#//Surely they would have found a way to make it work; no matter the distance from Khaenri'ah to Mondstadt

[frvnkcastles]

Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.

I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.

Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues

Word count: 1.2k

Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)

There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.

He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.

”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.

”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”

He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it’s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”

And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.

”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.

”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.

”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.

”Never been more sure of anything.”

He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.

He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.

The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.

”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.

”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.

”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.

”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”

Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.

”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.

”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”

Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.

”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.

”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.

”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.

He really would have done anything for you.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya oftentimes wonders what it must have been like, living in Khaenri'ah. Reading the tales of Khaenri'ahn heroes Jean's shared with him, of things he remembered his father mentioning, helped him picture it all. As did knowledge the Akademiya has of Dahri ruins he managed to get his hands on one way or another years later, during his visit to Sumeru.

#hc; kaeya #//It was really after meeting Dainsleif that the thoughts increased exponentially; and became almost painful #//Thoughts of what it could have been like; had he grown up a 'proper' Alberich; surrounded by family & the culture he'd been wrenched from #//Of what Khaenri'ah looked like in her heyday; of the countless people lost because of the Cataclysm living their daily lives #//He wants to learn so much more; no matter what it means #//He loves Mond dearly; but it hurts feeling that emptiness from being denied that connection #//Of losing his mother tongue the longer it went unused; of not knowing the traditions he ought to have celebrated #//Rites of passage he must have missed in favor of Mond traditions; holidays; family customs #//Could he have had siblings? Cousins? Aunts; uncles; GRANDPARENTS??? #//What would his upbringing have been like? Strict? Lenient? Would they have accepted him as he was? No mask necessary? #//Could his father have truly loved him so closely; instead of keeping him at arms length like he KNEW they'd have to part soon? #//That he didn't want to grow too fond of his own child because he could lose him any moment? (is it a wonder kae does the same at times?) #//What would it have been like; being a Knight of Khaenri'ah? Surely he would have given Khaenri'ah his heart; like he had for Mond #//If Khaenri'ah still stood to this day...would he; Diluc and Jean have still been friends? As fond and close as they once had been? #//Logically; he doubts that; but his foolish heart likes to think the three were MEANT to meet; one way or another #//MEANT to have that friendship they'd once shared (before he went and ruined everything with Diluc) #//Surely they would have found a way to make it work; no matter the distance from Khaenri'ah to Mondstadt #//Maybe they could have bridged the gap between the godless nation and the people of the Anemo Archon #//Ahh; but that's wishful thinking; now wouldn't it be? #//He likes to wonder how it would have felt; having that certain loyalty to his nation; not torn between his family's past & his current on #//Would he have been happier; had he been born to and raised in that nation? Rather than left to live in this one? #//Though he'd have to wonder if that would be true; considering the Archons' treatment of them in the end #//No doubt war would always be looming on the horizon; and if Dahri records were right...Celestia wasn't their only issue #//Still; he can't help but dream; and with a certain; aching longing at that

[theostrophywife]

the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love. 

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you. 

Until that one fateful fall morning. 

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze. 

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students. 

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned. 

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him. 

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center. 

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up. 

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him. 

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?” 

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment. 

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?” 

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.” 

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?” 

“You know my name?” 

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.” 

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous. 

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.” 

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.” 

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.” 

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve. 

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.” 

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.” 

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker. 

“Oh, you really don’t have to—” 

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.” 

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on. 

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.” 

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.” 

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly. 

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.” 

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.” 

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.” 

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.” 

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.” 

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.” 

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes. 

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you. 

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen. 

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill. 

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend. 

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?” 

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm. 

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.” 

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.” 

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.” 

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied. 

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo. 

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day. 

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.” 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.” 

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.” 

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.” 

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.” 

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.” 

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.” 

“Yeah, because she likes you.” 

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?” 

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.” 

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?” 

“Whatever you say, peach.” 

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced. 

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.” 

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him. 

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.” 

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively. 

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?” 

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.” 

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.” 

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy. 

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.” 

“Thanks, Pans.” 

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap. 

“Like I said, we’re friends.” 

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?” 

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising. 

“Knock yourself out, mate.” 

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.” 

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin. 

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.” 

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?” 

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.” 

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.” 

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.” 

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.” 

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?” 

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.” 

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied. 

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?” 

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations. 

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.” 

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?” 

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?” 

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.” 

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.” 

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.” 

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table. 

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.” 

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.” 

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.” 

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him. 

“It’s useless,” his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.” 

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll. 

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.” 

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo. 

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.” 

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.” 

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.” 

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.” 

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected. 

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?” 

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.” 

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.” 

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there. 

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends. 

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll. 

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.” 

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.” 

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.” 

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.” 

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?” 

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.” 

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade. 

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!” 

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.” 

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.” 

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you. 

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.” 

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.” 

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.” 

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.” 

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.” 

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?” 

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.” 

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly. 

“You alright there, peach?” 

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?” 

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.” 

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?” 

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence. 

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.” 

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.” 

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?” 

“I am a bloody idiot.” 

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.” 

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you. 

“Scary?” 

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.” 

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?” 

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.” 

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you. 

“It’s about time, Berkshire.” 

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.” 

“Not so scary now, am I?” 

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.” 

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street. 

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.” 

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

#my pretty boy give me coffee shop shy enzo #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

[lightsoutletsgo]

I’m such an angst girly omg how about lando’s phone not working and reader gets sad he’s not replying or answering her calls for a few days🤨

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, allusions to a panic attack, reader is v emotional, lando is an idiot ahhhh tysm for sending this in! It was fun to write but ofc I had to make it fluffy to end bc I didn't wanna make myself too sad happy reading! love mimi 🤍

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Long distance relationships were hard, you knew that before you’d even started dating Lando. You’d heard all of the stories before but like the many innocent others who had yet to experience their partner being on the other side of the world, you were determined that everything would be okay. 

Now, as you thought back to how naive you’d been, you scoffed, how could you have thought it would be so simple? If you weren’t battling with time zones, you were battling to find free time, and if you found free time, it was never quiet and peaceful and it never lasted more than a few minutes. You knew you should have been satisfied with those snatched moments you did get, but you missed your boyfriend. 

You missed him even more when he got another podium and you weren’t there to celebrate with him. You’d stayed up until stupid o’clock to watch the race live and you’d cheered and jumped as your boyfriend performed overtake after overtake to move up the grid to claim second place. You knew that once he had done his post-race interviews and meetings he would call you. You sighed as once more Lando’s contact picture flashed up with ‘facetime unavailable’. You’d scheduled this call the night before but he was only a few minutes late. You shook your head as you took a deep breath, he was probably just finishing up in meetings. Half an hour went by and your stomach twisted with worry as you still hadn’t heard from him. You checked your phone but there were no new notifications - not from him at least anyway. 

You curled up on the couch, noticing Lando’s hoodie still resting over the arm of the couch. Pulling it towards you, you nuzzled your face into it and inhaled, the smell of his cologne washing over you. You felt tears well up in your eyes. No matter how busy or tired he was, he had never once missed your call. You grew angry, not with Lando, never with Lando, but just at the situation. 

You huffed and grabbed your phone once more, deciding to doom scroll through instagram until Lando finally called. You noticed that a few people had posted new stories and so you pressed on the first one, absentmindedly tapping your screen until you paused, sitting up quickly as you realised the story you were looking at was Max Fewtrell’s. He’d posted a video in the club at a post-race party. You normally wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, but you could have sworn in the back corner of the dimly-lit club video was a figure that looked suspiciously like Lando. Going back to the start of his story and scrolling through again you realised it was Lando, wearing the black shirt you’d given him for his birthday the previous year. 

Turns out you could be mad at Lando. Something uncomfortable and hot flashed in your stomach as nausea hit you. Anger curled its way up your spine and through your chest, tightening around your lungs and making it hard to breathe. He was out at a club? And that’s why he hadn’t called you? You growled and glared at your screen, thumbs jabbing into the keyboard as you furiously typed a message to Max. He was online, you noted, as you hit ‘send’ and waited for him to read it. You barely had to wait five minutes before Max was apologising profusely and sending you a long paragraph about how he was sure Lando had texted you and would be letting him know straight away. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on the couch next to you with a ‘hmmph’. You sat in silence for a while, your emotions slowly welling up as tears gathered on your lash line. Was this how your relationship was going to end? Long nights alone while Lando partied it up on the other side of the world? Surrounded by scores of choices of pretty women and an endless supply of alcohol? You couldn’t help the way you sobbed as you grabbed his hoodie once more, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were crying so hard you almost didn’t hear the way your phone vibrated on the cushion. You gasped for air as you picked it up and turned it over, Max’s name flashing on the screen. You snatched your phone up and pressed the green button to accept, not even registering that it was a facetime call and he was going to see you crying.

You inhaled sharply as it was Lando’s worried face that appeared on the screen, he looked panicked and you could hear the music thumping in the background although slightly muffled. Despite the fluorescent lights he was standing under, he still looked good, “Baby? Oh my god…” He took in your tear stained cheeks and the way your eyes were red. He noted your sniffling noises and the way your bottom lip trembled, “Love I’m so so sorry!” You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes, trying to not let him see the next wave of tears that were threatening to fall, “Sure.” He sighed, “Honey, I promise you, I didn't mean it. I did text you! I didn’t realise it didn’t go through because I was in the post-race meeting!” “I wanted to celebrate your win with you!” Lando gently shushed you as he saw your chest heave, your breathing quickening once more, “Baby, baby, shh sh sh it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here.” He looked off screen for a moment to a person you assumed to be Max before the music got louder again and then quiet, as if Max had left Lando alone. You followed along with his breathing as he over exaggerated for you to copy.

“Love I promise you it was just an accident okay? I texted you to ask if you were ready to call but when there was no reply I assumed you’d fallen asleep so then I texted you to ask if you could be at the airport for 4am…” He winced, “I decided to fly home early and have a few days with you before the next race.” You melted back against the couch, hugging his hoodie to your chest as you tucked your knees up under your chin and rested your phone there, “4am?” You sniffled with a giggle, “Is that my hoodie?” He said, doing his best to distract you and you let out a proper giggle this time, “Lando! 4am is so early!” He laughed, relieved to see you feeling better, “I figured we could go for a super early breakfast and then go home and fall asleep together, in our bed, in our apartment which is my favourite place to be, with my love. Your bottom lip wobbled once more, “You promise?” He nodded to assure you, “I promise.” You inhaled deeply and let out an exhale with a sigh, “I can’t wait to see you,” your thumb gently rubbed across his cheek even through the screen. “I can’t wait to see you either love, can’t wait to be home”

#mimi.writes #mimi.requests #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris angst #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 angst #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #lando norris fic

[gojos-thot-patrol]

a let my demons get a little silly with it here

Now Loading, Kinktober Week Two...

Synopsis: Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? Kinks: Omegaverse, Breeding, Marking, Knotting, Scent, Dub-Con, Non/Con, Somnophilia, and Infidelity. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Sukuna was going to fuck you. He was going to have you on your back, legs spread as he filled you to the brim, breeding you like a bitch while covering you in his bite marks and scent. Sukuna was sure of this fact from the first time he caught your smell in the air, light and warm and made for him. You were made for him. It was only a matter of time until he took what was rightfully his.

The only problem was you were marked, and sadly, it wasn’t by him. Worse yet, it was by some weak asshole who barely even had the ability to mark someone. Some feeble excuse of a man who probably didn't know what to do once he got your panties around your ankles, much less what to do when you were in your heat. The only thing worse than you being bonded to that douche canoe, was knowing it only happened so you wouldn’t be bonded to him. 

Okay, so “bonded” wasn’t really the right word there. “Sacrifice” was closer to the actuality of the situation, but still! You were literally destined to be his, and one asshole wants to play hero and fuck it all up? It drove him fucking mad, what right did that limp dick think he had to interfere? He caught himself clenching his fist and jaw. He needed to calm down before he hurt someone, especially since the only person nearby was you. 

Sukuna watched from a distance as you lounged under your tree, finding comfort in the forest instead of the inherent danger you should feel. He had suppressed his scent enough he was sure you hadn’t noticed, your calm demeanor conveying that fact. He could have you right now, release his scent and take you where you sat. But, that wouldn’t have done anything about your bond mark. No, to take care of that Sukuna had to be patient. Which, was a real fucking drag because if there was anything Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t it was a patient man.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He remembered the first time he encountered you. Almost a month ago now, while he was taking his regular walk through the woods. He could still feel the full body reset that happened when he caught your aroma, the smell of apple and clove working its way through his nervous system and grabbing his cock his heart in a chokehold. Suddenly, his lazy stroll through the woods was a hunt to find out what decadent creature had made such a perfume. 

And that’s where he found you. Sitting contently in a floral field, making a fucking flower crown of all things, and surly waiting for him. He saw your hands falter and your eyes widen as he approached, no doubt because you finally picked up on his pheromones. He could feel the smirk forming on his lips. 

“Well, what a nice surprise,” He hummed as he approached you, “I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else out here.” You immediately fell into a low bow before him. Good, you knew your place. 

“I’m sorry my lord,” You apologize, though you weren’t sure why. You knew of the warlord Ryomen Sukuna. You knew he owned your village, as well as the villages surrounding it. But to your knowledge he didn’t police who was allowed in the woods. Still, you’d rather not risk upsetting him. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here, all alone?” He asked, eyes tracing the way your back curved into the bow.

“My mate and I moved closer to the forest recently, I was exp-”

“Your mate?” The vitriol in his tone made your stomach revolt and ignited your fight or flight system. You didn’t even know what you had done wrong. 

“Y-yes?”

“Stand up, look at me.” He demanded. You did so without hesitation, your omega body naturally inclined to follow the alphas commands. When you did, you were hit with a fresh wave of his aura, the smell of whiskey and cinnamon filling your senses and making your joints feel weak. You were caught between your need to honor your bond mark, and the need to fall to your knees for the man in front of you. You whimpered softly as he grabbed your chin and shoved your head to the side.

Sure enough, right there on your scent gland were faint teeth shaped scars. If he wasn’t specifically looking for them, he wouldn’t have seen them at all. Still, the fact it hadn't been refreshed didn’t negate the fact that it was there. You were unequivocally spoken for. 

“You don’t smell marked.” He scoffed as he released your head, taking a step back.

“It’s new…” You muttered. He may not have been able to smell your mate, but the stench of a lie was familiar to him. Especially one as piss poor as that.

“If it’s new then you should reek of him, Wench, don’t lie to me.” He growled. You looked down as your shame rolled over you.

“He’s a beta.” HE’S A BETA?! Sukuna had felt rage a lot in his life. Some may even say it was his default setting. But the rage he felt at being cucked by a beta was unlike anything that he had felt before. He felt his fingers twitch with the need to wrap around someone's neck, and the urge to burn down this entire forest was a hard one to fight. He choked back his molting hot fury with a simple reminder: Beta bond marks don’t mean shit. He could easily still have you. He just had to wait for your next heat cycle to do it, when your hormones were high and looking for something more…substantial, then a betas nub. 

“How cute, being mated to a beta. I’m sure you’re crazy for each other.” He sneered. You wished. Leaving every heat cycle woefully unsatisfied and frustrated might have been worth it if you had actually loved the man. If your union to him wasn’t purely survival. 

“He provides.” You settled on a half truth to keep from lying, one Sukuna definitely picked up on. 

“What’s your name Omega?” He demanded.

You told him your name in a soft whisper. Cute name. He’d be sure to have his servants look into you and your records. 

“Well Omega,” He said, making a point not to use the title given to him. To remind you what you were. “You should probably get back to your beta. It’s not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be out in these woods alone.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that was a warning and a threat, the edge in his words making that much clear. You nodded to the warlord, before making your way home. You fought the urge to sprint with everything you had in you, knowing better than to activate his prey drive. 

He watched as you did, noting your refusal to run. Smart girl. He could feel his mouth watering as he watched your hips sway, and his body buzzed with the need to have you under him. He took a deep breath to recollect himself before making the walk home. He’d have you soon enough.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He kept a close eye on you in the weeks that followed. Learning about how your marriage was arranged through his servants, and how your marriage was failing from watching you. To your credit, you did try in earnest to make it work. You were the perfect mate. You kept a tidy home, always had dinner ready, and were always happy to get on your back for your husband. 

And yet it did nothing. That asshole still acted as if he was gods fucking gift for “saving” your life, and as if you didn’t do enough. Dinner was never right, there was always an issue with the house, and every morning Sukuna could smell your dissatisfaction from the night before- still rolling off you in waves.  It was pathetic that a creature as divine as you was wasted on swine like him. The good news was that your scent was evolving. As the leaves changed colors your fragrance got thicker, and sweeter in some aspects. You clung to your beta even if he was woefully unequipped. Your heat was coming.

A fact you were all too aware of. You could feel it pooling in your stomach and feverish on your skin. The effects were already starting, and you knew this one was going to be hell. Your mate thrashed in between your legs, chasing his high in you. You felt close, so close. Your body was trembling with anticipation, electricity buzzing under your skin. All you needed was his knot and-

He pulled out of your quivering cunt, cumming on your stomach with a guttural moan. Oh, right. He didn’t have a knot. You whined as he painted you white, wanting to snap at him for wasting his load. You held back though, knowing that, in reality, the last thing you wanted was his pups. You watched as he rolled off the bed and grabbed his pants.

“W-wait, but Naoya-” You panted, “I’m so close, please-”

“You’re gonna have to finish yourself, I’m gonna be late for my train.” Your “mate” groaned as if you were an inconvenience. 

“But…” You whimpered, then let it go. You knew better than to argue, and besides. Your climax was already fleeting. “Do you have to go?” You asked softly. You understood that, as a beta, Naoya couldn’t sense when your heat was coming like an alpha could. You accepted that. What you found hard to accept was that he still planned a business trip during your heat cycle, despite you explicitly telling him that you would need him. 

“Yes, Sweetie,” He said it with so much ire and hate, you would have rather he called you a bitch. “This is my job. It doesn’t stop because you’re horny.” He snapped, tired of having this conversation again. His venom shut you up. You watched as he quickly got dressed, then grabbed his bags and rushed for the train station. You fought tears as you went to clean yourself up. Were you really so unloveable?

You often wondered what the worse fate was, being sacrificed to Ryomen Sukuna or being trapped in a loveless pair bond. For years you knew without doubt it was being sacrificed to the warlord. You were always grateful to your father for selling you to the beta, saving you from what would no doubt have been a cruel and untimely death. Naoya may have been cold at times, but surely he wasn’t as bad as Sukuna.

Or at least, that’s what you used to think. Before you had actually met the man, and felt the way your body reacted to his presence alone. Suddenly, the so-called king of curses invaded your every thought, and life trapped in a passionless marriage felt like a prison sentence. You thought about Sukuna constantly, especially in the days leading up to your heat. You chased his faint scent on the wind, traced his markings in your dreams, and envisioned him to endure your husband's advances. 

It left you a wreck. Especially now, as night fell and your body temperature rose. Your fingers were doing absolutely nothing for you, and wouldn’t for at least the next week. Which, was rather conveniently when your husband was due to return home. You knew your heat bothered him, but you never knew it bothered him this much. Resentment grew in you the more you thought about it. If he didn’t want a fucking omega, then why the fuck did he pay for one? 

You tried not to think about it as you opened your window, hoping the cool night air would do something to help cool down your feverish skin. You lived far enough away from the other villagers you didn’t really have to worry about a wayward alpha finding you. And at this point, you weren’t sure you would care if one of them did. 

You settled into your nest, albeit a bit reluctantly. The faint smell of your mate clung to it, and despite your bond mark it brought you little comfort. More just frustration. It didn’t smell right anymore. You quickly took off your sleep pants, finding them unbearably hot, leaving you in just a tank top and soaked panties as you drifted off to sleep.

Sukuna could try and say that he was just out on a stroll to enjoy the moonlight. That he enjoyed the peace that the dark brought with it, and was only out to clear his mind. He would be lying. The truth of the matter was Sukuna had been keeping tabs on you. And while your bitch of a mate may have been inflicted with brain worms, Sukuna was not. He knew you were alone, and in heat. And he fully planned to take care of you, in ways your beta couldn’t dream of doing.

Walking to your little shack at the edge of the woods felt like wading into a warm lake, your trail becoming thicker and thicker in the air as he made his way to you. It was intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop the visions of you whimpering underneath him from entering his mind. Needy and alone, fuck. He could feel his blood rushing in his veins as your scent laced into his senses and his psyche, and his cock ached for you.

He wasn’t shocked to find your window open. Of course your window was open. You were waiting for him, your true mate. That fucking beta be damned, you wanted him, why else would the window be open? He crawled into your room on instinct more than much else, your body calling to him like a siren's song. The reality of your heat hit him like a train as he took in your visage. Sleeping not-so-peacefully in your marital bed, mindlessly rutting into a pillow drenched with your slick. He fucking hated that you were reduced to fucking pillows.

He was right here, you just needed to let your proper alpha take care of you. Let him protect you, let him fuck you until you can’t walk, let him fill you to the brim- until you’re overflowing, let him fix the fucking stench of your nest. He was on your bed and spreading your legs before he even fully realized what he was doing, ripping your slick drenched panties off of you. On a normal night, he would have touched you and known you were burning alive with a fever. But tonight? He was molting lava with his own forced rut, and he didn’t even notice yet. 

Mates don’t need to ask before taking care of their mate in heat, so he doesn't even bother waking you up before shoving two fingers into your weeping pussy to get you ready for him. You whine out softly, back curling off of the bed as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you sharply. He smirked as he curled his fingers up, listening to your breath catch in your throat.

“Fuck, Sukuna..” You whimpered in your sleep. Of course you called out his name, you were his omega. You chose him, you were meant to be with him. Soon, there would be no doubt about that. After he covered you with his scent, after he marked you as his and only his, and when your stomach was swollen with his pups- pink haired, four eyed and undeniably his.

He shrugged off his robe, his rock hard cock burning with need and dripping pre-cum. He ran his dick up your slit, gathering your divine slick on his angry red tip. He felt the tension in his shoulders finally dissolve as he pushed into you, finally at home where he was supposed to be. He growled as he sunk in to his base in one swoop. 

You jolt awake with the sudden intrusion, your cunt torn between pushing the intruder out and sucking him in deeper. “Wh-wha…?” You were given no time to try and catch up to the situation before the assault on your g-spot started, leaving you a moaning mess. Sukuna lifted your hips, holding your body with just his forearms as he changed the angle he fucked you in to fuck you deeper, harder. He needed it to take.

You looked up and saw a shock of pink hair and sharp tattoos through bleary eyes. On the surface your body revolted, knowing this wasn’t your mate and he was not meant to be touching you. But something deeper, more primal rejoiced at feeling the alphas fat cock. “Fuck, fuck, more..” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts. You could feel his knot swelling inside you and all you wanted was him. Nothing had ever felt more right. 

Sukuna had fucked a lot of omegas during his ruts. He ran through whores like they were nothing. But none of them had ever felt like this. Your pussy was made for him, so perfect as it milked his cock. Your body reacted to him perfectly. You were made to be his. You were his. Every inch of your skin, every breath you took, every smile you gave you were his. He’d prove it. He grabbed you in a bruising grip as he bent over you, capturing you in a demanding kiss and taking what little breath you had away in a clash of teeth and tongues. You belonged to him.

He growled lowly, as he pulled back, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he pressed his body weight into you, folding you in half. “Fuck, you’re so good,” He groaned, “So fucking tight for me Baby Girl. Gonna knot you, fill you with my pups,” You didn’t know if he was talking to you or himself but it didn’t matter. A thought that should have been deeply revolting to you as a marked woman had never sounded more euphoric.

“Yes, please,” You begged into his ear, “Fuck me, it’s s’ good. Fill me, I- I need you.” you slurred together whatever words you could grapple with. You felt drunk on the feeling of euphoria, you almost forgot sex could feel so good. Your words, albeit a bit jumbled, electrified the part of Sukuna’s brain that had already decided he was your mate. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You needed him. Of course you needed him, you belonged to him. You were his and his alone. 

His his his his-

Then he smelled it. In the sea of apple, clove and cinnamon whiskey a sharp mildew scent hit his nose. The fucking mold of your “bond mark.” Sukuna saw fucking red, his body seething with rage as he remembered you weren’t truly his. No matter how deep he fucked his seed into you, or how much of his skin touched yours, you weren’t his. 

Not yet anyway. 

He plunged his teeth into your scent glands, right over your previous bond mark. You howled as he did, a wave of ecstasy rocking its way through your heated body and decimating your shocked nervous system as you came all over him. Aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through your cunt in time with his thrusts, sending static electricity through your needy body. You instinctively dug your fangs into Sukunas scent glands, an act you were never able to perform on your (former) beta mate.

The relief that washed over him as you completed the bond mark was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it left him in ruins. Cumming deep inside you, painting your womb white. The warm feeling he filled you with actually worked to (somehow) cool the raging inferno in your bloodstream, and you finally found relief from the hell you had been in. 

You stayed connected, him holding you close while he waited for his knot to deflate. You thought about Naoya. You had never been able to properly mark him because he didn’t have scent glands for you to mark. It met you were never really bonded, not like how you were bonded to Sukuna now. But, he was technically still your husband. This was his house and his bed you were getting fucked by a perfect stranger in. How would he react when he found you here with the warlord that owned the land? Would he find you here?

Would you regret it? 

You didn’t have time to really consider the ramifications of your actions before Ryomen was moving inside you again, and the last thing you wanted to think about was the boy that abandoned you. You whined underneath him, bringing your hands to tangle in his hair. He pressed his forehead to yours in response.

“Still with me Omega?” He asked as he started to pick up the pace, making you whine underneath him.

“I’m here my lord,” You mumbled softly.

“Good,” He punctuated the word with a sharp kiss before straightening up, “Cause it’s gonna take more than just that to knock you up.” He chuckled as his hips started to piston into yours, setting a punishing pace. The natural curve of his cock was seemingly designed to bully your hypersensitive g-spot, stimulating your body back to life as you gripped the sheets under you.

“Aww, look at my pretty little omega,” Sukuna cooed mockingly as he fucked his cum back into you, “All fucked out and full. Feels good to actually cum after spending so much time with a limp dick, doesn’t it slut?” Apparently, all it took was him getting to cum once for him to find his voice.

“So good, so fucking good.” You whimpered, “So big, so full…” And you had no problem feeding into it. His claws dug into your hips, leaving bruises defined enough you could take his fingerprints off of them. He watched the way your tits bounced as you tried to feebly hold onto the sheet, attempting to ground yourself however you could. He watched his bulge appear and reappear in your stomach with every thrust. He watched the way your skin glistened in the moonlight, begging him to mark it. He watched the way your eyes fluttered and glazed over with dazed pleasure. 

But the real show was happening where the two of you were connected. Where your slick coated his cock, creating a foamy ring around the base. Where your natural lube mixed with his load, making the most vulgar sounds as he fucked your quivering cunt. God, he couldn’t have asked for a better mate.

Your warm pussy hugged him perfectly, begging him for more and pulling him even deeper into you with every thrust. Every movement of your hips sent a wave of euphoria through him, and he desperately chased both of your highs. He wanted to see you cum. He didn’t get to the first time.

 He wouldn’t make that mistake again. You were finally finally his after months of coveting you. Of watching you, of needing you wanting you, of imagining you, you finally belonged to him. He was going to see what you looked like when you came for him god damn it!

“You gonna cream for me again Sweetheart?” He growled, “Squirt all over my dick like a good girl? I know you are, I can feel it, fuck-” His words fell apart on his tongue as you clenched around him. Stars blotted out your vision as your second climax started to creep up on you, slowly tingling up your spine and taking over your body. You bucked your hips into his erratically, chasing the high only he could give you. Sparks of bliss exploded under your skin as you felt him start to swell again.

And suddenly he felt way too far away. You needed him closer. You needed his scent, his skin, him. You ripped one of your hands away from the bedsheets and reached out, trying to communicate what you wanted. His head tilted to the side and he scoffed as he looked at your outstretched hand.

“Words slut, what do you want?” He growled.

“My mate.” You whimpered. He was immediately leaning down to you, pressing his chest to yours and letting your fingers intertwine with his. How could he deny you your mate? Your body exploded into a thousand sparks of ecstasy where his skin ment yours. His scent wrapped around your senses like an old blanket, cozy and familiar and safe. You whined softly and closed your eyes to embrace for impact.

“No.” He growled, using his free hand to pull your hair and force your eyes open, “Look at me.” He demanded. Your watery eyes held his fiery ones as you moaned pathetically under him.

“I’m so close..”

“Then cum for me.” The floodgates opened and you were suddenly drowning in a sea of ecstasy and dopamine. Your hips thrashed against your will and your legs shook like the last leaves on autumn trees. You swore you saw entire galaxies be born before your eyes as you were hit with one of the hardest climaxes of your life. Your eyes watered as they looked into his, your skin felt flushed against his touch, and your grip on his hand tightened.

“Fuck, Ryomen…” He hadn’t heard his first name spoken in years. His body slammed into yours as his own climax hit him with a brick. He fucked you as best as he could through his knot, riding out both of your highs as he filled you to the point of overflowing and then some. His entire body was racked with euphoria as he came harder than he even thought possible. 

He collapsed on top of you, rolling you both to the side so he didn’t crush you with his body weight. For a while, the only sound was of the two of you trying to catch your breath. You felt his arms wrap around you and calloused hands rub your back gently to sooth you. He kissed your neck almost sweetly.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” He praised in a whisper, one soft enough the wind threatened to take it away, “So good for me.” It made your stomach flutter. His presence was instantly calming, much more so than your ex’s. You might have even fallen asleep, if you didn’t feel him start to move again, still rock solid inside of you. 

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Your body was sore the next morning when you woke up, but the fever had subsided for now, finally giving you room to breathe and think about literally anything other than lust. The first thing you noticed was that you were not at home. You jolted up in bed, a soft whimper leaving your throat. 

“Silence, woman.” That was when you registered the body next to you in the bed. You looked over to see Ryomen, fully annoyed at being woken up. “You’re safe. I’m here.” He grumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You weren’t sure what was more impressive, that he managed to return to (what you assumed was) his home after last night, or that he managed to carry you with him. 

“Sukuna-”

“Ryomen.” He corrected you with a dangerous growl. You paused, a bit taken back.

“Ryomen,” You accepted the correction, “what happens now?”

“Hopefully you go back to sleep.” He sighed, irritated to have been woken up at the ungodly hour of 12 pm. While he was still in rut no less! He didn’t get a lot of chances to sleep during this time, and neither did you. You needed the rest.

“No, I mean with…with,” You didn’t know how to put it.

“What, you mean your cuck ex? Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t hide that he was irritated with you for bringing him up first thing in the morning. 

“....Is he going to be hurt?” You asked softly. Sukuna felt his lip twitch.

“If I have it my way, yes.” He didn’t mince words. Why the fuck did you care so much about that loser anyway? You thought about your mates words, then nodded. 

“Good.” You said, finally settling back into Ryomens arms and relaxing into him. He didn’t hide the smile that tugged on his lips. He knew he loved you. 

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

thank you lovlies, for supporting my work! @sk8ttles, @blkkizzat,@littyasatittyyy,@ketchupsush1 and @risuola

If you wanna get on the tag list, comment: here!

And if you wanna read week One, you can find it: Here!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #alpha!sukuna #omega!reader #omegaverse #jjk omegaverse #abo #sukuna abo #sukuna omegaverse #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #kinktober #trick-or-kink 23

[bountycancelled]

EASY PEASY, LEMON SQUEEZY

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

opla sanji x reader

in which sanji teaches you a few basic cooking skills, while you try to ignore how close to you he's standing

genre: delusional oneshot, pretty suggestive, gn! reader, my sanji/taz obsessed ass shining through the cracks

requested: nope, but they're open so feel free♡

a/n: I don't have anything to say besides I'm sorry.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

this was all your fault.

you just had to open your mouth and spill the beans on the fact that you didn't know the first thing about cooking, which led you to the predicament that you were in now.

or was it Sanji's fault for offering to give you private lessons with a tone in his voice that could be mistaken as flirtatious and a wink your way (which in hindsight, you should've definitely refused) and for being a kind, flirty, witty, compassionate piece of work who could cook like a god, who you couldn't help but fall deeply in love with?

no matter whose fault it was, all you knew was that you weren't mentally prepared to spend alone time with Sanji in the kitchen, as you knew that this experience would only aid your feelings in flourishing.

but what you were or were not prepared to do didn't matter, because you were already in the kitchen, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man in question as you washed your hands and he looked at you with his typical honeyed gaze and a slight smile on his face.

"you look extra beautiful today my love, how am I supposed to focus on teaching when you look like that?" he questioned out loud in an airy voice. you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could, cringing internally because you had in fact, dressed with a little more thought today than most days, and the fact that he noticed made you want to bash your head against the counter until you saw blood. how much more obvious could you be?

"okay. so first, I'm gonna need you to dice up an onion for me, alright?" he stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you peeled the onion and picked up the knife, and you could swear that his lack of distance was genuinely giving you respiratory problems.

"how would you like 'em, chef?" you asked sarcastically, missing the way his breathed hitched at the nickname.

"hmm... super fine." now, the logical side of you knew that vegetables could be chopped very finely, you weren't completely inept in the kitchen after all. buuuuut, the absolutely unsavable side of you, aided by the fact that you could legitimately feel his breath on the back of your neck as he spoke so so sweetly with that accent of his, believed that he wasn't just speaking about the onions.

you shook away those thoughts, and began cutting the onion. you could almost feel his correction before he corrected you, but you were definitely not prepared for his next actions. his hands held your own as he guided your knife movements, his front almost pressed against your back. he whispered praises in your ear, although you severely doubted that your subpar knife work was worth any compliments, but that didn't stop him. a "there you go." here, a "so so perfect" there, even a cheeky little "you're doing so good for me" just to make you squirm.

maybe it was his tone of voice, or his hands (which had now moved away from yours and found purchase slowly moving up and down your arms) or the fact that your hand was so shaky that you were sure you were gonna lose a finger at this point, but you had had enough.

you put the knife down, not bothering to finish cutting the onion, because he could cut his own damn onions if he so pleased, and spoke before your more timid nature could stop you.

"you didn't ask me here to teach me how to cook, did you?"

silence.

maybe you had misunderstood the situation? oh god, oh god, oh god. you readied yourself to apologise for making him uncomfortable before-

"am I that obvious?" you could almost hear his smile as he spoke seductively, his hands moving from your arms to you waist, gently caressing your frame.

"yes, you are. not that I mind." okay, this was not how you were expecting this lesson to go. but it was days like this that you daydreamt about in the comfort of your room.

"I know this is a bit forward, even for me but-" he cut himself off with a soft kiss to your neck, and you felt yourself shudder at the contact. "-I honestly can't resist you any longer-" another kiss, this time to your shoulder. "-would you give my the absolute pleasure to taste you, please?"

if you weren't already against the counter with Sanji behind you, your legs would've given out from under you on the spot. you nodded, not trusting anything coherent to come out of your mouth at that moment, but snapped out of your daze as a confused sound rang through the kitchen from the doorway.

"you busy Sanji? I'm kinda hungry right now." Luffy spoke with a certain normalcy, as if he hadn't just walked in on, well, whatever was about to happen to the two of you.

Sanji chuckled, placing one more kiss to the back of your neck before moving away from you, but not before whispering in your ear once more. "why don't you go to your room and relax for a bit, love? I'm still aching to taste you."

you were in for a ride today.

#one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece #opla #sanji live action #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji #sanji x you #sanji black leg #one piece sanji #one piece headcanons #one piece hcs #opla x reader

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere male #bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor x reader

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ ch 4

note: i had to rewrite this chapter TWICE. im sick of it so pls enjoy. also forgot to mention on here that I have been away this week on a little holiday. didn't stop me writing tho lol.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.3k

no use of y/n

readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: while you're gone on a mission, ghost has time to ponder your relationship, and comes to a long awaited realisation

warnings: ghost's pov, mentions of blood and injury, lil bit of angst

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

ghost never knew how to feel about you.

at first, he really did hate you; you were the bright-eyed new recruit with seemingly endless optimism, he simply couldn't help but be annoyed by you. honestly, he half expected you to tap out a week into the job. you were just so… normal, he found it hard to believe you were cut out for this line of work.

of course, he trusted price's decision to hire you, and deep down ghost knew he wouldn't have recruited you if he didn't think you could handle it, but he looked down on you anyway. it didn't matter how good price thought you were, you'd have to earn ghost's respect.

it was infuriating, the way you fit so easily into the dynamic of the team. they all liked you right off the bat, even the captain, who was notoriously hard to impress. he observed you from afar, watching how you easily broke down their walls and fell into place next to them like it was nothing.

if he was honest with himself, he might have even called it jealousy. it seemed that everything was so natural to you; everything that he struggled with, you did with such ease you made it look like child's play. he especially hated the way you could just be a person. you didn't lock up every time someone spoke to you, you didn't need to sit with a visual on every available exit, and you didn't need to analyse every person you met in the fear that the second you turn your back they'll stab you in it.

you pissed him off, but what was worse than anything else about you, is that ghost had to fight with himself not to like you too.

it was the first time he got sent on an assignment with you that he began to understand why everyone seemed to get along with you so well. the ruthless efficiency with which you did your job was almost shocking to see. he couldn't have predicted how well the two of you worked together; like a well oiled machine, by the end of the mission he didn't even need to communicate verbally, you could just tell what his next move would be.

he finally understood why price fought so hard to get you on the one-four-one – and he finally found it in himself to respect you.

but that didn't change the way he felt about you beyond the field. you were soft, too kind, and too optimistic, you weren't hardened by the job like him. so he went out of his way to be tougher on you than he was with the others, and he rationalised it by telling himself he was helping you; that without a little toughening up, this world would break you, and for some reason, he couldn't stand the thought of that.

when you started to resent him back, it made his stomach feel heavy in a way he'd never felt before. it was new, and uncomfortable, and it scared him. he wasn't sure when he first noticed it, but it only got worse when he came to the realisation that you didn't care for him like you did for gaz and soap.

you could joke around so easily with them, but you go quiet when he enters the room. you never meet his eyes, and make sure to never be physical with him. when he addresses you over comms, you answer with a quick 'yes sir' and that's the end of it. ghost would never admit it, but the distance between you hurt – even if it was by design. 

as he lay awake that night, he thought about what it would be like if you treated him the same way you treated the others. he couldn't stop the tiny smile that pulled at his lips as he imagined laughing with you, sitting next to you, touching you.

he imagined you, taking his calloused hand into your own, so gentle and kind like you always were, and the way his pulse skyrocketed scared him into staying up the rest of the night.

after that, the way he saw you changed. where he used to think you were soft – and therefore weak – instead he saw the way you chose to be kind. when once your constant jokes with the others was an inability to take things seriously, now it was your specialty way to keep up morale, and ghost actually found himself chuckling at a few of your quips.

it was like his entire perspective had shifted, everything about you that used to annoy him gradually became something he appreciated about you.

it took him a while, but he finally came to the conclusion that he… liked you. 

but it was bittersweet, because he already knew you didn't want him, and he doubted you ever would. you'd never see him in the same light, he'd ruined his chances before he even knew he wanted one.

maybe it was for the best, though. you deserved better, someone who would treat you right, someone normal. he already knew you didn't want him, and he could never blame you for that. people like you don't fall in love with people like him, that's just the way it is.

so he resigns himself to burying the feelings he harbours for you. you never had to find out, if you did you'd surely be disgusted by someone like him being interested in you. he couldn't handle rejection like that, not from you.

when price told him he'd have to take you in when your house burned down, he was fucking terrified. it shook him to his core, how much he liked the idea of the two of you living under the same roof. he did his best to avoid you, leave you in peace like he assumed you wanted; but you – wonderful, kind you – wouldn't just leave him to his misery.

you were being nice to him, and he couldn't figure out why. he assumed it was because he was doing you a favour by letting you stay with him; he couldn't even trick himself into believing that you might be doing it because you liked him.

every night, he'd go back to that fantasy of existing with you, by your side instead of at arm's length. you were so close, just a single door separating you, his hands started sweating every time he passed by the living room.

he knew he was a goner the morning you woke up before him. he'd scarcely ever seen you in a casual setting, but walking into the kitchen and being greeted by you sitting at the table, the domesticity of it all hit him like a bullet to the chest.

it was exactly what he wanted, and it scared the shit out of him, so he panicked. he needed to stay away from you, for your own good, so he did what the ghost does best.

he ran away.

he didn't even consider what you'd think, he just had to get away, before he said something he'd end up regretting.

when you came through the door, soaking wet, and laid into him – which he knew he deserved – he immediately regretted leaving you behind. seeing you cry, knowing it was because of him, it made him feel sick. he knew he never wanted you to feel that heartache again, especially if it was because of him.

he'd give anything to start again with you, go back to the beginning and do it all right this time, but the only thing he could do was try and make up for what he'd put you through.

the hot chocolate was a peace offering; he knew you loved it – he even knew about the stash you had of it hidden in price's office, away from the other soldiers. he half expected you to just tell him to piss off, but when you accepted it, he felt his heart soar.

it ignited a spark of hope within him. more than anything, he just wanted you to like him, it didn't matter if you never saw him the way he wanted you to.

he intended on waking you up the next evening, before he left for the pub, but when he saw how peaceful you looked while you slept, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you. 

you stayed with gaz and soap most of the night, and he spent the night watching you from the bar and dimly lit corners, assuring himself that you were okay. when it came time to drag you home with him, he had never been so nervous. taking care of people was the exact opposite of his strong suit, especially when they started crying at him.

he almost couldn't believe his ears when you said you liked him.

he'd dragged you home with an arm wrapped around your waist, his head feeling light as a feather. by all accounts, he should've been annoyed at having to look after you in your inebriated state, but he found himself smiling under his mask the whole way home – even when you almost threw up on him.

when you rested your head on his shoulder on the bathroom floor, he might've actually short-circuited. all thoughts except for you evacuated his mind, and a wonderfully warm feeling blossomed in his chest that made his stomach flutter like never before.

he came so close to spilling his guts to you, but then he remembered that you were drunk, and you most likely wouldn't remember it if he did. so he resigned himself to tucking you into bed with an uncharacteristically gentle touch.

the next day, sitting on that park bench with you, laughing with you like he'd wanted to for so long – it was everything to him. it sent his pulse through the roof, it was complicated, and it was so pleasantly warm.

the logical part of him knew that this would only end painfully for him, but found himself willing to risk that if it meant more of these moments with you.

but of course, he'd fucked it all up at the first opportunity. he'd screamed in your face and he had yet to even apologise for it – for any of it. he felt immeasurably guilty, but he was so scared he couldn't even force himself to be around you.

even price had yelled at him for how he'd treated you. you were traumatised, you had a very real phobia as a result of the house fire, and he felt like a fucking fool for not noticing. he swore to himself he'd make it up to you, he'd grovel at your feet for the rest of his life if he had to, and if you never forgave him he still wouldn't blame you.

he regretted it – of course he did. he let his fear consume him; the fear of you getting hurt, of losing you, and not being able to do anything to save you.

almost as soon as the words had passed his lips, he realised what he was doing, he heard himself. the anger in his voice, the fearful look in your eyes as they glistened with tears, it was everything he didn't want to be.

he felt just like his–

no. he refused to even entertain that thought. he'd never be… that. you deserved so, so much better than the broken husk of man that he was. no matter what he did, he would never deserve you; and it was selfish, but he still hoped that you could somehow forgive him.

it's only been a few days since you left on that assignment for laswell, but he's found that being alone in his house didn't bring him the same comfort it used to. the silence never bothered him before, in fact he greatly preferred it, but now it just felt empty. like there was something missing, leaving a hole in the space it used to occupy.

deep down, the rational part of simon knows that it's you, of course it is, but you wanted nothing to do with him right now. he knew he had to fix things, he would never get over the hollow feeling in his chest if he didn't. that's why he was currently standing at the edge of the runway in the middle of the night, watching the ramp of the helo lower to reveal you, gaz, and the captain.

you looked shattered, like you hadn't slept for days – which was probably true – and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to gather you into his arms and not let go. he wondered if the remnants of dried blood that were visible on your hands and face were yours.

he felt his heart rate pick up as you made your way closer to him, his icy stare softening when he sees how you drag your feet across the tarmac.

when you were close enough, he reached his hand out to grasp your arm, opening his mouth to speak, but he never makes contact.

you sidestep him, and he feels his heart break in his chest. any words he was planning on saying die on his tongue as he turns to watch you slip through the doors without a hint of acknowledgement to him.

price gives him a rough pat on the shoulder as he and gaz pass by. "fix it, simon." he murmurs, before disappearing through the doors as well, leaving him alone outside the building.

he will fix it – he'd do whatever it takes because simon doesn't just need you, he's come to the alarming conclusion that he loves you – he just has no idea how.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna ,

@cathnoneofyourbusiness , @madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology , @kuruksenshi

if your name is crossed out, i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

[pathetichimbos]

Can you do prego reader x Thomas Hewitt?

I sure can!

Thomas loves kids. He adores them, always has. He desperately wants a family of his own, but the idea is pretty short lived considering no one in his entire town will look at him, let alone want to spend their life raising a family with him.

So, he throws the idea away, tossing it to the back of his mind with the rest of his dreams that have been crushed due to his conditions.

But then, here comes you.

Not only do you look at him, but you stare, as if you're caught in a trance by his presence alone. He's nervous under your gaze, but he doesn't run as you approach him, introducing yourself.

You're so very kind, and as time moves on, and the two of you begin to become close, he's infatuated.

He spends a long time entranced, pining from a distance, too afraid to even approach you with the idea of possibly having a relationship, simply happy just to be by your side as a friend.

No one can tell you how he could possibly miss your own affection for him, or how you could miss his.

But the two of you dance around each other for too long, always teasing at the possibility of more, but self doubt and hesitation keeping you both at bay.

The tension finally snaps when Thomas sees a random, older biker hitting on you at the old station.

He doesn't really know what breaks inside him, his arms snaking around your waist from behind, burying his face in your neck, but the way you lean back against his chest and run a hand through his hair, all while holding eye contact with the old creep, tells him it wasn't a mistake.

He's a lot more affectionate with you after that, mostly in private, but he doesn't shy away from holding you close to ward off any creeps that may take an interest in you.

Your first kiss is slow, and messy. It's clear Thomas doesn't know what he's doing as he holds your wrists, letting you cup his face in the dark of his bedroom.

Luda Mae would throw a fit if she found out you snuck out of the guest room they let you stay in, slipping out in the middle of the night to see Thomas when you couldn't sleep.

But neither of you could seem to care as you gently pull his mask off, moving it out of the way as you cup his scarred face, rubbing circles over his cheekbones.

He lets you take the lead, following your movements slowly and carefully as he tests the waters, eagerly returning your affections.

It doesn't go much farther than that, but it doesn't need to. You and Thomas have always gone at your own pace, and as long as you have each other, that's all that matters to you.

Years pass and the two of you inevitably get hitched, and all of the sudden that desire Thomas hid away all those years comes flooding back.

Thomas wants kids.

He's still unsure, nervous about how you'd feel about the idea. He doesn't want to bring it up and ruin everything by making you uncomfortable, but he desperately wants to have a family with you.

So, when he finally works up the courage, and you tell him you want kids as well, he's all over you.

It's less than three months after your wedding you find out you're pregnant, and the entire family is overjoyed.

Thomas is ecstatic, almost in disbelief that this is actually happening, and that he's actually going to be a father.

Luda Mae is delighted at the idea of grandchildren, and it even puts a smile on Hoyt's face.

No one can wait to welcome the newest Hewitt to the family, everyone in joyous spirits for the entire duration of the pregnancy.

It doesn't take long for your stomach to swell and grow, and everything you do has Thomas worried and fidgeting, not wanting to be overbearing but mind racing with everything that could go wrong.

Luda Mae is your main source of confidence, having already gone through her own pregnancy long ago. Any anxieties or fears the two of you have, she helps calm, and any questions that could keep either of you up at night, she has the answers.

You're very noticeablely pregnant by your third month, your stomach poking out and making your shirts ride up, leaving everyone to come to one conclusion:

"It's twins." Luda Mae looks at you over the rim of her cup as she takes another sip of coffee.

"Twins!?" Your eyes are wide as you grip the table in front of you, barely grasping what she just said, "But how- how could you possibly know that!?"

"Well, look at'ya." She gestures to you from across the table.

You rub your hand over your not so little bump, looking between her and your stomach, "I mean, yea, but that doesn't mean it has to be twins, right?"

"You better listen to Mama on this one." Hoyt pitches in from where he's leaning back in the other chair, his own coffee mug in front of him, "She ain't never been wrong about this."

Thomas is, of course, ecstatic about this. He wants multiple children, so to him this makes things easier. Depending on how you feel about it, he would consider having more, but he's more than happy with twins.

Hoyt spends the couple of months before your due date bringing in more victims to sort of 'stock' up so Thomas won't have to leave your side during the last month of your pregnancy. Which, good luck to anyone trying to pull him away from you during the last month, he's practically glued to your hip.

It pretty much goes without saying everyone expects you to do a home birth. Of course, if you really want to, (or need to due to a high-risk labor), Luda Mae will take you to the hospital in the next town over.

While Thomas normally hates going to town, for anything really, nothing is going to stop him from being there for the birth, so it doesn't matter where or how you decide to have the twins, he's going to be by your side for the entirety of it.

...And that's pretty much a less analytical more drabbily sort of take on it. Thanks for sending in the ask! <3

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x s/o #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o

[blindmagdalena]

Don't Fret Precious (I'm Here)

Summary: 18+ 8.1k homelander x reader, f!reader, mild sublander, immoral reader, off-screen murder, blood, attempted assault (not by HL), cunnilingus, lite comeplay, penetrative sex, fingering, dirty talk, breeding kink, marking, mild pain play.

During one of his evening patrols, Homelander overhears the beginnings of an assault. By intervening, he not only becomes your personal hero, but falls into a whirlwind of infatuation and obsession with you, and the supposedly ordinary life you led before he happened across you.

thank you @mari-thesimp, whose prompt inspired this monster of a fic! 🖤 AO3 Link.

To this day, Homelander doesn’t know why you were alone in that alleyway that night: he never thought to ask, and by now, it’s an irrelevant detail. He just knows that it was in a shady side of the city, nowhere near your work or your home.

That was where he first heard you. You were screaming in this shrill, throaty way that reminded him of how women in the movies screamed. You were the perfect little Hollywood damsel, trapped down a dark side street by a man twice your size with a brutish smile and clear intentions. It was almost too perfect of a stage, and Homelander found he couldn’t resist intervening. 

Sure, there weren’t any cameras, but maybe you’d give a couple interviews and boost his ratings.

“S’aright by me, I like it when they scream,” the goon told you, pulling at you with dirty, meaty hands. Homelander could smell his rotten breath from a distance. It must have been like chopped onions in your face, stinging your pretty eyes.

“What a coincidence,” Homelander said from behind the man, voice full and confident. He placed his hands on the man’s shoulders. “So do I.”

He tightened his grip until tendons popped and bones groaned under his strength. The man screamed twice as loudly as you had, relinquishing his hold on you. Clearly not comprehending the sheer danger he was in, the man tried to retaliate, lashing out with swinging arms and legs until Homelander finally let him turn around, at which point the severity of the situation dawned clearly in the man's eyes.

“Homelander,” He realized, tongue thick in his mouth, words heavy with sudden fear. “It’s not what you think,” he said. He was taller and broader than Homelander, but it hardly mattered. He was shaking like a leaf in his hold. “We were just playin’,” he said, sweat prickling along his hairline. Homelander twisted the brute down onto his knees, and angled him to the side, focusing on you now. You, who were staring at him with wide, watery doe eyes. It’s no wonder you were hunted down by a predator. You looked… delicious.

“Is that true, miss?” He asked you in his best discerning hero voice. “Do you know this man?”

The question was followed by a tense beat of silence. He held your gaze, only for his to drop and watch your lips form the simple word, “No.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said with a chuckle. Before the man could protest, Homelander made a fist, and struck the back of the man’s head with the bottom of it just hard enough to knock him out cold. The thug crumpled to the ground, and Homelander stepped over him to make his way towards you. He gave you a cursory check for broken or fractured bones, but aside from being disheveled, you looked unharmed, slumped back against the brick wall.

One interesting thing he took note of, however, was the small gun tucked into your purse. Why hadn’t you been reaching for it? Panic, he supposed. Perhaps, though you had thought preemptively to protect yourself, your pretty little head had emptied the moment there was any sort of tangible threat.

You were like a little rabbit. Born to be hunted.

“You alright, miss?” He asked, offering you his hand. You took it, eyes as wide as saucers, lips tilted in an awestruck little smile. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t accustomed to, but it was sweet nonetheless. You were sweet, as soft in his hands as ripe fruit. Just the same, it would take so very little to bruise such a delicate thing.

“I am now,” you answered breathlessly, taking a step closer to him, your hand lingering in his long after he’d helped you up. “That… You were incredible. More amazing than I ever imagined.”

Homelander’s brows lifted curiously. “You imagine something like this often?”

“Yes,” you admitted readily, surprising him. “I’ve had a lot of fantasies about you.”

He laughed breathlessly at that, throat clicking on a dry swallow. You were standing just a few inches from him, but your only point of contact remained your hands. One by one, you began to loosely intertwine your fingers with his, drawing his gaze down. He had met hundreds upon hundreds of fans during his career, but rarely were they brave enough to be so direct with him. “Wow, you are, ah… forward,” he said, feeling heat prickle along his collar.

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked. He felt hyper aware of the slow way you squeezed his gloved hand, the gesture strangely enticing. 

“No, no,” he said, licking his lips. “Always good to feel wanted.”

You smiled at him. “Good.” With a gentle pull, you eased him down. He felt certain you were going to kiss him at that moment, but instead, you bypassed his lips and brought yours to his ear. “Because I want you. Very, very much.”

Your words, your voice instantly pooled heat low in his gut. He found himself breathing shallowly, leaning into the faint, sweet fruit smell of you.

When you drew back, your eyes met. You smiled, still squeezing his hand as you did. Your soft little breaths were warm on his lips. After a split second hesitation, Homelander kissed you. He kissed you again, and again, and again. He would kiss you many, many more times after that.

At first you were just a pretty little thing. A secret indulgence with sweet tasting lips, soft skin, and a seemingly endless propensity for adoration. You were removed from the blood and corporate grind of his day to day life. Before him, your life was simple, mundane, and predictable. It seemed like a lonely and bleak thing to him.

Perhaps that’s what made it so easy for him to become your sun, and coax your entire world into revolving around him. He saw his own loneliness mirrored back at him in your glossy eyes. To you, he is salvation. To him, you’re convenient.

Homelander particularly enjoys the way your breath catches with palpable excitement when he drops in on you unexpectedly. It doesn’t matter the time of day, be it midday or in the earliest hours of the morning, you welcome him with open, warm arms. Stepping into your comedically ordinary apartment is like watching The Wizard of Oz in reverse, wherein Dorothy retreats from the vulgar, brightly colored Oz to the quiet sepia of her humble little farmhouse. 

Here, his only care in the world is the gentle coo of your voice in his ear. Your heart is a steady, soothing rhythm. The first night Homelander found himself in your bed, he was surprised you didn’t accept him as a trophy fuck the way so many others liked to. Instead, you had stilled his greedy hands, and settled them around your waist. You slowed him. At the time he assumed you were still shaken from your encounter in the alley, but even then, the choice had seemed calculated.

You have a way of making him wait. Making him crave. You held him through the night, fingertips tracing patterns along his scalp, hands cupping his face, touching him as if you were trying to commit every detail of him to memory.

He was enraptured. He still is.

It’s what brings him back to you night after night after night.

Tonight, you’re awake when he slips in through your sliding glass door. It’s always unlocked for him. He would scold you for it if you didn’t live several storeys off the ground. To this day, he cannot shake the image of you as a vulnerable creature, watery eyed and terrified in that dark alleyway. It feels good to hear the skip of your heartbeat at the sound of your door opening, only for your breaths and pulse to calm at the sight of him.

It soothes his frayed nerves. The rest of the world is full of vicious ingrates who love him when he serves them, but who continuously prove themselves eager to tear him apart at the slightest provocation. Not you. Never you.

“My hero,” you sigh as he sinks into your arms. You never ask him about what’s going on in the news. This place–the warmth of your embrace–is a sanctuary from the noise of it all. “I missed you,” you tell him. You always do. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar smell of you. His hands settle on your hips, neediness spilling through in the way he grips you, twisting the fabric of your clothing in his grasp. Homelander doesn’t respond right away, choosing instead to brush his lips along the bare skin of your neck, following the line up to your ear. You tilt your head, giving him greater access. You’re always giving more and more of yourself. You’ve done nothing to dissuade him of his possessive thoughts, the ones that whisper he is owed every breath and inch of you. If anything, he could swear you stoke his fires knowingly.

“Are you okay?” You ask gently, coaxing him to look at you with your hand on his cheek. He complies, pulling back just enough to meet your stare. You cup either side of his face, stroking his skin with your thumbs. The sound of your thumb pads catching against the faint bit of stubble on his face is soothing, like scratching an itch deep in his ears. “What do you need?”

“You,” he answers at last, leaning closer.

“You have me,” you say. He can feel your smile against his lips when you kiss him. “Forever. And always,” you say, punctuating each sentiment with a kiss. “What else do you need?”

“Nothing,” he says, voice sinking beneath the weight of his building desire, the heat of it radiating through his body in slow waves. “Not a goddamn thing. I don’t… I don’t need anything or anyone but you,” he whispers, clawing more purposefully at your clothing now, resentful of the barrier they create between him and the warmth of your skin. Too many things that have kept him away from what he desires, what he deserves. Your cheap cotton blend clothes won’t be among them. “Me neither,” you breathe, guiding his hands up your sides, helping him to strip away your shirt. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever needed.”

Your words drip like sweet nectar. He swears he can taste the heaven of them on your lips as he kisses you. He follows the imaginary drip of it from your lips to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck. He relishes the low moan you give. You push your hands into his hair, wringing a matching note from the back of his throat with the way you grip it. More, he thinks, insatiable. Give me more.

His gloved hands slide down your sides, mapping out the curves of your body as he has a hundred times before. His thumbs hook on your pants, and he pulls those down, too. He smiles at your bare skin beneath, leaning in to press a kiss to your pelvis, just above the thatch of hair there. “No panties?” He rumbles, helping you step out of your pants.

“I was hoping you’d come,” you say through a smile, hooking your leg over his shoulder, hand braced in his hair. He nuzzles in, lips brushing against your already sensitized clit. He gives a tonal sigh, opening his mouth to inhale the musky-sweet smell of you, his tongue snaking out to glide from your velvety, slick cunt to the gently throbbing nub of your clit. He closes his lips around it, opening his eyes halfway to meet your gaze from between your legs. He’s pleased to see you already staring down at him, admiring him openly. You’re flushed with heat, pupils blown wide. He purrs for the way you smooth his hair back with your fingers, his eyes falling shut so he can focus solely on the taste of you. He cups your ass in his hands and lifts you onto his mouth, hitching your other leg up over his shoulder as well.

Homelander holds you up and drinks greedily from you, coaxing your sweet wetness with slides and thrusts of his tongue, panting into the welcoming heat of you. Drool and slick coat his mouth in equal measure, dripping down his chin, wetting him so thoroughly he can almost pretend it’s sweat. As if he could exert himself. As if he were anything less than a god putting the light of heaven into the space between your thighs.

His favorite part is the way your pussy clenches around his tongue every time he pushes it into you, knowing you’re aching for more. For him.

“Nnngh, baby,” you moan, locking your ankles behind his back, rocking your hips. He squeezes your ass, egging you on. He can almost taste your swelling climax. He moans into you, meets the sway of your hips with eager dives of his tongue. “I’m–hahh, ahh, oh, there, there, mm, baby, you feel so good, m’gonna come,” you moan, prompting him faster, deeper, riled up by every aching praise that falls from your lips.

You pull his hair sharply when you come, and his eyes roll back into his skull with it. He revels in the way you smother him, literally and figuratively. Since the beginning, your affection, your attention, has been an endless, all-consuming thing. There was a time that he believed there would be no one who could stomach the depths of his emptiness, and yet here you are. With him, you form an ouroboros. Neverending mutual consumption.

Homelander laps at you until your shivering body goes lax, and you slide down into the strength of his arms. You kiss him, heedless of the mess you’ve made of his mouth, hands clumsily working to open the top of his suit. “Take me to the bed,” you tell him. The authority in your voice sounds effortless, despite the reedy quality your orgasm has given it. “I need you inside me.”

I need you. The words echo in his ears on a loop like a broken record that he never wants mended. He stands with you secure in his arms, licking your own taste into your mouth as he walks. He sets you down gently, but he grabs your hips hard enough to bruise. He wants to see the evidence that you are as changed by him as he is by you. 

He shrugs his top off. Before it even hits the ground, you’re slipping your hands up beneath the hem of his undershirt, purposefully skating his ticklish sides with your fingertips, surprising a giggle out of him. The shirt comes off of his head with a flourish, mussing his hair into a splay of blonde locks. You smile at one another, secretive, as if this intimacy between you is something stolen.

Homelander often behaves as though it is. More times than not, this happiness feels like borrowed time. Like something he is owed, but was never supposed to have. It leaves him feverish for it, clawing at every second of it he can get his hands on.

You help divest him of his pants next, metal belt hitting the ground with a thud. He steps out of his boots, and back tight into your space, grazing his teeth tantalizingly along the line of your neck before he sucks a dark mark just beneath your earlobe.

Your sigh of pleasure is music to his ears. His own breath catches when your hand slips between his legs, grasping his aching cock. You give a couple of leisurely strokes, but the tunnel of your fist is so loose, he knows you’re teasing him. He thrusts needily against you. “Sshhh,” you hush, guiding him to the bed. “Sit.”

He does, dropping onto the edge of the bed with a bounce, lips parted, breathing his excitement in shallow huffs. Initially, you confuse him by turning your back to him, but he catches on quickly when you put your hand on his thigh, and lower yourself slowly into his lap. He takes hold of your waist reflexively, aiding your descent. His grip on you flexes at the first glorious, wet press of your cunt against the throbbing head of his cock.

“Slow,” you remind him, your own excitement turning your voice thin and airy. Homelander grits his teeth, caught somewhere between impatience and dread. He’s not sure he’ll last long, not with the taste of you so fresh on his tongue and the hot, drenched pull of your body sucking him in. He wants to slam in and flee all at once, caught paralyzed in the middle.

Luckily for him, you’re wholly in control. You grip his wrists and sink down slowly, tipping your head back with a moan as you take every inch of him, settling fully in his lap. Homelander keens, pressing his face between your shoulder blades. You’re so tight and wet, it makes his head spin. The throb of your body alone could make him come, he’s certain of it. Your heart beat is a drum in his ear, one he can feel every pulse of in the velvet walls of your cunt. 

“Please,” he moans, adjusting subtly. Even that makes his balls ache.

“I have you,” you assure him, reaching back over your shoulder. You push your hand into his hair, guiding him to rest his chin on your shoulder as you massage his scalp with your fingertips. He wraps his arms around your waist, fighting the desperate urge to slam up into you, to break you apart and spill into the deepest parts of you. There is such violence in every part of him. It would be foolish to think it would not bleed into his love.

Instead, Homelander remains perfectly still, panting into the crook of your neck while you grip his hair, grounding him. “I love you,” you sigh, to which he screws his eyes shut, exhaling a rough little noise. “It’s okay. I want you to feel good. I want you to fill me up. Give me all of you,” you murmur, reaching down between your legs. You cup his balls in your palm, gently massaging them as you begin to lift, but only barely, fucking yourself down on his cock in deep, sharp drops.

“You’ll do that for me, right, baby? Always make me feel so good. Let me feel you come,” you coax, voice too sweet for the wicked way you seduce him. His balls are tight in your grasp, heavy, his cock weeping precome that’s lost amidst the wetness of you.

Still, he holds back. He adjusts himself to take hold of your breasts, massages them until you moan. He kisses the mark he left on your neck, teases your skin with sharp teeth. He almost bites down when you squeeze his balls, making him jerk up into you with a keening moan.

“F-fuck, mm, like that, do that again, baby,” you urge, tightening your grip on his hair while you continue to fondle his balls, eager to feel them unload inside you. In the midst of it all, he’s rapidly coming undone. Your tone breathy and low in his ear, you moan, “My sweet, perfect boy.”

Homelander chokes on his own sharp inhale, baring his teeth as something primal overtakes him. He locks his arms around you and in one, two, three, four sharp thrusts, lets out a guttural moan alongside the sweltering rush of relief and pleasure that erupts throughout his body. You make all kinds of sweet noises alongside him, surprised every time by the sheer force of his release.

The two of you rest like that, your body slumped back against his, his arms encircling you, keeping you pressed tight to his chest.

You’re spent, but he isn’t finished with you. He doubts he ever will be. You and your ordinary little life are unremarkable in every possible way, yet he clings to you now as though it is your strength that keeps him upright. For a long time, Homelander had believed the crux of his divinity was his distance from humanity. Now, he’s not so sure.

Never has he felt more like a god than he does with your words of worship furling sweetly within him, your body enveloping him in the warmth of your reverence. 

Somewhere along the line, though Homelander finds himself unable to pinpoint when or where, your presence in his life shifted from something convenient to something he needed.

It would scare him if he wasn’t so convinced you need him twice as badly. It compels him to ensure you never forget it, to show you that there will never again be anyone or anything in your life that changes it, enhances it the way he has. The more he needs you, the more you must need him.

It’s what drives him to eventually lift you from his lap and lay you on the bed, to nestle between your legs and lick up the mess he’s made of you. Eating his own come out of you tastes like possession, like familiarity, like love. Your moans, even muffled by the press of your inner thighs to his ears, are divine. He slips his fingers into your dripping cunt both for your pleasure and to push the spill of his come back inside, sucking on your clit while you rock against his fingers.

He loses himself to the fantasy playing behind his eyelids, imagining that this time, the seed takes. That it makes a mother of you. His baby growing in your belly, fattening up your breasts and making you glow with the radiance of it. You would carry the child of a god with incomparable grace, heavy with the weight of his legacy. You’d be bound to him beyond pretty words and carnal embraces. A baby would be his gift to you, and you would accept it without question, he assures himself.

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, pulling him back to reality. He fell so deep into his own bliss, he nearly forgot what he was doing. His eyelids flutter open, dazed and utterly at peace between your legs. Your orgasm hits his tongue beautifully, rhythmic thrums that have you clenching your thighs tight on either side of his head, arching up into his mouth. He slows the thrust of his fingers, licking you leisurely through the aftershocks, until you eventually relax and give his hair a gentle tug, prompting him to crawl obediently up the length of your body.

You kiss him with hunger. He leans back slightly just to see if you’ll give chase. He’s pleasantly surprised when you do, following his lips and pulling him greedily back down into your arms, bringing him flush to your chest. You hitch your legs over his hips, arms sliding around him, holding him like you have the strength to keep him there.

Someday, perhaps, he’ll come to terms with the power you have over him.

“I love you,” you whisper. The sentiment unspools around him and ties loose knots around his every muscle, soothing him until his weight rests fully upon your body. He nestles in between your breasts, brushing his lips along the swell of one. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, voice soft. He feels utterly lost to this marriage of sex and intimacy, secure enough to relax, to let go of the impulse to hold you tightly in place. He knows you will not try to leave him, try to reduce sex to a transaction to be completed and disregarded. It feels good to slip his arms loosely around you, and hold you with the knowledge that he need not fight to keep you.

Instead, it is you who holds on tightly. You entangle your fingers in his hair and cross your ankles over his back, locking him in place. It adds a kind of giddiness to his smile to, for once, be the one clung to.

More and more of Homelander’s day begins to revolve around you. When he isn’t with you, he’s thinking of you. He wakes to your text messages. He gets through the flash and pomp of his day to day life for the sake of returning to your arms. He grows increasingly territorial over his time, irritable when his position in the world forces him to be gone from you longer than his typical schedule calls for.

It’s a difficult feeling to describe. He’s never had something to look forward to outside of the validation of being Homelander.

It begins to manifest in frustration. He’s twice as curt with his responsibilities and those who assign them.

“You’re getting sloppy,” Stan Edgar warns him after a particularly messy incident. “I don’t care what you do in your personal time, or who you do it with,” he says. Homelander’s gut clenches. The words are too pointed to be anything other than a threat. “But here, on my time, you will perform as expected. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Homelander answered through his teeth, hands locked tight behind his back, beneath his cape, where the world couldn’t see the subtle way they shook.

That night, in your creaky bed, he fucks you missionary–simple, intimate, face to face–and begs to hear your approval.

“More,” he pants desperately, one hand gripping the headboard, the other in a tight fist against the bed, above your shoulder. “More, fuck. Please.”

“My hero,” you croon, cupping his face in your hands, breath hitching with every slow, deliberate thrust of his hips. “They don’t deserve you. They don’t know how good they have it. How good you are,” you say, your words a soothing balm against his scorched ego. “Mm, even now, you’re making me feel so good. I love you so much, I wish you were all mine, only mine,” you say, drawing him down into a messy kiss.

“Only yours,” Homelander echoes through a broken moan, fucking into you harder, faster. He doesn’t miss the way you flinch at the pace, but you don’t tell him to stop. Instead, he feels you clench down hard around him, lips parting on a silent gasp.

“Only mine,” you repeat like an encouragement, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your headboard is slamming loudly against the wall now, each beat of it a step closer to the climax building between you. If you give a fuck about your shitty bed or the thin dry wall behind it, you give no indication of it. Instead, your eyes are locked completely on his, oblivious to the world around you.

He wants to lose himself in that stare.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m–”

An out of place bang against the wall abruptly knocks Homelander out of his delirium. He looks up, and hears a voice on the other side of the wall holler, “Some of us are trying to fucking sleep!”

Homelander bares his teeth, and without a thought, his eyes flare crimson. Two high intensity laser beams cut straight through your wall and into the adjoining apartment. Deafening silence follows. Homelander blinks the light away, staring for a long few seconds at the two holes before he looks down at you, uncertain of what he expects to see. Shock at best, horror at worst.

While your eyes are wide, it’s neither of those he sees.

“Don’t stop,” you tell him breathlessly, thrusting up against him. You look wild with it, heart pounding with adrenaline and arousal in equal measure. Not an ounce of fear. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He obeys immediately, driving into you so sharply it knocks the wind from you. He doubts you’ll ever hear from that neighbor again.

Homelander comes harder than he ever has before. He leaves you tender to the touch from the force of his thrusts, fucked raw. He offers apologies, but you don’t accept them as they’re spoken. Instead, you guide him down to kiss the marks his passion has left on you. Even then, he recognizes that it is not reconciliation you seek. You’re showing him his work, appreciating the canvas he has made of your body.

“Never apologize for this,” you tell him. “For leaving me with so much. It keeps you with me even when you’re away from me.”

For that alone, he would fuck you a dozen more times. It makes him want to sink his teeth into you, leave you with something more permanent. It makes him ache, wishing you could do the same. He never desired the capacity to be wounded until you taught him the beauty of bleeding for love. He finds himself viciously envious of the bruises blossoming on your skin in the shape of his touch. He imagines you idly pressing on them through the day, remembering with that dull ache how thoroughly he had fucked you.

“I wish you could do this to me,” he admits feverishly, tracing the pattern of his hand bruised onto your hip.

You’re quiet for a moment. “Maybe I can,” you say, causing him to pick up curiously. He watches you cover his hand with your own, and bring it to his forearm. His brows furrow slightly. He looks to you for an explanation, but you’re focused intently on wrapping his own hand around his arm, your fingers lined up with his. “Squeeze,” you tell him.

Understanding dawns. Licking his lips, Homelander flexes his grip on his forearm. At the same time, you kiss him, squeezing your hand tight over top of his. “Harder,” you say. He obliges, squeezing until pressure builds into a more alien sensation: pain. His instinct is to stop, to shy away from it, but before he can he feels you cup your hand between his legs, grasping his barely-hard cock. He gives a startled little moan into your mouth, and his hand retightens on his arm. 

“Good boy,” you say wickedly, stroking his cock in slow, firm pulls. “Nice and tight. I want you to remember me, too.”

“I will,” he rasps, folding in against you. “I will, I will, fuck, hhahhh…” he moans, taken apart not only by your touch, but the ease and eagerness with which you fulfill his every wicked thought. Is there any part of him you will shy away from?

He makes a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure, his skin discoloring around the press of his fingers, swelling up between them. At the same time, his cock fills out steadily with your every stroke. The pressure of it is not unlike the grip on his arm, a gradually building sensation that he wants to shy away from as much as he wants to dive into head first. The contrast, the contradiction of it, is intoxicating.

“So good for me. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” You ask, smiling fondly. He nods fervently, refusing to relinquish his grip while you’re still squeezing his fingers down tight. He never could have fathomed that pain might feel like love.

“Yes, yes, anything,” he grits out, the tips of his fingers beginning to tingle. He lets out a rough breath when you begin to pump him faster, firmer, before he comes hard into the narrow tunnel of your fist, hips jerking while he dutifully maintains the painful, vice-like grip on his arm. You stroke him through it, milking him so thoroughly of his orgasm that he nearly misses when you loosen your fingers over his hand, and prompt him to release his hold. 

Once the skin settles, what Homelander is left with is a throbbing ache, and the unmistakable outline of his grasp imprinted in the burst vessels of his arm. He stares down at it, dumbstruck for a long moment. He has known pain, he’s even known injury, but never like this. He’s still coming down from the euphoria of his release, unable to process what he’s looking at, when your hand slips over top of the bruise, settling nicely into the shadow of it. You press it gently, and though it doesn’t hurt per se, it is different. Strange. It makes his stomach flip unfamiliarly.

“How does it feel?” You ask, tipping his chin up to kiss him.

“Weird,” he answers, distractedly reciprocating.

“How do you feel?” You continue, helping to settle you both down into bed, pulling the covers over your naked bodies.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

“That’s okay,” you say, voice dripping over him like honey, warm and sweet. You lift his arm and turn it, kissing each sprawling line of the bruise he inflicted on himself. The mark he has given himself in your stead. No one has ever… “Do you like it?” He asks, hating how small his own voice sounds.

“Yes,” you sigh, looking at him, your cheek pressed lightly to the palm of the bruise. “Very much.”

Slowly, he smiles. “Kinda fucked up.”

You smile, too. “Good.”

The bruise lingers for several days. For as indestructible as he is, once the damage is done, his body heals at an uncomfortably human rate. It would set his teeth on edge if not for the fact that this mark reminded him that he is yours. He finds himself touching it absently during his day to day, thumb pressing into the fabric of his suit while he zones in and out at various meetings and interviews.

Every day he has it, it reminds him of where he’d rather be.

That same territorial irritation that got him in trouble with Stan Edgar returns tenfold. Every job and press conference feels more arduous an endeavor than the last. The flash of the cameras sting his eyes more than ever, their questions like endless needles pricking his eardrums. Their mindless adoration feels so shallow, it barely registers anymore.

He just wants to be done with it all.

It’s this headspace that leads Homelander to fucking up the worst he has since he was a goddamn teenager.

The flight back to your apartment feels longer than it ever has. Most of the blood and viscera either dries down or flakes away, but every inch of his exposed skin feels tight and itchy with it. He can feel it caked in his hair, too. 

He should return to the tower. There will be press. There will be speeches. There will be a cleanup job that sees him at the center stage.

He should return to the tower he tells himself again and again.

But he wants you.

Your balcony door welcomes him, unlocked as always. He hesitates briefly, staring at his glove. The color of it would mask the blood if not for how dark it has turned. His stomach churns as he steps inside. He wishes the bruise had not faded, that he could press on it now and feel the dull, aching assurance of your love.

He has kept this animal inside him far from you. It’s time to see whether or not you’ll withstand the blood-soaked bite of it. Whether or not you meant it when you said give me all of you.

Homelander steps inside. It’s late, nearly 11:00, but he knows you’re awake. He can hear tinny music playing from your phone, reverberating off the bathroom wall. He can smell the lavender of your bubble bath even over the copper tang of blood in his nostrils.

His stride through your hallway is uncharacteristically slow, footfalls heavy. He hears the water of your bath slosh, and then the music goes silent. “Homelander?” You call, trepidation in your voice. It churns his gut to hear, even if he knows it’s the unusual cadence of his steps you’re reacting to. He knows he sounds like a stranger. Part of him feels like one. He should have showered, washed away the filth until he was your hero again, shining brightly and walking as if the weight of the world did not sit upon him. He still doesn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

An awful, warped part of him wants you to see the bloody mess hiding underneath. His throat is tight, twisted up in sickly anticipation. He does not answer your call. He wonders if you’ll scream when you see him. Another slosh of water, followed by the slap of your bare feet against your bathroom floor. He makes his way to your bedroom, listening to the quicken of your heart.

Answer her, he tells himself. You’re scaring her.

Good, answers another thought. It’s time to know, once and for all, what she’s truly made of. To know whether or not all good things come to an end. She should be scared.

Homelander listens to you move from your bathroom to the soft carpeting of your bedroom, hears the hushed, quick way you begin to rummage about. He stands in front of your bedroom door, one blood crusted hand resting on the doorknob. He hesitates for a second, in which everything goes quiet, save for the shallow sounds of your breath, and the quick, rain-drop pattering of your heart.

He opens the door. He barely registers the gun in your hands–or the sharp, focused look in your eyes–before you fire. The sound of it rings almost painfully loud in his ears after he had been listening so intently to the race of your pulse. He blinks several times, glancing down at the bullet wedged between the carved musculature of his suit.

“Homelander,” you gasp, lowering the gun. Since the first day he met you, he knew you owned it. He just didn’t expect you to be any good with it, not after the way you failed to defend yourself with it. Had you been practicing? He can’t remember ever smelling gunpowder on your hands. He plucks the bullet from the chest of his suit, examining it. That shot would have killed a man. You didn’t hesitate long enough to even recognize who stood before you. You knew precisely what you were doing.

“You didn’t answer me,” you say. Gone is that keen killer stare. Your eyes are wide, mortified. He watches you register the state of him, taking in his expression, the blood. You haven’t moved an inch. Why haven’t you come to him yet? He drops the bullet to the ground, and extends his hand out to you.

“C’mere,” he says, voice low.

You look at his hand, but you hesitate. The surge of anger it ignites within him is white hot, making his gut churn violently. “Come here!” He snaps. Your eyes shoot back up to meet his gaze. He can’t read the expression on your face, which only adds kindling to the flames of frustration and anxiety burning him up from the inside out.

He wants to grind himself deep into the marrow of your bones, find sanctuary in the hollow of them. Your body, your mind, your soul, which you have emptied into a haven made for him alone, has become the greatest solace he has ever known. The notion that you might deny him now–might deny him ever–is more horrifying a thought than he can bear.

The handful of seconds it takes before you begin walking feel like hours. Your steps are tentative, like a deer navigating the underbrush silently so as not to disturb the wolves. You look so much like you did that very first night: like you were made to feel the sharp teeth of a predator.

You slip your lavender fresh hand into his bloody one. He closes his gloved fingers around it, gentle with you despite the thrumming tension in his body. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching with it, his breaths shallow. For once, it’s his own heart thundering in his ears.

“Sshhh,” you hush softly, barely a breath. His brows furrow, dried blood cracking apart on his skin. You lift your free hand to his face, palm lightly ghosting along his jaw. He cups your hand in his and turns his head to push fully into it, lips pressed to your palm, eyes falling shut. He can’t stomach that unfamiliar look on your face.

“I didn’t… they weren’t supposed to be there,” he begins to explain, readying a contingency plan. An explanation you’ll believe. Something to say that will make your face recognizable to him again. However, before he can continue, the press of your thumb to his lips quiets him. 

“It’s okay,” you say, coaxing him from his downward spiral. “I don’t care.” “What?” He doesn’t like the sound of that. 

“I don’t care what you did,” you clarify, squeezing his hand in yours. Slowly, you begin to pull him down, towards you. “I don’t care whose blood this is.” Just as you had that very first night, you bring your lips to his ear. “You are all I have ever cared about.” Goosebumps erupt across every inch of his skin. He lets go of your hand and wraps his arms around you, sinking down against you in sheer relief for the way you slip your arms around his neck, fingers carding up into his hair, matted as it is with blood. He exhales roughly, squeezing you too tight. He can hear it in the strain of your breath, your chest compressed to his, but you don’t fight him. You endure him.

That alone is more than anyone else has managed.

Over your shoulder, Homelander stares at the gun resting atop your bedside table. For the first time, he wonders who truly ensnared who.

Drawing back, he takes hold of your jaw in both hands and kisses you desperately. If you mind the taste of blood, you give no indication of it, opening for his tongue and meeting him readily with yours. “I thought you would–I thought you were–” Fuck, even as his pulse steadies, he can’t get the words straight, can’t get them off of his tongue.

“I’m here, I’m here. I wasn’t,” you manage to say between the fervent presses of his lips, sounding as relieved as he feels. It’s as if you’ve heard his thoughts. “I love you. I love you.” 

A treacherous little whimper crawls up the back of his throat, but he chases it with a groan. He takes his hands from your face to your arms, itching to feel every inch of you, to remind himself that it’s all real. That you’re real. 

“Come with me,” you say. I will. Anywhere, he thinks. You step backwards, and he follows. At some point, the towel slipped from your body. Your damp skin has become a canvas of bloodied impressions ranging from his hands to the texture of his suit. Piece by piece, you begin peeling away the soiled suit from his body. He lets you work, though he cannot keep his hands from you, particularly once you remove his gloves. He pushes his hands into your wet hair while you unbuckle his pants, kisses you hungrily while he steps out of his boots. 

It is a maddening thing, to be loved when you are at your most unloveable.

The bathwater sloshes over the edges as you both sink down into it, all tangled limbs and devouring kisses. The blood stains the soapy lavender pink while your hands leave messy crimson handprints on the ceramic tub. You straddle his lap, and with wet hands, begin working his blood crusted hair wet and loose. Leaning in, Homelander settles his hands on your ribs and kisses a trail down the valley between your breasts, turning his head to lap and suck at your right nipple.

You encourage him with a low moan, nails dragging along his scalp. You cradle his head to your chest, retaliating by rocking your hips slowly down against his, pinning his stiffening cock between your bodies. “Listen to me. There is nothing you could do that would drive me away,” you tell him, punctuating your words with sinuous slides of your hips, wringing tight, needy little moans from him. Your own voice is breathy, the pitch of it gradually climbing. You reach down between your bodies, and take a firm hold of his cock, steadying it until you can sit astride it, and slowly sink back down.

With your mouth at his ear, panting noisy little breaths, you whisper, “I would kill a dozen, a hundred more men if it made you mine.”

What do you mean more?

The thought doesn’t linger long. It’s impossible to focus on anything other than the molten hot clench of your cunt seizing all around him, swallowing him up like it was made to. Homelander slides his hands to your hips and takes a tight hold, meeting the roll of your body with sharp thrusts up. “Nnngh, aah, fuck, I love you–I’m–fuck, I love you, you’re so–so fucking perfect,” he growls through his teeth, dull nails biting crescent marks into your skin while he holds you, pulling you down into every jagged, desperate snap of his hips. Each deep thrust knocks a noise from you, has you gripping his hair tight. Without leverage, all you can do is take it, your moans growing louder and louder, your pussy squeezing him tighter as he fucks you with inhuman precision. Homelander picks up his pace, dying to feel you come for him when he’s like this, messy with the worst parts of himself and wholly at your mercy, whether you know it or not.

“C’mon,” he grits out, though where he means to have authority in his voice, it comes out like a plea. “Come for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock. F-fuck, please, let me–let me feel you,” he says, trailing off into a moan before he buries his face between your breasts, flexing fresh bruises into your skin while you prettily pant and whimper in his ear from the sheer force he fucks you with.

“I will, I–I–” That’s as far as you get before you come, before you double over against him and scream his name loud enough for your entire apartment complex to hear. It tips him right over the edge with you, has him crying out as he arches his back, flooding his release deep into your tight, quivering pussy, thrusting weakly through the aftershocks.

By the time the two of you settle down against one another, your breaths calmed, the majority of the bathwater is outside of the tub. The night air is cool on your naked bodies, but you’ve never been cold in Homelander’s arms. He traces absent patterns on your skin while you recover, your thighs still shaking.

“We should shower,” you say eventually, a slight slur to your tone. It makes Homelander smile. He loves feeling, seeing, and hearing all the ways in which he has ruined you. “Let me finish washing you.”

“Can you stand?” He asks. It’s an earnest question. “Carry me there,” you say.

He stares at you warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkled with the width of his smile. “ ‘Kay.“

The shower is slow, less frenzied. You lather shampoo into his hair, washing away the remnants of what had come before this. You work body wash into his skin until he smells like coconuts instead of blood and viscera. He nuzzles into your touches, kisses you whenever the impulse strikes. There is no way to describe the unparalleled feeling of sharing space with a body that not only welcomes your touch, but also houses a heart that loves you. Once the two of you are sufficiently towel dried, the two of you settle into your familiar creaky bed. You draw the covers up over your bodies, and he draws you into his embrace, kissing the top of your head. He intertwines his fingers with yours, absently rubbing your skin with his thumb, his mind drifting.

“Say,” he begins eventually, stirring you from your near slumber. “The night we met… What were you doing on that side of town, down that alley?” His voice is low, curious.

There’s a pause. He can’t see your face like this, while you’re nestled into the crook of his neck, but he can hear your heart clear as day.

“I was looking for you,” you answer eventually, pulse as steady as a metronome.

At that, he smiles. “I love you,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

“I love you, too,” you answer, your own smile audible in your sleepy voice. “And I always will.”

Don't fret precious I'm here Step away from the window Go back to sleep Lay your head down child I won't let the boogeyman come Counting bodies like sheep To the rhythm of the war drums Pay no mind to the rabble Pay no mind to the rabble Head down, go to sleep To the rhythm of the war drums

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #IT'S DOOOONE AAAA #i can't believe how long this turned out lmao #anyways i am exhausted please enjoy #smut #dark fic #my writing

[cataboliac]

Enkindle

A sequel to Ignite Son Seungwan 11k words

*Hey Wendy, are you at practice today?*

Trembling fingers typed out the message, a hesitation lingering in each keystroke. Releasing a deep breath, you then hit the send button. The cold air seemed to thicken—your body grappling with the nerves that had been building up all day. The whirring noise did little to calm the unease as you anxiously waited for her response.

*Hon! Yes. We are about to finish up. Isn’t it early morning where you are now?*

You smile—Wendy has no suspicions whatsoever. The plan is going smoothly. 

*I just wanted to start the day right by messaging you first, that’s all.*

*You really know how to make me smile.*

You longed to hear those words from that soothing voice, not distorted behind a microphone or a speaker. 

*I miss you so much. Will I see you again for Christmas?*

Her question replaces the nervousness with guilt. You have a definite answer, but she can't know just yet. 

The standard excuse would have to do for now. 

*Sorry Wannie. I am not sure about the holidays. I’ll keep you updated though, okay?*

*I understand, don't worry. I’m just a bit nervous about our comeback show tomorrow. Wish you were here to see it.*

Seungwan has no idea she's in for such a big surprise.

*You're the best group out there. You're gonna crush it. I will stay up to watch it!*

*I love you. Thank you for always knowing how to cheer me up. Good morning! And good night! :) <3 *

*Goodnight Wannie, I love you too.*

“And see you tomorrow,” you murmur as you look out the porthole. The hum of the engine finally became a comforting backdrop as you neared the end of this carefully orchestrated surprise.  The bright Korean skyline slowly comes into view—the warm glow of lights welcoming you home—as the plane makes its final landing approach to Incheon Airport. 

______________________________________________________________

Two years have flown by since you left Korea. The rhythm of your days found a new beat on the chilly streets of your hometown of San Francisco, where you busied yourself teaching choreography classes. You were no longer bound by the constraints of a strict schedule or dietary regimen, relishing in the anonymity that accompanied the bustling life. Rarely did anyone recognize you, and in this newfound simplicity, you were living.

Yet, the plainness of your new life couldn't fill the void that persisted in your heart. No matter how hard you tried to occupy your time, a significant part of you remained in Seoul. You left many friends and family, leaving an unmistakable ache.

Especially the absence of the love of your life. 

Despite agreeing to a long-distance relationship, you and Seungwan were entering unknown territory. It terrified you both to the core. But you found a way to make it work, communicating daily through messages and video calls. Whether it was before dawn or late at night, your day wouldn't feel complete without sharing moments with each other. The longing for physical closeness only intensified as time passed—the desire to return to Korea echoed persistently in your mind.

Thankfully, you saw each other a few times last year. The previous visit was for Christmas—nearly 11 months ago. You both knew that these sporadic reunions were not sustainable in the long run. The absence of physical intimacy, the constant effort to maintain emotional connections, and the doubts lingering in your minds all pointed towards an inevitable ending.

But you weren't willing to let it end like that.

That's why, since your last trip, you've been quietly discussing plans with friends and family. This next trip will hopefully be more permanent—a chance for a more lasting connection.

You hated keeping Seungwan in the dark, but on the other hand, you didn't want to give her false hope if the plan fell through. It was more important to ensure this worked for a long-term stay before telling her.

Your musings are interrupted by the last of your luggage passing by you on the conveyor belt. Thankfully, you grab it effortlessly and lump it onto the trolley. With all of your belongings in check, you head outside. 

As you exit the revolving doors of Incheon Airport, the icy fresh air of Korea greets you once more in its cold, loving embrace as you step out the doors of Incheon Airport. You have almost forgotten how unforgiving the nippy chill of your hometown can be, forcing you to zip up the rest of your jacket. It is so cold you could see the vapor escaping your mouth as you exhale. 

Your phone suddenly rings, making you jump in surprise. You’ve been on guard tonight because you didn’t want news of you arriving in Korea. You quickly check your phone, only to release an exasperated sigh.

*Hey, have you landed yet? :P *

*Sooyoung… I told you not to message me when you’re with Seungwan…*

*So you did land! Welcome back! :P *

*And stop worrying so much! The other three are keeping Seungwan busy. And how will you know where to enter tomorrow? :P *

Inhaling deeply, you release a breath, expelling all the pent-up nerves. Your shoulders gradually relax, a noticeable lightness replacing the tension. Admittedly, there's a twinge of anxiety about tomorrow, but Sooyoung's wisdom prevails—let the plan unfold naturally.

*Fine, fine. What is the plan for tomorrow?*

While waiting for Sooyoung's text, you navigate your trolley through the parking lot in search of your ride to the Airbnb. A distant flash of car headlights grabs your attention. As you draw near, the familiar silver van evokes a wave of fond memories, a visual echo of countless rides to various schedules.

You stand in front of the van—and without warning—the passenger door opens, and someone engulfs into you with a hug.

"You bastard! It is so good to see you again!" Jaesung crushes you with a bear hug, almost taking the air out of your lungs. You manage to reciprocate, laughing as he whips you around like a ragdoll. He was always the most affectionate and most sociable among your group mates. 

"Never change, man. Never change. Now let me in the car!" 

With the help of Jaesung you get your things in the van and leave the parking lot without anyone recognizing you. With some breathing time, Jaesung catches you up on the latest news around the company.

"And all the new trainees are super talented! We try to be more lenient with them, especially the younger ones in school,” Jaesung says excitedly. He decided to stay with the company and help train the new talent.

“This new role really fits you Jae. I'm glad you stayed.” It helps that Jaesung was the leader of your group before getting disbanded.  

“And soon we will be complete again! Once everyone is free,” Jaesung says, a hopeful—and now—realistic wish now that you are here. 

"Just focus on your surprise with your 'Wannie' baby," Jaesung adds, his cutesy teasing tone making you cover your face in embarrassment. 

The van stops at your destination just in time to save you from more teasing. However, this is not the Airbnb you booked. This actually looks like the subdivision you used to live in.

“Jae, what are we doing here?” you ask him as he helps bring your luggage down from the van.

“This is my surprise to you. Open up your hand.” Fearing another of his famous pranks, you reluctantly open your hand to Jaesung, and he drops you the key to your old apartment—the familiar orange keychain still attached.

“No way…”

“Yeah, way! Don’t worry about it, okay? We talked to the place you booked, and we will figure it out. I kept the place tidy for you. And you got it all to yourself for a week cause I will be out for team building with the trainees. I am sure you will have only one guest over." 

You jingle the keys in your hand, a cascade of memories flooding your mind. From returning home after misadventures to triumphant schedules and that unforgettable night when you confessed to Seungwan—that apartment was a safe space for you.

“I don’t know what to say… just thank you so much Jae.”

“Don't get too sentimental on me yet! Now give me another hug.” The two of you embrace. Jaesung is the heart and soul of your group. The brotherly bonds never faded over time—they only grew stronger. 

"Rest up. You have a surprise tomorrow. See you next week, lover boy!”

Jaesung enters the elevator, and you wave goodbye to each other. Feeling inspired by his thoughtful gesture, you turn towards the door of your old apartment with newfound confidence in your plan. Just then, your phone rings, bringing a detailed message from Sooyoung about the surprise strategy. A smile slowly spreads across your face until it reaches its edges. The realization hits you like a speeding train—you are finally on the verge of reuniting with Seungwan.

______________________________________________________________

Red Velvet bows and thanks their audience again for coming to support them. They did not want to leave the stage, but they still had lots to do for the next day. The standing ovation reverberates through the concert hall, the thunderous cheers accompanying their descent down a corridor toward the private room. In the wake of their performance, the members of their dedicated staff resoundingly offer their congratulations for yet another triumphant fan-sign event.

The excitement from the event engulfs Seungwan in a surge of dopamine, saturating her heart with indescribable joy—the feeling is still the same no matter how far someone is in their career. Being back on stage and able to perform is a feeling she could never trade away. It distracted her from thinking about other things. 

Specifically, it distracted her from her thoughts of him. She really wished he could be there, but she knew affording a flight to Korea was no small feat. Seungwan missed it all—the simple touch of his hands, his cheering that pumped her up, the fiery devotion that set her soul on fire. Missing the love of her life came in waves, and sometimes Seungwan felt she was drowning. 

At least for now, Seungwan can surface and put all those negative feelings at the back of her mind and focus all her energy on the comeback. 

While they walked, the members stuck close to Seungwan, feeling more affectionate than usual. Sooyoung wrapped around Seungwan’s shoulder, holding her close to her side.

"Such a fun fan sign! I even got this cute toy from this sweet fan," Sooyoung says as she holds out a miniature plushie of herself.

"Hey, why didn't I get one? Obvious favoritism!" Yeri shouts, playfully narrowing her eyes and making the others chuckle.

"It doesn't feel so long since our last comeback, but the feeling never gets old," Seulgi says as she throws an arm around Seungwan’'s waist.

Joohyun, who was ahead of everyone, opens the door to their room and peaks inside. She smiles knowingly—satisfied with what she sees—then closes the door and waits for everyone to come closer. 

Everyone stops in front of Joohyun, much to Seungwan's bewilderment. "Is there something wrong?" Seungwan asks.

“I took a quick peek inside and saw something interesting. I think it is for all of us,” Joohyun says as she opens the door and steps inside.

“Oh, a surprise?! Let’s see!” Yeri exclaims excitedly.

Everyone enters the room, but the rest hang by the door to let Seungwan explore first. 

The room started off simple with basic furniture. Now, it's transformed, decked out in oriental banners, colorful streamers, and red and black wallpaper that matches the classy Chill Kill theme. Giant balloons proudly declare "Congratulations" on one wall. But the most fascinating part is the center table, adorned with a red gift-wrapped box and a bunch of violets—Seungwan's favorite flowers.

Seungwan is left utterly speechless, her mind swarming with a million questions. Slowly, she approaches the bouquet and spots an envelope with her name on it, casually leaning against the box. As she picks it up, her heart skips a beat or two. The distinct cursive handwriting is unmistakably his.

A rush of emotions hits Seungwan like a tidal wave. As she reached for the thick, cream-colored envelope, Seungwan's hands trembled. The weight of emotions threatened to overwhelm her, and she struggled to steady her breathing as tears blurred her vision. Her heart pounded in her chest, aching with anticipation. Trying to control her shaky fingers, she tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

Congratulations on the comeback Wannie! Words cannot put how lucky I am to have met you, that my love is yours, and our two lives are woven and welded together. I will always be beside you. I promise. 

As Seungwan read the words on the page, her heart began to flutter, and her cheeks flushed rosy red. She couldn't help but embrace the letter tightly against her chest, imagining the feeling of his arms around her. The bouquet of freshly picked flowers, a mystery gift tucked within, and now this heartfelt letter; he always had a way of surprising her. Yet, as grateful as she was for these tokens of love, they reminded her of his absence. The room felt emptier than ever as if it longed for him to fill it with his presence. These conflicting emotions stirred in Seungwan's heart, intensifying her longing for him even more.

“This…this is so beautiful. I really wished you were here,” she says, hoping the winds carry her words to the other side of the world.

“I always got your back.” 

Seungwan freezes, her body reacting to that familiar voice—the hairs on her skin rising, hands shaking, and knees threatening to give out. Memories of doubts and fears resurface, remnants of a time when she believed she might never be together with the love of her life again. Those thoughts lingered in the shadows of her mind, haunting her, especially when she was all alone.

Will I ever see him again?

Will he be the same?

Does he truly love me?

Then, that deep, unmistakable baritone voice filled the room, and Seungwan couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over her. She had always held a special place for him in her heart, like a "Reserved" sign on a quiet table in a restaurant—a place she kept safe, hoping she wouldn't be left waiting. 

And today, her date had finally arrived. 

It was a moment she had been eagerly waiting for, yet also dreading—for Seungwan's biggest fear was losing him and being left alone once again. But she was determined to let go of her fears and embrace him with open arms.

She had worked tirelessly to elevate her love above the paralyzing clutches of fear, constantly striving to better herself so he would see her proud of the growth she had nurtured. 

Seungwan believed in miracles and held onto the belief that everyone is meant to live a life full of passion, purpose, and magic. As an idol, it was her duty to share this belief with others and spread positivity wherever she went.

As she turned around, Seungwan finally laid eyes on the one person she had been yearning for so long; her faith was finally rewarded. A warm smile spread on her face as she took in his features. In this beautiful moment, all her worries melted away, and she knew that everything would be okay with him by her side.

______________________________________________________________

It had been approximately 11 months, 12 days, and 23 hours since you last saw Son Seungwan in person. The sight of her now feels like a lightning strike, transporting you back to the moment she first captured your heart. Those full honey lips that speak words of kindness, full moon eyes that seek out the good in people, gentle hair that tumbled in such rich autumnal hues—love grew, yet she still is the same woman you fell so hard in love with.

“Wendy—”

Before you can say another word, Seungwan closes the distance between you and throws herself into your arms with a hug so tight it seems she will never let you go again. You embrace her firmly, taking a step back from the force of her impact. Your collar becomes wet with her tears as she cries out in disbelief while clinging to you. You rub her back soothingly, hoping to alleviate the flood of emotions within her.

"I am here," you repeat to her—and to reassure yourself.

A couple sniffles are heard behind you. "Girls, let's give the two some alone time," Joohyun says as she leads the girls out of the room.  

It takes a moment for Seungwan's breathing to slow. She pulls away from the side of your neck, those hypnotic brown eyes finally meeting yours.

"Ow!" you suddenly cry out as a sharp pain between your shoulder blades shoots up; Seungwan's hand connects with your back.

“How could you do that to me? Making me cry in my makeup and in front of the girls. They are going to tease me to death…” Seungwan says with a pout, but her eyes beam with radiant joy. 

Using your free hand, you retrieve a handkerchief from your pocket to gently dab away the excess tears and makeup that had smudged her face—though she was beautiful regardless. When finished, you return the cloth to its place and hold her face in your hands.

Unfortunately, you could not contain the guilt that was eating you up. “I am so sorry. I didn't want you to hold on to any false hope. I needed to be sure I could stay here longer. I am so sorry–"

Seungwan's velvety lips claim yours with such passion that the weight of any apologies you carry melts away. Your body responds instinctively to her warmth, your lips dancing in perfect unison with hers. As you close your eyes, you are enveloped in a sensory symphony—the plush sensation of each kiss, her favorite fruity perfume invading your senses, and the hint of her sweet strawberry lip tint adding to the intoxicating experience. Your hands move from her face to her shoulders, pulling her closer in a warm embrace as you reacquaint yourself with the feeling of her touch. She sighs contentedly, drawing you nearer as if coaxing out more breath from your lungs.

She breaks the kiss, leaning on your forehead, catching her breath. "Don't you dare say sorry, please. You are here, and that means everything to me."

You exhale, the tension finally dissipating from your body. “Okay. Okay, I won’t.”

“How did you manage to plan all of this?” she asks as she thumbs your cheek and caresses your chin.

“A couple months worth of planning. I had to coordinate a lot with your members and manager.”

“How long are you staying?” 

"Actually… that’s the best part. I am planning to stay in Korea. Possibly for good." The words roll off your tongue effortlessly.

Seungwan's jaw drops, the words short-circuiting her mind in disbelief. "Wait… you’re not leaving?"

You smile, realizing the weight of your words. “I am here to stay.”

Seungwan snuggles into the warmth of your embrace, her laughter ringing in the room in pure disbelief and happiness. After moments of tears, this was a welcomed change, a beautiful call of joy filling the room as she hugged you tighter. Lifting her off the ground, you spin around in an impromptu dance, caught up in the euphoric moment. The realization that you can now share your life together after being apart for so long hits you both with a rush of emotion.

"Wait, did you just propose?!"

"And did you say yes?!"

"Girls! Let them have their moment!"

The rest of Red Velvet stands by the open door, Sooyoung and Yeri playfully held back by Seulgi and Joohyun. You stop and gently set Seungwan on her feet as the others eagerly await your answer. With the moment gone, you intertwine your fingers with hers, content to bask in the romantic moment amidst your friends' presence.

"Don't worry about it. We'll have plenty more opportunities," you say as you lay a gentle kiss on Seungwan's hand. She leans on your shoulder, attempting to conceal her face, not as confident yet in displays of affection in front of her group.

“Ew, too cheesy. I will let it go for now since we get to see Wendy squirm like this,” Seulgi says, holding up her phone to take some pictures. “Did you open your gift yet?” Joohyun asks Seungwan. 

You see the gift box left unopened. Letting Seungwan go, you grab the gift and hand it to her. “Go ahead! I can’t wait for you to see it.”

Seungwan unties the ribbon, allowing it to gracefully fall to the ground. She carefully removes the wrapping paper, revealing a simple black box with no distinguishing features. As she gently shakes it, a faint rattling sound can be heard from within. Intrigued, she lifts the lid, revealing a stunning silver heart necklace. You watch as she becomes enamored with the necklace, running her fingers over its texture and holding it up for a closer look. The other girls gather around her, gushing over the romantic gift.

"I know you already have almost everything, but I wanted to get you something special. Something I haven't given you before... so here it is." Your words come out slightly nervous, unintentionally giving away your feelings, but Seungwan wraps you in another warm hug.

"It's perfect. Will you put it on me?"

She turns around, lifting her hair to expose her slender neck. You take the necklace and delicately place it around her neck, securing the clasp. Turning back around, Seungwan beams at you and plays with the heart pendant hanging from the chain. It does look perfect on her.

"You look beautiful."

As Seulgi snaps a photo and the rest of the girls coo in admiration, this romantic moment is now captured in both of your memories. Your hand seeks hers again, intertwining your fingers and savoring her tender touch.

"Will you join us for dinner?" she asks.

"I wish I could, but I've got to see my grandparents tonight." You catch Seungwan's slight pout, but you squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"I know the group is busy tomorrow, so I made sure to reserve you all to myself the day after, okay?"

Seungwan glances at her group, and they nod back reassuringly. You've ensured a whole day-date, a semblance of a regular routine day with her.

"You really planned for everything. I'm so excited for our day together," she says, kissing you on the cheek.

"And thank you, girls, you've all been amazing with the planning," you acknowledge the girls.

"You better make sure not to hurt her, okay?" Joohyun threatens though the laughter that ensues indicates she's only joking.

As everyone pitches in to help the staff dismantle the decorations, you catch up with the rest of the group. Tomorrow is slated with radio promotions and another music show. Yeri teases about her solo album for next year, adding extra motivation for this comeback. Sooyoung shares updates on her dating life with Crush. Joohyun plans to focus more on acting, while Seulgi is gearing up to delve deeper into studying music production. With the tidying up almost complete, you accompany the girls to the exit.

"I'll see you in two days, okay?" You embrace Seungwan, inhaling her sweet, flowery perfume, still in disbelief that she's in your arms.

"I will. I'm so happy you're back." Seungwan places a tender kiss on your lips before joining the rest of the girls outside.

Finally, alone in the hallway, you slowly lower yourself into an empty chair, a wave of mental and emotional exhaustion washing over you from the whirlwind of the past couple of hours. As you sit there, you can't help but imagine the countless plans for your upcoming date with Seungwan—the words you want to say, the moments you want to share. 

“It’s a date.”

______________________________________________________________

“Stupid jetlag!” 

You quickly try to freshen up, one hand clutching onto your towel while the other manages a toothbrush in your mouth. The relentless jet lag caused you to sleep through the alarm. Seungwan is about to arrive, and you're not even close to being ready.

After a quick mouth rinse, you rush to your closet to look for the outfit you meticulously planned for the day. Just as you pull your shirt over your head, the doorbell chimes. 

"Hold on a sec!" you shout as loud as you can. 

As you finish adjusting your shirt and straightening your collar in the mirror, you notice a few stray hairs and quickly tame them with a comb. You double-check your pockets to make sure you have everything you need before confidently heading towards the door. But before turning the knob, you pause and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for what lies beyond. With a calm exhale, you twist the doorknob and are greeted by a breathtaking sight.

Seungwan radiates confidence in her stylish winter ensemble, a crisp white coat effortlessly draped over her figure. Underneath, an oversized black sweater and a pair of form-fitting jeans show off her curves. Her smile is infectious, lighting up her cheeks that you love to pinch. Her luscious chocolate-hued locks fall freely around her shoulders, the delicate snowflakes adorning them like jewels in a crown. Seungwan's impeccable sense of fashion only adds to her breathtaking beauty—she could make heads turn at every corner.

“It's rude to stare, love,” she playfully chides, the familiar line eliciting a smile from you.

"Sorry, I'm not used to seeing snow angels walk."

"Ugh, too cheesy and still a terrible flirt. You need to relearn my tricks," Seungwan teases, and the two of you share a warm hug, sealed with a chaste kiss on your lips.

"I could use a refresher course. Maybe with a private demonstration?"

"Now, that's a bit better," Seungwan giggles, seemingly satisfied with your response. Banter with her feels as natural as breathing.

"What was with all the noise a while ago?" she asks.

You blush, scratching your head in embarrassment. "You heard all of that? I… kinda woke up late. I was pretty excited for today."

"You are so adorable. What are we doing today anyway?" she asks, sliding her gloved hand into yours.

"Lunch out, grocery shopping after, then I cook you a nice dinner back here. We end the night with a nice movie. How does that sound?" After closing the door, you lead Seungwan by the hand, embarking on a journey towards your date.

“That sounds like a lovely day.”

Today is the dreaded Monday, marking the start of a new work week. As you board the train, you find it teeming with all sorts of individuals—from diligent students to dedicated salarymen, engrossed in the routine of their daily commutes. The air carries a palpable sense of anticipation, passengers absorbed in their smartphones, occasionally stealing glances in expectation of their respective stops. 

However, for you, Monday unfolds as a comforting embrace of normalcy. This is an opportunity for you and Seungwan to revel in the simple authenticity of being yourselves—even if it is just for today. The disguises you two have ensured you won't be recognized, allowing yourselves to go with the flow of people. To the casual observer, you and Seungwan appear as just another couple navigating their way through the ordinary rhythm of a morning commute.

“Arriving at Myeong-dong Station. Please exit on this side"

"This is our stop; let's go! Ready for some lunch?" you ask, leading Seungwan through the sea of people in search of the exit.

Emerging onto the bustling Myeong-dong Shopping Street, the air becomes an enticing medley of delectable aromas from the food vendors. Amid the crowd, you instinctively draw Seungwan closer, ensuring she doesn't get lost in the lively atmosphere. The vendors enthusiastically beckon passersbys to sample their diverse specialties. The sizzling sounds emanating from the pans awaken your appetite, making you lick your lips in anticipation. Although it's been a while since your last visit, the enchantment of this place floods you with cherished memories—and sparks the potential for new ones in the future.

"Anything in mind? You've got an endless supply of food choices." It's been more than a year since you last visited, and the place is surprisingly bustling for this time of day.

Seungwan squeals in joy, already tugging you around to explore the food stalls. "Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go!!"

You observe as Seungwan scans the vibrant street, her eyes searching for anything interesting among the colorful food stalls. Suddenly, her gaze locks onto a stall with skewers. As you both draw closer, the irresistible scent of grilled meat wafts through the air, captivating your senses. The cook applies a generous layer of butter on the hot grill before slowly placing a square Wagyu cube onto the surface. You both watch in anticipation as the meat begins to sizzle and cook to perfection, the savory aroma intensifying with each passing moment.

"How about these? They look amazing!"

Agreeing with her choice, you both approach the vendor. They greet you with a friendly smile as you pick a variety of skewers—odeng, succulent meats, and even some grilled vegetables. You grab the first of the sticks, giving one to Seungwan. Her eyes light up with delight as she chews into the beef. 

"This is so yummy! What's next?"

As you and Seungwan wander through the bustling street market, your eyes dart from one colorful food stall to the next. The sweet aroma of freshly made pancakes entices you, while spicy tteokbokki calls Seungwan from a nearby grill. You both eagerly try different dishes, laughing as you compare flavors and textures. Your stomachs eventually reach their limit, and Seungwan spots a cozy café tucked away in a quiet corner. With relief, you sink into plush chairs, relishing the memories made and the delicious treats still lingering on your tongues.

“I’m stuffed, the tteokbokki finished me,” Seungwan says as she rubs her stomach, sitting down next to you.

“That’s because you had two servings,” you tease, earning you a slap on the shoulder. 

“I can’t help it if it's my favorite snack.” 

Relaxing in the warm and inviting atmosphere of this café, you chat casually while enjoying your hot chocolate and Americano. Seungwan leans against you comfortably, and together you watch people walking by outside. The usual stress of strict managers, rabid fans, and a rigid schedule fades away as you both savor the simple joy of being in the present moment.

"Ready to move?" you ask, and Seungwan nods after sipping the last of her drink. Slipping back into the lively crowd, you guide her to the next destination—an inviting supermarket.

"Next on our agenda: grocery shopping! Any special requests for tonight's menu?" 

Seungwan ponders for a moment, her expression playfully pouting in thought. "I've been craving some spicy beef soup lately... that's not too difficult, right?"

"Not at all! We can definitely do that. The ingredients should be easy to find," you assure her with a grin.

You push a grocery cart confidently through the supermarket, starting with spices and making your way to vegetables before finishing with the crucial component: meat. Seungwan's sharp eye spots the perfect beef brisket, and you add a bottle of soju for a tasty pairing.

At the cashier, you hand over your card and notice the lingering gaze of the cashier as he inspects your name with a subtle smile on his lips. He nods at you, hinting at recognition. Seungwan looks over, also confused by the cashier's behavior.

After paying and packing up your groceries, the cashier bids farewell with a friendly wink.

"Thanks for choosing our store.”

"I always have your back!" he adds.

You're taken aback by his words—your catchphrase.

As you leave the store, a sense of comfort washes over you thanks to the subtle acknowledgment from the cashier. It's a reminder that you can make an impact, and this thought stays with you as you step back into the busy streets.

“We should take a taxi; we got a lot of stuff to carry,” you suggest. 

The clock strikes 4:00 pm. The blazing tangerine sun begins its descent, painting the cerulean sky with a stunning vermillion glow. The streets are bustling with even more people, their voices blending in a symphony of noise. After searching for a while, you finally hail a taxi to take you home. As the car navigates through the bright city lights, Seungwan rests peacefully on your shoulder. You can't help but reflect on the day that has passed—a whirlwind of emotions, shared laughter, and moments with someone who truly understands you. Though this adventure has ended, the warmth it sparked lingers, promising an intimate evening ahead.

______________________________________________________________

The keys jingle in your hand as you insert them into your front door, the metallic locks engaging as the knob turns. "Finally, home sweet home."

You place the groceries in the fridge, waiting to be used for tonight's cooking session. Beyond the kitchen lay the soft glow of the living room, ready to cradle you both in the embrace of a movie night. As the sky turned into a black carpet peppered with shining stars,  the possibility of a connection transcended the ordinary, etching the day into the tapestry of unforgettable memories.

"Hey, want to take a break before we cook?" Seungwan suggests, patting the empty space beside her on the couch.

"We?" you inquire as you settle next to her. Seungwan pulls you in, her arms encircling your waist, snuggling closer. "I don't mind the help, but today is all about you." 

Seungwan giggles, rewarding you with a quick peck on the lips.  "You're always so thoughtful, but it’s our day. Plus, how will I know you won't accidentally set the place on fire?"

"Oh, you might be surprised by how much I've improved," you counter, playfully jabbing a finger into her side and attacking her ticklish spot. Seungwan bursts into laughter, thrashing your arms.

"Wait! Enough! Okay, I trust you for later! Now hush, and let me cuddle with you a bit longer."

You both sink into the plush fabric of the couch, her body pressed against yours. The room is quiet except for the sounds of her steady breaths, which match the gentle movements of her chest. Your fingers slowly explore her smooth skin, rediscovering every inch of her porcelain complexion. In this peaceful moment, you exchange soft kisses on each other's foreheads and cheeks, occasionally lingering on each other's lips in a tender embrace.

The peace is abruptly broken by the sound of your stomach growling like a machine, making the two of you howl in laughter. 

“How are you always so hungry?” 

“I mean, we did walk around a lot today. Come on, dinner won’t cook itself.”

After washing your hands, a delightful surprise awaits as two arms lovingly snake around your waist. Turning around, you find Seungwan with a mischievous grin, playfully tying an apron around you. "Ready to showcase your cooking prowess?"

"Absolutely prepared to dazzle you with my culinary magic!" you exclaim, punctuating your words with an exaggerated twirl of your hands. Gathering the groceries from the fridge, you arrange them across the kitchen counter in a colorful display.

"Magic, huh? Well, I'm ready to be enchanted. What's our first spell?" Seungwan quips.

You slide the vegetables and the wooden chopping board over to Seungwan. "How about you work your magic with these? Chop them up while I prepare the meat."

Seungwan nods eagerly and grabs a nearby knife. She grabs a radish and skillfully chops it into uniform squares. Meanwhile, you expertly portion the meat into chunks, placing them into a generously sized pot you had readied earlier.

Amid the rhythmic chopping, you lean close to Seungwan, your warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. "You know, you're the best chef any culinary wizard could ask for."

Her cheeks blush with a delightful warmth. Seungwan steals a quick kiss on your cheek before cheekily pushing you away. "Keep those compliments coming, and I might just grant you access to a... special tasting."

“Be careful, I would do more than just taste,” you quip back, making Seungwan blush even more than the spices she is expertly mixing.

It takes a while to carefully arrange all the meat and radish into the pot. After setting the heat to medium and closing the lid, you join Seungwan in cutting up the rest of the vegetables. In the midst of the chopping, you open the fridge, retrieving the bottle of soju. You uncork it, pouring a shot for each of you. Tapping Seungwan's shoulder to grab her attention, you propose a toast.

“Let’s take a quick break before I check on the meat. What should we toast to?” you ask, raising your glass to Seungwan.

She reciprocates the gesture, intertwining her hand with yours. “To us. I still can’t believe you are here; it means the world to me. Thank you for the best surprise ever”

“To us.”

The two of you clink your glasses and then down the shot, savoring the sweet strawberry flavor swirling around your tongues and down your throats. A swift kiss on Seungwan's forehead punctuates this intimate moment before focusing back on the simmering pot. 

With practiced precision, you carefully remove any impurities from the stew and discard them in the waste can. A satisfied grin spreads across your face as you examine the perfectly cooked meat, even inserting a knife to confirm its tenderness. You add it to the bowl of spices Seungwan has meticulously prepared, and you mix everything together with care, taking turns when one of you gets tired. Once everything is well-mixed, you transfer the flavorful combination into a clean pot, turning up the heat and sealing it with a lid.

All that remains is to wait for the 15-minute timer to sound off. As you head back to the couch, you notice Seungwan making her way to your bedroom with her bag in tow.

"I'm going to take a quick shower. And no, you can't join. Not yet, anyway," Seungwan declares, followed by a playful giggle and a wink in your direction.

You stare, dumbfounded, as Seungwan gracefully removes her shirt in one fluid motion. A fleeting glimpse of her bare back adorned with a red lacy bra almost takes your breath away. But before you can fully process the sight, her discarded t-shirt is suddenly covering your face, obscuring your view. You hear the door to your room close and know she's left, but a soft laugh escapes your lips as you fold her shirt and place it on the couch. With some time alone, you browse through popular romance movies while eagerly anticipating the intimate magic that will unfold with Seungwan after her refreshing shower.

You stumble upon the perfect movie just as the alarm announces that dinner is finally ready. Swiftly turning off the TV, you make a beeline for the kitchen. Lifting the lid, you give the stew a stir before seizing a spoon to sample the creation. The spicy tang of the soup dances on your tongue, each spice contributing to a delightful symphony of flavors. The vegetables are cooked to perfection—soft and infused with the spices. You relish the rich essence of the meat, savoring its tenderness as you taste a piece.

“I heard the alarm! How does it taste?” Seungwan's voice echoes from the hallway, her footsteps drawing nearer.

“Try it yourself! You are in for a treat.”

Seungwan strolls into the kitchen, clad in an oversized black long-sleeved blouse, paired with her favorite gray sweatpants. The ensemble is simple yet exudes comfort and elegance. As she glides past you to fetch a spoon, the delightful scent of her favorite fruity shampoo lingers in your mind, causing your heart to flutter ever so slightly. Observing her tasting the soup, you witness her face light up like a Christmas tree, a radiant expression that adds warmth to the homey kitchen atmosphere.

"Wow, that Yukgaejang is delicious! Consider me charmed, my magical chef," Seungwan exclaims, accompanying her words with a high-five.

"Glad that it impressed you. Couldn't have done it without my wonderful sous chef," you respond with a grin.

"You've definitely stepped up your game! Come on, let’s set the table; I'm starving!"

Together, you and Seungwan set the table with plates and silverware for two. You carefully place the pot on a sturdy surface so that it will not damage the delicate cloth underneath. Seungwan brings over the already open bottle of soju and pours two shots. The fragrant stew is served, and you both sit at the table, ready to enjoy the fruits of your culinary collaboration.

Seungwan raises her shot glass, proposing a toast once again. “What should we give thanks for this time?”

You pause, deep in thought, while you rest your chin on your hand before coming up with an answer. “Let's toast to a successful comeback for you! I hope you get to showcase your beautiful voice even more.”

Seungwan's cheeks turn a deep shade of red as she laughs in delight at your praise. Together, you down the shot and quickly express gratitude for the food before eagerly digging in.

The meat was cooked to perfection, a tender and succulent masterpiece that effortlessly parted with every bite. The blend of spices was impeccable, offering a subtle sting that elevated the flavors and made your taste buds dance. As you sipped on the smooth soju, it complemented the meal in perfect harmony, adding a touch of warmth and depth to each dish. Your conversations with Seungwan were seamless, transitioning between updates from the fast-paced idol world to the simple nuances and joys of your everyday lives. The laughter and chatter rose and fell like a soothing melody, creating an atmosphere of comfort and closeness amidst the feast before you.

Seungwan savors the last spoonful of her soup, letting out a satisfied exhale and tenderly rubbing her stomach. "Okay, now I'm absolutely stuffed. It tasted just like Mom's cooking!"

"I've been practicing some of your favorite dishes, just in case," you confess, avoiding direct eye contact. Nervousness tingles through you as you admit this, the desire for the evening to be perfect for her evident.

"You're such a sweetheart. Thanks for remembering." Seungwan rises from her seat, dashing over to you and enveloping you in a tight, appreciative hug.

“Anything for you.” 

The two of you tidy up the remnants of dinner, carefully storing the leftovers in a Tupperware container. After placing the food in the fridge, you excuse yourself for a quick shower while Seungwan prepares for movie night. 

Under the soothing stream of hot water, you reflect on the special day spent with her. Usually, plans can fall apart, yet tonight has been nothing short of perfect. You hope there are little days like these to share with her in the busy years to come. After a brisk drying off and a quick change of clothes, you find Seungwan engrossed in her phone, a bowl of popcorn perched on the table, and the movie already queued up.

“What's the movie about?” Seungwan inquires as she cozies up to you, resting her head on your chest. Your arms envelop her waist, and your legs naturally intertwine with hers, creating an intimate embrace.

“It's called 'Nothing Serious.' So it's about two strangers who despise dating but meet through an app. Sounds cliché, but Sooyoung highly recommended it.”

"I'm a total sucker for these chick flicks! What are we waiting for?" she exclaims, eagerly reaching for the remote and clicking the play button. 

The film seemingly starts with a standard storyline: two individuals, weary of the dating scene, decide to give a dating app one last shot. Yet, what captivates you about the movie are the authentic characters and a plot that unfolds with logical precision. 

Personally, you find a connection with the male lead. The character arc, shifting from one job to another, mirrors the quest for a stable connection—echoing the cycle of moving from one relationship to the next, hoping for something enduring.

On the flip side, the female lead exudes stability but carries the baggage of a long-term relationship. Certain aspects of the character evoke thoughts of Seungwan, and you find yourself entirely absorbed in the narrative.

As the movie progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Seungwan. Her eyes are fixed on the screen, her expression a mixture of amusement and contemplation. These little moments make you realize how lucky you are to have her by your side. The warmth of her body against yours creates a sense of comfort, a feeling that makes you believe in the power of relationships.

Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself wondering about the future. Where do you see yourself and Seungwan in five years? Ten years? The possibilities seem endless, yet you can't help but feel a tinge of apprehension. Will your relationship withstand the test of time? Will you both be able to navigate the challenges that life throws your way?

But as you steal another glance at Seungwan, her eyes meet yours, and all the doubts wash away. In this moment, it's as if time stands still, and the worries about the future fade into insignificance. Today, with all its wondrous details, comes rushing back to you—the laughter shared over lunch, the gentle touch of her hand on yours during groceries, and her smile lights up the room during dinner.

Seungwan, sensing a shift in your mood, pulls away slightly and looks at you with concern etched across her face. "What's wrong?" she asks softly, her voice filled with genuine worry. 

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before responding to Seungwan's question. You reach out to her and gently cup her face, your thumb tracing circles on her cheek. 

"Nothing is wrong, Seungwan," you assure her, mustering a small smile. "I was just lost in my thoughts, thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life." Her expression softens as she leans into your touch, her arms slowly intertwining around you. 

"You're the one who makes me feel lucky every single day. You found a way to keep us together and found a way back to me," she whispers, her voice filled with tenderness.

"I know we've both had our fair share of ups and downs, and the future can be uncertain," you confess, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "But being here with you. Right now. In this moment, I believe we can face anything together." 

Seungwan's eyes glisten with tears. "I believe it," she replies softly. "We've weathered storms, and nothing could make me happier. We can do this. Together. For the rest of our lives."  

You sit silently for a moment, letting Seungwan's words sink in. She's right, you think to yourself. You've faced obstacles and challenges before, and you've come out stronger together. The doubts and uncertainties about the future fade as a renewed sense of hope and determination washes over you.

With every passing day, your love for each other grew powerful. You navigated through life's challenges hand in hand, supporting and encouraging one another every step of the way. Together, you inspired each other to reach for the stars and chase after your dreams.

As the movie climaxes, you and Seungwan inch closer to each other on the couch. Your eyes flicker from her luscious lips to her awaiting body, unable to decide where to focus first in this moment of intense desire. Your heartbeat thunders in you—overcharged like a thundering storm about to unleash its power. It's as if all the love and passion built up over the years together is now coursing through your veins, causing every nerve ending in your body to spark with electricity. Adrenaline surges through you, making it impossible to sit still as you feel yourself being pulled closer to Seungwan by an irresistible force. The warmth of her body seeps into your skin, making your heart race and your nerves tingle. 

Seungwan's almond-shaped eyes flicker with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability, revealing the intense emotions below the surface. They dart between your eyes, lingering on your lips with an almost palpable hunger. A glossy sheen coats her full, pouty mouth as she licks it hungrily, biting down gently with trembling anticipation. Each rise and fall of her chest is like a heavy drumbeat, her breaths coming in labored gasps that fill the air with heated tension. The deafening silence between you is only broken by the sound of her clothes rustling as her thighs rub together uncontrollably in response to her overwhelming desire for you.

Your other hand trembles as it reaches out to cup Seungwan's face, the need to touch her overwhelming. Your fingers trace every curve and angle of her jawline with aching tenderness, reveling in the softness of her skin beneath your touch. Her breath hit ever so slightly as her eyes searched yours, their depths filled with longing and desire. In this shared gaze, you find solace and reassurance—a silent understanding of all that has led to this moment. The stolen glances whispered confessions, and unspoken declarations culminated in this intense and electric connection between you both.

The flickering images on the screen were a mere background to the intense emotions coursing through the two of you. Seungwan's arms now fully enveloped you, her hold so tight it felt like your ribs might crack under the pressure. Your gaze locked with hers, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing second.

Your voice shook as you bared your heart, desire burning within you.

"I can't hold it in anymore. I need you. Right here and now."

Seungwan's lips curve into a knowing smile, and you lean in to kiss her softly. The taste of her cherry lip balm lingers on your lips as she responds eagerly, her hands tangling in your hair. The heater crackling in the background pales to the heat radiating between your bodies. You can feel Seungwan's quickened breath against your neck as you press closer, your kisses growing more urgent with each passing moment.

Without breaking the embrace, you slowly guide her back onto the plush couch cushions, your body hovering over hers. The sounds of the movie playing on TV fade away as your senses are consumed by the intensity of desire and passion between you.

Your hands explore every inch of Seungwan's body, tracing the curves and contours that have become so familiar to you. You revel in the softness of her skin, the way her body arches beneath your touch, and the way she responds to your every caress.

As your lips continue their dance, your hands find their way to the hem of Seungwan's shirt, slipping underneath the fabric and grazing over her heated flesh. A gasp escapes her lips, mingling with the soft moans that escape your own mouth. The hunger between you intensifies a raw and primal need that cannot be denied. With trembling hands, you begin to undo the buttons of her blouse, revealing the swell of her breasts and the lacy fabric of her bra. Your mouth hungrily finds its way to her collarbone, peppering kisses along the delicate curve that hits her sensitive spot that you know drives her crazy, Seungwan moaning even louder into the room.

Her hands grip your chest, her nails digging into your skin as she pulls you closer. The taste of her desire fills your mouth as your lips move from her collarbone to the exposed skin on her chest. You can feel her heart pounding against your lips, matching the rhythm of your own racing heartbeat. The room is filled with an electric energy, each touch igniting a fire within you. You feel the weight of the moment, the merging of souls and bodies in perfect harmony. Seungwan's fingers then fumble with the buttons of your shirt, a sense of urgency driving her actions.

As Seungwan unbuttons the last of your shirt, a cool breeze hits your exposed chest. You and Seungwan pause from your passionate kiss, resting your foreheads against each other. With one final kiss, Seungwan whispers, "Let's go to your room. Right now."

______________________________________________________________

Seungwan's mind is a jumbled mess of hunger and desire, the sensation swirling through her veins like wildfire. Her voice shakes with urgency, igniting a flame that had long been dormant. Without hesitation, they hurry towards the bedroom, their steps quickened by anticipation and longing.

The dimly lit room transforms into a sanctuary, a haven where time seems to stand still, allowing only the essence of the two souls to matter. The gentle radiance from the bedroom lamp creates soft shadows on the walls, casting an intimate aura over the space. Positioned at the edge of the bed, he locks eyes with Seungwan, a gaze that sends shivers down her spine in response. In this moment, there's an unspoken understanding that transcends mere physical desire. It's a culmination of emotions, a profound connection that defies verbal expression.

Seungwan moves towards him with deliberate steps, her every movement is laden with purpose and anticipation. Her hand extends, fingers trembling ever so slightly, and he responds by intertwining their fingers.

His free hand glides along the contours of her body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Seungwan's breath catches as he leans in, his lips gently brushing against her earlobe, eliciting shivers all over her body. "I've been waiting for this moment," he whispers, his voice octaves lower.

He is typically gentle and soft-spoken, but when his voice deepens, taking on a commanding tone, Seungwan finds it irresistibly sexy when he assumes control. With assertiveness, he leads Seungwan onto the bed, where their bodies sink into the plush mattress. Their lips meet once again, but this time with an intensity born from the depths of their souls. Their tongues flick against each other in perfect rhythm, igniting the passionate fire brighter between them.

Seungwan feels his hand cup one of her breasts, eagerly kneading out the softness of her mound. She gasps as his touch sends electric currents through her body, making her break away from their kiss with a loud moan. His lips move down to her neck, nipping and sucking at her sensitive spot, causing her mind to go wild with pleasure.

As they continue to engage in foreplay, his other hand deftly unclasps her bra, releasing it from her chest. Using this opportunity, Seungwan rolls over him, straddling his lap. She takes advantage of the position, teasing him by slowly removing her bra from one arm at a time, keeping it close to her breasts. He watches with hunger in his eyes as she removes her shirt and finally lets the bra fall, revealing her ample bosom jiggling freely in the air, her warm mink nipples taut from arousal.

"And I am all yours."  

Son Seungwan is an unwavering force, her spirit forged in the fires of adversity and molded into a fierce independence that has weathered every challenge life has thrown her. She has endured and overcome every challenge that life has thrown at her—from leaving her home country to surviving a crippling injury and bearing this long-distance love—refusing to show weakness. But now, as she sits naked before him, her walls crumble like a dam, giving way to a raging river of emotion. Every fiber of her being surrenders to this moment, giving herself to him.

He captures her lips hungrily, his hands roaming over her body with a sense of urgency. His fingers brush against the swell of her breast, causing her to gasp and arch towards him. Seungwan's heart races as his mouth moves down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in its wake. She can feel herself growing wet with desire as he inches closer to her chest, his warm breath sending shivers down her body. 

Suddenly, his mouth is on one of her breasts, sucking lightly on a sensitive nub. She moans loudly, the sound echoing throughout the room. Her back arches, giving him more access to her succulent bosom as she trembles under his touch. His tongue swirls around her nipple while his fingers gently twist and pull on the other, driving her wild with pleasure. She is putty in his hands, lost in the sensations coursing through her body as he continues to worship every inch of her curves.

With a swift motion, he lifts Seungwan onto the middle of the bed, her body sinking into the soft sheets. The faint scent of vanilla lingers in the air as they embrace. He traces kisses along her stomach, causing her abs to tense and quiver under his touch. His strong hands unbutton her jeans in a skilled manner, pulling them down with ease as she raises her legs to help him. Her red lace panties cling tightly to her skin, revealing a damp spot at their center.

He moves down to her feet, peppering them with gentle kisses before trailing his lips up her legs. A shiver runs through her body as he reaches her inner thighs, his warm breath sending tingles to every nerve ending. She can't help but let out a small whimper as he presses against the fabric covering her core, feeling how wet and ready she is for him.

"Please," she begs with desperate longing in her voice, unable to wait any longer.

He quickly strips away the last remaining barrier between them, revealing Seungwan fully naked and vulnerable before him. She bites her finger nervously as she awaits his next move, anticipation building inside her.

Without a moment's hesitation, he dives in and begins his oral ministrations on her sensitive folds. Seungwan gasps loudly at the initial contact of his tongue and raises her hips to meet his eager mouth. His strong arms hold her down as he enthusiastically licks and kisses her, eliciting squirms and moans from Seungwan. She grabs the bed sheets tightly, her body responding intensely to his touch. He surprises her by sliding two fingers inside her tight warmth, causing Seungwan to clench around him and cry out in pleasure.

Feeling overwhelmed, Seungwan reaches out for his hand to help ground herself. But even with this distraction, she can't stop the overwhelming sensations building within her. With each flick of her clit, she gets closer and closer to the edge until, finally, she explodes in waves of ecstasy. He catches every drop of her release, some of it spilling onto his jaw as he hungrily laps up her juices. Her thighs grip him tightly, leaving marks with her nails digging into his hand, a pleasurable pain that only adds to their intense connection.

As Seungwan's body calms down, he continues to kiss and lick her folds for good measure. As he releases his hold on her, he moves up to kiss her body. Still riding the wave of pleasure from her orgasm, she shivers at every touch of his lips. When he reaches her face, she pulls him in for a passionate kiss, tasting herself on him and reveling in the intensity of their intimate moment together.

______________________________________________________________

"Your. Turn."

Seungwan's eyes glimmered with determination as she expressed her desire to return the favor. You eagerly lie down beside her, anticipation building in your chest as she shifts downwards towards your groin. Her hand deftly finds its way to your bulge, causing a moan to escape from your lips. Looking up at you for confirmation, Seungwan tugs on the hem of your pants. You give her a quick nod, allowing her to remove them, freeing your member from its confines. With practiced skill, she wraps her fingers around your shaft and begins to slowly pump, perfectly gauging just how much pressure and speed you like. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out deep groans and grunts as she expertly pleasures you.

"Babe, it feels… larger than last time…"

As she slips her tongue between her parted lips, Seungwan's eyes lock onto yours with a hungry intensity. You feel yourself getting stiffer as she traces delicate circles around your swollen head, her eager mouth lapping up the salty pre-cum that beads along the tip. She teases you with a soft kiss before engulfing your length in one smooth motion, sucking hard and sending electric shocks of pleasure through your entire body. The intense sensations make it difficult to catch your breath, and you can't help but moan as she works her magic on you. Your stomach clenches with every movement of her mouth, and the visual alone is enough to drive you wild, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy.

Your lover eagerly takes more of your length into her mouth, increasing the speed and intensity of her movements with each passing second. Her tongue swirls and dances around you, creating sparks of pleasure that shoot through your body. You grip her soft, silky hair tightly in your hands, using it as leverage to guide her movements and deepen the sensation. With each downward stroke, she takes you deeper and deeper, coaxing out moans of ecstasy from deep within you. The erotic display happening between your legs is a masterpiece of passion, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring you to the edge of bliss. Your hips involuntarily buck with each skilled motion, driving you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. And when she hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine, it's all you can do to hold on as the sounds emanating from her mouth push you over the edge into pure ecstasy.

You feel the familiar tight sensation radiating from your abdomen. Not wanting to finish too soon, you gently hold Seungwan's head in place as she takes a break. When she pulls away, a spittrail is left between your member and her mouth. She resumes stroking you with one hand at a relaxed pace.

“Are you okay?” she asks, moving her hand slowly.

“You're going to drive me insane. That was incredible,” you manage to say. 

Seungwan chuckles and kisses her way back up to your lips.“You make me crazy, too. I think I'm ready.”

You and Seungwan have been intimate multiple times before, but tonight feels different. It feels like a promise come true, the culmination of years of friendship turning into love, a reward for having faith in each other. It's a reminder that there could be many more nights like this. As your bodies join together, you are bonded in every sense.

She positions herself above you, aligning her core with your length.

"I love you, Seungwan."

"And I love you too."

Seungwan lowers herself onto you, and as she takes you deep inside her, a new level of tightness envelopes your senses. Her eyes roll back in ecstasy as she reaches for your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin to hold on. You guide her down from her waist, feeling every inch of her sliding against every inch of you.

She can barely speak through the intense pleasure. "Babe...you're so...fuck...bigger..."

"Wannie… you feel even tighter..." You instinctively grip her hips, trying to hold on to some sense of control amidst the overwhelming sensation of being surrounded by Seungwan's incredible tightness. She feels scorching hot, dripping wet, and tighter than ever before. It takes everything in you not to lose yourself completely. But as Seungwan sinks further onto you, pressing her body against yours with an unbreakable seal, you give in to the intense pleasure and pull her into a fierce kiss. Your shared breaths taste sweet as she hums against your lips, driving you both closer to ecstasy. With one final push, you are fully immersed inside Seungwan, lost in each other's embrace, until the world fades away into pure bliss.

After a brief moment of stillness, Seungwan leans back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She presses her hips against yours, moving in a slow and hypnotizing rhythm. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you moan and writhe in ecstasy. The bed squeaks and creaks beneath the intensity of your passion, the sounds blending with the loud slapping of skin against skin.

Your hands roam greedily over her body, exploring every curve and dip as she squirms under your touch. Seungwan's mouth falls open as she nears climax, her nails digging into your skin in pleasure. You pick up the pace, driving her closer to the edge with each thrust until she explodes in a frenzy of bliss. Her scream echoes through the room as her body trembles, and she collapses onto your chest. As she enters into her second orgasm of the night, she clings tightly to you while still trying to ride you to your own release.

You want to hold onto this moment for as long as possible, so you keep her in your arms. "Let me take charge," you whisper as you roll over and remain inside of her. Seungwan moans from the sudden change in position.

"Oh God, so deep."

You thrust into Seungwan, your pace quickening as you feel yourself surrendering to the intense desire to make love to her. She clings onto you with unbridled desperation, begging for more as she writhes beneath you in a frenzy of pleasure. You sink your teeth into her neck, leaving passionate red marks as she cries out in ecstasy. Her body shudders and quakes around you, signaling her impending release. Your movements become even more fervent, pushing deeper inside of her until your bodies are slick with sweat and burning with desire. 

The pleasure intensifies, a warm sensation spreading throughout your entire being as you try to prolong this blissful moment. Seungwan's inner walls tighten around you, her legs wrapped tightly around your waist and pulling you closer. 

In a final act of passion, she kisses you deeply as both of you reach the peak together. Your body tenses with ecstasy as you release everything inside her, marking her as yours forever. Waves of pleasure ripple through you as Seungwan's walls milk every last bit out of you, leaving her filled to the brim. You stay connected for a while, not wanting to collapse on top of her. When the throbbing finally subsides, you roll off to the side and feel the aftermath dripping onto your legs. 

The weight of the experience leaves you drained and weary, but you still manage to pull the soft blanket over the two of you, pulling Seungwan into your embrace. Her body conforms perfectly against yours as she rolls to your side, her lips pressing gently against your cheek in a sweet gesture. You can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, soothing any lingering tension or discomfort. In return, you kiss her forehead before finally succumbing to exhaustion and closing your eyes. The peaceful moment envelops both of you like a warm cocoon, protecting you from the outside world and its worries.

______________________________________________________________

A trickle of light passes through the blinds. It’s been ages since an alarm clock wasn’t necessary to start the day.

You also can’t remember the last time you felt this body ache. Every external sensation feels like a sledgehammer, pulverizing your skull as your eyes barely open. Awareness slowly kicks in, and you start remembering the events of last night.

You attempt to sit up in bed, but a weight prevents you from doing so. In your arms is the person you love, fast asleep and looking peaceful. She stirs awake and gives you a small smile. It feels surreal, but her lips on yours confirm that it's all real—she is here with you in this moment.

"Good morning, Wannie."

"Good morning, last night was...indescribably perfect." 

Perhaps this is just a part of life's journey. You meet someone and fall deeply in love, and suddenly, nothing seems too daunting or frightening anymore; every day is full of endless possibilities. Maybe we needed to go through rough patches to be stronger and more beautiful on the other side. Love can be found in the most unexpected places, shining bright even in the darkest moments. And Seungwan is proof that all of this exists, bringing light into even the bleakest situations.

"So, what's the next adventure planned for today?"

Well, it really has been a minute.

Hello everyone, and thank you so much for reaching the end of "Rekindle." If you haven't read "Ignite" yet, no worries! I designed this fic to stand on its own (though please give my debut fic a read! I love that baby so much).

It's not easy for me to say this, so I'll be straightforward: this marks the end of my writing journey.

Two years ago, I posted "Ignite" inspired by countless fan fics I had read. It was my way of expressing myself—a little bit of escapism. I needed to channel all the pent-up energy. I made wonderful friends, built confidence, got a plethora of new skills. But like any writer, I faced a lotttt of doubts and grappled with lotttsssss unfinished drafts. My writing consistency waned as mental health struggles took their toll.

I needed a break, especially because I needed to focus up on my actual life out there. I had been living too fast, too pressured. And the break did wonders to my life. As my mental health improved, so did various aspects of my life. I felt compelled to write one last fic, but only really felt ready to do one last fic. I think it was fitting I started and ended with the idol that drew me into k-pop! Sadly, my time to write is running out due to a new chapter in my life—I've landed my dream job!

I'm immensely grateful for this incredible journey as a writer. This journey made me discover a side I never thought I could do. I am confident in my writing and expressing myself in writing and in person. I owe my growth to the many friends I met here. This fic is dedicated to everyone I met, talked, and made wonderful memories with!

It's been an awfully beautiful adventure, and in the next life, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Thank you for two years of writing and unwavering support!

#kpop smut #smut #red velvet wendy #wendy red velvet #male reader #red velvet smut

[kissami]

UN ÁNGEL- Cloud strife Headcanons

sum. Need boyfriend headcanons for cloud? SAY LESS.

warning: modern cloud, oc cloud srry I love him soft, might be a little self insert because of the stuff I like but that’s all

femreader! with she/her pronouns

song of the day: igual que un ángel - Kali uchis

boyfriend Cloud who knows your order by heart at your guys’ favorite coffee shop and no matter how many times he does it, it never fails to make you blush and impressed.

Boyfriend Cloud who never fails to make you ticklish especially during intimate moments that you can’t help but burst out laughing.

Boyfriend Cloud who sometimes can’t handle all the attention and affection so he distances himself but can’t help but miss you even more.

Boyfriend Cloud who loves picking you up from university on his motorcycle to show off especially knowing that Reno would be there. He is still very bitter that Reno was your first kiss in fifth grade and not him because he was too busy helping collect Tifa’s shopkins from the grass at recess.

Boyfriend Cloud who loves going to Aerith’s flower shop because he helps her make your bouquets extra pretty just for you. #bestfriendprivileges

boyfriend Cloud who has recurring nightmares of losing you to Sepiroth. No not the “I’ll steal your girl,” kind of way. More like he murders you and Aerith at the same time. Perhaps something from a past life?

Boyfriend Cloud who loves watching studio ghibli movies with you especially ponyo and spirited away. Let’s not get started on his love for Princess Mononoke.

Boyfriend Cloud who goes with you at the bookstore for now on to carry your books because he found out that a guy put his number inside of a book after catching it for you when you accidentally dropped it from your stack pile.

Boyfriend Cloud who’s COMPLETELY and UTTERLY obsessed with you. Not the annoying obsession, but the obsession that makes your tummy in knots and the cute things he loves to do for you. Whether it’s making you lunch for school/ work, leaving cute notes on your door handles, or literally dropping everything instantly for you when you call.

Boyfriend Cloud who hid in the bathroom after you guys had…yk…and too embarrassed to come out. If only he knew you were on the bed breathless and wanting more.

Boyfriend Cloud who baby trapped you. With a cat. Her names Honey and every time there’s an argument he uses her as an excuse to visit you. “We can’t let our cat have separated household problems,she needs both of her parents so please answer the door.”

Boyfriend Cloud who had no idea him getting a lip piercing would be in the way of kissing you for it to heal correctly. He ran out of the piercing shop and only agreed to come back to get a matching eyebrow piercing with you instead.

Boyfriend Cloud who not only made you a playlist, but this mf burned a cd for you, made tifa draw a one in a million piece of art for you for the cover, has a sticker of it on his car, and even bought a necklace that had the Spotify playlist code. So whenever a person flirts with him, he’ll hold it up and say, “scan this and read the description. That’ll be my answer for you.”

Boyfriend Cloud who didn’t understand why you were so obsessed with kpop, especially BTS. Him and jungkook have beef apparently. He also buys you albums all the time and even sacrifices himself to let you use his phone to make sure you guys get tickets to concerts.

Boyfriend Cloud who WILL call your work to call off. He doesn’t care, cuddles are more important.

Boyfriend Cloud who forces you to drink water whenever you hang. You always complain about headaches and he makes sure when you’re with him you’re hydrated.

Boyfriend Cloud who is addicted to Dr.Pepper. You gave him some when you two went to watch Barbie in the summer and it’s his holy grail. “We need to head to Costco, I ran out of my pepper.”

#kissami #x reader #final fantasy 7 #cloud strife x reader #cloud strife #cloudstrife #cloud strife x you #cloud x reader #ff7 cloud #final fantasy cloud #headcanon #bf headcanons #ff7 fanfic #ff7 fic #ff7 #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy vii #final fantasy x reader

[coralinnii]

congratulations on the 2.7k followers 🎉🎉 you really deserve it^^ you're writing is just so good and amazing i'm so happy more people recognise your talent <3 (also i really like the fact that you opened your requests for 27h it's really a fun way to remember that you got 2.7k followers hhhh)

So i'd like to request, if it's alright with you, yuu staying at crewel's or train's place during the holidays and the messages they exchange with (riddle, ruggie, vil, epel) , just yuu having a long distance relationship with the boys if it makes sense!! you can make it platonic or romantic, I don't mind either as long as you have fun writing it ^-^

thank you in advance and again congratulations, i'm really happy for you! have a nice day <3

❋ It Doesn’t Matter Where I Am, I’m Yours ❋

↳ long-distance relationship with him over the holidays

feat: Riddle ⭑ Ruggie ⭑ Vil ⭑ Epel

genre: fluffy romance

note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, reader is implied to be Yuu since Grim comes with them, reader is staying with Crewel in Riddle and Ruggie’s ver. and with Trein in Vil and Epel’s ver., nicknames are used as terms of endearment (rose and my love in Riddle’s ver., sweet lil thing in Ruggie’s ver., sweet potato in Vil’s ver.,)

How did I choose who reader stays with? With a coin flip and it somehow worked out this way :p Hope you enjoy it!

2.7K Followers Writing Event

Riddle’s mother insisted he returned home and Professor Crewel offered demanded that you stay with him over the holidays after finding out that the cafeteria ghosts would be gone throughout the break.

If you two were still new into the relationship, Riddle was anxious over this separation, he's gotten used to the routine of seeing you every day and he can't imagine a day without you, let alone a month. The sweet redhead insisted you keep in contact with him every day, no matter what.

He knew that his mother would set him a schedule filled to the minute with studies and magic practice but he managed to convince her to give him 30 minutes with his phone, in the guise of keeping updated with his dormmates as the Housewarden. He may even try to wake up a little earlier just to text you good morning

teenage rebellion?

But Riddle is not the most familiar with texting slang and lingo, being the type to write out every message with proper grammar, spelling, and explanation points.

At first, he sounded like, albeit sweet, a daily weather update. Riddle once read in a book that a good conversation starter is “Nice weather we have” and just went with it.

As the days went by, Riddle has gotten more comfortable and soon the 30 minutes doesn’t seem enough for him. He wants to tell you more about his hometown (even if he couldn’t leave his home), mention how Trey and Chenya would occasionally sneak a visit, even little tidbits of something he learned from his studies you might find interesting, anything to spend time with you.

If you send him random videos you found online, Riddle would be so confused and won’t understand the humour of it but will text you it was funny just to make you happy (this precious confused child).

Whenever Riddle unintentionally texts you something sweet, Crewel gives you an exasperated look your way as your joyous gushing would startle the puppies.

But Crewel sighs with a little smile on his lips and let you be, better Riddle than those trouble-making Heartslabyul duo. At least with Grim, his trained dogs can keep him in check while the two of you are here.

Riddle is incredibly happy to be able to speak with you everyday but secretly he’s mentally counting the days when he could see you again at school.

His messages

“Good morning, Rose. Today is forecasted to be windy where you are. Be sure to stay warm”

“The cat is adorable. However, I do not understand what is a “blep”.”

“Grim was reprimanded by Crewel and his dogs for trying to steal extra snacks? Perhaps Heartslabyul should adopt a few as well”

“It’s already 2 minutes before I must get ready for sleep? It’s unfortunate but I must go for today. Good night, my love. I will greet you first thing in the morning”

Ruggie was surprised that you were going to stay with Professor Crewel this holiday break but he was going to be busy with seasonal part-time jobs anyway so he wasn’t planning on visiting you (Crewel would’ve sent his dogs on him if he did, anyway).

Due to his irregular work schedules, you couldn’t predict when Ruggie would text you. Different part-time jobs would give him different break times so you and Grim could be helping Crewel to feed his puppies and suddenly you had to hide the cute text your boyfriend sent you from a suspicious Crewel.

“Pup, who was that?”

“Just Ruggie…don’t look, it’s embarrassing!”

Ruggie may even write over-the-top lovey-dovey messages to you, partly to annoy Crewel, but mostly because he does mean them

But sometimes Ruggie would get too tuckered out to text you and would apologize for not replying as soon as he could the next day.

It’s understandable, though. Which is why you tried to text more to lift his spirits, so that everytime he opens up his messages, he reads your little motivational messages.

“Don’t forget to eat lots, my hardworking hyena! I’m so proud of you <3”

Ruggie’s coworkers won’t get a single explanation to Ruggie’s sudden burst of energy in the second half of the day, nor his wagging tail. But they can guess that is something to do with you, judging by the goofy smile the hyena beastman has on throughout his shift.

His grandmother is very aware of your presence in Ruggie’s life, not that he’s very subtle. She sees the way Ruggie gets a toothy grin so early in the morning just by looking at his phone, or the way his ears perk up when his phone vibrates.

His messages

“Mornin’, sweet lil thing. How’s life with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy? Shyehehe, wouldn’t be surprised if he gave ya some homework while ya there”

“Grandma made some of her famous donuts. When we come back, I’ll make some for ya so look forward it”

“The kids are badgering me to show ‘em the pic of ya. Even Grandma is curious! She wanna know who’s been making me so happy so…do ya mind?”

“It’s weird. Even with my work and the kids, I still feel kinda bored. I wanna see ya soon. I can’t believe that I might want school to actually open sooner”

Holidays would be a busy time for Vil. Even if he specified that he’s prioritizing his studies, he would occasionally agree to a gig or two, just to ensure he stays relevant in the business.

Funnily enough, Professor Trein offered to house you during the holidays since his wife heard that you were spending the holidays all alone in your depreciated dorm (what’s the difference with any other day, though?) and wouldn’t let that be. Both Trein and Vil live in the Shaftlands but it was still miles away from each other and with Vil’s busy life, you couldn’t really see each other over the break.

Cautious of his situation, Vil is careful with when and where he is when he’s messaging. It’s not that his agency would ever let anybody with ill intentions come close to him, but he doesn’t want to drag into this world where social vultures could harm you.

Vil’s texts are professional but always sweet and filled with concern for you. Asking you how was your day, if you have eaten yet, and if you remembered to take care of yourself (then reprimand you if you did forget).

In the comfort of his home, Vil would video call you as he does his skincare routine, content with listening to you as you tell him about your day and talking about the most random things, because you look so beautiful to him when you do.

If you gush about how amazing the Shaftlands was as Trein and his wife showed you and Grim around, Vil would entertain the thought of showing you around his hometown with you. Just the two of you.

One day, Vil’s father was passing by as the two of you were on your video calls which is when Vil finally introduces you to his father. The older man is pleased to finally meet the one who’s making his son so happy and even excited to return to school. Vil chose not to comment on this.

His messages

“It may not be as cold there as it is here, but be sure to put on your moisturizer. Just because I’m not there to take care of you doesn’t mean you have a day off, sweet potato”

“Oh, you saw my interview this afternoon? Well of course, I was nothing short of pure elegance. But thank you, my dear. I truly appreciate your kind words. Hmm? Of course, I will tell you my next appearance”

“Sweet potato, your eyes seem tired today. Are you alright? You stayed up watching movies? Good grief, I told you how bad that was…you were watching my early works? …That is no excuse, we can watch them together when we return to college”

“Professor Trein told you and Grim that you could visit my town sometime next week? Hmm, I will discuss with my agent and I will show you around myself. Hmm? No, it’s no trouble. What inconsiderate man would think a date with his beloved would be trouble. I will see you soon”

Epel was surprised that you were actually going to be closer than he realized when you told him that you were staying with Professor Trein and his family over the break.

However, Trein’s town still isn’t exactly close and Epel was going to help out his family on the farm throughout the break anyway so the two of you couldn’t meet up as much as you really wanted to.

Texting while he was working outside wasn’t easy with the gloves Epel had to deal with so he opted with taking pictures, voice messages, and video calls whenever he could. He sends you pictures of some of the newly harvested apples and raves over the great harvest this year, which you found absolutely adorable (but you kept that to yourself).

He tried his very best to be sneaky about his calls to you though, because the townspeople would tease him and gush about young love whenever they catch him sending messages on the job.

“Look at my lil’ apple. All grown up an’ smitten”

“Grandma!”

It wasn’t any less embarrassing on your end as Trein’s daughters were also staying during the holidays and quickly caught you on your phone leaving cute messages for Epel. They’ve taken up the older sister role and lovingly grill you over your relationship.

“Does he give you flowers or chocolates? No? Hmph, how disappointing”

“He may be a hard worker, but if he isn’t a gentleman, he’s not husband material!”

The sisters were only a little bit impressed when after you jokingly told Epel about that embarrassing conversation, there was a crate of genuine Harveston apple juice. Atop of the crate, there was a note formally wishing the Trein family well and thanking them for taking care of you.

Epel may have wanted to prove to you he can be a man, but now he also wants to prove he’s a gentleman…and also husband material.

His messages

“Is it cold where ya are? Be sure to get real cozy and warm. Huh, Grim’s been complaining? Haha, Shaftlands chills ain’t no joke”

“The town’s real happy about the harvest this season. Gonna be another year of delicious foods this time around. I really wanna share with ya when we get back to school”

“Do you like the apple juice I sent ya? It’s made with the apples I picked myself, you know. Gotta only be the best for ya afterall”

“Grandma has been naggin’ to bring ya over to visit. To be honest…I want that too. I miss ya a lot”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #twst riddle #ruggie bucchi #ruggie x reader #twst Ruggie #vil schoenheit #twst vil #vil x reader #epel felmier #twst epel #epel x reader #2.7k followers event

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

Love and Marriage

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Summary - Anon request for "Hi! Could you do some smut for ominis where him and reader are married (couple years after Hogwarts) and reader has a voice kink and ominis sometimes slips into parseltounge when he gets lost in the moment🫣 and drives reader crazy 😜"

Word Count - 1,460

Warnings -  18+ smut, characters aged up, rough sex

A/N - I wish there was a way to really right parseltongue but theres just not that I know of??

Ominis had opened up a lot since he had been with you and settled down away from the rest of the Gaunts. He had blossomed into a version of himself he wasn't sure was possible for the longest time. However, married life was still a lot of work. It wasn't without arguments and mistakes.

Although you had been together for several years, the idea of being husband and wife was new; with it came new disagreements and new sides to each other. You had noticed a few times in the throes of yelling back and forth, Ominis would slip into raving in parseltounge. At that point, you had to take a step back. Usually you would put some distance between the two of you to calm down and revisit things later, but for you it was because you couldn't focus at all when he did that.

It was so fluid for him that you were certain he didn't even notice he was doing it. It was mesmerizing for him to be speaking something so exclusive that you wouldn't ever know what it meant no matter how beautifully it rolled off of his tongue.

It gave you sensations that you should not be having in the midst of an argument. It gave him such an air of strength as he stood over you gesturing frantically speaking the language that was impossible not to sound sultry.

As you got into it about wanting to go out and see more things as a couple and Ominis was just completely content to spend the rest of his life sitting in his office full of books, you were left with sticky clenched thighs as he hit his breaking point.

He looked incredible for starters. Pieces of his hair had fallen from the slicked back coif on his head, a rosy tony crept from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He had his shirt haphazardly buttoned and loose fitting slacks with little imagination as to what was - or wasn't - beneath them.

You had first barged in, miffed he had forgotten about some place you had wanted him to escort you to that day. You didn't raise your voice, but you were bitter and saying things that were pure spite.

He had spat the same back at you, neither of you was huge about raising your voices, but when he did that's when it would happen. It would be heated and you would have no idea what he was saying, but you know blushed in shame from the way the parseltongue made you feel.

Something about it just felt dirty and private, especially as you knew you were probably the only person to really hear it from him.

You snapped out of your thoughts as he placed his hands on your shoulders, confused from your silence.

"Y/N?" He said your name softly, running his thumb along your jaw.

"I'm sorry for speaking to you that way, it's just so different living a life as a duo instead of just the safety of solitude."

You looked up into his woeful gaze, "Ominis, I don't even know what you said."

He looked almost angry as the word "what" spluttered from his mouth.

"You - you were talking in parseltongue. You know that don't you? You always..." your voice faltered as his brows creased together.

He had no idea and now he wondered what awful things you must think of him. He always found it such a filthy trait that came from his family, so it must be disrespectful to you.

"This whole time? How long? I -" He turned around and took to pacing, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he rambled, "What must you think of me?"

"Ominis. I find it captivating. I know when we're upset about all these important things it isn't the time, but it - it makes my mind wander to other places."

You felt shy suddenly, knowing he was going to look at you differently and you didn't know if anything good would come from it or not. He stopped his movements, still in thought as he looked over at you.

He took slow strides towards you, tilting your chin up as he bent low to your ear, "Tell me what you're thinking then, saepʃ," he says what you believe to be your name as you had certainly heard it before. His other hand ghosts over bare skin at the low back of your blouse.

"It turns me on, Ominis, I'm just thinking about you using me and your English words escaping you and...and that's just what slips out." You bit your lip as you looked up at him nervously.

"Why don't you get on your knees so we can see what happens? You can be a good girl if I remember, right, Y/N?"

You nearly fell to the floor to obey him and it made him chuckle to for you to show your eagerness towards him, hearing the sound of your knees on the floor. He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair as a reward.

"Surely you remember what to do? You were always a good slave for my cock." Ominis had forgotten how much his words did for you, but he had a renewed curiosity wondering how far you would go with something new like parseltongue in play.

You whimpered and lulled your head against his thigh as you reached to tug his trousers to the floor. You always forgot how impressive he was, between his creamy pale thighs the pink tip of his cock stood out at you.

You wanted to take your time to see how worked up he could get, so you started out placing kisses up his thighs. You ran your tongue across his balls suckling gently and he practically hissed at you, more of that beautiful language falling from his lips.

You could feel the slick pooling between your thighs, no doubt making a mess against the floor as you teased your mouth over his full length, your spittle mixing with his pre-cum.

Suddenly, he yanked you up hard by your hair and you yelped. He pinned you to the wall and crushed his lips to yours. It was sloppy, wet, and full of harsh biting. You clutched onto him to hold yourself up, feeling hard and tense muscles beneath his shirt.

He pulled away, leaving drool dripping down your chin as he caught his breath. He didn't extend the same courtesy to you as he wrapped his fingers around your throat. His eyes met yours in a gruff tone, full of arousal.

"Good girls don't tease, my love, but you've always been naughty for me haven't you?"

You felt dizzy from the state of need he had you in as he hauled you forward, bending you over his desk. A harsh slap across your backside made you jump, his fingers roughly pressing against your sodden pants. He circled your clit through the thin material before yanking them down your legs, bloomers and all.

"Now let's see what happens when I have no control, that's what you wanted, right? To hear the filth from my lips?"

He circled your dripping lips with the tip of his cock, making you beg before he slams into you, tugging hard on your hair.

More parseltongue fell from his mouth mingled in with the command to arch your back more. His pace was slow and hard, but no the least bit controlled. He was savoring your whines as your walls contracted around him.

He had never fucked you like this, so raw and aggressive. It had been so long you savored every second of him inside of you, hitting all the right spots that had been neglected for so long.

His pace quickened as he reached a hand forward to rub circles just right on your clit. His moans were strangled as he felt himself so close, but he was determined to get you to finish with him. He brought his lips just below your ear, whispering to you the way he knew you'd been craving and it wasn't long until hot waves of pleasuring came crashing down on you.

He released you to lay face down on the desk while he desperately gripped your hips, telling you he was about to cum. You felt terribly empty as he pulled out to shoot hot ropes all over your back and reddened ass.

You whimpered and whined about how he hadn't left it inside and in response he ran his fingers through it just to stuff them in your mouth. He spoke first in English, repeating the sentiment in parseltongue.

"Next time you'll be good and I want have to punish you."

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x reader #ominis #ominis x mc #ominis x oc #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x oc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy x reader

[herlondonboy]

i bet on losing dogs, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this request. you’re in love with clarisse, but she’s in love with another.

warnings: unrequited love, ruegard, angst, no happy ending, swear word.

wc: 1.4k

clarisse was a drug. it didn’t matter what drug she was, though, you just knew you were addicted. you didn’t really know why she decided you were to be her friend. her group was small. a few siblings of hers, chris rodriguez, silena beauregard, and you.

you were nothing special, just an unclaimed camper that was good with your hands. if she had to guess, clarisse would have put you in the hephaestus cabin. you were one of the best blacksmiths and she was sure if you wanted to, you could make something far better than chameleon armour.

though you disagreed, you’d never say anything to clarisse. the thought of upsetting her or making her angry at you was always there. even when you tried not to care.

clarisse first picked you up a month after you arrived at camp half blood. she spotted you working away with an anvil and some metal. she asked you what you were working on and if it was important. when you said no, clarisse smiled then told you to make her a new dagger. did she ask nicely? no. did you make it anyway? yes.

clarisse had the kind of eyes that you could drown in. deep and brown, warm. you could never say no to those eyes. no matter how sharp their glare was.

she had the kind of eyes you could fall in love with.

you realised you were in love with clarisse not very long ago. about three weeks to be exact. you were sitting next to her during the bonfire. she was staring at silena, who had been whisked away by charles beckendorf. he wasn’t bad looking, but he definitely wasn’t your type. besides, you’d spent so much time with the hephaestus kids that charles felt like a big brother to you.

you could tell clarisse was upset at the fact that silena had left. if you weren’t so blind, you would have been able to piece together why. nevertheless, you watched her side profile as it was illuminated by the fire. you watched her jaw clenched and loosen. you soaked it all in.

how you were so close that her thigh brushed up against yours, how softly she was breathing. and you realised, you were in love.

now, normally when you realise you’re in love with your friend, you would distance yourself so they never found out until they crush wore off and you could be normal again.

that wasn’t going to work with clarisse. instead, you just refused to look at her. even when she was speaking. sure, it was rude, but you didn’t care. you weren’t going to ruin your friendship over a silly little crush.

there was one part of you, though, that thought maybe your wildest dreams would come true. that clarisse would confess to you. you allowed yourself to think this because you felt her eyes on you. ever since the campfire.

they followed you. every step you took, every walk you went on, until she finally caught you alone.

clarisse didn’t like talking about feelings. she didn’t understand them very well.

‘why would you feel sick to your stomach looking at or thinking of someone you love?’ she had asked one time.

you chuckled and shook your head. ‘you feel sick to your stomach because you don’t know if they love you too. you feel that way because you need to know, but won’t ever say anything.’

“y/n!” you heard, making you flinch and turn.

you felt ill. her crooked smile, how her hair bounced as she ran.

“clarisse,” you responded softly, already thinking of all the ways you could escape this conversation.

“i need your help.”

you looked around. “another dagger? i can’t do it today, but to-“

clarisse cut you off. you forced yourself to look at her face. you noticed how rosey her cheeks were.

“can you forge a ring?” she asked. you’ve never seen her so timid. so small.

you nod slowly.

the girl opposite you grins. “great. i-i made a sketch. can you make it as close as possible to it?” she shoved it in your hand and you opened the paper.

it was just like any other ring, only…

you wanted to throw up. you should’ve known.

“‘c heart s,’” you read aloud.

the red tint on clarisse’s face deepened.

she nodded slowly. “i think i really like silena,” you voiced your worse fears. “i want to tell her before charles does. at least then if she rejects me it’s just because she doesn’t like me, not because of some guy.”

“oh,” you said.

you wondered if she could hear your heart cracking inside your chest.

“i’m going to do it during the bonfire next week for chris’s birthday.”

you nodded, forcing a smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “i’ll get right on this then.”

“thank you,” clarisse smiled. gods, her fucking smile. “you’re a life saver, y/n.”

the way your name rolled off her tongue like it was made for her.

and just as quickly as she came, she left.

pushing the paper down into your pockets, you pushed a bit of steel into the fire.

-

chris’s party was tonight. you don’t feel well enough to go. well, that’s a lie. you’re not sick in the way that means you’re going to throw up, you’re sick because the person you love loves someone else.

the thought of it brought tears to your eyes. it was embarrassing. you’d allowed yourself to fall so deeply in love with someone that could never love you.

a sob wracked through your body as you lied, staring at the wall. gods, you loved her so much.

you were so in love with clarisse la rue.

the door to the hermes cabin creaked open you were still crying. then you saw her. she was blurry, but it was her.

you don’t know how much longer you can hold it in for.

“are you okay?” she asked. she was always soft with you. soft with you. not with chris, not with silena, not with her siblings. just you.

you shook your head as you sat up in bed, shoulders shaking as your tried to be quiet.

“are you sick?”

you just cried. clarisse didn’t know what to do, so she leaned forward and hugged you.

gods, you hadn’t touched her in so long. her skin was soft, just like how your remembered it to be.

“i love you,” you choked out. you were sure if she heard it because nothing changed. then you heard a timid ‘what?’

you cried harder thinking about how she was was just hours away from confessing to silena. “i’m in love with you,” you forced out. “but you’re going to confess to silena and i’ve probably just gone and ruined our friendship. but i thought… i thought i had a chance until you asked me to make a ring for you.” clarisse just looked at you as you wiped your tears. “it’s like betting on a losing dog. it was stupid. i’m stupid.”

clarisse shook her head softly. “i didn’t know,” she murmured. “if i had known…”

“you should go,” you murmured. “wouldn’t want to lose to charles beckendorf,” you joked, clarisse just looked at you. “i’m fine. seriously. go.”

when she realised you wouldn’t take no for an answer, she left and went to the party. your tears stained on her shirt collar.

you decided not to go to chris’s party. even if he was your friend. you just couldn’t be there when clarisse took silena away from the party. you couldn’t be there when clarisse gave silena the ring you made.

hours passed before chiron called quits on the party. instead of just returning to their own cabins, some decided a small after party in the aphrodite cabin sounded like fun.

“hey,” you turned to see clarisse with a weak smile.

you smiled at her, though it pained you to do so.

“i didn’t do it.”

it took you a minute to figure out what ‘it’ was but when you did, you frowned. “why not?”

“y/n, you’re my best friend. why would i go into a relationship knowing it was killing you?”

you shrugged.

“i can wait. until your crush is over.”

that hurt. she didn’t want to hurt you, but the only way she could refrain from hurting you was by liking you back. and she’s never like you back.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #please reblog #elijah writes

[pinkanonwrites]

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble. 

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat. 

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway. 

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im…press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

 How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake. 

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute. 

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate. 

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?” 

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.” 

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.” 

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure. 

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure. 

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

#transformers #transformers x reader #x reader #rumble #rumble x reader #tf rumble #g1 rumble #valveplug #long post #my writing #nsft