part one, yes, professor, click here !

student hyunjin x fem! student reader x professor changbin 

word count: 11,247

Content warnings: cursing, threesome (mfm, no bxb), oral sex (m and f receiving), pussy job, anal sex (f receiving), pet names (slut, whore, baby, sweetheart, etc.), use of professor and sir for males, light spanking, light degradation, descriptions of cum, graphic depictions of sex (that's why ur here lol)

let me know if i missed anything in this one-shot bc i tend to miss stuff! if you want to skip to the smut, scroll to the white heart divider!

six months after yes, professor... 

"C'mon baby, I'm hungry!" 

You giggled, shaking your head at Hwang Hyunjin, your boyfriend of three months. He tended to be whiny and dramatic at times, especially when he got hangry. But since you'd been his friend since before you started dating, you'd known what to expect. 

But today, you had a special plan. Because you weren't just hungry for pizza. 

You and Hyunjin had started dating back in January, around three months after you'd officially met during your first semester of senior year. The two of you had really connected over your love for the arts, being two creative people suffering through their one and only math course of their college career. You'd truly come to care about him not only as a friend, but as a potential soulmate, too. 

There was really nothing wrong with your relationship, and you had zero complaints about him as a partner. He was sweet and attentive, smart and thoughtful, and he always made time for you. He especially loved setting up cute dates, from painting classes to movie nights. He was also incredibly passionate, always wanting to be near you, whether it be just touching and cuddling, or full-blown makeouts. He constantly gave you butterflies, a warm feeling in your stomach. And it certainly didn't hurt that he was irresistibly sexy. 

But there was one thing that had been weighing on your mind for the past month or so. Even though your relationship was strong, and the romantic and sexual chemistry was hot, sizzling even, you had always left each sexual encounter... wanting more. 

Because no matter how hard Hyunjin tried, he just couldn't make you cum. 

Of course, he was always very apologetic and embarrassed, which was incredibly endearing. And really, you didn't mind that you couldn't finish. He was totally okay with you touching yourself instead, especially if he got to watch. But c'mon, what girl didn't want to cum at the same time as their gorgeous art major boyfriend? 

Because at the end of the day, you knew why you were struggling. Every time you came close, hanging on that precipice, begging your body to just release, like clockwork... a certain glasses-clad math professor in a sexy dark sweater would invade your mind. A professor who didn't even teach you anymore. But no matter how long it had been since you'd spoken to him, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the thoughts. 

But tonight, you were determined to break the cycle. Tonight, you were going to enact a plan: seduce Hyunjin, and have the best sex of your life. 

"Okay, okay!" You decided to play along with your hungry boyfriend's complaints for now, following him into his apartment, and laughing all the way to the kitchen. "I wouldn't want my handsome man to starve, after a long day of studying." 

He nodded furiously. "Yeah, since you forced me to work, I deserve food!" 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his arm playfully. "So me wanting to help you pass English Lit is forceful, now? What about you making me study Art Comp — an elective, might I add — for three hours straight, huh?" 

Smirking, he squeezed your hand tightly. "You're right, baby. You deserve to eat too." 

But before you could reach for the pizza, Hyunjin's hands, which had been holding yours tightly the entire way back from the campus library, wrapped around your waist, and lifted you onto the kitchen counter. He stepped between your legs and leaned in, so you were mere inches apart. "But first, I'd like my appetizer." He grinned, a silent request. 

Your heart leapt. Maybe he was feeling just as horny as you were. Wearing a cozy black cable-knit sweater over a white collared button-up shirt, paired with black slacks and brown loafers, he looked absolutely delicious. How were you expected to resist? You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, taking his black-rimmed glasses and setting them on the counter so you could pull him closer. 

He sighed happily against your mouth, and you brought your hands up to grip both sides of his face, pulling him to you. You melded together, tasting each other with a sweet, gentle passion. How could it be this early, and you were already experiencing such strong feelings for him? It just made your resolve to enact this plan even stronger. 

Nipping your bottom lip playfully, he let go, carefully setting you back on the kitchen floor, but never releasing your hand. You wrapped an arm around his waist, curling into the warmth of his body. He smelled of clean laundry and wet paint, your favorite scent as of the past three months. When you breathed him in, a sense of calm blanketed your mind, and you smiled against him. 

He kissed the top of your head as he served you a plate of pizza, then pulled a chair out and waited for you to sit, before settling in as well, grabbing a slice for himself. He took a bite, his free hand snaking down to your bare thigh and squeezing tight. The two of you ate in silence, your mind temporarily getting distracted by the need for food. The cheap cheese, the only thing you college students could afford, satisfied one of your cravings after a long day of studying. You closed your eyes and smiled, resting your head on his shoulder in contentment. He looked down and met your gaze, eyes filled with affection. "Was all that hard work worth it, baby?" he teased. "You look like you're in heaven." 

You shrugged. "What? It's really good, don't you think?" 

He chuckled, reaching out with a napkin to wipe some grease off the side of your face. "I just like seeing you happy. Oh, and I'm fucking starving! It makes even this crappy pizza taste amazing." 

Wiping your mouth, you smiled in response. God, was he trying to tease you, by being the absolute best boyfriend in the world and wearing your absolute favorite outfit of his? It was time to get your plan rolling, because you wanted this man too damn badly. 

Your hand came up, and you stroked his cheek gently. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "You know Hyun, the pizza isn't the only thing that tastes amazing," you murmured, zeroing in on the splotch of pizza sauce on the edge of his lip. Leaning in, you licked it off, getting a taste of the tangy sauce, an intoxicating whiff of your boyfriend following it. 

He visibly gulped, looking you up and down nervously. The back of his neck began to redden, but he grinned, trying to keep his cool. He was just too adorable when he got flustered, you thought with satisfaction. 

You snatched up his hand and stood up. "You wanna find out what it is?" you asked coyly. "I hear that there's a very good boy who finished all his studies. I think he deserves something sweet as a reward." 

Hyunjin's dark eyes lit up with excitement, and before you could react, he was standing up and snatching you into his arms bridal style, carrying you all the way to his bedroom. 

"Hyun, you can't just take me away from my food like this!" you cried, playfully smacking his chest over and over. But you hid a smile against his shoulder. How did you know your plan would be so easy? 

He smirked, tossing you onto the bed with just enough care so you wouldn't get hurt. "What? You said I would get a treat. If it's the treat I think it is, I would be a fool to dawdle." Then, he sat on the bed, and patted his lap. "Now, what were you saying about something being delicious and sweet, huh?" 

"Okay, okay Mr. Impatient." You rolled your eyes. "But first, I want all this off." Motioning to his sweater and button-up combo, you grinned. "I wanna see how hot my boyfriend is."

"Oh really?" he inquired, brows raised. But without another word, he pulled his sweater over his head and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his slim, yet distractingly toned body. He'd only gotten more muscular since you started dating. He'd always been mouth-wateringly sexy, but with those sinewy arms and defined abs, it was a panty-wetter for sure. 

You bit your lip as you visually devoured him. Reaching your arms out to him, you fisted each side of his open shirt, and pulled him towards you.  "Okay Mr. Hwang, it's time for your special reward." 

He fell into your embrace readily, hands carding through your hair, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, tugging him as close as possible. You cupped his face in both hands, before dipping your head to his, and engaging in a deep, intimate kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth, and they tangled together messily as he nibbled on your bottom lip, causing you to whine against him, begging for more. 

"Already so needy, baby?" he teased, eyes narrowing playfully. "I thought you were giving me a present, not the other way around." 

You pouted, beginning to grind against him uncontrollably, desperately seeking the friction his clothed crotch gave you. "Did you think I was just going to give up?" you huffed. Before he could reply, you climbed off his lap, and pushed him into the mattress, sliding down his body and unfastening the button on his slacks, tugging them off, along with his boxers.

His semi-hard cock, flushed and pretty, sprang forth immediately, and you grasped him firmly in one hand, admiring him. All pink and long, with a vein down the middle. You knew he went especially crazy when you licked that spot...

Hyunjin watched you, curious eyes shadowed with arousal. "If this is my reward, can I request something?" he asked, his voice turned deep and husky at the mere prospect of you pleasuring him. 

You shrugged, nodding. "Sure baby, you can request anything you want." 

"Take your top off, yeah? I can't be the only one without my clothes on, and I want to see your gorgeous body."

You obediently pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you exposed in your lacy black bra. Although you hadn't dressed up outwardly, having been studying for hours, this was part of your plan. So naturally, you had to wow him with his favorite pair of lingerie. 

And judging from the way Hyunjin's cock instantly began swelling against your palm, your plan was working. He whistled quietly at the sight, starting to thrust himself in and out of your hand, moaning at the sensation. 

"Fuck baby, did you wear that pretty number just for me?" He clenched his jaw as he gazed at you, using both of his elbows to prop himself up so he could observe your skilled ministrations. 

You smirked, now using both hands to stroke him up and down. "Is there anything wrong with wanting to look pretty for my man?" you asked demurely, before opening your mouth and licking a stripe down the length of his gorgeous cock, marveling at the salty flavor of his precum, which had started beading from the tip and onto your hand. 

"Fuck, don't tease me, angel," Hyunjin gritted out, squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation. "Show me how good your mouth is." 

Spurred on by your boyfriend's praise, you took him all the way, sucking with vigor as you bobbed your head up and down, saliva dripping onto his stomach. Kneeling on the bed, you arched your back higher, so he could get a nice view of your ass as you worked. 

"Shit, yes, just like that baby, I-I'm gonna fucking bust," Hyunjin stammered through swollen lips, fighting between closing his eyes and the desire to stare at you. "Look at your sexy little ass, in the air just for me. You're so hot." Unable to control himself, his hips began jerking up and down at a faster pace, and you began choking on his cock, as he forced it down your throat. 

"Yes Hyun, use me however you want," you gasped around him, using your hands to stroke the base, which was slick with spit and precum. "Fuck, you're so big, I want you inside me right now." 

"Yeah? You want your boyfriend to fuck you silly?" he panted in desperation, sweat shining on his forehead. "Then get your cute ass up here." 

You hustled to lay on the bed, and Hyunjin knelt above you, his cock still fully hard and pulsing with desire. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him close to you, inviting his cock to rest at the entrance of your pussy. You were so wet, you were soaking through the sheets below you, begging to be fucked. 

"Shit, you're really making a mess down there, sweetheart," Hyunjin murmured reverently, sliding the pad of his thumb against your cunt, forcing a desperate whimper from your lips. 

"I'm only wet for you, Hyun." You batted your eyelashes at him enticingly, rubbing your pussy against his cock, reveling in the sensation of him against your sensitive nerves. "Please, fuck me?" 

"Ah shit," Hyunjin scrubbed a hand down his face, before using his arms to brace himself over you. "How could I say no, when you just gave me the best gift ever?" 

"It's not finished yet," you breathed, as you lined his cock up with your entrance, and, pushing your legs against his back, pulled him flush against you. 

Taking this as permission, Hyunjin thrusted into you in one harsh movement, until he was balls deep in your tight heat. The air was instantly filled with your and his desperate moans, as he picked up speed, and he was pounding in and out of you, aided by your raised hips and pretty whimpers. 

"Yes baby, yes," he panted, the bed shaking and creaking as he fucked in and out of you impossibly faster, wet slapping sounds proof of your arousal. "You fit me so well, squeeze me so tight." 

"Please Hyun, touch me," you gasped, sliding your hands into his hair and pulling desperately. This was what happened every time. You would get so close and beg him to touch you, or kiss your neck, or suck your nipples. And he would, every time. But...

"Of course, beautiful," Hyunjin's rough fingers slipped between your legs, as he began rubbing that bundle of nerves vigorously. "Are you close, baby? I think I'm gonna cum, but I want to finish together this time." His hips shook as he tried to stave off his approaching orgasm. 

You whimpered against him, burying your face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent. Grinding yourself frantically against his fingers and cock, neither of which had slowed, you silently begged yourself to get there, just finish so you could have your first ever orgasm at the same time as your boyfriend. 

"And from now on, you will call me Professor." 

Fuck. You took a sharp inhale of breath, cunt tightening as those words, words which had admittedly haunted you for six months, suddenly invaded your brain. And they always did, every time you had sex with Hyunjin. 

"Baby, baby, baby, I-I cant hold off any longer-" Hyunjin gasped, before his hips stuttered, jerking a few times, and he finished inside of you with a few choked shudders. 

"I-I'm sorry," you whispered, as your orgasm faded, your mind still stuck on a certain math professor. One you hadn't so much as spoken to in months. 

Hyunjin deflated at your words. He knew that you had never finished properly with him. You cared too much about him to lie. But it hurt you to see him like this. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong!" 

You pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. "You're not doing anything wrong, babe. We'll figure it out."

But you were upset at yourself. Why was it that whenever you merely thought about Changbin in bed, you were immediately pulled out of whatever aroused state you were in, only thinking about him? Because... you'd never felt the way you had fucking him. Even if you had a perfect relationship with Hyunjin. 

Had Changbin ruined all sex for you? 

Or had you not gotten him out of your system yet? 

—————————————

One week later...

You hustled down the hall towards your final class of the day, Advanced Syntax and Sentence Structure. It was one of your favorite courses, and you were always excited to attend. 

But not today. No, today, you were in a terrible mood. You had been for the entire week. 

Because all you could think about was the fact that you hadn't been able to properly orgasm for over three months. Was it too much to ask? To cum on your gorgeous boyfriend's cock? That was one of the many questions that had been circulating your brain during all waking hours. Along with, was this what having blue balls was like? If so, no wonder men got so touchy when they hadn't gotten laid. 

But the real — and perhaps more disconcerting — conundrum was the fact that you couldn't stop comparing your sex life with Hyunjin to your past foray with Changbin. And even more infuriating still? You'd only slept with that gorgeous buff, domineering, smart man once. He was a little, but not too much, older. And yet, he seemed more mature, and seemed to understand a woman's body better than anyone your age. And potentially because of that, you couldn't stop thinking about that single day in his classroom.

And what you hated the most was that you would never get to be with him, ever again. 

It wasn't that you didn't want to be with Hyunjin. Quite the opposite, in fact. You wanted to be with him for the long haul. You thought you could even see yourself falling in love with him. But as confident as he was, he wasn't as sexually experienced as some of your past partners. And certainly not as experienced as Changbin. 

"He could learn a thing or two from him..." you muttered before you even realized what you'd said, eyes narrowed as you stared down at your shoes. You regretted that thought, wishing you could just banish your hot former professor from your mind.

But before you could second guess your thoughts any further, you ran headfirst into something. Something much too warm and solid. 

—————————————

Changbin was overwhelmed. 

It was the final month of the last semester, and finals were quickly approaching. He was teaching five courses, the maximum number of classes a professor could take on in a semester. At the time, he thought it would be a breeze. Now, he was dearly regretting that decision. 

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose when they slipped down, his gaze buried in his papers while he walked. On top of all his regular responsibilities, a fellow professor and friend had fallen ill, and asked Changbin to sub for their class. He was in the English building, heading there now. In one hand, he held the class's lecture, which he hadn't read. In the other was the Calculus 3000 tests he'd given last week, and had yet to grade, his briefcase around his forearm. He took any free moment to remove a bit of his workload. 

Just as he was switching from his lecture to grading the test midair, the wind was knocked out of him, as something — or someone — ran headfirst into him. 

"Ah shit!" Changbin grunted, his papers spilling to the floor in a messy heap. Dammit, that was going to take at least a half hour to sort through, he thought grumpily.

"Oh geez, I'm so sorry! God, what a mess of a day..."

Changbin finally looked away from his papers, and back at the person who had run into him. His heart was suddenly thudding out of his chest, tongue feeling wrong in his mouth. Because he would recognize that voice anywhere. 

"M-Miss English Major," he croaked, his words broken and awkward. He could feel heat rising up his neck, as he took in the sight of you for the first time in almost five months. 

He'd never stopped thinking about you, even after all this time. Whether he was at home alone with nothing but his hand (doing less than savory things), or just sitting in his classroom, exhausted (don't worry, he wouldn't taint that room without you), his thoughts couldn't help but drift back to you. Not only had you shown him what mind-blowingly amazing sex was, but you were also an incredible person. He'd told you the truth, months ago. He'd never met anyone like you. And he still hadn't. And if his body, especially late at night, was anything to go off of, he still wanted you, badly. 

But while his memory of that single afternoon with you was clear as a freshly polished window, the intricate details of you had faded overtime. So seeing you now was a punch to the gut, one he would welcome, over and over again.

Because hell, you looked amazing. Even better than what his fantasies continually conjured up. The furrow between your eyebrows when you were distressed, the nape of your neck where a single freckle sat, or your addictive smell, one of orchids and new books. 

And your body. He swallowed hard, that lump staying lodged in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Dressed in some kind of distressingly tight cropped t-shirt with the words "Cute Girls Club" written across the tits, he couldn't help but ogle you. Jesus, you were just walking around like that, for everyone to see? And you were doing this, while he sat oblivious, for months? He ground his teeth together in poorly pent-up frustration. How was he getting jealous over you, while you probably hadn't thought about him once? He should really get his shit together, and go to class.

But your eyes were his downfall. That gaze of yours flicked to his, filled with apology (why were you sorry, again?) and... something else. A darkness, one that wasn't there last he saw you. He frowned, all thoughts of abandoning you gone. He carefully studied your features, ones that he'd known so well, terrified that he might forget, or worse, never see again. 

Was something wrong? 

Your words from a few moments prior echoed in his mind. "God, what a mess of a day..." And upon closer inspection, there was a tension around your eyes, your mouth. Like it was a struggle just to smile. 

"Professor Seo." You nodded at him, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. That tempting, delicious mouth. Changbin tracked the movement hungrily. You averted your gaze, cheeks rosy, like you knew what he was doing. But the mere thought that he might have flustered you flooded him with a sense of relief and pride. But he could still see something was wearing on you. 

"Are you okay?" He leaned down so his face was level with yours. Your eyes widened, and he had the urge to grab you, and hold you to him, just for the chance to feel your body again. How had he endured this long outside of your presence? 

You shook your head, laughing weakly. "Oh, it's nothing. I wouldn't want to bother you with my stupid shit. Thank you though, Professor." And with that, you made to duck out of his way, and down the hall. 

"Wait!" The word flew from his mouth accidentally, but he didn't regret it. Because you turned back around, that tired look still encasing your breathtaking qualities. 

"Yes, Professor?" you asked softly. Just the sound of you saying those words brought back an entourage of memories, one that threatened to destroy him. His cock twitched in his pants, and he casually covered himself with his briefcase. Fuck, he could not be getting turned on in the middle of campus, right before class. 

He paused. He hadn't thought of what else to say, he just knew that you couldn't leave, not again. "I know we haven't talked in awhile but... you can always tell me what's going on." 

You stood there for a few seconds, pondering his offer. The two of you really had gotten to know each other over the semester you had taken his class. He hoped that you felt the same. 

"I-it's nothing," you repeated, but there was a quaver of anger hidden in those words. "It's just stuff with my boyfriend. I'm just, well, I'm frustrated-" 

But Changbin didn't hear anything past the word "boyfriend". His fists balled themselves at his sides, his breathing came fast and shallow, as he worked his jaw up and down so hard, he felt like his teeth might break. Red colored his vision.

So you had a boyfriend. Who the hell was he? Who had taken his girl from right under his nose? Hadn't the two of you connected like no one ever had? It had felt like soulmate shit, at least to him. 

But he supposed he hadn't made another move on you, after your singular rendezvous. And no matter how absolutely incredible it had been, he couldn't expect you to wait around for months. And since you were his student, and he'd been very skittish about any kind of relationship with you before he'd snapped like a taut rubber band, he couldn't blame you if you thought he'd changed his mind again. Maybe even thought he regretted his decision to fuck you in the first place. 

But that was so opposite from the truth, it made his chest hurt. He had to do something to rectify it. To get you back. Because you were his girl, weren't you? But what could he do? 

"Who is it?" he seethed, voice much angrier than he meant it. But he was just so fucking pissed, and even a little humiliated, that he had his chance, and fumbled, horrifically. 

You stared at him, stunned. "You know him," you began. "Hyunjin? We've been together for three months now." 

"Oh, the Hwang boy," Changbin scoffed, internally begging his mouth to close, for the next words not to be uttered. But jealousy spurred him on. "Well, there's your problem. There's no way he's satisfying you." 

Fuck, he groaned. That was sure to be the end, right? The end of this conversation, the end of a potential re-connection with you. You were going to cuss him out and walk away, never to be seen by him again. His jealousy probably just ruined something that could have been great. 

But you didn't do any of that. You just gaped at him, open-mouthed and lost for words. "Well, I- y-you don't know anything!" you stammered, cheeks bright red. "W-why would you think that??" 

Changbin paused, caught off guard. Was he... onto something? Was that Hwang boy not satisfying his queen? His beautiful, smart, creative English Major? Were you trying your best to be fulfilled, only for your boyfriend to fall short? Were you sexually frustrated? Yet another onslaught of dirty thoughts berated his mind, of you whimpering and begging your boyfriend to give you an orgasm, and every time, being denied. 

That just wouldn't do. He set his jaw, eyes narrowed with misplaced anger. At you, for leaving him. And the Hwang boy, for taking the woman he was just starting to realize the depths of his feelings for. And that jealousy started to coil deep in his stomach, a viper, ready to strike at this golden opportunity. 

No, Changbin, he inwardly warned himself. You can't say what you're thinking right now. That would be inappropriate, and grossly assuming that your feelings were anywhere near the same as his. You had a boyfriend, for fuck's sake. There was no way you wanted him anymore. It had been months ago. Things had changed. 

He really should go. 

"You know, if you're asking for advice... I recommend a more hands-on approach." Shut up Changbin, shut the fuck up. 

But again, you didn't leave. Your eyes just flicked back and forth, and you chewed on your lower lip, like you were actually contemplating it. 

After another painstaking ten seconds, you spoke. "Do you have a piece of paper?" you asked, eyes zeroing in on the humongous pile still on the floor. 

"Oh! Uh, yeah of course!" Changbin practically fell to the ground, scrambling to pick up his papers, trying to look semi-put together while doing so. He snatched up a page from his lecture notes, trying not to let nerves and confusion take over his senses. 

You slowly pulled a pen out from the inside of your shirt. Did you store pens in your bra? He salivated at the thought, and his cock stiffened in his pants once again. Dammit, how many times would he get a boner in a mere ten minutes spent around you? 

When you realized he was staring, you swallowed. "Uh, English major things," you said hastily, before handing him the pen, face so flushed and pretty, he wished he could reach out and kiss it. When he stared at you dumbly, you added, "Write your number on it. I'll text you." You smiled nervously at him. "If you're serious about your offer, that is." 

Changbin had never written anything faster in his entire life. You took the paper from his hand, and he swore you brushed your fingers against his on purpose. A cold sweat broke out across his body, sick satisfaction filling him. 

Holy hell, what had he just gotten himself into? 

—————————————

You'd always considered yourself to be a reasonably intelligent human being. But making rash decisions, fueled entirely by emotion? That was your fatal character flaw. And today was no different. 

But how could any girl with eyes deny Seo Changbin, especially when he was looking sexy as hell in his usual sweater and slacks combo, paired with those glasses that made him look like a big, sexy nerd? His hair was all mussed, and he had heavy eye bags, probably due to lack of sleep and finals fast approaching. And something about that haggard, hardworking professor was your undoing. 

And don't even get you started on when he practically started begging you to let him sleep with you one more time, as if he hadn't gotten enough the first time. Damn him for showing up at the same time that you were lusting after him! 

So yeah, you were just going to blame this whole messy situation on Changbin. That made everything easier. 

Well, not everything. You still had to find a way to breach the subject with your boyfriend. 

Of course, you could just pretend that the conversation between you and Changbin never happened, and just go about your life with Hyunjin like normal. And a large part of you, the cowardly part, wanted to do just that. 

But a much darker, hungrier side of you wanted this. Desperately. Possibly even needed it. It wasn't that you weren't absolutely obsessed with your boyfriend. Your desperation was, in part, because you were obsessed with him. You wanted this relationship to work so badly, that you were concocting insane ways to help him fully satisfy you. 

Something as insane as asking your past hookup to teach Hyunjin how to pleasure you. Because oh, what a remarkable job he'd done at it. Your cheeks warmed at the thought. 

Now, you were leaving campus after class, and heading to Hyunjin's apartment. He'd said he was making dinner tonight, and you were both excited and apprehensive to see the result. But the thing that was really stressing you out was deciding how to broach the conundrum you'd landed yourself in, which also happened to be a taboo topic. 

You knocked on the door, and you heard a clatter of pots and pans come from within. But you knew you were truly nervous, because you couldn't even focus on the idea of Hyunjin's cooking chaos. You needed to get this conversation over with, now. 

"Baby!" Hyunjin shoved the door open, a huge grin on his face. Something red was splattered across his nose, and a waft of tomato sauce emanated from inside. He grabbed your hand, and pulled you into the kitchen, where a pot of sauce was bubbling on the stove, next to some browned ground beef. He grinned, pointing at it proudly. "How does it look?? Amazing, right??" 

You smiled, unable to hide your relief. Both at seeing him so happy, and the fact there was no visible mess, yet. "It looks delicious. Is it almost ready?" 

He nodded. "The pasta is in the strainer over there, can you grab it for me?" 

The two of you finished making dinner together, laughing and talking about how your day went. There was no way you could bring up your conversation with Changbin now, right? You didn't think you could bear to see that gorgeous smile of Hyunjin's slide off his face when he heard that you'd been lusting after another man. Your stomach turned over at the thought. No, you would wait until after dinner. 

"As you know, I presented my second art final today!" Hyunjin was babbling, mouth full of spaghetti and meat sauce. "And I have to say, I think mine was one of the best. Not because it was a masterpiece or anything, but some of the others really sucked! Sorry, that sounds rude. They were uh... not good!" 

You tried to stay engaged with his story, but your thoughts kept straying, attempting to put together a script of what to say when you inevitably had to confess. 

"Baby? Baby? Babyyyy?" 

You snapped back to reality. Hyunjin was waving his pasta-filled fork in front of your face, a pout on his lips. 

"Ah! Sorry, what were you saying?" you asked, smiling innocently. 

He frowned, jabbing the utensil in your face accusingly. "You weren't listening to me?? Babe, what's up? You always listen to all of my stories!" 

"I know Hyun, I'm sorry." You reached out and took his hand. Yours was sweaty, so he was sure to know something was wrong. "Today was a... weird day." 

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, expression now one of concern. "Weird? How? Tell me!" 

So you proceeded to explain how you'd run into Changbin, and relayed the conversation you'd had. Hyunjin knew about your history with Changbin, because you'd told him about it when you'd become close.

So far, he didn't seem to mind that Changbin had asked about your sex life. That was a start. But before you could tell him the insane proposition Changbin had made, you stopped short, cheeks reddening at the thought. 

"And?" Hyunjin prompted. "I can tell there's more. After your history, he can't have just walked away." 

"No, he didn't," you mumbled, steeling yourself for the big reveal. "He... well, he basically offered to help us out, if we needed it. You know, in bed. And I might have... asked him for his number." You covered your face, as you felt like melting on the spot. 

Hyunjin sat next to you, the silence stretching painfully. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed yours, squeezing tightly. 

Stunned, you uncovered your eyes, chancing a peek at him. And Hyunjin was... smiling? At you? You took your hands away from your face entirely, gaping at him in surprise. You hadn't expected his reaction. What was his reaction? 

"Don't leave me hanging here, Hyun," you managed, laughing shakily as you gripped his hand like a lifeline. 

The hint of a smile curled into a full-on grin as he spoke. "You want to have a threesome with Professor Seo, baby?" 

You groaned, face bright scarlet. "I-I don't know, I wanted to talk to you first! I haven't texted him, or anything. But..." 

"But you haven't been able to cum with me," he prompted. "And... you did with him, right?" 

You nodded imperceptibly, unable to utter a word. 

"Do you still want to be with me?" 

You jerked your head furiously. "Yes! Yes, always, Hyun. I've never connected with anyone more, and I care about you so much. I would only want to do this if you wanted to! I don't want you to think that-" 

He laughed, shaking his head. "No I know baby, me too. I just wanted to make sure. Because... I've always thought it would be hot to see you with another guy. Did I ever think it would be my former math professor? Hell no. But if I could join too, then I would do anything to make you happy." 

Your eyes widened further, and it felt like your heart was going to explode, as you stared, speechless, at your boyfriend. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Did he... want to do this? Not just for you, but for his pleasure as well? 

"S-so you're saying that-" you stumbled over your words. 

Hyunjin leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. "Go text him, baby." 

changbin

ms. english major

hi changbin

changbin

is this ms. english major? 

ms. english major

wow, didn't expect you 

to reply so quickly

changbin 

well, what is it? 

ms. english major

hyunjin and i talked

he agreed to it

changbin

oh really? and? 

ms. english major

why don't you come over to 

hyun's place tomorrow night? 9pm?

changbin 

wow, just assuming i'm 

free anytime you want? 

ms. english major

...

i'll send you the address.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Was Changbin making a dreadful mistake? 

Standing outside the door of Hyunjin's — your current boyfriend's — apartment, a wave of self doubt threatened to crash over him. Had he completely screwed up agreeing to share a taken woman? He never thought he would find himself in a situation even close to this. He wouldn't do this for anyone.

But you were different. You were you. Creative and witty, passionate in a way he'd never before witnessed, in both life goals and in bed. And on top of it all, he'd connected with you on another level. And now, he couldn't get you out of his head. This would all be worth it to sleep with you one more time. 

So he reached his hand up, and knocked on the door. 

After a solid twenty seconds, where Changbin could hear nothing except the terrified thudding of his own heart, the door swung open, and... there you stood. Donning nothing but a white silk robe, and a crafty smile. 

"Come in, Professor," you said, voice soft and sultry, words dripping like honey off your full, cherry-red lips. 

Changbin gulped, following you into the living room, mouth dry. In the soft orange light and the mystery of the night, you looked so delectable, he wanted to pry your legs open and take you right there, on the brown leather couch. 

"This is Hyunjin's apartment." You swept your arms around the space, flashing him a flirty grin that had his stomach clenching with desire. "Not that you'll be seeing much of it, outside of the bedroom." 

Changbin closed his eyes, trying not to pop a blood vessel from the boner already growing in his pants. Taking a precursory look around, he was impressed with the aesthetic Hyunjin had managed to curate on a college student budget. A mix of artsy and chic, with a smattering of eclectic colors that somehow all harmonized with one another, it truly looked like a home. It was much cozier than Changbin's townhome, which featured a lone picture of him and his close friends at the beach last year, and one gray couch in the living room. 

The abode of a true bachelor, he sighed to himself. If he ever wanted to invite you over, he would have to spruce it up, majorly. 

The two of you entered the bedroom, where Hyunjin was sitting at a desk, tapping away on his phone like this was just your average evening. Did you do this often? The disturbing idea forced its way into his mind. 

You smiled at him again, and the thought dissolved instantly. Hyunjin looked up, and immediately set his phone down, a look of apprehension and cautious excitement crossing his face. Was he just as nervous as Changbin? 

"Well, since this is our first time doing anything like this," you began, answering his question, "Hyun and I just want to make sure that you're sure that you're comfortable, and you want to do this. A-and we wanted to let you know that we're open to anything, since you're helping us. Right, babe?" You cut a glance at Hyunjin. 

The man nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yeah, I want to pleasure my girl. And... she said she had a great time with you before." He ducked his head. 

"And he doesn't mind sharing me, for the night," you added quietly, blushing prettily. 

Changbin bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud. Fuck, how did you know exactly how to turn him on? 

"Well, if you two are comfortable, then so am I," he started, turning to you, his voice lowering an octave, deep and hoarse. "As long as you're willing to follow my instructions." 

You immediately snapped to attention at his tone change, back going taut as a coiled spring. "Y-yes, Professor. Anything you want." 

Hyunjin watched with dark eyes, as he ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck baby, I didn't know rough language turned you on so much. I like it." 

"So, what's the real problem here?" Changbin asked, wondering exactly how much he could squeeze out of this little deal. "Is it him eating you out? The sex? Both?" 

"It's not the sex itself," you paused, chewing your lower lip. "It's just that I can't cum. I-I don't know why, but I just can't get there." 

Changbin nodded slowly. "Well, why don't we see what we're working with, huh?" He pointed at Hyunjin. "Show me how you eat her out." 

You smiled at him, lip wobbling from nerves. "Before we start, I have a little surprise for you. For both of you." 

Changbin watched, entranced, as you slowly removed your robe, body moving oh-so-sensually, revealing matching white and red lace lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. The lace across your perky breasts, the ribbons gracing your silky thighs, everything made his mouth water. You smiled, a sultry look, directly at Changbin, and he was instantly brought back to that day in his classroom, when he'd finally given in to the temptation to take you. That day had been a blur of hot red, as he blindly followed every urge he felt. 

As he grabbed you around the waist and pushed you into the mattress, planting a hard, searing kiss to your awaiting lips, it felt even better than that day. You were no longer in your school clothes. You were dressed so pretty, all for him. And he would take anything you were willing to give. 

And give you did. Wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, moaning so sexily against his lips, slipping your tongue into his mouth, you tasted of a desperation that he lapped up like syrup. Your hands slid into his hair and tugged, as the two of you explored one another like it was simultaneously the first time, and the one hundredth.

"I missed you, Professor," you whispered breathlessly, pupils blown wide as you finally broke the kiss. "I was scared you wouldn't agree to come tonight." 

He grinned, releasing you and allowing Hyunjin to take his place. "I could never say no to another chance with you, beautiful." 

Hyunjin knelt in front of you, licking his lips eagerly. "My irresistible baby," he crooned at you, pulling the white thong to the side and running his thumb through your already soaked cunt. 

You whimpered, immediately becoming putty beneath your boyfriend's touch. Sliding a hand into Hyunjin's long, wavy hair, you tugged him closer, lip pulled between your teeth, waiting with baited breath. "Please Hyun, your tongue," you begged. 

Changbin watched with reverence, trying to memorize every little reaction, every movement you made. 

Hyunjin acquiesced to your pleas without question, shoving his head between your legs as he opened his mouth, latching onto your clit and sucking hard. His fingers worked in tandem with his tongue, as they both fucked in and out of you with abandon. 

Your hips bucked against his ministrations, incoherent words of desperation spilling from your lips as you reached for Changbin, eyes watery and filled with need. A sheen of sweat already glistened across your forehead, and Changbin was at your side in an instant, pressing kisses against you, relishing the salty taste. 

"You like that huh, sweetheart?" he growled, a deep rumble in his throat, as he moved his lips down your neck, across your collarbone, and to your breasts. "You like the feeling of your boyfriend eating your wet little pussy, while your professor sucks your nipples?" 

You cried out, and Hyunjin only increased his movements in response, the wet squelching of your cunt mixing with your garbled moans. Changbin latched onto a raised nipple and sucked harshly, biting at them, and making you squirm with sensitivity beneath his grasp. Hyunjin continued to fuck his tongue in and out of you, his fingers stroking you desperately. 

You gripped Changbin's arms, and he knew your orgasm was looming closer and closer. You squeezed your eyes shut, hands moving to his hair and pulling as you wrapped your legs around Hyunjin's head, entire body shaking violently. 

"Y-yes, right there!" you pleaded, rocking your hips, hungry for more. Your gaze locked on Changbin, hot with lust, and his cock twitched in response. "Please, don't stop!" 

Hyunjin moaned raggedly against you, sending vibrations shivering through your sensitive nerves. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how amazing it felt, your orgasm... subsided. Disappeared. You whimpered softly, heart sinking. 

"Did you cum, love?" Hyunjin asked after a moment. But he already knew the answer. You hesitated, then shook your head. 

"It looked like you were really enjoying it," Changbin mused, pressing another kiss to your chest and standing up. "And not to be weird, but I think he was doing a good job."

"Do you like it when Professor Seo says mean things to you, baby?" Hyunjin interrupted, continuing to rub gentle circles against your soaked pussy. "Every time he said something mean, you practically gushed on my tongue." 

You averted your gaze, cheeks red. But you nodded anyway. "Yes, I think... I think when he's mean to me, I get really turned on," you whispered, finally meeting Hyunjin's gaze. "I think it really pushes me over the edge."

Changbin nodded slowly, finally starting to understand. "Gorgeous?" he barked, and you stared at him with those wide, alluring eyes. He had to tear his gaze from yours to continue. "Hyunjin? You said you were willing to learn. Why don't you watch?" Changbin held his breath, hoping that Hyunjin wouldn't call him on his shit. Because if he was being honest, he wanted you to himself, just this once. 

Hyunjin paused, glancing at you in askance. You nodded silently, sending him an encouraging smile. With a jerk of his head, he moved slightly off to the side, while also giving himself a good view of what was happening. 

"I'm only doing it because my girlfriend wants this," Hyunjin warned. "And because I have no idea why she can't finish. I want to please her." 

Changbin chuckled. "Of course. And I'm here to help." With that, he grabbed both of your legs and spread them wide, positioning his hips between yours, leaning down, and capturing your lips with his. 

You moaned loudly against him, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, and grinding your soaked pantie-clad pussy against his pants. "Can I take your shirt off, Professor?" you whispered breathlessly, fingers already tugging at the hem. 

He nodded, the heat of embarrassment and pride climbing up his neck. He helped you remove his shirt, and then unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants off, sighing in relief. His cock had been pressing against the confines of his jeans since he arrived. 

You rubbed your hand against his cock through his boxers, before expertly tugging them off, and stroking him to full hardness. He gritted his teeth so hard they hurt, his eyes shut tight as he tried to reign in some semblance of self control. He'd missed you so desperately, he ached. 

"Don't tease me, you little slut," he ground out, hips rocking against your touch insistently. 

"I'm not doing anything!" You blinked up at him, a devilish smile on your face, continuing to pump him, heavy in your hand. Fuck. His cock swelled further. You really were just a minx, weren't you? 

"I'm warning you, kitten," he hissed, eyes narrowed. When you didn't stop, he grabbed both of your hands, and pinned them by the wrists over your head, ignoring your squeals of protest. "That's it, I told you," he spat, positioning himself outside your entrance, which was dripping onto the blankets. 

"P-please Professor!" you gasped, panting with need. "Fuck me, please." 

"You don't deserve it, spiting me like a whore," he snapped. But he was so fucking turned on, he couldn't tease you for long. With a strangled growl, he filled you with one thrust, knees buckling at the heavenly sensation of your tight heat enveloping him, like you were made to fit his length. 

"God yes Professor, please fuck me faster." You clung to his arms, tears streaming down your face as you dug your heels into his back, pushing him deeper inside you. 

He nearly choked on his words, stars winking across his vision, as he began pounding in and out of you, balls slapping your pussy, the bed rocking with the power of his movements. "Fuck yes, take it," he snarled. "You'll take everything I give you." Was this what heaven felt like? You were so warm, molded to him so perfectly. His hips snapped against yours, all that pent-up tension spurring him on as he gave you everything he'd fantasized about over all these months. 

"O-oh yes, whatever you want Professor," you panted, warm cunt spasming around his rock hard cock. "Fuck, I think I'm gonna cum, please Professor, can I cum?" You reached your hand out to Hyunjin, and he immediately accepted, as you gazed pleadingly up at them both.

Without you having to ask, Changbin slid a hand down to your drenched, swollen clit. He rubbed fiercely until you were trembling against him, gasping in pleasure. Hyunjin watched, entranced, which sent a thrill of excitement zipping through Changbin, spurring him to pick up speed. God, you felt so fucking good. How had he spent this many months without indulging himself in your glorious body? 

You clung to his muscular arms, sobbing and babbling his name incoherently, pussy contracting, hips shuddering. Changbin could feel his orgasm coming, but he staved it off. He couldn't finish already, in the first round. He was doing this for you and your pleasure. 

"Cum for us, pretty girl," he commanded, punctuated with a harsh slap to your ass. "Cum like the slut you are." 

You cried out, cunt so tight it felt like you were suffocating him. He couldn't breath, as you shook like a leaf, body taught, mouth opened in a wide "o". Your hand slid into his hair, tugging, as your hips shook and jerked uncontrollably. 

"F-fuck Professor, Hyun!" And with a wail, you finally toppled over the long-awaited edge, clinging to both men as you fell apart around Changbin's pulsing cock. 

He fucked you through it, gently stroking your clit, and reveling in your shivering, sweaty perfection, until you whimpered from overstimulation. He gently pulled out, and allowed Hyunjin to switch places, and hold you. 

"Oh my god," you panted, curling into your boyfriend's arms, catching your breath. "That was- that was amazing." 

"So what do you think, Hyunjin?" Changbin tried to act nonchalant, like he hadn't just had world-implodingly incredible sex. There was no way around it. He was addicted, and he needed more. But he had to stay true to his word, and give Hyunjin his turn. "Are you ready to try it yourself?" 

Hyunjin paused, gazing down lovingly at you in a way that made Changbin's heart squeeze. "So, you like it when Professor Seo says mean things to you..." he said again. He slowly began removing his shirt, your eyes tracking him hungrily. 

You nodded, cheeks still flushed with post-sex elation. "I don't know why, but I think it's really hot," you murmured.

Hyunjin brushed a strand of hair from your eyes. Then, he spoke. 

"From now on, you will call me sir." 

The atmosphere immediately changed, like all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. You stared at your boyfriend, usually such a sweet person, in shock. Changbin hid a laugh. Apparently, Hyunjin had caught onto the fact that you loved calling him "professor" in bed, and got turned on by the degrading nicknames and occasional spanking. But a single nickname wouldn't be enough to truly please you in bed. He would have to act the part, too. 

But apparently, Changbin had no reason to be concerned. 

"Climb on up here, and fuck me like the slut you are," Hyunjin demanded, slapping your ass, as he watched you expectantly. 

"Y-yes sir!" You scrambled to follow his demands, eyes still huge with nervous excitement. You unzipped Hyunjn's pants, and helped him strip off his boxers, allowing his long, pretty cock to spring free. He tugged his shirt off, and you stared in awe at his muscled torso. Changbin smirked down at you in satisfaction. At the end of the day, you just wanted to be dominated. 

"Okay angel, start grinding that wet little pussy all over him, okay?" Changbin instructed, wanting to see how you would react to him controlling the situation. 

You whined, but nodded, spreading your legs and rubbing yourself all over your boyfriend, causing him to grit out a moan, eyes squeezed shut, as pleasure washed over him. 

"And since she likes you to dominate her, maybe adjust her to where you want her, before fucking her," Changbin prodded Hyunjin, who immediately opened his eyes, and grabbed your hips with rough hands. 

"Yeah, right there," Hyunjin hissed, pressing you harder against his length, which was aching between your slender thighs, as he moved you against him. "Be a good girl, and let me fuck you how I want." 

Your lip wobbled, and you nodded, clinging to the threads of your desire. "Y-yes Hyun- I mean, sir. Please take me now." 

Hyunjin's eyes flicked over to Changbin, who just eyed him intently. With that silent approval, Hyunjin lined himself up outside of your aching cunt, and drove himself home, filling you to the brim. 

Instantaneously, the room was filled with a chorus of both of your moans. You gripped his slim arms tightly, leaving moon-shaped crescents on his skin, as his veins became more prominent beneath your hands. He growled raggedly against your ear and his hips snapped up against yours, power growing and growing, as you cried into his chest. 

"Y-yes, fuck me harder!" you begged, tears wetting your lash line. 

"What do you call me, my little slut?" Hyunjin ground out, possessive gaze burning a trail across your skin. 

"S-sir, please!" you implored, pressing repeated kisses across his hard pecs. "More!" 

"Touch her," Changbin ordered. "She's shaking like a little bitch, it'll make her fall apart around you." 

Hyunjin reached a hand between your legs, rubbing rough circles across your aching clit, causing you to shudder and grind yourself needily against him. 

"Be gentler, she'll get rug burn if you go much faster," Changbin snapped, and Hyunjin slowed down, stroking you with a tender touch. 

"O-oh fuck, I think I'm close!" you gasped, chest wracked with sobs of pleasure as you bounced yourself on your boyfriend's cock, squeezing him so tight he struggled to breathe. "Please don't stop sir, please! Can I- can I cum-" 

"Yes angel, cum on me like the whore you are," Hyunjin bit the shell of your earlobe, not relinquishing his relentlessly fast pace in and out of you. 

You tumbled over the edge, mouth open on a soundless cry, nails digging deep into his arms, as you trembled around him so violently, he had to grip you hard to keep you stable, lights winking in front of your eyes as you reveled in the sensation of your boyfriend balls-deep inside you. Your pussy was made for him, made for Changbin. Made for the two of them. Small whines of Hyunjin's name were the only things to escape your kiss-swollen lips, as you rode out your high. 

Hyunjin's hips stuttered as you came, the warmth and wetness of your perfect little pussy squeezing him so tight, milking him dry. He thrusted his hips messily in and out of you a couple more times, before spurting a load of white liquid into you, fucking the mix of both of your cum into your tired body. 

You collapsed on top of him, a sweaty, but satisfied mess. "You-you-" you babbled softly, reaching up and running a hand through his hair adoringly. You glanced up at Changbin, a shy smile on your face. 

Changbin grinned down at you, a bit uncomfortable. Should he still be here? "How was that, love?" he asked, voice a deep rasp. 

"I-it was amazing Professor," you breathed, a look of wonder in your eyes. "Thank you."

Hyunjin glanced at Changbin, an uncertain look crossing his face. "Would you like to... join us?" he offered, glancing at you fleetingly. "I bet she'd enjoy it. You're down for another round, right angel?"

You turned around, having been kissing up and down Hyunjin's sweaty neck. You stared up at Changbin with a look that had his cock instantly springing to life, and a groan rising in his throat. "I would love for you to join, Professor," you breathed, presenting your ass to him like a dessert on a platter, smiling coquettishly at Hyunjin. You added, "I'm always ready, if it's with both of you."

"Well shit," Changbin growled, striding over, hands clenched at his sides. "How could I say no to that?" 

You climbed back onto Hyunjin's lap and gripped his cock, already ready for a second round. You lined up his hard cock outside of your pussy, which was still dripping wet. You closed your eyes, biting your lower lip in anticipation, before slowly impaling yourself on his perfect length. 

The two of you let out simultaneous moans of delight, as you began bouncing up and down on top of him, the slapping sounds filling the room, as you squealed and whimpered with tantalizing desire. 

Hyunjin grabbed your ass, fucking you over and over on his length, moving you rapidly, in tune with his own pleasure. "Fuck, you're an eager little slut tonight, aren't you?" he hissed, eyes glazed over with unbridled ecstasy, as he drank in the sensation of your pussy clenching around him.

"Fuck me harder, sir!" you whined, hands pressing into his broad chest, as you looked back at Changbin, who was drinking in the sight before him with relish. "Professor, aren't you going to join in? I've always wanted a thick cock inside my ass." 

A rumble vibrated inside his throat. From the sound of it, you'd never been fucked by two guys at the same time, and not at all in your ass. Maybe you'd even dreamed about it being him. And the mere idea of that had him seeking a bottle of lube, which sat on your nightstand, and starting to prep the two of you. His heart thudded in his chest, just thinking about how tight you would be. 

"If my perfect babygirl wants me there, then I'm happy to oblige," he growled through the pleasure, and you shook your ass at him in response, as you continued to roll your hips against Hyunjin, teasing desperate moans and hitched breaths from his lips. 

He began running his pointer finger against the puckered entrance, and you trembled beneath him, clenching around Hyunjin, who growled a curse. 

"Relax, baby," Changbin crooned, inching his finger slowly inside of you. "I need to stretch you out before you can even hope to take me." 

You choked on a gasp at the foreign sensation, trying to turn around and look. But Hyunjin gripped your jaw to keep you facing him, as he continued thrusting in and out of your pussy, his movements becoming sloppier by the second. So instead, you tangled your hands in your boyfriend's long hair, desperate, ragged sobs muffled by his chest, as he continued to have his way with you. 

"Does that feel good, angel?" Hyunjin stroked the flawless skin of your back, as he snapped his hips up against yours, keeping a cruel pace despite the fact you'd gone boneless on top of him. 

You let out a broken moan, nodding your head as you pressed feverish kisses to neck, and down his chest. Hyunjin shuddered at your touch, continuing to pound into your ruined cunt. 

"Just like that, baby," Changbin praised, kneading the soft skin of your ass, as he gently removed his finger, and inched the tip of his cock past the tight ring of your hole. He trembled at the sensation, vision going foggy with pleasure as he rocked his hips further against you, until he was halfway inside. 

"A-ah shit Bin- I mean, Professor!" you cried, clenching around him instinctively. "Fuck, you're huge." 

"You'll take him, like the slut you are," Hyunjin barked, pulling your hair so you met his gaze. "I bet you like him stretching out your ass like that, huh?" 

"I-I-" you stammered, face reddening. "Y-yes sir, I love it," you croaked, voice cracking, as pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. 

"Tell him what you want," Hyunjin prompted, and you keened against him, arms wrapped around his neck as pleasure thrummed in your veins. 

You slowly turned around to face Changbin, who swallowed hard. He was desperately trying to fend off his already incoming orgasm, but that fucked out look you were giving him was making it damn near impossible. 

"Please go deeper, Professor," you whimpered, voice throatier and more strained than he'd ever heard. "Don't be gentle, I can take it." 

"Fuck, kitten," Changbin uttered, steeling himself for the blinding pleasure that was sure to come. With that, he rolled his hips against your plush ass, and buried himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust. 

The movement drove Hyunjin's cock even deeper inside of your aching pussy, causing the man to let out a surprised, guttural moan. He hit the soft spongy part inside of you that until now, only Changbin had found, and you were shuddering and begging for more, both from the foreign sensation of two men inside of you, and the euphoria of your boyfriend pleasuring you like he never had. 

Fuck, this was going to kill him, was all that echoed through Changbin's muddled mind as he slammed in and out, lost in the suffocating tightness of you, the way you smelled, looked, sounded, as he destroyed you. Even as you clenched around him, he didn't let up his pace, pulling out all the way, only to drive himself home each time. No woman had affected him in the least. Now, he couldn't help but become drunk on your very essence. 

"Sir, Professor, I think I'm close," you whimpered, words slurring together you writhed between them, pussy contracting around Hyunjin like a vice. "C-can I cum now?"

"I'm close too," Hyunjin wheezed, his hips jerking up and down uncontrollably, as he pulled you down for a messy kiss, full of tongue and teeth. "Cum with me baby." 

"Professor, p-please cum inside me?" You shuddered against him, as he leaned down and nipped the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning against your cheek. 

"Shit, I'm already about to bust," he growled, voice strained as he continued to hammer his pulsing cock in and out of you. But he was starting to lose control. You did this to him, made him go insane. "Are you proud of yourself, you little whore? Making me lose my composure like this? Having your professor cum inside you? Fill you up so well?" 

"Oh my god, yes!" you wailed, your entire body arching against the two men who held you between them, tremors wracking your body in waves. Hyunjin was stroking your clit in messy circles, sucking on your neck as he murmured sweet nothings against your skin. "Fuck, you both feel so good, I-I'm gonna-" 

And before you could finish your sentence, you let go for the last time, entire body quivering with the orgasm you'd been desperately waiting for, until tonight. You clutched Hyunjin's hair in your hands, back bowing into Changbin's shuddering hips, as you finished around both men, in a whimpering, spasming mess, crying incoherently, the only words Changbin could understand being "sir", "professor", and "please". 

Hyunjin finished next, gasping out your name as he bullied his throbbing length into you with growing need, letting out soft moans and whines, those full lips devouring yours hungrily, as he fell apart, spilling his load inside of you, milky cum leaking from your pussy down your leg, and onto the blanket. 

Changbin was the last to get there, as he gripped your slender waist so tightly in his rough hands, he thought he might break you. His balls contracted painfully, as he trembled above you, the sensation of you squeezing him as you came almost causing him to pass out. "Mine, mine mine," he repeated, harshly sucking the skin on your neck as you nearly collapsed underneath him. But he pulled you up, and held you flush against his chest, continuing to pound mercilessly in and out of you, grunting and growling into your soft hair. His hips twitched and jerked, and he came inside you, so hard he had to hold onto you for purchase. 

The three of you collapsed onto the mattress, your tongue lolling from your mouth, completely fucked out, body still wracked with the shockwaves of the intense lovemaking. Hyunjin curled into you, becoming the little spoon, as he kissed the backs of your hands, murmuring praise upon praise. 

"You did so good, pretty girl," he murmured adoringly, as you continued to play with his hair, kissing up and down his neck and giggling sleepily. 

Changbin watched the two of them, a distinct sensation of discomfort washing over him. He'd done his job, which was helping your and Hyunjin's sex life. And now the two of you were clearly happy without him. He should probably see himself out. 

But as he started to grab his clothes and get dressed, you rolled over to face him, a confused look on your face. 

"Bin, where are you going?" you asked, voice hoarse with overuse. You looked as beautiful as ever, hair wild and messy, skin glowing after getting properly fucked by the two men you were obsessed with. 

Changbin swallowed, forcing himself to be cordial. "I thought now that I did my job, I should leave." 

You reached a hand out to him, a pleading smile lighting your face. You glanced at Hyunjin for approval, and he nodded. "What if I didn't want you to leave, Professor?" 

Changbin smiled, cheeks warming. "Then I'd stay for as long as you like."

laska’s note —

well well well… if you’re reading this note, you must have reached the end of this one shot, and (probably) the end of the two-part series! if you haven’t read the first part, yes, professor, i have it linked at the beginning of this post. i promise, it’s worth the read, and this one shot might make more sense. 

i apologize for the very long wait, i know many of you have been eagerly awaiting another installment! i hope it was worth it, even though it was incredibly long 🫣 i hold myself to a high standard when it comes to my writing, so i combed through this thing multiple times. i hope it lived up to your expectations, and i hope i will have more time to write spicy one shots for you all in the new year, because i have a lot of great ideas 😏

[al-1-na]

𝒞ℴ-𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈: You’re an up-and-coming actress working on a new romantic drama with Drew. The on-screen chemistry between you two is undeniable, but it bleeds into your off-screen interactions. During a late-night rehearsal for an intimate scene, the tension finally snaps, and you explore the passion brewing behind the scenes.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈：name calling; fingering; orgasm (decide for yourself whether you want to read it or not)

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 2

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A loud moan escaped your lips when you felt his tip at your dripping cunt.

„Fuck y/n…“ he let out under a shaky breath, muffled against your sensitive skin on your neck. One hand steadying him next to your head, the other gliding their way down your body to find your clit.

“Drew…” you moaned when he started to rub quick circles against your wet core, making you shiver. The tension from the last few months took over. The thoughts of you two you had for so long now lingering in your mind, becoming reality.

A little smirk appeared on Drews face. „So wet for me already, darling?“ he whipsered into your ear, which causes shivers running down your spine, before he placed his lips against your neck once more. Sucking and licking like a starving man.

„Just for you…“ you whispered back before a gasp left your lips. One of his fingers now burried deep inside you, like a reply to your words. „Shit… Drew…“ you whimpered. One of his fingers being enough to drive you wild, making your back arch against him to push him deeper.

„Want more sweetheart huh?“ he said against your skin. You could practically feel the smile that formed on his lips.

You nodded eagerly and let out a little “mhm” not able to talk or nearly think straight. But apparently that answer of yours was enough for him to push a second finger into your tight hole. You let out another moan when he started to move inside you. His thumb rubbing with the same rhythm against your clit at the same time.

Drew looked up to you just to see your eyes roll back and to watch how the moans, whimpers and curses left your mouth. Sounds that felt like music to his ears.

“Drew… i’m…” you let out between some sounds you made.

Drew smirked at you with a satisfied look on his face. “I want you to look at me while you cum all over my fingers. Understood?” he said low. His voice filled with arousel and need. His darkened eyes locked on your pretty face.

You just nodded in response and followed his words, locking eyes with him. Your mind blurry from the desire, need and the fact that he quickened his pace inside your dripping cunt.

“Come for me y/n” he said under a breath when he felt your walls tighten around his fingers.

And so you did. Your body began to shake while you came all over his fingers. Your back arching and loud moans of his name leaving your lips.

When you started to relax again, drew pulled his fingers out and let them disappear between his lips. You watched with a whimper when he licked all your juice from his fingers.

“tasting so good, darling” he said when he pulled them out of his mouth and crashed his lips against yours. His tongue sliding inside so you could taste what he did to you.

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𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 i 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭:𝟑

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𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 (whoever wants me to add them, text meeee)

[mercillery]

Hello! Could you do anything yandere shanks x female reader, but can you make it in a headcanon. Where shanks first meet the reader, how he got obsessed (was it "love at first sight") how he woos the reader, how he expressed his emotions, etc. But can you make it where that shank crew is obsessed with the reader, too? (Not romantically) more like a little sister/older brothers obsession. And they make sure no one gets the readers heart but shanks. But the reader later finds out about this and confront them about it and reveal that this was her (secret kink) but always kept it to herself because she knows it's not healthy, etc. How would they react? And could you do it in nsfw and sfw headcanon

WARNINGS: FEMALE READER + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: Super duper sorry anon, but I don’t write nsfw. I still hope this is to your liking!

I imagine that Shanks first encounters you in a bustling port town, the kind where everything smells like saltwater and adventure—or maybe just fried fish, but we’ll go with adventure. You’re busy—maybe working a stall, laughing with friends, or simply taking in the sights with this serene, unbothered expression. You stand out to him, not like a thunderbolt of “love at first sight” exactly, but more like a nagging feeling that something just clicked. It’s like spotting a rare treasure—he doesn’t fully understand why he’s drawn to you, but he knows it’s significant. It’s like finding a piece of his favorite puzzle that he didn’t even know was missing.

At first, it’s just mild curiosity. You’ve caught his attention, and now he’s finding every excuse to watch you—casually, of course. He’s not a weirdo... not yet, anyway. It’s all innocent in the beginning, but as time goes on, that curiosity becomes a full-blown obsession. He finds himself studying the way you smile, the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking, and even the way you roll your eyes when someone says something ridiculous. It’s all too fascinating. You’re like his own personal TV show—except the plot thickens with every episode. And oh boy, he’s hooked.

And that’s when the possessiveness kicks in. Shanks starts convincing himself that everything you do—every gesture, every laugh—is somehow meant for him. It’s a classic pirate’s mindset: when you spot treasure, you claim it. But Shanks, ever the suave captain, decides that this treasure is worth the wait. He’s not about to rush in and scare you off, oh no. This isn’t some quick plunder; this is a long game. He’s willing to be patient, biding his time, and winning you over little by little. You might think he’s just being friendly or charismatic—after all, he’s got that charm down to an art—but every move he makes is a carefully calculated step closer to you. Creepy when you think about it, right? Unless you’re into it

Naturally, Shanks’ crew gets involved—how could they not? They’re a tight-knit bunch, practically a family, and if something or rather, someone is important to Shanks, they’re all on high alert. They catch on to the way their captain looks at you—it’s not the usual playful grin or the casual glance he gives most people. No, it’s a look that says, “I’ve found something I want to keep.” This man is intense and obsessed, and they can see it. So, being the loyal crewmates they are, they decide it’s their job—no, their duty—to help their captain out. Not that they think he needs the help (since he’s Shanks and all), but hey, why not give him an edge?

The crew quickly adopts the idea of you as their captain’s treasure—precious and worth protecting. And just like that, you’re part of the family, whether you know it or not. They take on the role of overly protective brothers (whether they’re older or younger doesn’t matter—they’ve all got that big sibling energy anyway). They make it their mission to watch over you, making sure you’re safe wherever you go. But they’re not just watching from the shadows—no, they’re playing the long game, just like their captain is.

They know Shanks has enough charm to fill the Grand Line, so their strategy is different: they’re trying to get you to seek him out more. They’ve got complete faith in their captain’s charm; it’s just you who needs a little nudge in the right direction. They drop hints like, “Oh, you know, Captain Shanks would love to see you at the tavern later,” or “Wow, I bet the captain would be thrilled if you asked him about that.” Subtle, right?

As time goes on, they don’t just see you as their captain’s potential love interest—they genuinely start to see you as part of their crew. And in their eyes, that makes you family. Now, when someone’s happiness is tied to their captain’s happiness, they’re all in. They become more invested in making sure you’re content, safe, and most importantly, staying right where they want you.

It’s all fun and games until you realize anyone getting too close to you except for Shanks is a problem. See, they want you to be a permanent part of their crew. Anyone who even thinks about getting too friendly with you instantly becomes enemy number one. Sure, they’ll try to avoid violence—at first. But if they see you getting swayed by someone else, they’re not afraid to roll up their sleeves and get a little more, let’s say, hands-on with the problem. Ruthless? Maybe. Necessary? In their eyes, absolutely.

This is where their “sibling” dynamic really comes into play. The way they see it, no one’s good enough for their soon-to-be sister-in-law that’s you, by the way except Shanks. They discourage any potential suitors by casually looming nearby, giving cold stares, or “accidentally” interrupting conversations just as things start to get cozy. They’re there to make sure you stay unattached and grow more comfortable with Shanks and the crew. They gradually start making it clear that the only acceptable outcome is you being with their captain, and anyone else is just wasting their time.

And if you happen to be inexperienced in romance? Perfect! They’re thrilled. They take it as an opportunity to coach you, guiding you with all the expertise that only a bunch of rowdy pirates can offer. They’ll give you tips some (good, some questionable) and make sure you know exactly how to charm their captain back.

Basically, any love life you had or might have wanted outside of Shanks is out the window. As long as this crew is around, you’re not finding any other suitors—no chance, no way. They’ll make sure the only person you ever have eyes for is Shanks. And if you were single before they met you, even better—they’ve got a blank slate to work with. Maybe Yasopp or Benn pat you on the back and say, “Well, lucky for you, our captain’s the best option you’ll ever have.”

Shanks has this effortless charm about him that’s practically impossible to resist. With his laid-back nature and easygoing smile, he knows exactly how to draw you in. From the very start, he’s friendly and approachable, making it feel like you’ve known him for years. He knows how to make you feel at ease—he cracks jokes, buys you drinks, and regales you with wild stories from his adventures at sea. It’s hard not to feel comfortable around him when he’s so open and genuine, always acting like you’re old friends—or maybe something more. And you? You start to think he’s just a normal guy—albeit a pirate, but a friendly one. The truth? His charm of his isn’t just natural—there’s a strategy behind it.

See, Shanks is playing a long game here. Beneath the friendly smile and the easy banter is a guy who’s putting in work. He’s paying attention to everything—your likes, your hobbies, and even the tiniest details. He notices what makes your eyes light up, the foods you prefer, the places you love to visit, and even the little things that make you cringe. Every time he interacts with you, it’s as if he’s reading straight from the playbook on “How to Win Your Heart.” You think it’s just a coincidence that he always knows the right thing to say or do to make you feel special, but nope—that’s just Shanks doing his homework.

And it’s not just Shanks who’s in on it; his crew is right there, playing their part like it’s a well-rehearsed performance. They hype him up constantly, making sure you know just how amazing their captain is. They’ll tell you stories—always the ones where Shanks is the hero, the brave and selfless leader, or the guy who goes out of his way to help others. Of course, they know better than to lay it on too thick, but the message is clear: Shanks isn’t just some ordinary pirate; he’s a guy worth betting your heart on. They’ll casually mention his loyalty, his bravery, and his kindness, painting a picture of the ideal man—like, really, who wouldn’t want a guy like him? They frame it all so perfectly that you start to wonder if Shanks is exactly the kind of person you’ve been waiting for. But little do you know, he’s been waiting for you!

It doesn’t stop at words, either; the crew’s got action plans. They’ll orchestrate these “coincidental” moments where Shanks can swoop in like some dashing hero. Maybe your bag “accidentally” slips off the dock, and there’s Shanks, quick as lightning, retrieving it with that grin of his. Or perhaps you’re having a rough day, and suddenly Shanks appears with your favorite snack in hand, ready to lift your spirits. It’s like clockwork—every opportunity they get, they’re making sure Shanks is there, saving the day or making things just a little bit easier for you. It’s a collective effort, all geared towards making you see Shanks as the only option, the one who’s been right there all along, just waiting for you to realize it.

When it comes to expressing his emotions, Shanks plays it smooth—real smooth. He’s affectionate, sure, but there’s always that tiny hint of possessiveness lingering underneath, like a shadow just out of sight. He’s subtle, though; he knows how to keep it from being obvious. He showers you with attention, and not in an overwhelming way, but just enough so you always know he’s thinking about you. It could be a small gift from his travels—a trinket from a far-off island or a flower he swears is the rarest he’s ever seen. Or maybe it’s the little notes he leaves behind, simple but sweet, like a casual reminder that he’s never too far from your thoughts. He’s always there when you need someone, even if you don’t realize you need him. Shanks makes it pretty much impossible for you to forget about him.

And when others approach you, Shanks? Oh, he keeps his cool—like, really cool. He’s got that carefree smile and that laid-back attitude down to a science. Sure, he wants you all to himself, but part of his plan is patience. He’s not about to lose his composure over some random individual trying to chat you up—no, no, he’s got the long game in mind. However, if someone starts getting a little too close for comfort, that’s when you’ll see him act. And trust me, when he does, it’s like a magician pulling off a trick. Maybe that person suddenly finds himself on the wrong side of a brawl with some random pirates, or they just “decide” to leave the island without a trace. Weird, right? Almost like they vanished into thin air. Shanks knows how to make things happen while keeping his hands clean—or at least appearing to.

Eventually, you start putting the pieces together. You can’t ignore the patterns—people who show interest in you either mysteriously vanish or suddenly avoid you like you’ve got some kind of pirate plague. And then there’s Shanks, who always seems to know everything happening in your life, almost like he’s got some sixth sense. Oh, and his crew? They just so happen to be wherever you are, ready to step in like overprotective siblings. It’s all a bit too convenient, so you decide to confront them about it.

Shanks doesn’t even try to deny it. In fact, he leans right into it, giving you the whole “I’m doing this for your safety; the world’s a dangerous place” spiel. You know, playing the classic protector card. And, of course, his crew’s right behind him, backing him up like they’re all in on this script. They swear they’re only looking out for you, doing what any good “family” would do. They make it seem like it’s their sacred duty to keep you safe from any harm—or in this case, any potential love interests who aren’t Shanks.

But when you drop the bomb and reveal that this was exactly what you secretly wanted—a possessive, obsessive kind of love—the reaction is priceless. Shanks’ face goes from a small hint of concern to this look of pure satisfaction. It’s like you’ve just handed him the keys to the treasure chest he’s been searching for lifetimes. He’s definitely caught off guard for a second, but it’s the kind of surprise he’s thrilled about.

The crew’s reaction is just as entertaining. They look relieved and almost proud, like they’ve just gotten the ultimate validation. To them, it’s a sign that everything they’ve done—all the lurking and scheming—was the right move. You wanted this all along, so in their eyes, they’re basically heroes. Now that you’ve spilled the beans, they become way more open about their protectiveness, doubling down on their roles as your “brothers.” It’s like your confession flipped a switch for them, giving them free rein to crank up the possessiveness without feeling an ounce of guilt. If they ever felt guilty to begin with, that is.

From that moment on, they’re even bolder with their interference. They don’t bother hiding their efforts to scare off anyone who dares to get too close. In fact, they make sure you know that your place is with them—more importantly, with Shanks. He’s over the moon, acting like he’s won the ultimate prize. Knowing that you’re receptive to his obsession only fuels his determination to keep you all to himself. Now that you’ve given him the green light, there’s no turning back; his possessiveness has leveled up, and his crew is all-in, making sure the world knows you’re their captain’s treasure.

With everything out in the open, the dynamic between you, Shanks, and his crew hits a new level of intensity. It’s like a silent contract has been signed: you’re theirs. Shanks cranks up the affection, pulling you even deeper into his orbit. He’s always around—whether it’s with charming smiles, playful touches, or just happening to be there when you need a shoulder to lean on. And his crew? Oh, they double down on their big brother act, making sure you’re never alone for a single second.

The crew practically builds an invisible barrier around you, creating a fortress of brotherly protection that no one can breach. Some poor soul tries to talk to you? Expect one of the guys to appear out of nowhere, putting an arm around your shoulder and shooting a “friendly” grin that’s a little too sharp. You’re basically the most popular sibling in the overprotective pirate family now, and anyone who even thinks about getting close might as well just wave the white flag and walk away.

They’ve turned “you belong with us” into their full-time job. If you ever wander off, it’s only a matter of minutes before one of them pops up with an “Oh, there you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” They act like it’s all in good fun, but there’s no mistaking that underlying message: they’re keeping tabs, and they’re not letting you slip away.

And you can’t help but feel the effect. They make you the center of their universe, their obsession, and honestly? It’s kind of intoxicating. Sure, there’s a part of you that knows it’s all a bit much—maybe even borderline unhealthy—but when you’re surrounded by that kind of attention, it’s hard not to get swept up in it. And that’s exactly how they want it. You’re part of their “family” now, and they’ll do whatever it takes to keep you right where you are.

Shanks, of course, is the ringleader of it all. He’s basking in the fact that you’ve accepted his possessiveness—no, welcomed it. He knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re fully his, heart, body, and soul. And the crew? They’re just as invested in this little storybook ending—because, in their eyes, you’re not just their captain’s treasure; you’re their treasure too.

[goldenwilliamson]

back in training | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

summary: ridiculously fluffy. leah is back in training after doing her ACL and reader is just very proud of her. showering together after training. general domestic sweetness.

a/n: thought this might become smut, but still doubting my abilities there. we're working on it. requests are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 1.9k

What would have been a standard day at training in London Colney was made extra special thanks to the fact that Leah was out on the grass with you for the first time since her ACL injury. The entire training session Leah had a smile plastered on her face, and you did too. After almost a year of recovery and rehab, you were both itching to be able to share this part of your life together again. Leah being amongst the training sessions again was also one huge step towards playing games, which was what she wanted more than anything. 

While you harboured some secret concerns about whether Leah was ready to return, purely coming from a place of love and worrying about her injury, she proved you wrong. She was in full form, slipping into her role in the team with ease. There was an energy in the air having her authoritative presence around, and it seemed like everyone was taking their performances up a notch. Her loud supportive voice cheered everyone on, and you felt so much better because of it. In your opinion, Leah was the glue of this team, and you knew you weren’t alone in feeling that. When she did her ACL it was heartbreaking for the whole team, knowing they were losing one of the most valuable and dedicated players the club has ever seen. But now that she was making her eventual return, it felt as though things were returning to their natural order. 

At one point you and Leah jogged past each other and you lightly smacked her on the bum, unable to help yourself. 

“Oi,” Leah reprimands you with a grin on her face as you innocently shrug your shoulders. 

“What?” You respond, acting as though you had no clue what she was talking about. 

When training finished you and Leah came together and wrapped your arms around each others waists slightly leaning into each other as you and the girls did the walk back to the gym. 

“I can’t even tell you how good it feels to look up and see your face out here,” you tell your girlfriend, and she squeezes your waist just a little tighter. 

“I’m just buzzing,” Leah says, giggling a little bit. 

“So proud of you,” you say, kissing her on her cheekbone. You know how hard she has worked for this moment, and how difficult the mental journey has been for her. 

“Thanks baby,” Leah says, moving her hand up from your waist to stroke the back of your head. 

Back at the gym some girls stretch, some go into some strength training, but some also decide to call it a day and head home. You and Leah, not wanting to leave each others sides decide to head on home together. You go and grab your bags from the changing room, but before you go Leah tells you she just wants to talk to the girls for a minute. 

You walk back to where most of the others are working out and Leah grabs their attention.

“I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for the support you’ve given me over the last year, and for the love I felt out there today in training. It’s been one of the hardest moments of my life, but it was made so much easier thanks to you lot, so yeah, I appreciate you all, and I’m just so proud to be coming back to this team.”

She’s met with a chorus of love and support, as well as everyone coming over to give her a hug. 

“The look on your face,” Katie nudges you with her elbow, pulling your eyes away from Leah and towards your Irish teammate. 

“What? I’m proud of her,” you say, playfully defensive. 

“You’re so in love,” she says rolls her eyes with a smile on her face, “Go enjoy a romantic night together while we’re all here training.”

“Oh, we will,” you assure Katie, making her laugh. 

“Of course you will,” she shakes her head as she walks over to Leah to embrace her before finally the two of you head off. 

Leah reaches for your hand as you step out of the building and into the car park, happily swinging her arm as you walk towards the car. Before you move around to the passenger seat, you pull on Leah’s hand so she steps closer to you and you lean in to give her a quick kiss. You step away to find Leah looking at you like a lovesick puppy and you shake your head.

“That face kills me,” you point your finger at her as you begin to walk around to your side of the car, making Leah laugh. 

As Leah gets into the car and starts it, connecting her phone to choose the music for the drive home, you sink into the passenger seat. 

“I’m bloody exhausted,” you say, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good after training,” Leah says.

“I’m so happy for you Lee,” you say as she begins to reverse out and get on the road.

“Thanks. I was going to say something back in there, but I didn’t want to put you on the spot, but I hope you how much you helped me through all this,” she says.

“I’m glad to hear that, sometimes I felt so useless,” you say honestly.

“No!” Leah immediately counters moving her hand to hold your thigh, “You’re the reason I was able to stay positive through it, you were the biggest help, not useless at all.”

“Good, that’s good to hear,” you say, resting your hand on top of Leah’s on your leg, tapping it lightly. 

When you get home you walk into the kitchen first, opening the fridge to work out what you can have for dinner while Leah steps in behind you, grabbing glasses from the cupboard and getting you both some water. She hands your glass to you and then stands behind you, leaning down to rest her chin on your shoulder and peer into the fridge with you. 

“I’ll sort something out here, you can have a shower first,” you murmur to Leah. 

“Mm,” Leah hums right beside your ear, “Was kind of hoping you’d shower with me.” 

A smile spread over your face instantly, “I can do that,” you close the fridge door as Leah stands up straight, “You go get the water running, I’ll come up in a minute,” 

“Great plan,” Leah pecks you before making her way upstairs to the bathroom. 

When Leah goes up stairs you make a quick decision to call her favourite Italian restaurant to order some takeaway for dinner. Once you know that is on the way, you move your way around the kitchen and lounge room to light some candles and pour two celebratory glasses of wine for you two to have when you’re finished rinsing off the day. Finally you switch off the overhead lights to allow the space to be filled with candle light, looking awfully cosy. You could almost hear the voice of Kate McCabe telling you to enjoy your romantic night, and you knew she would get a kick out of knowing that you followed through with that. 

Moving quickly up the stairs you walk into your shared bedroom and can hear the water running in the ensuite. You strip out of your clothes from training and throw them into the dirty clothes basket before pushing open the door to the bathroom. 

“Finally,” Leah smiles, openly looking you up and down as you step into the shower with her. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say, pushing your hair out of your face as the water runs over your skin. Leah steps to the side, allowing you to take up some space under the shower head to warm up and rinse your body. 

“It was worth the wait,” Leah says, running her hands down the sides of your torso, letting them settle onto your lower back which allows her to pull you close to her for another kiss. This one is deeper, more passionate. 

“Spin round,” she tells you, and you know what’s coming. Your showers together is one of your favourite routines. Leah pours some shampoo in her hands and begins to smooth in onto your hair, running her fingers through your scalp and massaging your head as she does so. 

You sigh at the relaxed feeling settling into your body, “You’re so good at this, you could be a hairdresser in another life,” you tell Leah and she laughs. 

“Just want to make you feel good,” she says in her simple Leah way and she’s got you melting with her words in a matter of seconds. 

“Well you definitely know how to do that,” you assure her as she drags her fingers through the length of your hair, letting the shampoo rinse out. 

“Your turn,” you spin around to face her, motioning her to turn around too with a rotation of your hand. 

You imitate her movements, massaging the gel into her hair, letting your fingers trail lightly down her neck and over her shoulders. Leah’s head rolls back slowly and she groans slightly. 

“Does that feel good?” You ask.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, and from her lack of words you know that it must. 

When the shampoo rinses out next you both takes turn washing each others body’s with the shower sponge, taking extra care and much longer than you would on yourself. When you rinse the last bits of soap off of Leah’s body you remember the little surprise you have for Leah downstairs. 

“We’re starting to waste water now,” you say and Leah laughs at you. 

“Alright, out we get then.” 

You step out first and grab two towels off the rack, passing the second to Leah and loosely wrapping the first around yourself. You quickly pat yourself dry and then move out into your bedroom, going to your drawers to pull out something comfortable to slip into. Leah does the same, getting into some trackies. 

While you move back into the bathroom to comb through your hair, Leah tells you she’ll meet you downstairs. 

“Alright,” you smile, knowing what she will see when she walks downstairs. 

About five seconds later you can hear Leah calling out your name, and you go downstairs to join her. 

“What’s all this for?” Leah says sweetly, watching you as you move towards her. 

“For my girl being back in training,” you say and Leah can’t contain the smile on her face.

“Come here,” she opens her arms and you step into her embrace, finding solace and comfort in the way your bodies melt into one another. 

“There’s some pizza on the way too,” you inform Leah and she moves to kiss your neck.

“How did I get so lucky?” She says, her words muffled against your skin as she kisses you again. 

“Yeah I ask myself the same thing from time to time,” you say, placing a kiss against the side of Leah’s head. 

You suggest that you go lay down on the lounge, and Leah agrees, grabbing the two glasses of wine and setting them down on the coffee table. Leah lays down first and opens her arms for you to crawl beside her. As you lay together, arms and legs wrapped around each other watching telly for the remainder of the night, you realise it’s the first night in a long time that you haven’t felt a vague sense of separation from Leah. Finally, she is doing what she is meant to do again, being back in the team at Arsenal, with you, and everything feels back to normal. 

[insidekatmind]

Meet my sister P.10-Jude Bellingham

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

wearning: blowjob, +18

You were talking with your friend and some of your other friends, trying to distract yourself and enjoy the night. But while you were chatting, one guy from the group kept trying to flirt with you. You weren’t encouraging him, but it was hard not to notice how he was giving you compliments in an obvious and intrusive way.

Jude, who was standing a little further away taking another drink, had overheard the conversation and, with his usual mischievous smile, approached. When the guy gave you another compliment, Jude couldn’t help but step in.

“Are you sure you know how to talk to a girl? Or is it just to get attention?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

His words made you lose your patience. You didn’t like being treated like someone’s property, not even by Jude. So, without thinking too much, you grabbed your drink and threw it at Jude, who hadn’t expected such a sudden reaction.

He looked at you, his eyes darkened, and the smile he always wore turned into a grimace of disapproval. He stared at you as if he was judging you, but at that moment, you didn’t care. The tension between you two was palpable, and you knew there would be consequences.

Without saying a word, he grabbed your wrist firmly, making you flinch at his grip. He dragged you away from the crowd, pulling you into a secluded room, away from prying eyes.

You tried to break free from his grip, but Jude wouldn't let you. His hand tightly around your wrist made you feel trapped, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction. You attempted to slip away, but he kept you in place with a force you didn’t expect.

"Are you trying to run away?" he said in a low, sharp voice. "Don't think you're getting off that easily."

You looked him in the eyes, but his gaze wasn't playful like usual; it was serious, almost threatening.

"You're not acting like a good girl," he continued, stepping closer to you with a firm stride. "Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted and walk away without consequences?"

Each word he spoke made you feel more frustrated. You couldn't stand his superiority, the sense that he was always ready to put you in your place.

"Let me go," you said, trying to pull away from his hold, but his arm blocked you.

"No," he replied firmly. "I'll show you things don't always go the way you want them. Now calm down and stop acting like a spoiled child."

His tone was authoritative, but you didn't want to give him that satisfaction. In that moment, you had to decide whether to submit or rebel even more.

"On knees" he said with an authoritarian look but you refused while you looked at him badly.

Jude looked at you with a serious smile and made you laugh.

"Have you forgotten who has the baby command?" He asked as he made you kneel.

You didn’t answer but you watched him carefully as he rolled his jeans and lowered his boxer shorts revealing his cock.

"Now be a good girl and take my dick in your mouth," he said as he put his hand on your hair.

You obeyed him when you took his cock in your mouth. You wanted to make him pray so you decided to suck it slowly but he started to fuck your mouth making you moan.

"Don’t play any games with me, you’re not in a position to do these things, baby," he said grunting as he fucked your mouth.

You groaned as you heard his cock fuck your mouth and you groaned as you looked at him.

"look how good you are now" he murmured sighing of pleasure as he felt you sucking him.

" To make you quiet and good so I always have to fuck your mouth like a needy whore, huh?" he muttered jokingly.

He kept fucking your mouth like I was an object but you liked it, you were getting excited.

Jude spat in your mouth and you swallowed it all. When he took your cock out of his mouth he smiled at your condition: hair out of place, eyes full of lust, swollen lips and your mouth dirty with his sperm.

"Good girl," said Jude, seeing as you had swallowed her cum.

He moved away from you looking for a shirt in the room. You got up and sat on your bed waiting for him to give you some relief.

Jude heard your gaze on you spoke. "only good girls deserve to be rewarded, you behaved badly".

You wept and he laughed.

Jude, without a word, slowly took off the one he was wearing, not caring at all how much you were eager for him. With a determined movement, he put on the shirt of Federico, pulling up the sleeves and adjusting the buttons with a calm that almost made you lose your breath.

His body, muscular and defined, was evident under the cloth that now wrapped it, and you could not help but follow every movement carefully. His muscles were moving under the shirt, his strong arms stretching out as he closed the last button, and you watched them, unconsciously biting your lip.

Jude noticed and, seeing you so focused on him, turned slowly with a mischievous smile. "Do you like what you see?" He asked in a tone that left no room for doubt, a little provocative, while staring at you with a piercing look.

His smile grew as you realized that you couldn’t take your eyes off his muscles, and it amused him. The tension between you two was growing by the minute, and he seemed to be more aware of the effect it had on you.

You slowly approached Jude, your heart pounding in your chest. Each step brought you closer to him, and when you finally stood before him, you looked up, letting desire take over. But before you could reach him, he gently moved you aside with a mischievous smile.

"You haven’t been acting like a good girl," he said with a teasing tone, yet there was a hint of seriousness in his eyes as he watched you, as if he wanted to read your every thought.

For a moment, frustration washed over you, but you tried not to let it show. "I’m sorry," you responded with a nervous laugh, but your eyes still betrayed the desire to have him close.

Jude studied you for a moment before his smile softened, becoming almost playful. "Well, if you’re sorry, maybe I’ll grant you a little grace," he said softly, moving closer again.

Without another word, he cupped your neck and kissed you with passion. His kiss made you sigh with happiness as the warmth of his lips and the feeling of finally having him close made you forget everything else.

When he pulled away, still smiling, he looked at you with an expression that suggested the battle between you two wasn’t over, but in that moment, all you wanted was to stay in his embrace.

---

Still in his embrace, the world seemed to fade away around you. His hands held you gently, and the warmth of his body made you feel protected. As you stroked his hair, you felt completely at ease, as if everything was finally in its place. Jude had relaxed, his breathing calmer, and a slight smile formed on his lips.

His eyes sparkled as you looked at each other, but then, almost as if driven by an impulse, you moved closer to kiss him again. Your hands started unbuttoning his shirt, wanting more intimacy with him. However, just as you were about to continue, a noise at the door made you jump.

Federico was about to enter. With a quick movement, you both pulled away abruptly, hearts racing, as your breaths quickened. Federico didn't seem to understand what had just happened, looking at you both with some concern in his eyes. Jude, quick to react, stepped forward and, with a somewhat forced smile, said, "Someone threw a drink on me, and she was just helping me by giving me your shirt."

Federico, still confused, seemed to believe his version. He nodded slowly, without suspecting anything, and with a quick glance at you, he walked away, heading in another direction of the house.

Once he was gone, the breath you'd been holding in finally escaped, but deep down, you knew that this little lie couldn't completely hide what had happened between you and Jude.

You were about to turn and leave, trying to make sure no one noticed too much of what had just happened, but suddenly Jude gently stopped you, grabbing your arm. You felt his warm hand on your skin, and when you turned towards him, his gaze was serious, but there was also a hint of excitement.

"Hey," he said with a smile that tried to hide a certain intensity, "maybe we should go out together, see how it goes between us. No worries, no one interrupting us. What do you think?"

His tone was gentle, but there was also a subtle challenge in it. You knew he was trying to figure out what was between the two of you, but also exploring what would happen if you had some time alone, away from the chaos of the party.

You looked at him for a moment, your thoughts crowding your mind. Maybe it was the right thing to do, but you also felt a bit unsure, knowing that every moment with Jude seemed like a step closer to something you couldn’t fully understand.

In the end, you smiled, letting out a slight laugh. "Alright," you replied, trying to sound calmer than you really felt. "Let’s see how it goes."

Jude nodded with a smile that revealed a hidden satisfaction, and he gave you a nod to invite you to follow him. You knew that this step would change things, but a part of you was also curious to see what would happen between the two of you, without any more secrets or restraints.

---

Jude and you returned to the party together, walking side by side, with a more relaxed atmosphere between you. Rodrygo, Vinicius, and Kylian, who were chatting among themselves, immediately noticed the scene and exchanged curious looks. As soon as you caught their gaze, you could sense their surprise at seeing you two so close, but Jude seemed completely at ease, a sweeter smile on his lips compared to how he had treated you earlier.

You approached him as you both headed toward the corner with the drinks. Jude had grabbed a glass and was pouring it for you with care. His behavior was different, as if the playful tension from before had dissipated, and now he seemed to be showing you a calmer side of himself.

"Would you like another drink?" he asked, with a smile that, while still carrying his usual confident aura, seemed more genuine.

You, resting a hand on the counter, responded with a sweet smile while watching how he moved with ease, mixing the drink. "Thanks, Jude. I’ll have one this time," you replied, trying to sound casual, but inside, you felt a slight tension, the kind you feel when something is changing and you don’t have full control over it.

Jude's eyes sparkled as he handed you the glass. "Always a pleasure," he said, his words tinged with a playful tone, but this time accompanied by a more sincere expression.

His friends continued to watch from afar, observing the new dynamic between you and Jude. Rodrygo seemed amused, while Vinicius and Kylian exchanged looks somewhere between curiosity and disbelief. But for the first time that night, you didn’t feel a trace of challenge in his eyes. Only a knowing smile, as if things were slowly taking a different turn between you two.

You took a sip of your drink, looking into Jude's eyes. There was something new between you, something you couldn’t describe but that made your heart beat a little faster

[magiccath]

A very Noble Christmas

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which Donna is really fed up with her love-sick best friends and calls in Wilf for backup

A/N: if you're looking for a Christmas song to go with this I suggest "Christmas Tree Farm" by Taylor Swift and a steaming cup of cocoa. Happy holidays! xx

“It’s so frustrating, Grandad,” Donna groaned, sandwiching her mobile phone between her shoulder and cheek so she could use both hands to fold laundry. 

“They’re not even subtle about it! They’re so thick they can’t even tell the other one has feelings for them.” she folded a shirt in one swift movement, placing it with the others in her laundry basket. She truly loved her best friends, but this was getting ridiculous. Having to deal with your level of obliviousness every day was starting to frustrate her.

“Have you done anything about it, darling?” Wilfred asked. Donna could hear a slight breeze over the phone. He was probably sitting outside, looking up at the stars. 

“That’s the thing,” she groaned, “I've done all kinds of things to push them together.” She finished folding her things and closed the dryer with her hip. She repositioned her phone to hold it with one hand and the basket in the other. 

“None of it has worked. Not even in the slightest,” she continued as she made her way through the winding halls of the TARDIS back to her room.

“Have you tried a romantic candlelight dinner?” he suggested. 

“That was one of the first things I tried. I made a reservation at a fancy Italian place so they could eat pasta and look into each other’s eyes lovingly.” 

“And?” 

“Aliens blew it up on the way over.” Donna rolled her eyes, even if Wilf couldn’t see it.

“It’s like I’m living in a horrible slow-burn rom-com,” she grumbled in exasperation. “I’ve done everything, Grandad. I don’t know how to get their thick heads to see it.” 

“Perhaps it’s time for my expertise…” Wilf whispered, deep in thought. 

“Huh?” Donna asked, frowning. 

“Christmas is next week. Bring them over for dinner, I can handle the rest.” Donna could hear the mischievous smile in his voice. Before she could respond or protest he had hung up. She pulled her phone away from her face slowly, staring at the blank screen before letting out a small laugh. 

She shook her head, there was no point in telling Grandad “no”. Plus, she really wanted to see you two together and her efforts hadn’t done much.  

Christmas might be a week away for Wilf, but Donna could just ask the Doctor to take you there now. There were some benefits of living in a time machine. Decidedly, she made her way out to the TARDIS control room. 

The Doctor was hunched over the console, fiddling with some buttons and switches. You were a little farther down the console, leaning against it. Your hands gestured wildly as you talked excitedly to him. The Doctor snuck small glances at you every now and then, a subtle smile taking over his face. It still baffled Donna that you failed to notice this, he was hardly incognito about it. The poor guy practically had heart eyes bursting out of his head.

“Can we go back to my place?” Donna asked, moving further into the room. “Grandad has invited us for Christmas dinner.” 

“You hate Christmas,” you pointed out with a frown. The Doctor nodded in agreement, both of you confused. Normally, you had to coerce Donna into Christmas dinner. 

“I like Grandad,” Donna shrugged casually. She hadn’t really thought about her distaste for Christmas when Wilf made the plans. She had figured that her biggest hurdle would be convincing the two of you to celebrate Christmas a week early, even if you both loved Wilf dearly. But, then again, the Doctor had no concept of when Christmas actually was. Hopefully, you wouldn’t see past her thinly veiled lie. 

You exchanged a suspicious look with the Doctor, determining whether you should trust her. Donna was known to get you all into trouble, even if she meant well. Silently deciding there was no harm in a Christmas dinner, the Doctor agreed. He’d been meaning to check up on the old man anyway.

“Alright,” he drawled, moving to flick some switches on the console. You watched him move about, your eyes following him as he rushed around the room. 

Donna really hoped that Wilf’s plan worked, she wasn’t sure she could handle another minute of this. It was like perpetually third-wheeling but so much worse.

The Doctor landed the ship with his usual flourish, turning to look at you with a wide smile, “The Noble residence, Christmas day,” he said dramatically.

He held his hand out for you and you took it without pause. Donna sighed before following behind you as the Doctor led the way out into the snow. 

The streets were dusted with a coating of stark white powder, a few boot tracks the only indicator that anyone was around. The snow was still falling, a gentle and soft flurry floating down to the ground. You smiled brightly and started to spin around in the falling snow, catching stray flakes on your outstretched tongue. 

Donna noticed the Doctor was watching you with an equally excited smile plastered on his face. He had a certain kind of smile that he only ever wore when looking at you. The best way Donna could describe it was lovesick, and it was starting to get pathetic. 

“Let’s go in before I freeze,” Donna urged, tilting her head in the direction of the door. 

The Doctor nodded, his brow suddenly furrowing. He moved closer to you, tugging the neck of your coat so it wrapped around you tighter. 

“Don’t want you to catch frostbite,” he whispered, adjusting your scarf as well. He stopped for a moment to look at you, your face flushed from the cold. A small smile tugged on your lips and he felt his hearts skip a few beats.

“We should go in,” the Doctor finally said, pulling back from you. His hand rested gently on the small of your back reassuringly, guiding you towards Donna’s house.

Wilf greeted you all at the door, a childish grin plastered on his face. A pair of reindeer antlers perched on this head, the small bells attached jingling quietly when he moved. He pulled each of you into an excited hug, squeezing tightly. 

“How have things been, Wilf?” the Doctor asked, instantly following him through the foyer. 

You hung back with Donna for a moment, putting your coats on the hangers and shaking out the small flecks of snow that had stuck to you. You slipped your boots off before padding down the hall after Wilf and the Doctor.

In the dining room, the table was set with nice plates and Sylvia was busy setting numerous steaming dishes on the table. You smiled and sat down in front of a bowl of potatoes, inhaling their scent with a small but satisfied smile. You loved Sylvia’s Christmas dinners and couldn’t wait to eat this one. The Doctor took a seat next to you, still deep in his conversation with Wilf.

Slowly, the rest of the food came out while the traditional Christmas crackers were opened. Wilf wasted no time perching the paper crown atop his antlers with a big, silly smile. On the other hand, Sylvia deemed them childish, and Donna didn’t want to mess up her hair. Still, you and the Doctor put your crowns on proudly. Once you had placed the brightly colored paper on your head you turned to the Doctor for approval.

“It’s a bit lopsided,” the Doctor commented, gently shifting the crown on top of your head. You felt a flush creep across your face at the contact, but the Doctor didn’t seem to notice. 

“Much better,” he grinned, leaning back to admire his work.

Donna cast a wide-eyed and frustrated glance over at Wilf with an exasperated sigh. Surely he could see how ridiculous this was. Wilf nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t do much else to ease her frustrations.

Dinner went by in a blur of smiles, laughter, and lingering touches between you and the Doctor. His hand would brush against yours slightly and hang there for a moment. You could even swear that the Doctor’s fingers brushed against the back of your hand in a comforting motion.

At one point, you even used your napkin to wipe a bit of sauce off of the Doctor. Donna practically got up and left the table at that. It was as if you were already a lovey-dovey couple!

Once more she looked over at her grandad, wide-eyed and aggravated. How could the two of you not realize?!

“Are you seeing this?” she whispered to him, gesturing aggressively over at the two of you. Somehow, you remained blissfully unaware of Donna’s angry whispers.

Donna could feel herself going more and more insane as the minutes crept by, and the two of you continued your usual longing glances. She looked over at Wilf numerous times for assistance or even reassurance, but he just nodded knowingly. As much as she loved her grandad, she was starting to lose faith in his matchmaking abilities. Perhaps it was a dauntless task after all. 

When dinner was through, you and the Doctor helped clean up the dishes on the table. You stacked the dirty plates and bowls, all the while happily whispering and laughing to each other.

You carried the stack to the kitchen with the intent to help with dishes before Sylvia yelled at you to get out. The last time the two of you had done the dishes there were soapy bubbles everywhere and only a fraction of the dishes actually got done. She learned her lesson long ago to not trust the pair of you with important tasks. 

As you sulked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, the Doctor paused slightly. 

“What’s up?” you asked, noticing that something had caught his eye.

His eyes drifted up to the ceiling, and you followed his gaze. There was a small bough of mistletoe tied with a brilliant red bow hanging above your heads. 

“Huh, I wonder why they put that up,” you questioned. Considering there were no couples in the house it felt a little silly. Still, you felt a thrill rush through you at the implications of the small herb.

“I believe the tradition is to kiss…?” The Doctor asked bashfully, a blush creeping across his cheeks. He could be quite bad at remembering Earth traditions, but he was fairly certain about this one. Honestly, he really just wanted an excuse to kiss you.

“I do think that is proper,” you flushed, averting your gaze. You would never admit it, but you wanted an excuse to kiss him too.

The holiday music drifted in from the other room, the soft and familiar tunes filling the silence between you. The twinkle lights in the hall cast a soft glow over the Doctor, making his handsome features more prominent. As far as mistletoe kisses go, it truly was the perfect setting.

The Doctor moved closer to you slowly, his lips hoving over yours while still giving you space to pull away. Gently, he pressed his mouth to yours lovingly. The kiss was short and sweet, over far before you wanted it to be. 

“That was-” you gasped, your fingers drifting up to your lips subconsciously. 

The Doctor looked at you worriedly, suddenly concerned he had done the wrong thing. Maybe he should have asked your permission before kissing you. Waves of anxiety crashed over him, his woes written all over his face.  

You took in his pained expression and furrowed brows and shook your head quickly, cradling his hand in yours softly. You smiled brightly, halting his worried thoughts. 

“Amazing,” you finished with a grin. The Doctor smiled back at you, a twinkle in his eye. It all felt like a Hallmark movie. The sort of scene that could only ever occur if it had been masterminded. It was almost better not knowing that it had been.

With a sly smile, you grabbed his tie to pull him in for another kiss, this one longer than the last. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him. You could have stayed there forever if it hadn’t been for Donna’s sudden appearance. 

“Bloody finally!” she cried out. 

You turned around in shock, the Doctor’s hands still resting firmly on your waist.

“Wha-?” you gasped, slightly embarrassed to be caught in the act. “What are you yelling about?” 

“I’ve been waiting forever for you two idiots to kiss!”

You and the Doctor turned a deep shade of scarlet and instantly avoided your friend’s gaze. The Doctor’s hands slipped away from you and you took a small step back from him. You stared at the floor, flustered. Next to you, the Doctor fiddled anxiously. 

Donna rolled her eyes in exasperation, of course, the two of you were still going to deny your feelings for each other. 

“I give up,” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air before stomping off in frustration.

You turned to the Doctor with a knowing smile before the two of you burst into bouts of hearty laughter. His hands naturally made their way back to your waist, pulling you into him. 

“How much longer do you think it will take her to find out we’re dating?” He whispered into your ear with a grin.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND !

SUMMARY: ah, it’s snowing at ramshackle. since there’s so much snow, you should invite somebody over just so there’s something to do. who do you invite, and what do you do together?

CHARACTERS: all dorms (+ grim)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: cursing

CAN BE READ AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC (EXCEPT ORTHO)

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is yuu

snowball fight

he walks up to you, smiling innocently with his hands behind his back. you knew he was faking already. before you could even say anything, he had already chucked a snowball at your face. okay bitch it’s on. you form a ball and throw a snowball back at his head. snowballs could be seen flying left and right, hitting each other almost everywhere. you get the in the last hit before sprinting away and hiding behind the trees.

before you knew it, this was war.

grim, ace, leona, ruggie you forced leona outside

building snowmen

he already brought things to make snowmen in a little baggy before he left. it wasn’t stuff to make ONE snowman.. it was enough to make an entire army of them. somebody was excited.. still, it was fun! rolling the snow into 3 different sizes, stacking them on top of one another, finding sticks for the arms, it was great! you both decided to stop at 5 snowmen cause there’s only so many snowballs you could roll. obviously you named them. if you don’t where’s the fun in that? he loves these snowmen til the end of time, and would protect them for as long as he can. (don’t remind him about spring..)

deuce, trey, jack, kalim, ortho

sledding

there was a small slope at ramshackle, a sled in hand, and two people ready to go down at alarming speeds. he tells you it’ll be okay and that everything’s going to be fine, but as soon as he pushes off it feels like your life is flashing before your eyes. while he’s smiling and laughing, you’re worried about whether you were going to survive or not cause unfortunately you’re sitting in the front. thankfully you lived to see another day, and tell him it’s his turn to be in front. to your dismay, now that he’s in control you’re even more worried for your safety.

floyd, epel, lilia

ice skating

there was a large patch of ice nearby, and you couldn’t help but want to skate across it. finding skates was the problem though.. oh. nevermind, sam has those too! being such a generous person, he purchased the skates for you so you can save your money for more important things. you both stepped onto the ice, nearly slipping and falling right onto your face. it’s been too long since you’ve skated..

vil knew how to skate and glide gracefully across the ice. he looked so much like a figure skater right now.. just deadass elegant. it made you look like a noob.

however, if this isn’t vil you’re thinking of, he has ZERO experience on ice skating. there either was no snow where lived, or he wasn’t allowed to skate on his own. he requires some assistance. you held his hand, guiding him on the ice. almost falling over several times. exchanging smiles and laughter with each other as he learned along the way.

riddle, azul, jamil, vil, malleus

building a fort

you both decided to build a “secret base” together just for the heck of it. you and him were building the wall, occasionally throwing a snowball or two at each other, til finally the fort was complete. he was insanely proud of it and invited you in immediately. he was so excited, he even made some furniture inside. seriously there was a little booth and table when you walked in. it was kind of tight inside but at least you two being close together was keeping you warm.

cater, idia, sebek

walking in the snowfall

snow was falling from the sky as you both walked through the forest of snow covered trees. winter seemed like the only time of the year where ramshackle was a beautiful sight to see. you and him were having conversations about whatever the hell you wanted without any judgment whatsoever. he was also telling you about how beautiful the sky is at night during the winter. how the stars truly shine this time of year. he so graciously invited you to see it with him tonight as you accepted with a joking curtsy.

jade was totally freaking out about every pinecone though

jade, rook, silver

A/N: was thinking about jamil the entire ice skating segment 🫶🫶

date written: 11/26/23

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