#when i started reading it i was like man . i always read things way too quickly let me be nice to myself and be slow about it

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Didn't expect me to write more about Sol, did you? Honestly, I needed to do more research into his character, after all, since I kinda ignored him in the game as soon as Crowe showed up. Like, no wonder he did what he thought he had to do.  

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet. I'm still learning about the BDSM community, and honestly, it's been really eye-opening.

A close friend (college roommate: adding on the fact she adores Sol—Sorry not sorry, love) of mine has been super helpful, sharing and explaining things about the BDSM scene to add more depth to my writing.

A lot of my inspiration comes from her, along with the Tumblr fanfic community and the original creator's work. I try to blend what feels true to the characters while throwing in my own twist. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences! 

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache. You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His head teases your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want. Can’t do anything unless you say it. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing lightly as if testing the waters. 

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His grin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears on your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb, slick with your tears, slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Every tender smile, every soft whisper... and every shadowed obsession that came with it. 

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[scudevils]

it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas — QH43

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, bit of a rushed ending sorry, not proofread!!

inspired by: “it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas” by bing crosby [1.2k]

a/n: a quick one for boyfriend quinn appreciation

it was a rare quiet day in the middle of the season, quinn who was usually surrounded by the hustle and bustle of hockey life, found himself sitting beside you in the warm glow of holiday lights, the smells of cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger filled the air, mixing with the sound of soft christmas music playing in the background.

you'd been to the store earlier in the week, a gingerbread house kit lay spread out on the kitchen table to welcome him home from the road game in carolina, your niece's expectant eyes looking up at the pair of you as the pieces game in their own neatly placed bags, you and quinn shared a look of hesitation.

"this is way more complicated than it looks," was the first thing he said, peering at the instruction booklet with a playful grimace, eyeing up your niece's miniature house which was going a lot better than yours. his hair, slightly messier than usual, hinted at the fact that he had been running his hands through it in frustration, dark strands falling in front of his face. you laughed softly, enjoying the moment of calm in an otherwise busy season, and even off the ice he was just as competitive. (even if it was against a 9 year old)

"i thought you were good at building things," you teased, taking a sip from one of the hot chocolate you'd made for the three of you, choosing to take a step back from the building business as it was getting a big heated. "you're an athlete, you know... strategy, precision, focus?" you gave him a wink.

quinn grinned, his eyes lighting up in that characteristic way that always made you smile. "i play hockey, not architect. but i'm willing to try. you're the one with all the crafting experience, right?"

you raised an eyebrow at his suggestion, the most building you'd ever done in your life was a science fair project when you were 11, and even then your dad had built the majority of it. "crafting experience? skylar's got more crafting experience with me, she still does homework."

"alright, alright, I'll admit it," he said, grinning, the little girl beside them too busy already decorating her gingerbread house to care about what you had been saying. "maybe I need your help after all."

he reached for the frosting bag with a dramatic sigh, and you couldn't help but laugh as skylar's first order of business was to take the icing out of his hands. "read the instructions first," she said, flipping the booklet open and starting to explain the steps.

quinn looked at the pieces in front of him, tempted to give up and just eat the gingerbread, but that wasn't his nature, squinting like he was trying to figure out the lines on a hockey rink for the first time again. "wait, do you put the roof on first, or the walls?"

"okay, we need to build the base first. that's the most important part," you said, guiding him through it, looking to skylar for approval and she nodded, adding sweets onto her own now. "if the walls don't stay up, it's game over."

with a bit of teamwork, and an insane amount of luck that neither of you bumped into the table, you two managed to assemble the walls, and quinn was about to put the roof on before an idea struck him.

"so, are we going for traditional?" he asked, his tone suggesting he had something else in mind as he eyed the candy decorations, almost as if he was a real interior designer planning the layout for their house. "or... are we going for something a little more creative? like... a hockey rink gingerbread house?"

you raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, of course he would say that, you loved the man but sometimes you swore hockey was the only thing on his mind. "hockey rink? you've got to be kidding. i’m surprised you aren’t dying to get away from your job."

but quinn was already pointing out ideas, his mind running with possibilities, the coloured icing they could use to represent the teams, the different positions they should put in. "what if we add little gingerbread players with tiny sticks? and like, a frosting rink with icing lines?" he was grinning now, clearly enjoying the process way more than he'd let on, enjoying the design park much more than he had the building part.

"you're impossible," you spoke through a laugh, his enthusiasm something you loved about him and couldn't help but let you get in the spirit too.

together, you piped out a frosting rink on the base of the house decorated little gingerbread men with icing and tiny candies, making them into the most chaotic-looking hockey players you'd ever seen, some with more lopsided faces than the others. quinn insisted on adding mini pucks made of chocolate chips.

skylar had also finished her house, adding the final touches the one you and quinn had made too, her a candyland inspired design with sweets lining the road and covering the house.

as the arena started to take shape, you felt a warmth that wasn't just from the hot chocolate on the counter. it was from the way his eyes lit up with every silly detail he added, down to the numbers on the jerseys that his teammates wore.

by the time you were both done, the gingerbread house hockey arena—although a little uneven and very unconventional—was something to be proud of. it was uniquely yours, and in that moment, it was perfect. beside it sat the little actual gingerbread house your niece has made, edible glitter covering the icing and pieces of sweets missing from where she'd eaten them.

quinn stepped back, inspecting your creation with an exaggerated squint. "i think we nailed it," he said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

you leaned back in your chair, your head falling to rest his shoulder, admiring the gingerbread arena too. "honestly, it might be a little off-center..." noticing how the roof sloped down on one side while the other held up, "but it sure can't be called basic."

quinn chuckled, sitting next to you. "i think that's what matters most."

[archangeldyke-all]

Consider the following cuz I think it's funny:

Sevika with a gf who's just... Kinda dumb? Just kinda ditzy and airheaded and it's kind of a miracle that she's still in one piece. Just a bit of a bimbo but goddamn does she love Sevika with everything she has.

-🌙

okay as a blonde who definitely has my fair share of Blonde Moments i love this l;askdjflskj

men and minors dni

sevika loves you so much.

so much.

she would kill for you. she would die for you. she would even wear matching pajamas with you-- that's how much she adores you.

that being said... sevika has to admit that sometimes you can be a little... clueless...

you aren't stupid! you're constantly reading and learning, watching documentaries and sharing interesting scientific facts with sevika. you're a whiz in the kitchen, always making delicious meals and treats, and you're incredible with couponing and keeping your grocery bill within budget. in sevika's eyes, you're one of the smartest people she knows...

but... sometimes...

sometimes, you can be a bit of a ditz.

you're horrible with directions. sevika's watched in horror many times while you hook a right, completely confident that you're headed left.

"babe, the bar's this way."

"you said left!"

"use your hands, babe..."

"...oh." you mumble, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment as you turn around and start headed the correct way. sevika cackles and wraps an arm around you.

"where would you be without me?"

"wandering by the docks, probably."

"the docks are south of here, babe."

"yeah, south." you say, pointing east. sevika groans.

she gifted you a compass keychain for your birthday that year.

you struggle with spelling.

you love to leave sevika little love notes-- and she adores them! but sometimes, your notes have the unintended consequence of making sevika cackle while she tries to interpret your unique spelling. 'sevika, i've never been able to be so intimidate with somebody before...'

she teases you for the rest of the night about how intimidating you are together.

sometimes, sevika really wonders how you made it through life without her there.

like when you're behind the bar at the last drop making change for a twenty, and you hand the customer six fives.

"baby, that's thirty!" sevika squawks, smacking your hand before you can hand the man the money."

"what? no, babe, six times five." you say, scoffing and rolling your eyes.

"six times five is thirty, baby." sevika says slowly.

you groan and bury your face in your hands, embarrassed. sevika giggles and wraps you up in a hug, handing the man four bills and kissing your scalp.

"i'm an idiot." you groan.

"sometimes, yeah." sevika agrees. you gasp and elbow her, glaring at her. sevika giggles. "but the rest of the time you're smart! and i'm usually here to help before you can get yourself into any dumb trouble..."

"whatever. you're dumb too!" you say, pointing at sevika. she laughs.

"i am not!"

"you thought i hated you for months before we started going out." you say. sevika cackles.

"i didn't get why you kept looking at me!"

"'cause you're hot!"

sevika grins. "okay, i'm a little dumb emotionally. good thing i got you to balance me out, huh?" she asks.

you grin and kiss her. "you bet your ass."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

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@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[coqhee]

ROOM FOR YOU

✷ enhypen hyung line being clingy

day 20 of melodies to memories ― p.sh x f!r fluff healing 1OO3

it’d been a whole 3 years since you’d last seen him after you graduated from high school, and only now had you received word from the man himself that he was moving back.

hoon: “i’m coming back to town soon for college, should we meet up?” 

you stared at his text wondering how you should feel. the boy was your first friend, first crush, first everything except for anything relating to ‘boyfriend’. you wondered maybe if you’d said something before he left if he’d had stayed

little did you know, sunghoon harbored the same exact thoughts and feelings. you were his everything except for his girlfriend and how he wished he could call you his after all the time you’d spent together growing up

good thing sunghoon was thinking the same exact thing after he’d sent the text, wondering if it was the right call to text you back all this time.

the east coast just wasn’t made for him and he’d been wanting to go back ever since he got there.

he’d been meeting to call, ask many times ‘how’s it like back at home?’ or even ask about the lake you’d spent many summers in, dunking each other in, then basking in the fleeting daylight as you dried off. 

you’d meant to move on, appear strong and say that you were doing better now, and it was for the best, but seeing that text…you weren’t so sure. 

you knew there’d always be room for park sunghoon inside of your heart whether you liked it or not. 

y/n: would you have time to call sometime as well?

your fingers hovered over your phone as you hit send, heart pounding like you’d just run a marathon. it wasn’t like you to feel so nervous about a simple text, but with sunghoon, nothing was ever simple.

the three dots appeared almost immediately, and you couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad sign.

as if almost immediately, your message was read and he was calling. it was about time you suppose.

“hey,”

“it’s about time you rang,” you force out a small laugh. at least you wanted to think it was forced, that he didn’t have you waiting endlessly on the call you asked him to give when he had landed at the other end of the country.

“you must’ve gotten up early, here it’s almost 10:30,” he continues on after a moment of silence either of you aren’t sure you’re comfortable with.

“yeah a bit, didn’t mean to wake up, so i’ll probably go back to sleep after this call,” you smile appreciating the concern.

“guess i got lucky then,” you hear him smile on the end. god, how you hated that you could predict his facial features just through his voice.

“so,” you started, breaking the silence that threatened to grow too heavy, “what’s bringing you back? homesick?”

“missed the west coast, missed home too much here,” you hear him laugh on the other end. it’s a laugh of carefulness and uncertainty.

you hum, acknowledging his statement, somewhere deep down hoping he’d say he missed you too.

“missed you,” you blurt out speaking your mind before he could start a new statement.

“i missed you too, not just as a friend, but as an everything,” 

his words hung in the air, thick with meaning. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you processed what he’d just said.

"an everything?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah,” sunghoon admitted, his tone softer now. “i know it’s probably not fair to say this after all this time, but i couldn’t leave it unsaid anymore. i thought maybe if I told you now, we’d have a chance to… i don’t know, figure things out when i got back?”

“sunghoon…” you started, your voice wavering. “you can’t just say things like that out of nowhere.”

“i know,” he sighed. “i know it’s a lot, but I’ve been holding it in for three years. i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way about you.”

“you’re not special you know that right? you’re not the only one who hasn’t moved on, so fuck you too park sunghoon,” you laughed in a lighter tone. 

if sunghoon could explain that feeling, it’d felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders and he could never explain how the tightness in his chest dissipated by your words and tone alone.

“would it be better to talk about this, like when i come back?” he asked unsure if this was the best resolution to a phonecall where he practically said everything he’d been wanting to say for the longest time ever.

“maybe it would,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside you. “but for the record, hoon, you don’t get to come back into my life and drop a bomb like that without dealing with the fallout.”

hoon. he’d love to live everyday with you calling him that again, bad or good day.

“i deserve that,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “i just couldn’t wait any longer. i had to tell you.”

“three years, though,” you said, your voice teasing yet soft. “who moves to the other side of the country, never contacts their best friend, then decides to come back and let everything out after 3 years? are you crazy?”

“every single day,” he confessed. “moving away didn’t change how I felt. If anything, it made it worse.”

for the first time in years, you felt the faintest glimmer of hope for what could be. “then i guess i’ll see you soon, park sunghoon.”

“soon,” he echoed, and the word felt like a promise.

as the call ended, you sat there in the quiet of your room, your thoughts racing but your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. three years was a long time to hold onto feelings like these, but maybe—just maybe—it was worth the wait.

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 20 of melodies to memories! guess who forgot i have to MANUALLY upload this cause my blr is broken! day 21 will be out shortly as well so you lucky ducks get a DOUBLE upload, sighhh

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @hhmnya @wonsdoll @lovuegi @letmein2urheart @firstclassjaylee

@ coqhee 2024. all rights reserved

[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 😏

[always-just-red]

15 for sylus if it inspires you at all👀 i love your work, it is always so playful and in character and the writing itself is lovely

Hiiiii! Thank you, and thanks so much for this prompt-- I laughed so much as soon as I read the words ‘heavenly harmonies’ with Sylus in mind ahaha 💀 Hope you enjoy!

Sylus X Reader 🩸🎄☃️❄️

Prompt #015: out on the streets doing christmas carolling, blessing the streets with the sweet voices of heavenly harmonies.

“You know, I think this is gonna be some kind of record.”

You give your collection basket a shake, enamoured by the hoard within: a sea of coins that clink, clink, clink as you jostle them, strewn with countless loose notes. There’s a watch in there, too.

“I told you, sweetie…” Sylus is using his phone as a mirror, adjusting the ‘scarf’ you fashioned him from a rope of ruby tinsel. “Your taste in music has room for improvement.” 

You’re not sure what tickles you more: the ironically tone-deaf comment, or the way his antlers jingle when he speaks. Of all the things you fished out from the back of your cupboard to dress-up your last-minute carolling partner, those must be your favourite. They’re red, soft— covered in tiny, gold bells. They’ve slipped slightly on his head, and you chew your lip as he reaches to steady them, making them jingle again. 

“Stop staring,” he tuts with a knowing smile, though his eyes never leave his reflection. 

“Stop preening,” you giggle back. “Who are you— Mephisto?” 

There’s a gentle snort as Sylus tucks his phone into his pocket. He crosses his arms, gazing up at the building you’re standing outside of. “We’re hitting this place next, hmm?” 

“Yep!” You rap a gloved hand against the door. “But don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like a mobster from a black and white movie. Capiche?”

You give him a side-eye. He trades you a smirk.

Warm tones of light leak from the house’s windows, and you feel cosy, despite the persistent bite of the snow and the cold. You knock on the door again; someone is clearly home, and this is the one time of year you get to be annoying without consequence. Twelve months of forced smiles and unrelenting politeness. You are the face of the Association, remember? 

But tonight— and just for tonight— that face can be whatever you want it to be. It’s for charity! 

You knock again. And then again. The house’s lights go out, but your face goes darker. You’re not leaving without something, not when Tara’s out on her winter fun-run, and Xavier’s risking civilian lives with a bake sale. You’re going to beat them. You have to beat them. 

… And raise money for the protection of harmless, small Wanderers, of course. 

Time for your secret weapon. You lift a finger from your basket— a conductor, preparing an orchestra for incoming instruction. Sylus knows the drill. You count him in with a: “one, two, three, four…” 

“Dashing through the snow,” he starts. 

“In a one-horse open sleigh!” 

“O’er the fields we go, laughing all the way!” 

Ha ha ha.

“Bells on bobtails ring, making spirits bright!”

Together: “What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight, OH—!” 

The door is flung open, stopping both of you in your loud, tuneless tracks. “Here!” exclaims a flustered young man, “here— this is what you want, right? Take it!” 

He fumbles with his wallet for all of a second before emptying it into your basket. He shakes it to dislodge a few, stubborn coins.

“That’s really kind of you, sir. The Association appreciates your—” 

The door slams shut, but you couldn’t care less. You smile down at your little pile of treasure and almost squeal in delight.

“Happy?” Sylus asks. 

“More than happy!” You set the basket down then go up on your tiptoes, clasping his face with both hands. His antlers jingle. “You’re amazing, Sylus.” 

Soft as it is, it’s still an ambush. His eyes are wide, and he… doesn’t know what to say. 

Cold is seeping through your gloves. “Oh, are you warm enough?” you fret. Your hands fall from his cheeks so you can pull on the collar of his coat, drawing it closer around his neck. 

“I’m… fine.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.”

It’s not an argument you can win. You think if Sylus were frozen from the depths of his heart to the tips of his toes, he would still be out carolling with you. 

Selfless idiot. You laugh as you step back from him and stoop to collect your basket. “That’s a shame,” you tease. There’s a bounce in your step as you leave him. “I was gonna say we should go for hot chocolate. Or huddle for warmth, like penguins. Did you know that they—”

Sylus’s arms are around you suddenly, hugging you from behind so you can’t slip away again. His chin meets your shoulder, his face: the crook of your neck. You can feel his breath, warm on your skin where the night air won’t find it. It’s always been yours.

“I am a little cold,” he confesses, weak only with you. For you.

“Home and hot chocolate?” you chuckle. 

He sighs blissfully: “Please.”

[gingerteawrites]

BY THE HEARTH: CRACKLE

A/N: Welcome back for yet another installment of by the hearth!! As always please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Let's goooo. Read the previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~5.5K words (they keep getting longer...)

Banner by: @cafekitsune

ACT IX

Nanami was a man of habit. As he did every night, he peeled away his royal garments and changed into a long chemise and loose trousers. Then sat on the cushioned chair of the small study attached to his room.

Following his evening routine usually brought so much peace to the man. A time to unwind, sort through his thoughts. And most importantly, remind himself he was in control. But alas, this control was slowly slipping through his fingers. Fluttering away in the direction of you.

Opening up the notebook that served as journal, he brought his quill close to the paper. The pages were filled with mundane phrases, recounting the outcome of a meeting. Reflecting on new policies. Or on occasion, excited tales of new milestone in Yuuji’s development.

He sat there for several minutes, willing himself to write something that followed this usual pattern. Something that fit in the well-drawn lines of his ordinary days.

But his mind was only able to compute suggestions of you. The way your smile shone so brightly when you danced together. The fire in your eyes when you spoke to the people. The feel of you in his arms as you twirled by the blaze.

Nanami dropped the quill with a sigh. This was not going to do. He feared that if he forced himself, the only thing he would be able to pen down would be your name.

This is not good. At all. This world that he had carefully crafted to protect Yuuji, and most importantly protect himself was crumbling. And you were the culprit.

Fraught with frustration, he closed the book and headed to the giant bed. Still, his mind, that was not his to hold anymore kept wandering. And a repressed part of his being started to wonder. How would it feel to hold your hand. To truly have you. To kiss your lips…

Except he had already done the latter. That dreadful wedding day. The thought of it makes him groan, and that same repressed part of his being wished he could go back and fix things. Maybe offer a reassuring smile to your then trembling self. But it was too late for that. He shifted under the covers, shaking his head as if to shake the thoughts themselves out.

Sleep. I need to sleep.

The large study always seemed like a peaceful place. With its mahogany shelves lined with historical records. And the imposing desk behind which the king was sat. Yes, Nanami felt in his element in this room. He was the king, and the king could not allow himself to be troubled by trivial affections. He flipped through the pages of the proposed budget that the royal advisors had produced. But his focus was interrupted by a timid knock on the door.

The royal counsellor pushed in. Ichiji always seemed on edge, his thin body tucked into itself. But as he approached, the king noticed his advisor seemed even more nervous than usual.

Nanami raised a brow when the man stopped in front of the table. ”I am not expecting anyone today,” he flipped through another page, his eyes returning to the tedious document.

“I know, your majesty,” the words tumbled out hastily, “but our guest today is one I cannot turn away easily-”

He had not even gotten around to announce the name of this guest when two men barged in. The sound of guards arguing and trying to hold them back filled the room, but Nanami raised a hand in quiet dismissal.

Duke Gojo’s smirk was wider than usual, flanked by his courtier, ever the shadow of the white-haired aristocrat.

He plopped in the chair across from the king, who silently watched his actions. It was customary that people of lower rank extend greetings first, but the man before him purposefully stretched the silence. After a few moments, he finally bowed his head.

“Your Majesty,” the duke’s tone was far from reverent. From the corner of his eye, the king could see the ebony-haired courtier bow as well. “What a pleasure it is to see you after so long.”’

“Duke Gojo, It is good to see you have returned.” The words were mere pleasantries, devoid of any sense of sincerity. “I trust your tour in the province went well.”

“Oh quite well indeed,” he sat back, relaxed into the chair.

The duke was a fascinating man. Irritating and grating beyond belief to some, and the object of blind adoration to others. While he did not hate the man, Nanami had grown tired of his lack of consideration for customs, and constant antagonistic attitude.

Despite the duchy's history of hunger for power and strife with the royal family, their sole heir did not seem interested in the throne. He was more concerned with living without regard for conventions, which was its own problem. The one thing that Nanami’s father, the late king, had always expressed relief over was how lucky he was that the Gojo heir was a boy. Otherwise the crown would not have been in a position to refuse a political marriage between the two.

But then again Nanami found himself wrapped in another political marriage.

“Though I must say,” Satoru tapped his fingers on the material of his expensive trousers. “I am quite disappointed that I have not had the chance to introduce myself to our new queen.”

Nanami’s brows immediately furrowed. Gojo Satoru was not one to entertain pleasantries just for pleasantry’s sake. You interested him, and that unnerved the king. What was this feeling?

“I hear she made quite the impression at the festival’s opening…” He dragged on, and Nanami closed the file was holding firmly.

“So what is the purpose of you barging into my study, Satoru?” Gojo smirked.

“Addressing me by my first name, now isn’t that unusual…” He turned to Geto with an expression beyond amused. “If I could venture to guess, I would say the king does not like me talking about his darling wife.” The courtier sighed under his breath, looking straight ahead. Provocation was the Duke’s favorite game, and Geto was not willing to participate.

“If you inserted yourself in my schedule to waste my time, you will be escorted outside the palace grounds.” Nanami leveled him with a stern look, and Satoru raised his hands defensively. But the amused glint did not entirely leave his eyes.

“Alright, alright, no need to kick me out, your majesty,” He stretched his hand out, a silent invitation for Suguru to hand him a sizeable batch of documents. Gojo leaned over and placed them on the table before the king, whose sole response was a raised brow.

“Though the aristocracy seems to think my time away from the capital is spent slipping from one woman’s bed to another,” Gojo began, holding a hand to his chest dramatically “I actually do quite the investigative work.” His eyes returned to the king with a smile, who crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what is the subject of these investigative efforts?” He asked, making no move to read the documents placed before him. But he could already tell there were reports. Other things slipped out of the bundle, though. Receipts, permits, letters.

“The question is who, your majesty,” he corrected with a wag of his finger. “Things in the South have been getting more and more unstable, that is no secret.” He sighed, expression now turning serious. “And the duchy has considerable investments in that region, so it was only fitting for me to have a look. These papers here,” he pointed at the pile on the desk “Contain a comprehensive record of activities of what I believe is someone or multiple people in the royal court funding the rebel uprisings.”

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. Of course, after hearing Haibara’s reports he knew something was off about this conflict. The insurgencies kept popping up, even when the knights seemed to have wiped out the bases. And those who fought were either poor people who lived by the border and mercenaries. There were a lot of possible benefits to destabilizing such a profitable area, but for it to come from inside? The king’s jaw clenched.

“I will review all of this information,” Nanami finally pulled the documents towards himself. The nobles always tried to defend their own interests. And he couldn’t entirely blame them for that. Afterall, the royal family operates on protecting itself most of the time. But such insubordination was way beyond justification. His expression turned deadly, and even Gojo’s smirk faltered at the sight. He had to set an example. And uproot this problem.

“Thank you for the information,” the king conceded.

Gojo stood from the chair, giving another bow “The things I do for this kingdom.”

“Your majesty,” Geto finally approached the table and bowed again, “We can also provide you with more details concerning what our informants have found, at your request.” The king nodded and voiced his thanks before the pair left.

The dull ache of an incoming headache was already beating at his temples when Nanami pulled the documents closer. And with every paper he sifted through, so did quiet fury simmer.

It was late afternoon when he called out from his office. “Get me Haibara!” Startled, poor Ichiji scurried away to fulfill the order. Whoever was behind this was going to get hell for it.

Having returned from the flower festival, you remember falling asleep with a stomach full of butterflies. He said he adored your speech. Somewhere, a voice in your mind screamed out about wanting him to adore you.

You pressed your face into the pillows, groaning deeply. You could not become greedy.

Wishing for anything more than what was given would only hurt you. Your dreams were filled of images of the king, of the depth of his eyes and closeness that set your heart alight.

But the king had left. You were fully awake, eyes scanning through the paper you held for the nth time.

[I will be away for a time. Please inform Alma of anything that you may need. Kento Nanami]

Your mind raced with questions. If he had left in such a haste, something must have been terribly wrong. He certainly would not do such a thing on a whim, would he? Had you done something to upset him?

You barely had the time to figure out how to overthink the situation, when Riko burst into your quarters. The prince was sick. The maid responsible to getting him ready, Kuroi took note of a burning fever while dressing him, and the child fainted soon after, inducing panic in the experienced woman.

“He is such a healthy child, I do not even recall the last time he was sick,” Alma rambled while you hurried over his room, instructing a guard to find the palace doctor.

You found Yuuji laying in his bed, round cheeks flushed a deep pink and eyes closed wearily in restless sleep. Your heart ached at the sight. Seeing one who always jumped around with so much energy in this state was startling. And you soon found a permanent place by his bedside.

Days had passed, and your position had not changed. You wrung a small towel in the basin of cool water that laid on the night stand and wiped at the child’s forehead and neck, watching his breath shudder at the sensation of the cold towel against his burning skin. A small whimper followed and you cooed gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, touching your fingers against his cheek. He opened his eyes, look unfocused, before closing them again. The sight hurt you even more, wishing you could take the pain away. “Are you okay, baby?”

He took in several heavy breaths, seeming to not fully comprehend the words that left your mouth. You recalled the doctor’s words when he had arrived that first night.

He shows symptoms of the smallpox, your majesty. Though not fatal, he might struggle to regain his strength for a few weeks.

The doctor instructed that only those who had suffered from the infection before could take care of Yuuji, which eliminated the head maid and the Kuroi. You on the other hand, still had remembered how a short smallpox episode had wracked your body as a child. So you stayed by his side, adamant about being the one to care for him.

You wrung the towel of the cold water again, pressing it over Yuuji’s skin in a soothing motion.

His lips parted, “Mama?”

The simple word left your frozen in place. Oh no.

The fever probably made him delirious, he is confusing me for his mother.

While still deciding how to tell him he was mistaken, his hand reached over and his small fingers closed around the fabric of your dress.

“Can you… Lie down with me?” he pushed out with difficulty, and you lost the heart to correct the boy.

“Alright, my darling,” your hand brushed his cheek and you placed the towel down. As soon as you circled to the other side of the bed and climbed in, Yuuji clung to your side, resting his head against your chest. He seemed to relax into what was finally a restful sleep.

You breathed out a slight relief, but sleep would not find you. Your mind drifted back to the departure of the king. Certainly if he knew Yuuji was this sick, he would have hurried back. You had written a note be sent to him immediately after finding out the child fainted.

You had chosen to keep news of the prince’s sickness to only those who had initially found out. Unwarranted attention was the last thing you needed.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you told yourself that it was fine. If you could not even deal with a few days in the king’s absence, what kind of queen would you be? What you needed to focus on now was ensuring the prince was okay. Yuuji would be okay.

Wasn’t this part of the deal agreeing to be his mother? You held the boy closer.

Just getting to the Southern port city had taken a week. One long, exhausting week as the king rode undercover with some of the knights, only taking short breaks to eat and sleep. And one week of sleeping in the woods and being separated from his family was enough to put him in a sour mood.

They reached the Gojo estate, where they had opted to stay rather than the royal residence by the beach. The last thing the king wanted was people knowing he was here. Even so, Nanami did not like the idea of having to rely on the Duke. Who knew what favor the man would feel entitled to after this?

He turned to Ichiji, the only person informed of the king’s sudden departure along with Alma and you.

“I need you to make me a list of all the aristocrats with sizeable investments in this region,” he spoke, taking off his soiled outer garments “Funding an insurrection cannot be untraceable.”

Ichiji nodded, leaving for the town with a knight in tow. All the businesses would be asked to produce tax records and investor information, which the king intended to compare with the royal records. Something was terribly off, and Nanami would not wait until things took a catastrophic turn before acting.

“Haibara,” he called, and the head knight entered the room that served as office and bedchamber, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, your majesty,” he bowed in response. He knew not to tease the king when he was so on edge. “Take me to the prisoners captured from the previous uprising.” The king rose, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

Haibara’s eyes widened slight, “We just got here, your majesty, you need to rest. And they have not yet been put on trial-”

“I said, take. me. there.” the chill of his tone shut the head knight up, who resorted to nodding tersely. Haibara felt bad for whoever was going to be on the receiving end of the king’s wrath.

Nanami’s knuckles were covered in blood, his sleeves neatly folded above his forearms. He moved his head from side to side, neck cracking as he circled the man sitting in the center of the cell. The royal guards in charge of guarding the prison watched in horror. They had never seen their even-keeled king in such a state.

He eventually came to sit on a small wooden chair facing the prisoner. The one whom all the others Nanami had “questioned” pointed as the leader of the movement, who had supposedly organized everything and gave out orders.

“I am not going to ask another time,” his voice was low. But only an idiot would believe that its quietness was indicative of anything but pure fury. He had been in this God-forsaken place for a five days now. Five more days away from his home. His patience was running very thin. “Name,” he grabbed a towel, wiping his hands in preparation for another round. The man facing him looked up, terror evident in his swollen eyes. “And location of your master.”

A few beats of silence passed. Nanami extended his hand towards Haibara, and was handed a knife. He sighed.

“I hate having to repeat myself,” he approached the prisoner, casting a looming shadow of him. “But by the end of this, you will be the one begging for me to stop.”

Three weeks had passes since the king left, and the prince’s health was finally starting to look up. You were utterly exhausted, having watched over the sore flares and nights of difficult fever. But above all, you were so proud of Yuuji for pushing through every moment of it.

The doctor returned for his nth examination, looking over the child’s condition with relief painting his features.

“The worst has passed. He just needs to eat, drink enough, and rest. The young prince is well on the right way to regain his strength,” You thanked the doctor, who thanked you in return for all the effort you spent.

You returned to the child’s side, running your fingers along his arm. Noting the small scars left behind by the rash that had littered his skin.

“You fought so bravely, Yuuji,” you whispered, leaning down to leave a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure papa is so proud of you.”

You had still not heard news from the king, now convinced that the note you sent never reached its destination. There was no way he would have learned that and not come back. Right?

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a small pout. “Papa is proud?” his voice was almost back to its usual vitality. You brought a hand to his cheek. “Yes, my darling, so proud.”

“Where is papa?” he asked again. “I want to see him.”

“He’ll be back real soon okay? He’s away on very important business.” You pushed his hair out of his face. “Here, you must be hungry? Alma made your favorite,” you walked to the small table behind you, grabbing the tray of food.

“You should eat too,” the child retorted when you sat down. He had noticed the way you never left his side. There was no way you could have eaten enough in that time.

“Okay, okay,” you nodded, knowing he wouldn’t eat until you conceded. “We eat both then.”

You brought the soup-filled spoon to Yuuji’s lips, who parted them without protests. Eventually, he grabbed the spoon, insisting on feeding you too. You compromised on you taking a bite for every five that he did, to which he begrudgedly agreed. Soon enough, he was well-fed and fast asleep.

You were putting the bowl away when a loud knock sounded at the door. You frowned, recalling having ordered the maids to try to be as quiet as possible around the child’s quarters. Still, you stood and headed for the door, grabbing the tray so whoever was knocking could help return it to the kitchen.

“Your majesty,” Riko rushes the moment your face appeared from behind the large door. “Alma says someone very important is here, and refuses to leave until he sees the king. He’s waiting in the courtyard”

Your brows furrowed, “Who is this person?”

You were convinced Nanami had not told many people about his departure. You had hoped for a swift return, and maybe even a word that he was well, but nothing. Radio silence. Still, you wanted to trust that he was alright.

“I apologize, I do not know your majesty. Usually counsellor Ichiji deals with these things if the king is busy. But he is nowhere to be found. Alma told me to just come find you and not worry about the king, he’s just resting. But his majesty never neglects official duty like this! Is he also sick? Oh no, that’s a terrible omen-” The maid's spiral was paused by your hand on her shoulder.

“Amanai,” you called softly, and she looked up. “Everything is fine, I will see to this issue. I won’t be long but I want you to stay around in case Yuuji wakes up and needs something.” You finally stepped out of the room. “And one more thing,” you watched Riko take your place behind the door “Not a word to anyone about any of this, understood?”

The young maid nodded with pursed lips, and you walked away in the direction of the courtyard, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles on your dress. You had not met with anyone who did not live on palace grounds in three weeks, even sending Shoko a letter that you were feeling unwell to justify the absence. And you knew you certainly looked as tired as you felt.

On any other day, you would not have allowed yourself to be seen in any sort of disheveled manner. But the palace needed you, so you raised your head trudged forward.

As soon as you step foot in the court yard, the sight of a figure surrounded by royal guards came into view.

“Your majesty,” Marquess Kamo greeted from behind the guards who blocked the path. “It is such a pleasure to see you again.” His tone was saccharine sweet, the same one he had used at the ball for introductions.

“Marquess Kamo,” you greeted, not having the energy to muster anything beyond a polite smile. “I trust the guards have informed you of the current unavailability of his majesty,” you clasped your hands before you, “Unfortunately you will have to come at a later time.”

His expression soured, a polar shift to his previous pleasantness “I have been told that multiple times already…” he huffed “The king has already postponed two meetings with the council. If he is unable to grant me an audience at the moment, I have grounds to be worried don’t I, my queen?”

Your eyes fleeted to Alma who stood not far from the guards, lips drawn in a thin line. What was he implying?

Marquess Kamo is a cunning man, Nanami’s voice swept through your thoughts. You knew that the less you interacted with the man, the better. But you could not send him away without proper justification and let things fester. You had not been informed that the Marquess demanded an audience before. If just for the sake of appearances, you thought you should receive him.

A sudden anxious feeling crept up the back of your neck. Should you even make any of these decisions? What if all you did was make things worse in this place. You shook the thoughts away. Even if executive power had not been explicitly handed to you, doing nothing would only result in things getting worse.

“I understand, Marquess. I shall grant you a short audience in the gardens. But after today, the king will contact you when he is able to meet, so we will not expect your presence before then.” Your words were firm and the guards nod before stepping away from the aristocrat and leading the way to the main gardens.

The Marquess walked a step behind you, sending a wave of discomfort through you. The earlier this was done, the better. You sat at a small table in the middle of the lush garden, and Alma instructed servants to bring out tea and pastries. You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself for the conversation.

This is just to save face, you reminded yourself. The last thing you wanted were rumors that the king was ill or incapacitated in any way. You knew that was not what Nanami would have wanted. If servants were already thinking that, you did not know what could be going around in nobility.

“Thank you for your time, your majesty,” the man took a bite from the cake slice in front of him, making an exaggerated show of savoring it, seemingly having returned to his jolly mood.

“You are welcome, Marquess. I do not mean to sound short but I would appreciate if you would get to the point of this visit.” You forced your voice into an amicable tone, watching as the man finished the slice.

“I see you are fairly straightforward,” he put the fork down, eyes narrowing sharply. In an instant, his expression turned cold, sending a chill down your spine. “His majesty is obviously not here, so I won’t waste my time with official business.” You frowned. Had Nanami told him he was going away too? No… That did not sound right at all.

“I know you probably have many questions about this place. About the truth behind the king’s previous marriage.” He spoke quietly, causing you to narrow your eyes in suspicion. Where exactly was he going with this?

“All of which my husband has answered. I know Kaori was your daughter Marquess. I find this line of questioning highly inappropriate.” You lied.

He chuckled, a sinister sound. “Did he now? Are you sure he told you everything? The truth behind the nature of their relationship? Her death?” You went silent, eyes narrowing at the man.

“The king loved my daughter oh so dearly. Maybe that is why he is so distant now. You know what they say about losing a great love,” he recounted, timbre almost turned sappy. You could not figure this man out, but his words caused your frown to deepen.

Don’t let him get into your head.

“It is so nice of you to play nanny and try to keep appearances.” He stood, adjusting his coat over his shoulders, “I hope you don't believe the king actually cares about you. You may think yourself a queen, but you are but a glorified surrogate. A help.” The words knocked the wind out of you. The sheer audacity.

You watched him leave, escorted by the guards and leaving behind a deafening silence

Don’t let him get into your head

You repeated the mantra on your way back to Yuuji’s room. But how could you not? He had not say anything factually incorrect. Your role in the palace was to act as Yuuji's mother, even though you could never shake the shadow of the woman.

Help. That was all you were. To do what was needed for now, but destined to be eventually pushed into the background. The notion left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Pushing the chambers’ doors open, you expect to be greeted by Riko. But instead you notice Nanami sitting on the edge of the bed, hand resting on the sleeping child’s head.

“Your majesty,” you call out, staying by the door. He had returned. Finally. Relief filled your being.

“How long has he been ill?” The king did not turn around, his tone harshly breaking the silence.

The king was home. Finally. After what felt like an eternity away, exhaustion rocked his body. Unending days of riding and questioning had yielded results. He gained critical information about the insurrection. But the time away had also chipped away at his soul. He just needed to be home. To see his son. To know everything was alright. To be reminded he still had control.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his child, sick, with a panicking young maid when he entered the room. He ordered her out after listening to her unprompted ramblings about Yuuji being terribly sick. Why wasn’t Alma in there instead? Or even the royal doctor?

He had left his son. Without even the chance to say goodbye. He had neglected his duty as a father and now Yuuji was ill. What if something worse had happened while he was away? Once again he had failed, utterly so.

And in the middle of this torrent of emotions you burst into the room. So comfortably. Like you had been here countless times. Like you were the righteous occupant of Yuuji’s space. His child.

Only then did Nanami notice the small traces of you littered across the room. A pair of gloves laying on the nightstand. Your shawl draped on the other side of the bed. Your flowery scent lingering in the air.

You had crossed the line. Nanami felt control slipping from his fingers. Control over the care of his own son. The feeling only contributing to the mounting frustration he carried.

“So you’ve been in here… The whole time-”

“Could we please talk outside? I would not want to wake him now,” you interrupted, despite noting his mounting displeasure. The king tensed, but he eventually followed you outside.

You walked back to the garden where you had met the Marquess in an uneasy silence. One that sent your mind into a frenzy.

“The prince had smallpox,” you finally began when you both sat, “He feels much better now, I was with him the whole time.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt the need to brace yourself for this conversation. “Where were you?”

He looked up, tired eyes still holding what looked like hostility. “Away.” The curt response made your heart squeeze painfully. “Thank you for taking care of him but this ends today. I am back to take care of my son.”

You frowned at the emphasis of his words. How did he expect you to just scram after having seen Yuuji in such a state? You bit your lip, refusing to roll over and take it. Not this time.

“What does that mean? You cannot just dismiss me like this.” you tried to keep your voice even, but found it shaky. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the past few weeks. Or remnants of your previous conversation.

He sighed, rubbing at his temples. He felt a headache coming. One too many, and he did not have the patience for confrontation at the moment. “I can. And I am. Y/N I did not ask for you to do what you did.” His eyes found yours, sharp as ever. “You overstepped. And I am asking you to step back. I am his father, and you-”

“Are just a help” you finished his sentence, chuckling humorlessly. "I understand, your majesty," you said, rising to your feet, the sting of dismissal sharp in your chest. "I’ll return to my quarters, then. Should you think of any further errands befitting a servant, do let me know."

This place would never be your home. This was a political marriage after all. One you were traded into. And as you stepped away, willing yourself to not look back you reminded yourself. Beggars could not be choosers. You could not desire more than was given. And that included a place in the king’s heart.

whew this was a hefty one. As always, do let me know what you think!

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

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[quarterlifekitty]

could you pretty please expand on gaz’ penchant for women with the eldest sister syndrome pls pls pls🙏🏾

You know, we (I) talk about Price and Nikolai and Simon being a little older, and how much they relish in having a girl who’s never had a man, they’ve only had boys, but despite being on the younger side of the roster, Gaz has this complex too. His has got a bit of a twist on it, though.

He can see the wear on you. Permanent divets in your ability to trust, to relinquish— when was the last time someone was looking after you? You can’t remember. It’s always been this way— it’s you who has to remember all of the chores, who has to remind people of the things they should be doing, who has to teach them how to do it right again and again. And if you don’t? It won’t happen. So you don’t have a choice in the matter. When was the last time you got to leave things in someone else’s hands without having to worry about it? Without asking, begging for someone to take over?

It happened in your childhood and that made the blueprint for the rest of it, like it did to everyone. Boyfriends that came through a pipeline, exchanging their mother for you. Boys who couldn’t be trusted to sort lights from darks when doing laundry. Boys who didn’t know how to sensibly put away leftovers. Boys who forget to clean the drain after shaving.

And Gaz can see it plain as day. He can read you like an open book. The sheer surprise on your face the first time you came back from the bathroom when he was at your place, and he was already taking care of the dishes. You hadn’t asked him to, and you didn’t plan on asking. And he did them quite sensibly. Apologized for not being able to put them up— wasn’t familiar with the kitchen, yet. Found your collection of recycled takeout containers and packed all of the leftover food away, left on the counter to cool before it went in the fridge.

That look on your face, and the tension that visibly left your shoulders was like a drug to him. And he had to have more.

When you move in together, he has to push you to sit down when you get home sometimes. You would protest, only to find that your seemingly endless task list shrank significantly during his leave time. He already called the landlord and someone came around the fix the kitchen tap while you were out. He already did the laundry. He already cleaned the stove. He remembered to close all of the windows when it started raining. And you didn’t have to tell him to do any of it.

And god if that didn’t turn you on. Not that that was his intention, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. It just made him think— how many boyfriends have you had that didn’t do anything for you? Who took everything you gave without giving it back? Not in the bedroom, but in all of the mundane, unsexy, daily-grind type ways that they never show in romance stories.

The idea that he was the first for that… that he was single-handedly raising the bar (which was in the ground). It excited him. It really does make him so happy to see you relax. And yes, this is related to the thing he has for giving massages. This man wants you in the palm of his hand, boneless and not worried about anything at all. You’ve done enough of that for one lifetime.

TLDR: Gaz knows exactly how and when to use a Mr clean magic eraser, and he loves how happy that makes you.

[tackykachowch]

OKAY CHAT I DIDN'T INTEND IT TO BE THIS WAY BUT THIS POST IS SUPER-HUGE. Read at your own risk lol

*taps the mic* Uh, welcome to Chili's. So, I mustered up the courage to finally make a post about how I view Silco and Jinx's relationship and why I think it is actually a lot better than it's commonly perceived. Please please please do not assume that I do this to specifically whitewash Silco or make him less morally gray, this is my genuine read on them based on my own experience and views. I do not claim that I don't have any bias at all, but I think that it didn't influence my opinion that much.

I am going to say this from the start: I don't have much negative to say about them and I don't think of their relationship as toxic. If this point of view is unacceptable to you, please disregard this post. However, if you want to discuss this topic with me and challenge my points, please be civil about it and don't insult me. I don't have any ill intentions, nor am I trying to normalize unhealthy behavior.

Okay, from this preamble to another. This analysis is going to be based entirely on season 1 and nothing else. Some of my points will address common perceptions about them in the fandom, some I'll write as a regular analysis.

Now let's start shall we (yes, this is going to be a one long post because they're so so important to me). In the second paragraph I said that I don't view their relationship as toxic. Let me explain. I think this is a very complex topic and opinions will vary from person to person. Considering that both Silco and Jinx are mentally ill this adds another layer to our already complicated cake. So, for me toxic relationships are those where at least one person almost always behaves in the way they see is right, disregarding other person's wants or needs. It also must include unhealthy/toxic behaviors, i. e. manipulation, gaslighting, possessiveness, control over other person's decisions, physical and/or emotional abuse etc etc. These behaviors must be routinely occurrences and not happen only once or twice. You can say: "But a lot of things you listed exactly describe how Silco behaves towards Jinx!" well. No but I'll get to this later.

There's also an elephant in the room we need to deal with: codependency. Now, I don't claim to be an expert on the topic or even well-informed, but I have a feeling that this term is a Bit overused. Terms, especially medical ones, are very useful for describing one specific thing. But as of late a lot of terms are used on things that are not. Well. The thing the term is describing. You don't need to go far for examples: hyperfixation, depression, panic attack, etc. When knowledge becomes widespread, things like that are inevitable, unfortunately. But back to the topic. Are Jinx and Silco's relationship codependent? I personally don't think so. One of the key characteristics of a codependent relationship is losing a sense of self and disregarding your wants/needs, and Jinx and Silco never display that. They are very self-driven characters. And while Jinx did do some things to impress Silco, it's not necessarily a symptom of a codependent relationship specifically. Again, I'll compare it to medical symptoms. If your right side hurts it doesn't mean you have appendicitis, if you have a short attention span it doesn't mean you have ADHD. Mental health problems Jinx and Silco have can be just that: mental health problems. Trust issues, low self-esteem, fear of abandonment, etc. They don't need to be a part of a bigger problem, even if there are some similarities. (Also just a side note: I got misdiagnosed with OCD this year, so I take correct descriptions and understanding of conditions/words very personally).

MAN THAT WAS TOO LONG. GET TO THE ACTUAL POINTS.

Alright. So first of all, Jinx and Silco are VERY trusting of each other. They both allow each other to enter their personal spaces, and feel comfortable and free in each other's presence. Silco allows Jinx to do his eye injections, to show him physical affection, he also trusts her with missions for his job, even when everyone else is against it. When Jinx in ep4 tells him that "(her screw up) won't happen again", he simply answers "I know". Despite Jinx's own insecurities Silco fully trusts her (sometimes even to his own detriment). And she fully trusts him as well (until the whole Vi shenanigans anyway), what can be seen in a way she's not afraid of his emotions or even to hurt him, because she knows perfectly well that he'll never harm her in any way (physical, I mean). And although there is a clear miscommunication between them in ep4 I don't think it's a common thing between them, and this specific case was caused by Jinx's deeply rooted trauma and low self-esteem, which Silco is unfortunately unable to fix.

Now onto the probably most common criticism of Silco specifically: that he made Jinx his weapon and raised her to be this bloodthirsty on purpose. And to this I say - no way. Silco DOES love Jinx and DOES trust her, but he's not blind and not an idiot. He perfectly knows that Jinx can cause a huge mess and potential troubles on the missions, his subordinates hate her, her mental state is unstable and therefore she's not the most reliable asset in the slightest, nor a necessary one. At no point do we get actual proof that Silco needs Jinx specifically for his operations, he seems to allow her to participate in them out of her own volition. After all, she does like being needed and included in the family business. You could argue that he needs Jinx for her gadgets and weapons, but nobody besides her uses them, so this option doesn't fit. "But he did request her to build Fishbones!" yeah. After Jinx stole the gemstone, again, out of her own choice. Silco is a swift strategist, if he sees an opportunity somewhere he takes it immediately. So there's nothing actually wrong with him asking Jinx to build a weapon with the use of gemstone. She didn't steal it for it to just. Lie there, after all. As to her bloodthirsty-ness I think he only nurtured what was already there. If you remember, in the very first episode Jinx made a bomb with NAILS in it. I don't think I need to tell you that it's just a horrible idea for a bomb, and she was only 9 at the time. As to Silco's "become what they fear" line. I don't think it indicates that he specifically raised Jinx to be a weapon, because he applied the same phrase to himself and we don't see him running around throwing glitter bombs at everyone (although it would've been cool to see ngl).

Next - Silco is very supportive of Jinx. His office is filled with things she drew all over, her inventions are tied to the ceiling. When Jinx is overwhelmed and upset about the failed mission he tells her to "focus on her gadgetry" and to "take some time". He clearly knows what she likes and what would put her in a better mood. He also doesn't restrict her self-expression, which can be seen in the way Jinx looks. I mean, you'd think that Silco would probably want for her to wear something more...classy? But he doesn't mind even one bit.

Another point I see a lot - that Silco loves Jinx but not Powder. I actually kiiinda understand where this point of view comes from, because the show does frame Vi and Silco as representatives of her Powder and Jinx persona respectively, but I don't think the text itself supports this. Let's take the river scene because it is the cause of this discussion in the first place after all. Silco tells Jinx that she needs "to let Powder die" and that "Jinx is perfect", but I don't necessarily agree that he meant it in a "choose between two of your personas" kind of way, because this conflict never existed between them in the first place. Vi does want "Powder" to come back, but Silco didn't show anything that would indicate of him disliking young Jinx in any way. He did adopt her when she was still Powder, after all. And even if she changed her name on the same night, her personality didn't, because that's not how humans work. So, he NEEDED to love Powder to raise her. Back to the river scene, he tells Jinx that she needs to let Powder die so "the fear of pain would no longer control (her)". "Powder" is tightly connected to Jinx's trauma of killing her entire family and Vi leaving her, i. e. the fear of pain of being betrayed again and the fear of messing up. In terms of psychology she really does need to live through this moment and properly process it, but unfortunately there's no psychologists in neither Piltover or Zaun, and Silco being mentally ill and not knowing better himself can only help her this way. "Jinx is perfect" also doesn't mean that he prefers Jinx over Powder, but rather "Jinx, the person you are right now, is perfect and strong. You need to let that weak part of you (Powder) die, so you can move on and become something greater". Jinx might've interpreted his line in the wrong way herself, but again, there's no actual evidence of Silco liking "Powder" less and only ever wanting "Jinx". And if we hop further into the finale, he literally says "YOU are perfect". Whatever seat she chooses, she will always be perfect to him. Even if she turns against him and everything he fights for, even if she kills him, even if she hates him, she remains perfect in his eyes. He might differentiate "Powder" and "Jinx" and a weaker/stronger part of her, but despite all that she's still his daughter.

Also. He's dealing with her mental health SOOOO great chat it's not even funny. I mean obviously he can't take care of it perfectly because again, psychology is non-existent in this world, but everything he CAN do he does just sooo good. He never lets other people berate or insult her, if he scolds her he only ever does this in private, he always tries to be patient and gentle with her, and the only time we seem him lash out at her is after Jinx stole the gemstone. He also seems to know what causes her psychosis and how to stop it, because he yells "Don't listen to her!" to Jinx when Vi triggers her, and then proceeds to try and shoot in Vi's direction to shut her up. We now know that this wasn't the best decision at all, but he literally goes feral when Jinx is hurt, so can you really blame him? There is of course an issue of him enabling her violence and letting her do everything she wants, but to cut Silco some slack he deals with a very mentally ill child, and as we saw in ep3 cutting Jinx off of something can easily cause her to have a mental breakdown. So I think partly his enabling was caused by his want not to hurt her.

Phew. I think we only need to get through the minor points now.

Manipulation: we only ever see Silco manipulate Jinx once, when he lied to her about Cait and Vi's reason for being in the Underground. Nothing indicates that he regularly manipulated her before.

Possessivness: I think this claim also doesn't have substantial evidence to back it up. We only see Silco being possessive of Jinx because of Vi, and even then it's not pure possessiveness. He literally doesn't want Jinx to be betrayed and possibly even killed like him. I think if Jinx just wanted to leave him on her own he would be a-okay with that. Also he doesn't watch over what she does/where she goes, which again reinforces his trust in her and him respecting her privacy.

Silco isolated Jinx from others: uhhh. See the end of the previous paragraph. If Jinx wanted to befriend someone she could've easily done that, and Silco wouldn't even know. The only person she couldn't befriend because of him is Ekko, but even he says to Vi that Jinx chose to be on Silco's side herself, so *shrugs*

And with that, I think I covered everything I wanted about their relationship. It's not perfect, but it's not bad either. Personally, I don't want to label it as anything, because minus the drug mafia and murders aspects they're just a regular father and daughter. There are no perfect parents, there are no perfect children, but if they try their hardest to love each other in a way they're both happy with, they're great in my book.

[supersexynerd]

“Can I be alone with you?”

Student!Nanami x Classmate!Reader

Summary; you always felt overwhelmed in the energised fast paced hang outs with the people of your year. Finding solace in a quiet part of the schools library, when someone finds you; someone who understands more than you might realise.

Warnings; fluff and that’s pretty much it, platonic but theres something forming

Currently not proofread

Joining Jujutsu High was probably one of the best things that had happened in your life. Life at home in the Zenin clan only came with imense pressure and never really feeling like you belonged anyways.

Here however; you had made amazing friends who you can be yourself around and focus on becoming a better sorcerer without the callouse critiquing from your elders.

As much as you loved your friends though there was one thing which still made you feel a little detached from them. While a lot of them always seemed filled to the brim with social energy (cough cough Gojo) you never had such a high social battery. Even Shoko who complains about the erratic white haired man still had a spring in her step to the Friday night hangouts that you often tried to avoid; it was by no means an insult to them you loved your friends! Just not necessarily the amount of overwhelming noise and stimulus that comes with hanging around with them- especially after a long week of schoolwork and missions.

So this is how you very happily spent your Friday night. Sat in the peace of the library on one of the sofas, book in hand with headphones in and some snack you ad been craving that day. You found the library a lot more peaceful than your own room, unlucky for you you shared a wall with the communal space in the dormitories that was the source of current events. No the quiet small dormitory Library downstairs suited you just fine.

“What are you doing here?” a monotone voice broke your concentration, causing you to startle looking up to see your tall emo looking friend.

Shuffling in the sofa to sit straight, you eyed him cautiously. Nanami is usually in the communal area talking with Haibara, how did he find you here? Was he even looking?

“It’s nothing on you guys, I just prefer a more… quiet way to unwind after a long week.” You admitted, face turning a little red as you closed your book, using a photo of you and Shoko as a bookmark.

Nanami sat down next to you, huffing “Gojo can be a bit too much on times can’t he?” he said seeing the subcontext of your explanation. In all honesty that was what drew Nanami to come find you. He was simply too tired to deal with Satoru’s immense bundles of energy despite every one of you getting ran through with missions and extra hard lessons this week. He always wondered where you went off, despite his universal expression making it seem like seeing you was simply a coincidence.

Nanami always took a liking to you. The way your snarky quips were the only thing to make Satoru shut up when he went on one of his stupid tangents. How you could outsmart Geto and always knew how to cheer Shoko up when she felt bad about her quirk being more on the utility side.

Not to mention you’re beauty but Nanami would never admit he thought of that.

“You like horror?” Nanami tried striking up conversation prodding at the scary looking cover of the book.

You just chuckled, rubbing your tired eyes from reading so much. “Don’t act like it’s something revolutionary” your usual sarcastic demeanour shining through your kind smile. “It’s actually really good” you looked over to the cover again, “it’s a four part series, I’m only on the first book, started it tonight actually”

Nanami let a small smile listening to you, not wanting you to stop talking, he asked for you to tell him more about what it was about.” Small red heat blanketing his cheeks as your eyes lit up with excitement, telling Nanami every detail of how you don’t entirely like one of the characters, you’re in love with one (who’s description seemed a little too close to himself), and how you were biting your nails all night at how on edge the book was.

It felt nice, you rarely had people to talk about this sort of thing with. Shoko refuses to listen about or watch anything horror as it scared the crap out of her. It was refreshing to have someone want to listen to you rant endlessly about different aspects.

You hadn’t meant to talk for so long, honestly you hadn’t, you were so carried away in your ramblings you saw your phone flash 11:43PM.

“I am so sorry!” You tried apologising profusely but Nanami just waved it off.

“Don’t be. I’ve enjoyed listening to you.” and you realise this whole time he’s been smiling, something you did not see often, especally not tis genuine. “On saying that though we should head back to our rooms.”

He was right and you knew it. You stood up wrapping your blanket over your shoulders as the pair of you walked back, sharing a comfortable silence only broken by soft yawns from both of you.

Another week had gone by, you couldn’t help but think about the evening when Nanami found you. It was a nice thing for someone to do, and you’d be lying if saying talking about your latest obsession didn’t make you feel giddy.

Another Friday night, another sofa that was taken by only you yet for the first time you felt a little sad it was just you. You shook it off, it was a once time thing, but then something catches your gaze as you get comfy under the blanket.

It was Nanami, in comfy clothes and glasses which he usually only wore during lesson.

“I know you like being alone, I was just wondering… Can I be alone with you?” Nanami said walking up to you nervously, hand massaging the back of his neck. Peering at his other arm you could see a book he was carrying in his palm “I brought my own too”

“Yes! Of course you can” you beamed before getting a little embarrassed at how excited you sounded, redness pouring over your face giving it away but Nanami just smiled softly as he took his place on the other side of the two person couch. “What book is that?” You investigated the cover as you offered him the other end of your very large blanket.

“It’s a mystery novel. I like reading them sometimes to see if I can figure it out before the big reveal. I’m about halfway through this one and it’s about this problematic rich family who’s haunted by this big secret of some sort. I have a feeling I know what it is but in a weird way that makes it more exciting for me; now I get to feel really smug if I’ve guessed it or, I’m astonished at how wrong I am” he finished with a chuckle.

This was a new side you were seeing to him, in a cringy cliche it was like you were seeing Kento, not Nanami. Your gaze softened as you listened to his rambles, your stomach fluttering in a way that caught you off guard.

“Come on then” you smirked “what do you think the big secret it?”

Kento smiles “well it’s definitely something surrounding the children I think, my money is on the mother had an affair and the twins aren’t really the fathers” he explained opening his book “I have half of it left, I’ll probably finish most of it tonight.”

“I look forward to finding out.” You smiled before you two both sat in another comfortable silence enjoying your own books. Stealing secret glances at each other every now and again, sometimes accidentally catching each other and hurriedly returning to your books cheeks flushed.

After a good two hours you saw Kento’s expression change to shock as he placed a hand over his mouth, reading a little more frantically. You look up amused, “what’s the matter?”

“They’re… Siblings” Kento says in astonishment.

“Well yeah they’re twins aren’t they?” You looked at him not quite understanding.

“No [Y/N], the parents. The mother and father are siblings”

“Ew!” You contorted your face.

“I know!” He exclaimed before you both burst into laughter.

The rest of the night was spent talking on both of your books, laughing at jokes and it was a refreshing change which both of you didn’t want to admit how much you loved.

Before you knew it it was starting to get late again, a solemnness draped across the pair of you while you walked back, not wanting it to end but knew there was a curfew you had to meet.

“Same time next Friday?” You asked as you two reached the dorms. A wide grin causing a glint in his eyes seeps into his face as he nods enthusiastically in agreement.

And so started your new routine. Every Friday, you and Nanami would sneak away to the library to meet. The first half always spent reading then the second half started out and just talking about what you had just seen but the more you two grew comfortable the more there was additions of trivial things such as gossip you had heard off of Shoko which Kento surprisingly loved hearing to, and adding! The conversation would even turn to deeper levels as the pair of you really started to feel something between you two.

The only problem was that the pair of you were too awkward or nervous to say anything.

One Friday after a particularly gruelling week, by 8PM which was usually the time you two would stop reading and begin talking, Nanami looked over to see you asleep.

He spent a few moments looking at you, not wanting to be a creep but found you so beautiful all relaxed and peaceful. He put the photo of you and Shoko in between the pages that were sandwiching your thumb while you were asleep, picking you up bridal style.

Blanket draping on the floor as he carried you back to your dorm, settling you down in bed. The whole time not startling once, making Nanami feel his heart swell knowing how comfortable and safe you felt in his presence.

Unconsciously, after settling you into bed with the covers over you now, slippers neatly placed on the floor near the edge of your bed, Nanami couldn’t help the small soft kiss he peppered onto your forehead. Earning a happy little hum from you still deep in sleep.

Kento didn’t have the courage to confess, but right now this moment was enough for now.

A/N: ahhhhh this was so cute to write. part of me is wondering if I should continue it??

[bisexualbrainrots]

a while ago I had an idea for a one-shot, sort of inspired by @ohithankyou's posts about lexie grey's confession to mark, and I just got to start writing it. it's 3rd person, tommy's pov (for the most of it)

so, here's a snippet, it's still in the works.

and yeah, tommy is NOT doing okay, he's a very unreliable narrator here.

It should be awkward, shouldn't it?

Tommy's standing outside on the porch, trying to convince himself to just knock, but it's getting harder. It's especially hard since he can hear the music and loud conversations taking place inside, and he fears he will ruin the atmosphere.

He squeezes the bag, This is stupid he thinks, they don't want me here.

He wants them to not want him here.

It would be much easier that way, if the resentment was still fresh in their brains and they could just shut him out, but it's been over 5 months and resentment is probably a thing from the past, at least for most of them. Resentment would be much easier than what Tommy has in mind: indifference, like he stopped existing entirely to them and there's no reason to remember him even. Yeah, that hurts more.

But I deserve it.

After what was probably 5 minutes but felt like 5 hours, he finally rang the doorbell, taking a few steps behind to make his presence less threatening.

A warm smile received him, the kind eyes of Sergeant Grant looking straight at him.

“Tommy! You made it” he wanted to believe this was all an act, that her warm arms pulling him into a hug were just a way to pretend, for her to be civil about this, and yet, he missed them.

Missed this.

Missed the way in which her arm, like right now, would drive him inside the new place the couple built for themselves, missed the little comments about what they were having to eat and drink, and missed the way in which Bobby would appear, a beer bottle in hand ready for him to drink accompanied by a big smile.

“I’m glad you could make it Tommy, I didn't know if you'd feel up to it”

The coldness of the bottle helped him to ground himself, to remind himself this was just a cordial invitation: he wasn't a priority.

“For you and Athena? Believe me I'd even fly into a hurricane again” a small smile appeared on his lips when the couple laughed, both holding onto each other with a love he always dreamed of.

A love he let himself lose.

He looked down at the big bag, suddenly nervous about what he had gotten them “I-I got you two this, as a housewarming gift” Bobby's fingers brushing against his as he took the bag felt like fire, like he was being burned and was being warned and reminded not to get too close again “You don't have to hang it anywhere it's just— you can even put it in the garage if you want”

Athena's eyebrow arched and looked at Bobby, a question in both of their minds as they took the Kraft paper covered rectangle out of the bag. Their reaction when the paper was ripped would've made a good video, the kind that spread throughout social media and even reached the news.

Their eyes were glued to the painting, sparkling as they took in the details: a faceless couple dancing around what looked like dusts of wind, with leafs and flowers around them. The piece had a warm palette, except for the couple: a combination of pink and purple. “A hurricane of love” read the post-it note attached to the corner, which made the couple gasp when Bobby took it out, revealing the signature.

“You made this?” Bobby's voice hitched, and Tommy hoped it was a good thing that the man's eyes were glistening.

He nodded, his cheeks feeling strangely warm, and fidgeted with his fingers “I took on painting after—” he stopped himself from talking, a lump in his throat that suddenly made it harder for him to keep going.

After I broke my own heart.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 10 - With my toes dipped in the sand

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 4.5K

TWs: Erectile dysfunction, drug use, slight mention of addiction, mention of spanking, discussion of parenthood/children, ass play, masturbation, discussion of anal.

Once Tegan has fully recovered, she and Elvis live out of Graceland for a while. She gets used to driving out of the mansion gates every morning, and the handful of fans she sees there regularly are on first name terms with her after a few weeks. Living together is surprisingly easy, though Tegan refuses to give up her apartment, however many different ways Elvis thinks of to ask. It’s not just that she wants it as a safety net, she genuinely loves living in it, and tries to persuade Elvis that they could hop between the two instead of always living in the mansion. He’s not sure. It was the last house his Mama lived in, after all, and part of him feels guilty wanting to live anywhere else in Memphis, even if he does really like the apartment too. 

They’re sitting together in bed one morning, Tegan between Elvis’ legs, when he remembers he wants to ask her something. 

“Queenie?”

“Hmmm?”

“Ya wanna go on vacation soon?” His hand trails up and down from the top of her sternum to her belly. 

The back of her head is against his chest, and she looks up at him curiously. “With you? I’d love to. Where are we going?”

“Wherever ya want, honey.”

“Oooh.”

“But, uh… probably not just us.”

Tegan tries to hide her disappointment as he tells her about the million and one people he wants to invite and promises to pay for. She knows Maria will be thrilled, and the kids too, but she was hoping for some kind of romantic getaway, rather than a family holiday with people who were not, in fact, her family. She tells him she’s going to shower and he makes noises about breakfast. 

“You decide, though, Queenie. Wherever ya wanna go. Nice beach somewhere.”

The shower clears her head, and she decides that going on holiday with everyone probably isn’t as bad as she thinks. The more people, the bigger the likelihood of someone wanting to go with her to do things. She’s starting to think that Elvis has become a very beach holiday person in his old age, and she can’t think of anything worse than just lying around getting sunburnt. She pulls on jeans and a jumper and wanders downstairs, finding Elvis in the kitchen, reading the paper as he eats his rubbery eggs. 

“Good shower?” He asks, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Yes, thanks.” 

She puts an arm around his shoulders and looks down at the paper. His palm slides onto the inside of her thigh, possessively. 

“Look at this.” He points to an article in the paper and she reads it over his shoulder. “Think I should ask Dr Dawson about it?”

The article is about Sildenafil, a drug recently approved for use by the FDA. As Tegan reads further, she realises it’s for erectile dysfunction. She’s not sure she’d ever really thought about Elvis’ dick as being dysfunctional before, but she does always feel like they have to make the most of it whenever it is functioning as it should. Interesting.

“You might as well see what he thinks about it.”

He doesn’t really want to talk to the doctor about his penis, but he knows this is something that could really help him. He feels a bit like his life is controlled by the whims of Little Elvis, and he’d really prefer to be in control of it himself. He calls Dr Dawson after breakfast, and the doctor promises to be round in a couple of hours. Elvis doesn’t like seeing medical professionals at all, nowadays. He feels like he had such a close brush with death in the early 70s that he tries to keep away from temptation now. After the world tour he’d fired Dr Nick and specifically looked for someone who dealt with addiction to sort out his problems. It has been tough, but looking at Tegan now, as she fusses around the kitchen trying to tidy up, he thinks that it has definitely been worth it. 

“He’s comin’ up the drive,” He says, to no-one in particular, as he sits staring at the CCTV. 

“You want me to talk to him with you?” Tegan strokes his hair as he wraps an arm around her. 

“Oh, yes please, honey.” This whole thing is embarrassing, but her being there will at least be a hand to hold. 

They settle into the study with the doctor and Elvis shows him the newspaper article. 

“I uh… I-I-I-I thought maybe they uh… m-might… help me s-some…” he stutters. Tegan reaches for his hand and squeezes it. 

“Well you’re not the first person to ask me about this today, and you sure won’t be the last!” Dr Dawson jokes. Elvis smiles, thinly. “Can you describe your symptoms?”

Elvis starts to blush and Tegan can see the start of a full on stammer coming, so she cuts in. 

“Well he just can’t necessarily get it up every time. It’s better in the morning, I think that’s quite common, um, but it’s kind of unreliable in the evening. And I’m… well I’m nearly 40 but I’ve always struggled getting relaxed enough for intercourse, I need a lot of foreplay, so we do struggle sometimes. It’s frustrating for both of us. We um, I mean we have a good sex life but I think anything to improve it a little is worth a try, you know?”

Elvis squeezes her hand tightly and she looks over at him as he mouths “thank you”. 

“Well that sounds just like what this drug has been made for. I’m happy to prescribe it for you, if you agree your wife’s description of it is accurate?”

Tegan’s eyes go wide at his mistake but she doesn’t say anything. Elvis smirks. 

“Oh yeah, I agree with everything my wife just said.”

“Great. Lucky for you I have a bottle on me, but here’s a prescription for more. It lowers your blood pressure, so make sure you take it easy. Don’t be popping more than one of these a night.”

He hands over the bottle, and Elvis immediately passes it to Tegan. “You can look after that f’me, honey.”

She smiles and nods and they get up to shake hands with the doctor and show him out. As soon as he’s gone Elvis turns to her and bursts out laughing. 

“Yer face when he called ya my wife!”

“You didn’t correct him!”

“Didn’t want ta. A man can dream, can’t he?”

She shakes her head and smirks a little herself. “Well, looks like we’re going to have a fun holiday.” She holds up the bottle of pills and shakes it. 

“Not just the vacation, Queenie. The fun starts now.”

Still shaking her head, she holds the bottle behind her back. “Uh-uh. You gave it to me to look after. I’m keeping it hidden until we go on holiday.”

“What?!” Elvis’ eyes are wide. He had been thinking of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up the stairs immediately. 

“I’m keeping the spark alive! Ahhhh! Elvis!!” 

She starts to run but he catches up with her quickly, grabbing her around the waist and trying to get the pill bottle off her. She squeals as they play-fight, both ending up on the carpet in the living room, scrabbling about. She throws the bottle as far away as she can manage and then tries to get up and run after it. He grabs her ankle and brings her tumbling back to the floor. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Ow! Elvis!” 

“Ya should practise karate more at home, ya know,” he tells her as he rolls away from her, getting up himself and running after the bottle. He scoops it up and turns around, just in time for her to attempt a wrist lock on him to get him to drop it again. Now it’s his turn to cry out in pain. “Ow!” 

She stops, worried she’s actually hurt him and his expression immediately changes to a wicked grin. 

“Tricked ya.”

She’s just realising what’s happened when he picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, grabbing hold of her thighs tightly. 

“Spanking time fer naughty girls.”

“Elvis!” 

He chuckles, striding up the stairs with her over one shoulder, kicking and struggling but getting nowhere. He throws her on the bed and then looks at the label of the pill bottle. 

“Ah. Half an hour to kick in. Good amount of time ta spank ya for, I reckon.”

***

The group flies to Cancun for Thanksgiving break on Elvis’ private jet, and Tegan has to admit that she could get used to this kind of lifestyle. There’s no real rules on the jet, although she does remain sensibly in her seat and wearing her seatbelt for the majority of the flight anyway. There’s also champagne on the jet, and plenty of tasty food. Maria’s kids make the most of the lack of rules, tearing up and down the plane, playing all manner of games. Elvis joins in with them for a bit, but then he gets worn out and sits back down next to his girlfriend. He watches as Gina comes barrelling over and jumps on her lap. She looks shocked as always, and very carefully picks the little girl up and places her back on the floor again, explaining as patiently as she can muster that she’s not a climbing frame. He chuckles, taking her hand in his. 

“She’s a little firecracker, ain’t she?”

Tegan huffs out a sigh. “Yeah. I swear she came out of the womb like this and she hasn’t taken a breath since.”

“She might even be too much fer me,” he observes with a wry smile. 

Tegan looks over at him, surprised. “Didn’t think any kids were too much for you.”

“Psssh. I’m old, Queenie. My knees ain’t what they used ta be. Ben, over there, is more my speed nowadays.” He nods towards the little boy, who is colouring in carefully, as usual. 

“You’re just saying that because he’s the only kid who gives me the time of day.”

Elvis shakes his head. “Nah. I’m sayin’ it because it’s true.”

They sit in silence for a while, Tegan trying to weigh up what she ought to say to him, since he’d brought up the topic of children. She still doesn’t know. 

“Ya never wanted any?” He asks, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

“No.” She decides to go all in. “I’m not the maternal type. Never felt the urge. I find them… difficult to relate to.”

She doesn’t dare look at him now that she’s basically told him she doesn’t like kids, in what seems quite a bit like a jet plane full of kids. 

“I uh… I always thought I’d have more, ya know. Only ended up with one.”

She nibbles on her lower lip and nods, still looking away. His thumb carries on rubbing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Thought I’d make a good dad. Not sure I did. Ya’d have ta ask Lisa I suppose.” He pauses for a while, and she wonders if she should contradict him. Then he continues, “don’t think either of us were ready. Me or Cilla. Not sure she had a maternal bone in her body, but she had a kid anyway.” Another pause. “Y’know, Stella wanted kids. An’ I was always too busy with one thing or another. Another reason she left me. She was pregnant almost straight away, after she’d gone.”

Tegan finds herself squeezing his hand and cautiously looking into his face. “Thought you’d think less of me, you know. Because I’m not… maternal.”

He shakes his head. “Confused me at first, when Maria told me. But then I thought about it an’ I guess I realised we’re not that different. I mean I coulda had a whole army of ‘em, but I didn’t. Coz I didn’t think I’d give ‘em the life they deserved.” He looks over at Lisa, wistfully, as she helps Riley with her cross-stitch. “Never had time fer her, when she was little. Said that’s why I stopped with the music, ta make time fer her. But I just filled it with somethin’ else.”

He sighs deeply. Tegan raises his hand to her lips and kisses the back of it. 

“I’m sure everyone thinks they could’ve done a better job at being a parent. But look at her now. She’s grown into a wonderful, capable woman with a career and two great kids of her own. And she loves you, you know she does.”

Elvis turns his head and presses a kiss to Tegan’s temple. “Thanks, Queenie. That means a lot.”

“Any time, ‘raur. It’s not hard to say when it’s the truth.”

***

They arrive at the resort and once they’ve unpacked a little the men gather around the barbeque and try to cook fish that Maria picked up at the market. Elvis pulls a face about the smell, but accepts little mouthfuls of Tegan’s when she feeds them to him from her plate. 

“You should try a prawn, ‘raur. Not fishy at all.”

She gets up and rescues one from the barbeque, moving it back and forth in her fingers as she tries to peel it. It’s still pretty hot, but once she gets the shell off she takes a bite. 

“Mmmm. Delicious. You want?”

Elvis has already taken a pill, and the sight of Tegan with butter running down her chin brings Little Elvis to attention immediately. He shuffles about, rearranging himself to make his erection less obvious, and then leans forward with his mouth open. Tegan giggles as she puts the rest of the prawn in his mouth. She’d noticed the little movement and knows exactly what it means. He won’t last long at this table. 

“Hmmm that’s okay, actually,” he concedes, then winks at her. 

She wipes her chin and giggles. “You want another?”

“Only if you do.”

They’re both giggling now, and she repeats the process with another prawn, eating it even more messily and making Elvis groan audibly. 

“Okay, this has been fun,” he announces, once he’s eaten the other half. “But Queenie and I have a bed to test out.”

Tegan puts her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. The kids are all still awake and they immediately start asking things about the bed and why it needs testing. 

“Elvis!” She elbows him in the side as they walk off together, the rest of the adults laughing and wishing them luck. 

“Ya shouldn’ta eaten that prawn like that, baby. It was like a porno.”

She almost cries with laughter as she holds onto his arm, both of them stepping back into the condo. “It was not! It was me, eating a prawn, normally! You’ve got problems, Presley.”

He turns her to face him, running his thumb over her chin and grinning back. “I’ve got one problem, Queenie. An’ it’s that I need ya now. I can’t wait.”

He leans down and kisses her, his tongue exploring her mouth eagerly. 

“You’ve got no patience, nowadays,” she tells him as she leads him into their bedroom for the week. “No patience at all.”

They’d used the pills a few times since he’d been prescribed them, and it had really taken the pressure off. Elvis no longer had to worry if his erection could make it through a change in position because it always did. He’d had a lot of fun throwing her around and trying new things, with the help of a bottle of lube that she’d bought in Memphis’ only sex shop. But he’s by no means finished the list of things he wants to try, and he’s glad he’s got all this time on vacation now.

Once they’re both naked he lies on top of her, still relishing the fact that she likes it, and kisses her neck. 

“Queenie…” he murmurs into her ear. 

“Mmm. Yes, baby.”

“Y’know that time ya were sick and ya… well we… y’know…”

She giggles at his shyness. “I think I know, but use your words, ‘raur.”

He groans. “Okay, okay. I didn’t want yer finger, but uh…y-ya could… would ya wanna lick it? I mean… ya don’t have ta, if ya don’t wanna it’s fine but…” he trails off, aware he’s just making noises at this point. 

Tegan bites her lip, hard, to stop herself from giggling. She breathes out very slowly through her nose and prays for some kind of composure. 

“You want me to eat your ass?”

“Oh-oh-oh-nly if ya want to.” When she doesn’t reply straight away, he carries on. “I-I mean it’s fine if ya don’t, I don’t expect ya ta, I… I know I’m an old man with a hairy ass and I wouldn’t want ta stick my tongue there…”

Tegan can’t suppress her little giggle at the description. 

“Ya don’t want ta. I knew it. I shouldna asked. I’m sorry honey, my horny brain jus’ gets these ideas an’...”

She moves her head so she can look at him, putting a hand on either side of his face. “I would love to eat your ass.”

“Y-you would?”

She giggles again, a little shyly. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Well I think ya would, honey.”

“Girls have done it to you before, haven’t they?”

It’s his turn to smirk a little now. “Yeah. Once or twice.”

“Well I might not be any good at it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Practice makes perfect.”

They both giggle again, foreheads pressed against one another, in that conspiratorial way they’d developed over the weeks and months they’d been together. 

“I need ta shower.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He gives her a slightly funny look. “Honey, I need to wash down there.”

“So?”

“Okay, fine. But ya have ta close yer eyes fer that bit.”

Tegan rolls her eyes a little in disbelief but assures him that she will. They get in the shower together and she giggles at his raging erection. Once he’d taken a pill, if it was up there was no way it was coming down until he’d cum (and sometimes not even then), and she finds it very amusing. He insists that she closes her eyes and puts her hands over them whilst he washes his ass, which she finds even funnier. Eventually she’s allowed to look again and they get out of the shower and dry off. 

“You’ve gotta stop giggling, little girl,” he chides as they get back on the bed again. 

“But you’re so cute and funny.”

Elvis tries hard to put on a serious face but only manages for a few seconds before laughing again. He'd laughed and joked around with all of his girlfriends, but he can’t remember laughing so much with anyone before Tegan. Especially not in bed. He always took sex very seriously, which meant being proud of himself when he made a woman come for the first time, but also beating himself up when he couldn’t perform the way he wanted to. She somehow manages to make it silly and sexy at the same time. 

“How do you want to do this, then?” She asks.

“A bit pissed,” he answers, and they’re back to laughing again. 

Tegan gets up and pulls on a robe so she can walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of champagne from the fridge. They sit and drink and talk a little about who they think will fall out with who first on the vacation. Elvis’ money is on Lisa-Marie arguing with Sonny, but Tegan thinks that Maria and her husband won’t last a day with the kids without fighting. Once they’re about three quarters of the way through the bottle, Tegan puts her empty glass down. 

“C’mon then. Which way round do you want me?”

Even a little drunk and a lot horny, Elvis struggles to answer such a direct question. “Can I uh…” he stops and swallows down the rest of his champagne in one big gulp. “Can I sit on yer face?”

She nods and gives him a quick kiss, before settling down on her back. He gulps. He sort of had expected her to say no. 

“C’mon then,” she encourages again, holding her arms out. 

He carefully arranges himself with a knee on either side of her shoulders, then kind of hovers, uncertainly. She grabs his hips and pulls him down so she’s actually sitting on his haunches. 

“That okay?” He asks.

Her hands move to his ass and she squeezes it a little before pulling the cheeks apart and licking between them. He makes a little moaning noise and she smiles. 

“Shuffle back a bit, if you stay that far away it’s going to hurt my neck after a while.”

He does as she suggests and she hums approvingly, starting to lick again. He groans, his hand sliding up and down his dick as he looks at her body stretched out in front of him. He likes looking at her tattoos, and her piercings. And of course he likes looking at her breasts. And her pussy. Well, shit, he likes her body generally. Sitting like this is giving him a great view and her tongue being where it is is like the icing on the cake. 

Tegan keeps licking for a while, wide, long movements and then little kitten licks. Then she makes her tongue into a point and pulls him down onto her face a little more, pressing it against his entrance. 

“Mmmmm.”

She tries a few times but she can’t get more than the very end in, so she pulls back. 

“Baby?”

“Hmmm.” The feeling of her tongue is making Elvis sweat and he doesn’t know how to respond. 

“You’re tensing up,” she tells him, running her thumb between his ass cheeks now. 

“Mmmm.” He still can’t speak, now she’s rubbing him there and he’s starting to feel a little insane. 

“If you imagine you’re pushing a little, that might help.”

Tegan hears Elvis panting, but he still doesn’t say anything. She mentally shrugs and moves her head back into position, pulling him down on her mouth again. Her hands massage his ass as she tries again with her tongue. This time she presses in a little further, and he moans loudly, moving his hand faster on his dick as he feels his orgasm building. 

He’s never let a woman do this before. He was always kind of strict with the girls he had let near his asshole. The idea of something going in, whether it was a finger or a tongue, just seemed sort of violating. Like something that shouldn’t happen to him. But Tegan’s little tongue… he moans again as she flicks it in and out, and he finds himself matching her rhythm with his hand. He thinks again about the way she is with him, how much she makes him laugh and how reassuring she is. Her patience, how she never once got frustrated or upset with him when he couldn’t give her what he promised, in bed. How she ate whatever he tried to cook her, never once pointed out that his attempts at cleaning the kitchen floor left it dirtier than it was to begin with and always looked so delighted to see him after a long day at work. He suddenly realises, with his release heavy in his balls and a pretty girl’s tongue halfway up his ass, that he loves her. 

“Shit,” he mutters, as his orgasm peaks and cum starts to shoot out of his dick and all over her body. “Tegan…I love you.”

She pulls her tongue back into her mouth and kisses him there instead, until he shakily gets off her and lies down on the bed. She leans over and tries to kiss his lips, but his hand stops her. 

“I know where yer mouth’s been.”

Grabbing his hand and pulling it out of the way, she climbs on top of him and pins his blissed out body to the bed. “Yeah. Your arsehole. My mouth. So the least you can do is give me a kiss for it.”

Drunk on champagne and his orgasm, Elvis gives in, letting her kiss him passionately. She pulls back and then presses a little kiss to the end of his nose. 

“I love you too, by the way. Couldn’t reply at the time as my tongue was otherwise occupied.” She chuckles. “That’s one to tell the grandkids.”

Elvis laughs, putting on a high-pitched voice. “Hey grandad, when did you tell grandma you loved her for the first time?” His voice changes to an exaggerated version of his own deep southern drawl. “When she had her tongue up my ass, son.”

They fall about laughing again, trading lines back and forth about it, Elvis howling with laughter at her impressions of him. When they recover, he looks at her seriously for a moment. 

“This old man woves you so much, Tegan bach.” He holds her face in his hands and stares at her, lovingly. 

“She woves him too,” she replies. She really does. Has done for a long time now, but for some reason it didn’t seem important to say it. She felt like he already knew. “You want the end of the champagne?”

He nods and she gets up, pouring the remains of the bottle into two glasses. 

“Hey, how d’ya know to tell me to do that thing… so ya could get yer tongue in?”

She smirks. “I’ve um… done anal before.”

His eyes go wide for a moment and he takes a sip of his drink. “Ya like it?”

She nods. “What about you?”

“I’ve never let anyone fuck me in the ass,” he replies, completely deadpan. 

She pushes him in the chest and he starts to laugh. “Okay, okay. Yeah I did it with a girl once. Good Christian girl, no sex before marriage ya know? Kept that pussy pristine, good as new. But her asshole musta seen some things.”

Tegan shrieks, her hand over her mouth, nearly falling onto the mattress she’s laughing so hard. 

“You can’t tell me you want me to eat your ass, but you can say that?”

He shrugs. “Tellin’ stories about other people is easier. Tellin’ ya what I want… I don’t want ya ta think I’m some kinda weirdo.”

She reaches up to stroke his cheek. “I definitely think you’re some kind of weirdo. My kind of weirdo.”

He smiles then, a beautiful radiant smile that lights up his whole face. 

“Don’t ever feel like you can’t ask me for whatever you want. I’d never make you feel bad about it.”

He kisses her again, softly, on the lips. “I will hold ya ta that, Tegan bach. I’ll hold ya to it.”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[recluserat]

Hey, It's the Dwayne/Michael anon again. I'm curious...what do you imagine the dynamic to be between these two? As in, who makes the first move? Who's the most assertive/dominant in the relationship? Who confesses their feelings first? etc etc. And how did you think up this ship? Sorry if it's too many questions, it's just that you've gotten me hooked on these two lol

ooooooo anon, welcome back! I love these questions but I am going to be so honest with you that prior to seeing this ask I had not thought this hard about the ship. I have been going purely based off vibes and the gut feeling that those two ppl need to be kissing posthaste. That being said, I love this ask bc it made me actually sit down and think about the way I view these two as both characters and as a couple so here are my new answers: 1. Whenever I think of the two of them the ship dynamic that comes to mind is "silent and stoic x perpetually confused". At the same time though, I think Dwayne is an instigator who will nudge Paul and Marko with little comments and then sit back and watch the drama unfold. Meanwhile I feel like when it comes to the vamps, Michael doesn't really know what's going on but he keeps managing to get himself wrapped up in their shit. He likes to instigate as much as Dwayne does but he's not smooth enough with it to not be dragged along and also his big brother instincts kick in sometimes and he feels like he should back them up. Only sometimes though. Other times he's perfectly happy to sit back with Dwayne and laugh at the others. 2. I think that Dwayne would flirt with Michael first, but once Michael registers that this man is flirting with him he's 100% committing to it and will flirt harder than Dwayne. Dwayne has been around Santa Carla for a while and is like... Apex Predator Mode so I think he wouldn't be afraid to flirt with someone who catches his eye. Meanwhile Michael is new to town, probably not going to be making any moves on strangers straight off the bat yk. But once Dwayne opens that door Michael is fully tossing himself through it. 3. I have so many different Dwayne/Michael stories swirling around in my mind right now that I can't for sure say who I think would definitively always be the one to confess first, but I have imagined the different ways they would do it. I think Dwayne would do his best to use his actions rather than his words, acts of service/physical touch stuff first. He would give Michael special treatment ie. always buys him food on the boardwalk, give him first dibs on anything he wants, always finds excuses to be close to Michael and have his hands on him in some way whether that's fixing the collar of his jacket or just resting his hand over Michael's shoulder while they're standing around. If he HAS to verbally say it I think it would be quiet. Something short and straight to the point while also being flirty, smting like "You know you drive me crazy" or smthing while being all up in Michael's personal space. Meanwhile, with Michael I think he would also do the whole physical touch thing, but less consciously. He starts gravitating to Dwayne without even noticing - parks his bike next to him, sits with him on the couch, always looks to Dwayne first when one of the other guys makes a crazy suggestion to see what Dwayne thinks. I think that whenever Michael does verbally confess it would be big, and somewhat aggressive. Fists full of Dwayne's jacket while his voice is raised talking about how he felt watching someone else put their hands on him, sloppy kisses, that sort of thing. I like to picture the level of emotion that Michael had in the movie when he confronted David on the boardwalk with the whole "where's Starr?" thing. But because he's Michael I think he wouldn't even realize that he liked Dwayne like that until that big explosion. TBH, I'm not really sure where this ship came from. I feel like with TLB there's only so many ships you can do that involve Michael and the vamps. I've read a bunch of stuff on Ao3 and the most common ships I see are David/Michael, David/Starr, Michael/Starr, and poly vamps+michael. I love rare pairs and Dwayne is my favorite character so one day I was just kinda like... what if.....????? and started writing about the two of them together. Thank you for this ask! I have so many more ideas for Dwayne/Michael stuff now that I have to go write down somewhere

[elainsgirl]

no cause im tired of everything.

I'm sick of people talking about gwyn like shes the most important character ever. like yall don't actually care about her. they only like her cause shes involved with a batboy which is ridiculous. ("pro gwyneth" like be so fr... we barely know anything about her??? Like I like gwyn but stop making stuff up about her and saying shes saving the world.) that girl didn't show any romantic feelings towards him, so stop forcing it. (not to mention they never talk about emerie... interesting)

why is azriel getting shipped with everyone?? "gwyn is azriel's mate!" "no, its eris" "no, its bryce" "no, its mor" "no, its rhys dead sister" I LAUGH SO HARD AT THESE CAUSE WHERE ARE YOU GETTING THIS FROM???? I bet if azriel breathes next to anyone, they will automatically assume its his mate! leave the guy alone, my gosh.

"his shadows hate elain" just shut up. like fr.

"elain can go to the spring court and be with tamlin while az gets with gwyn and lucien gets with vassa" BAHAHAHAHAH. bro i cant even say anything to this because its ridiculous.

"if az finds his real mate, he will leave elain in a hurry" BRO. why do you guys think this man world revolves around wanting a mate so badly???? yall think so low of him its weird. if he wanted a mate oh so badly... he wouldnt go for elain! get that in your dumb heads!

now with the bonus chapter (elain and az part) im iffy about it. its good at the start but rhys and az argument gave me the ick but I understand what he meant either way. I can see why people didnt like azriel here. but to call him entitled is just WILD! he wasnt wrong questioning the cauldron. like why is he having all these mate behaviors towards elain when she has a mate??? I'd question the cauldron, too. feyre was so real when she said "why not make them mates" because they lowk fit no matter what anyone says.

now this was really irks me. "3 brothers and 3 sisters is so cliche" cliche??? bestie- do you see what we are reading??? the answer to the riddle was "love" out of all things. shut up with that dumb excuse. we have never seen 3 brothers and 3 sisters yet- well I havent. im pretty sure most of you havent either. if you read the BOOKS, you will understand that sjm uses the word 3 a lot. this is just common sense, people love to twist stuff.

Now dont get me wrong, I'll go for elucien or elriel. I dont care. but these gwynriels made me dislike az and gwyn together. like I used to go along with it but now they force it so badly "READ THE BONUS CHAPTER" "DID YOU READ THE BONUS CHAPTER" "maKe suRe yOu rEad iT cArEfuLly" "he chuckled with her" "they glance at eachother" "az and gwyn are going to save the world together" "i hope nesta, emerie, gwyn and az leave and make their own court" < (I fr saw someone say something like this) sister... I literally cringe! just please stop.

btw elriels gwyn isnt evil. stop saying that.

im so sorry for this rant. it just had to be said.

lmfao the need to vent is so real. This fandom TESTS your patience at times.

I think one of my biggest annoyances with Gwynriel is the fact that Gwyn doesn’t even like Azriel that way. Instead of focusing on how far she’s come, her accomplishments etc everything seems to go back to Azriel. If you ever truly look At gwynriel theories and headcanons the focus is always on Az and Gwyn doesn’t have much of a story by herself, she doesn’t lead a story. She is a follower/tag along. I will always say this again and again: If she was that important to the point of having anything to do with the prisons, trove, TT/Gwydion she would have been introduced earlier on in the series. It’s that simple. She has nothing to do w the prison, Koshei or even the daggers/made objects. Everything about gwynriel is forced - from Gwyn and Az having feelings for each other to their plot. Barely anything of that ship makes sense when you truly start to unravel it.

Az is getting shipped with everyone except who he truly wants and thats just comical. I guarantee you, If Az interacted with any other woman - gwynriel shippers would split so fast and some will start shipping him with the new woman.

“His shadows hate elain” … why were they ready to strike Nesta all because she insulted elain? They also speak so can’t they literally just tell Az “hey man, we dont like elain”. Then part of this claim comes from the fact Elain made his shadows skitter which is something Az does himself.

I so want Elain to go to Spring and mention how she finds it stiffling/claustrophobic. Elain going to spring to live there is ignoring everything about her character and only focusing on the fact she likes flowers and by their own logic, Nesta should go to Day and Feyre to a more artistic court.

If Az soley wanted a mate and was so desperate for one - why on earth is he pining for someone WITH A MATE. It literally defeats the purpose of him getting a mate. Also its such a stilt to his character for him to want a mate and then get one. It doesn’t allow character growth and makes the idea of “mates” seem as a prize instead of this romantic connection. If he wanted a mate so badly, this man would be going after women with no mates. Not one that has a mate. The logic behind this arguement is so stupid,

Azriel’s bonus to me parallels Feyre’s whole scene where she questioned the cauldron because of Azriel. It was Sjms way of bringing it back and reminding us of it. Telling us “look! Another character is doubting elucien’s bond! Why is Az questioning the cauldron” etc. The only part of Azriel’s bonus where I got the ick aside from his and gwyns’ awkward conversation- is when he said Lucien doesn’t deserve Elain. I get where that statement was coming from but he isn’t someone to decide who deserves who. This is what doesn’t make sense: antis call Az entitled for simply WONDERING why Elain was given to Lucien, he hs made no move to break elucien up. He hs not forced anything onto Elain. He doesn’t dictate or control her interactions with Lucien, the fact he hadn’t planned a future for them either all show he is far from acting entitled. But eluciens needed a way to make Az seem bad and lucien better hence why latched onto this argument when it doesn’t make sense given what we know about Azriels character, his thoughts, actions and what he said in the bonus.

“3 sisters and 3 brothers is cliche” whilst reading a romantasy series ( a genre filled with repetitive cliches) by an author who claims to be the queen of cliches. Every single fated mates ending up together? Cliche. Omg the trainer and his trainee fell in love? How unique. Its not like that is also a popular trope. I cannot give you any book/s in which 3 sisters end w 3 brothers, I however can pull out multiple books with the fated mates/warriors/trainerxtrainee tropes.

Too bad. Mass loves the IC - There is no reason why Nesta/valkryies and Az would go to another court. Wait - but the night court is Azriels home. Its where he belongs, unlike Elain who has to leave…but now they want Az to leave too? One thing you can trust antis to do is be consistent with their inconsistencies. Honestly, I was open to the idea of gwynriel but genuinely none of their theories or HCs make sense. In a general sense gwynriel is a good ship sure but you can generally ship any two characters together from the series. It doesn’t mean it’s happening & they’ll be endgame.

Gwyn definitely isn’t evil. However I do think she has the potential to become morally grey which im all here for.

[mrslaflour]

📸 cheese babe.

pairing — taehyun x reader

warnings — noncon filming, restraints, reader is drugged tf out, taehyun totally just cum shotted all over reader, somnophilia things but no sex scene, didn’t proof read shit, all lowercase

notes — VERY QUICK DRABBLE. yes, yes i did post this before grape party kai. this is a tiny drabble to hold you over that i just scribbled down basically :p.

you feel numb. tingles spreading throughout your whole body but you can’t move a single muscle. your eyes can only part slightly, everything else remaining blurry. god, how late is it? was this just another late night nap? you hear a click and then a bright flash come through your eyes causing you to groan.

“you’re awake?”

another voice. in your room? you live alone. you go to speak up but nothing comes out. nothing can come out. it’s like your tongue is just dead and your lips refuse to fully part. you go to sit up but even that task isn’t possible. your arms are stuck behind your back, you finally notice that. but still. you should be able to lift your chest. now you’re worried and your breathing becomes heavier and more strained. it wasn’t until you felt a cold hand press against your chest that you realized you probably were naked. you say probably considering that fact that you can’t move your head to look and you can barely see out of your eyes in the first place.

“you’re my muse for the night. you’re drugged the fuck out though, so if you’re freaking out due to the sensory issues, there’s your answer.”

a man’s voice. that’s all you could get out of what he just said. well, other than the fact that he definitely either kidnapped you or has you out in the back of an alley, once again, you’re literally in the dark. it’s starting to even become difficult to think straight. he moves his hand from your chest and brushes a hair behind your ear.

“i’ll show you the pictures when i’m done and well, when you’re not so out of it.”

he moves away and you hear a few more clicks and see a few more flashes. your eyes shut, and you decide to keep them like that. you feel him push you onto your back and spread your legs open. feeling an extremely cold breeze against your sex. you hear him mumble a few things, but you can’t make them out.

“can you smile?”

it’s silent. you can’t respond and he just laughs. you feel what feels like a giant weight on top of you and two fingers prodding at the corners of your mouth pushing it into a smile and the click of his camera again. that noise was gonna drive you crazy. you feel his arms move lower and start rubbing your sides and gliding through your collarbone.

“i could really have my way with you right now. don’t have to worry about you bitching, screaming for me to stop, pushing me away…”

he pauses.

“but that would be too easy. a struggle is always fun.”

he slaps you and tilts his head to the side with a questioning look on his face.

“could you feel that? are you still there?”

you slightly open your eyes and the tiniest tear pokes out. he hums in content.

“assuming you can hear me, just know you shouldn’t piss me off. i’m not afraid to kill you. it’s not hard for me to find someone new.”

he stands up off of you and you close your eyes again once the camera flash blinds you again. you feel him go to mess with your wrists and the slightest bit of tension seems to be released. he has a hold on one of your wrists and moves it over to your crotch and your other hand to your breast. moving you around like a doll.

“say cheese…”

another click. another flash.

“you look like a fucked out drunk little bimbo. i should live stream this and have people tell me what i should do to you. would give me some more ideas of what positions to put you in for my photos.”

you’re passed out. well…not completely. you can feel everything he’s doing, hear everything, but you can’t think anymore, and you can’t even open your eyes anymore. more tingles bouncing throughout your body.

the sound of a different button can be heard as well as the sound of the camera being placed on the floor. you hear his footsteps come closer to you and the sound of a zipper.

“i know i said it’d be too easy but i have plenty of chances to let you play hard to get after this.”

you hear him groan a couple times before you feel something cold dripping on your stomach and slowly moving up to your face.

“what a shot. can you say cheese for the video?”

he leans down and you feel his hand touch your face before he moves your face on its side. presumably so you can face said camera. you then feel full all the sudden. a sense of splitting in you and you groan. the feeling starts to become painful.

“sh, just lay there and look pretty and let me do all the work.”

he goes deeper in you as he moves up more so he can put his finger on the corner of your lips and moves it up into a smile again.

“say cheese!”

[razzmatash]

Not Yet Day 10 - Surprise Visit Love and Deepspace Sylus x f!OC 1431 Words Read on Ao3 banner by firefly-graphics

“Calli, you never mentioned that your boyfriend was loaded!”

Pulling her head out of her scrubs, Calli blinked at the woman that had swung around the lockers to face her. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes before shaking a finger at her. “Your man. Not only is he good looking but he’s loaded as well?”

“Probably loaded in other ways too,” another voice chirped from the other side of the lockers, causing laughter through the room.

“Where is this coming from?” Calli asked warily, tugging her t-shirt down over her belly.

The other nurse’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

“That he’s loaded? I already knew that.”

“Well, you’ll see soon enough!”

“Wait!” she said sharply as the other turned sharply to run away. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

No answer came and she had the distinct impression that everyone was getting out of the locker room as quickly as they could.

Calli huffed to herself. What the hell was going on? Why would she suddenly mention Sylus like that? She’d never really hid the fact that she had a boyfriend. It would have been idiotic given how Sylus liked showing up to pick her up whenever he could and showing that they were very much together. But she didn’t talk much about what he did or where he came from. It was hard to keep the others at bay but most of them had picked up on the fact that she didn’t want to talk much about it.

Of course, that meant they started making things up. Government secret agent, mafia boss, playboy billionaire. Those were only the latest guesses she’d heard thrown around and she refused to acknowledge that she had heard them. They were having fun and Sylus always thought it was amusing when she told him.

But why would she say that?

Rolling up her scrubs, she tucked them into her bag and hefted it up. She needed to get home quickly so she could start prepping for tomorrow. While she was excited about having everyone over for holiday dinner, she wasn’t sure how it was going to go. So she wanted to get as much done tonight as she could and try to have a good night’s sleep. Then she could be ready for whatever chaos came from dinner.

She pulled on her jacket and started for the door. With any luck, transit wouldn’t be too bad and there wouldn’t be any hassles getting-

“Where are you taking her?”

“It better be somewhere nice!”

“Or maybe you should get her a ring!”

Calli paused at the chorus of voices that sounded suspiciously like the girls she worked with. Peeking around a corner, something odd happened. Her heart somehow sank and leapt at the same time. Sylus was standing near the nurses station, completely surrounded by the rest of her shift. It was them peppering him with questions! What were they doing? And what was he doing here? He’d told her he’d be busy until dinner tomorrow, wrapping up everything he could before they went on their holiday. Had he lied or had he actually wrapped up early?

“She’s deciding where we’re going.” Sylus’ smooth voice reached her, amusement laced through it. “Only she knows if it’s nice or not.”

“But you’re paying for it?”

“I am.”

“You also didn’t answer about the ring,” someone said slyly.

Her heart leapt into her throat and she hurried around the corner. They’d only been together a few months! What were they doing?! She didn’t want them to ask and she absolutely did not want him to answer!

She didn’t know if he heard her or if he somehow felt her approaching but Sylus looked up suddenly. She saw the smile spread across his face before his gaze dropped back down to the other nurses. “A ring?” he mused. “I wouldn’t be opposed but-”

“What are you doing here?” Calli interrupted, jerking to a halt on the other side of the small crowd.

The nurses all spun to face her before they all hurriedly left, saying their goodbyes and holiday wishes. Sylus continued to watch her with a smile, one eyebrow raised at her outburst. “Hello, sweetie,” he murmured, leaning down to meet her.

She reached up and covered his mouth with both of her hands. “Why would you answer that?” she whispered. “They’re just trying to get a rise out of you.”

He caught her wrists and pulled them away from his mouth. “I don’t think I’m the one they were trying to get a rise out of.”

Calli huffed, shaking her head. “But what are you doing here? Did you wrap up everything early?”

Sylus hummed, letting go of her wrists. One hand stroked over her hair while the other threaded their fingers together. “I did so I thought I would come help you tonight.”

And spend more time with you. The sentiment was unspoken but she heard it loud and clear. “I’d like that.”

Another smile before he was leading her away from the station where the girls were still watching them like hawks, waiting for more information. His almost comment on the ring was going to make the rounds but hopefully that would die down by the time she got back. Hopefully.

She gave a little wave as people chirped their goodbyes as they walked past but Sylus didn’t stop to let her talk to them. She didn’t mind. Her thoughts were starting to pile up with all the things they needed to do to prep for tomorrow. It would be a little easier with him there but maybe she could fit in a few more things so they could relax more tomorrow. Maybe-

A small noise left her when Sylus tugged gently on her hand before wrapping an arm around her waist.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said without looking, leading her out the door. “We’ll do what we can and finish the rest tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Kitten, we have time.”

She puffed out her cheeks before sighing. He was right. She’d had enough time when it was just her. With him there, they could finish early, maybe enjoy dinner together before tucking in for the rest of the night. She didn’t say anything as he took her to his car and helped her into the passenger seat. Instead, she just snuggled into it.

His laughter roused her a little bit as he pulled away from the hospital. “Comfortable?”

“It’s better than the bus,” she teased, making him chuckle.

“I should hope so.”

Calli smiled and almost purred as a large hand came to rest on her thigh. “Definitely don’t have that on the bus,” she murmured.

His fingers tightened for a moment. “I should hope not.”

It was her turn to laugh before they fell into a comfortable silence. But he didn’t let it last for long.

“Black diamonds,” he said quietly. “Platinum.”

She frowned, turning to him. “What?”

“I said I wasn’t opposed to it, kitten. Do you really think I haven’t thought about it?”

Her frown deepened. What was he talking about? Opposed to what? What would he be using diamonds and platinum-Calli froze in her seat, staring at him. “Sylus....”

“Maybe I should,” he mused. “It’s just a ring.”

Her heart thumped in her chest, her pulse ringing in her ears. “You....”

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. She didn’t miss which finger he kissed. “But you don’t let me buy you jewellery,” he continued. “You don’t take it when I try to give it to you. Would you turn me down if I gave you a ring?”

She didn���t know what to say, her thoughts whirling again but going in a completely different direction.

Scarlet eyes slid to her and his lips quirked up. “What are you thinking about to look like that, sweetie? Can’t a man give his lover a gift?”

“But a ring?” she squeaked.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked smoothly. “It’s just a ring. What do you think it is?”

She didn’t know what to think! Was he serious that it was just a ring because the girls were absolutely not asking about just a ring earlier? Or was he teasing her and actually being serious?

Another look and a soothing squeeze of her hand. “But I didn’t get to finish,” Sylus said quietly. “While I’m not opposed, I know it’s not time.”

Her heart was back to pounding wildly at the mere thought that he wanted that with her. Because she heard the unspoken yet at the end of his sentence.