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reidmarieprentiss · 2 days

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Lost in Translation: Prologue

Summary: A college student (reader) forms a deep bond with a young professor, Spencer Reid, over weekly study sessions in the library. After months of building a friendship, they share a night together, only for the student to be left alone, Spencer gone without a word.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, backstory, mild smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: non-descriptive smut (18+), talks of sex, alcohol, professor/student relationship (but it's Spencer and he's 18 like his students), being used for sex, loss of virginity, (un)requited feelings, no happy ending for this part

Word count: 8.6k

a/n: new story just dropped lol -- wrote so fucking fast and not edited at all sorryyyy

main masterlist part two part three part four

Being a wonder kid, Spencer Reid’s youth was one of isolation. Growing up too young, too smart, too awkward—too everything to really fit in—made life difficult. He navigated a world where his intelligence placed him far beyond his peers, yet his age kept him at arm’s length from those who might understand him better. It wasn’t until he began teaching an engineering course while working on his PhD at eighteen that he finally felt a flicker of that belonging.

Standing in front of an auditorium full of undergraduates, Spencer finally experienced something akin to acceptance. The students, many only a few years older than him, loved the fresh, youthful energy he brought to their 8 a.m. class. For the first time, they weren’t learning from a middle-aged professor droning on about equations but from someone who felt like one of them. Spencer’s lectures were passionate, and he brought concepts to life in ways that made the subject not only digestible but genuinely fun.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome either; that soft hair, those gentle brown eyes framed by glasses, and the earnest way he smiled—all of it made more than a few students swoon over him at one point or another. Spencer, of course, remained oblivious to the dreamy stares and flirtatious comments.

Despite his newfound sense of belonging in the classroom, Spencer didn’t really hang out with anyone. He remained somewhat of an enigma—attending his own study groups, tutoring off and on, and sometimes grabbing lunch with faculty who treated him more like an adorable novelty than a colleague. He was used to it by then, that feeling of floating in between worlds.

But one day, after a particularly engaging lecture on applied mechanics, a student named Jasper approached him. Jasper was bold, with a confident walk and a grin that suggested they weren’t afraid to push boundaries. “Hey, Professor Reid,” they said casually, leaning against the edge of the lecture podium.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Spencer replied, caught slightly off guard as he scrambled to gather his things. He was never quite sure how to handle the one-on-one interactions with students that felt too friendly, too casual. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”

Jasper laughed and shook their head. “No, actually, I was just thinking... Me and my roommates are throwing a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You know, kick back, meet some people... No physics or equations, promise.”

Spencer blinked, processing the invitation like a computer struggling to boot up. A party? With students? It felt... like an odd concept, but one that piqued his interest in a way nothing had before. He’d never really had a social invitation like this—especially not one involving people close to his own age. The idea was exhilarating, and for a moment, Spencer could almost feel what it might be like to be just another young adult, rather than the kid-genius-teacher everyone knew him as.

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes lit up, his grin boyish and genuine. “That sounds great, actually! Should I, um... should I bring anything? Snacks? Drinks? I can... figure something out.”

Jasper shook their head, laughter spilling out at how adorably sincere he was being. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” they said, waving off his concern. “Just bring yourself, cutie.” With a teasing wink and a quick flick of their wrist, they slipped a small note with their address into Spencer’s hands. And then, with that same confident stride, Jasper turned and walked away, leaving Spencer to stand there, flushed and stunned, staring down at the address in his palm like it was some secret code to a new world he’d been waiting forever to explore.

—

Spencer stood outside the house, his nerves and excitement mingling as he took in the scene. The address Jasper had given him led him to a lively place: music thumping loudly enough to rattle the windows, laughter spilling out through the open front door, and the warm glow of lights casting playful shadows on the lawn. People were milling around everywhere—huddled in small circles, raising drinks to one another, dancing, and talking loudly over the music. It was the kind of scene Spencer had seen in movies but never really experienced in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped inside. He immediately felt out of place in his neat button-down shirt and slacks, compared to the casual party attire of those around him. But he was here, and he was determined to enjoy it. As he made his way through the crowded entryway, Spencer's eyes were wide, absorbing every detail—the smell of popcorn and alcohol mixing in the air, the flashing lights, the loud music, and the laughter. He weaved through groups of students, dodging stray elbows and trying to make eye contact with anyone who might seem familiar.

However, after a few failed attempts at small talk and realizing that almost everyone he knew was either preoccupied or didn’t recognize him outside the classroom setting, Spencer’s excitement dimmed a bit. He found himself gravitating towards a quieter corner of the living room, eventually sinking into the soft, worn leather of a couch, trying to look relaxed but not too out of place. He sat there, half-heartedly holding a cup of soda someone had pressed into his hand earlier, unsure of what to do next. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass by, and he’d offer a polite wave or smile, but nothing stuck.

The longer he sat, the more he felt like an observer looking through glass, disconnected from the easy laughter and carefree movements around him. He sighed inwardly, wondering if coming to this party was such a great idea after all. But as he settled back into his seat, he heard an enthusiastic voice shout above the noise.

“Professor Reid!”

He barely had time to look up before Jasper dropped down beside him on the couch, their presence as warm and electrifying as a flash of lightning. They were so close that the entire side of their body pressed against Spencer's, hip to shoulder, the sudden contact sending a warm jolt through his skin. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the music but still tinged with that inherent awkwardness that never quite left him in social situations. He noticed the slight flush in Jasper’s cheeks, their eyes bright and relaxed from the party vibe.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” Jasper teased, leaning in so that their mouth was close to Spencer's ear, their voice buzzing through him. “You seemed kinda nervous when I invited you.”

“N-no, not at all!” Spencer said quickly, though his laugh betrayed his nerves. “I was... just... you know, trying to, uh, soak it all in.”

“Well,” Jasper drawled, dragging out the word like they were savoring it, “now that you're here, we should make sure you have a good time. Can’t have my favorite professor looking all lonely in the corner.” They flashed him that teasing smile, the one that Spencer had come to recognize as Jasper's signature charm, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the crowded room and the strangers dancing around him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed, the warmth from Jasper’s touch making the party seem a little less intimidating. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, Spencer had no idea how things would unfold. What started as casual chatter on that couch quickly transformed into something more charged, more intimate. Jasper had a way of making Spencer feel seen—really seen—and as they talked, leaning into each other, the lines between conversation and flirtation blurred until they no longer existed at all. Eventually, the touches grew longer, more intentional, and Spencer felt his breath catch when Jasper’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

It was Spencer’s first kiss, and it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. He was clumsy at first, feeling every ounce of his inexperience and fearing that he was doing everything wrong. But Jasper was patient, guiding him with slow, teasing movements until Spencer’s hesitations melted into something fervent and desperate. They broke apart, breathless and flushed, and before he knew it, Jasper was pulling him up, leading him through the crowded party, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom.

There, it happened—the fumbling of clothes, the whispered instructions and reassurances. Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the nerves and adrenaline mixing with a primal kind of desire he’d never felt before. Jasper seemed to know exactly what they were doing, leading and coaxing Spencer through the motions, and for once, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t caught in the spiral of his own mind. He let go, lost in the sensations of touch, taste, and pleasure as he experienced intimacy for the first time.

When it was over, Spencer lay on his back, panting, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief wash over him. He was almost scared to speak, to ask what this all meant. But before he could say anything, Jasper sat up and smiled, giving Spencer a quick, almost dismissive pat on the arm.

“That was fun, Professor,” Jasper said with a playful grin that lacked the intimacy they'd shared moments before. “But I’m gonna get some sleep now. Thanks for, you know, joining in on the fun tonight.”

Spencer sat up, a little dazed and trying to process the sudden shift. He nodded, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and muttered a soft, “Yeah, sure. Thanks... for inviting me.” There was no animosity in Jasper’s tone, but it was clear the night had come to its end. Spencer gathered his clothes, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He walked through the party once more, though he felt almost invisible now, slipping out the front door into the cool night air.

The next class was excruciatingly awkward for Spencer. He’d gone over the lecture material several times, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when Jasper walked in, took a seat right in the middle of the room, and gave him an easy smile like nothing had happened. Spencer struggled to maintain eye contact and found himself stumbling over his words more than usual. He felt exposed, raw, like everyone in that room somehow knew what had happened between them.

But Jasper was unbothered, unfazed—completely casual. It was as if that night was just another blip on their radar, a moment to be shared and then forgotten. And perhaps that was the point. As the days went on, Spencer realized that to Jasper, and probably to many others, it was just another night—no strings, no lingering feelings, just a moment of pleasure and then moving on.

The realization was strange for Spencer. He couldn't help but question if that was just what sex was—casual, meaningless, but a great way to blow off steam. It felt anticlimactic to think that something so intimate was treated so carelessly, but maybe that was the reality. For all his intellect, this was an area Spencer had little experience in, and he found himself trying to adjust to this new perspective. Maybe this was just the way people did things, and maybe that night with Jasper was simply the start of understanding what it meant to live a life that wasn’t dictated by equations or theories, but by messy, imperfect human experiences.

—

The library was packed with students hunched over textbooks, fingers flying across keyboards, and whispered conversations about study guides. You were already on edge, the stress of your final exam making every little noise seem louder, every empty table harder to find. You hugged your books to your chest, eyes darting around for any free spot, your mind already buried in the formulas and concepts you needed to cram before tomorrow.

Then, without warning, you collided with a solid body as you turned a corner. Your books tumbled out of your grip, scattering across the polished floor. “Shit!” you blurted out, the curse escaping before you could hold it back. “Sorry!” You dropped down immediately to pick up your books, your face burning with embarrassment.

Just as you did, so did the person you’d run into, and the next thing you knew, there was a dull thud as your foreheads collided with a painful smack. You jerked back, clutching your head, eyes watering from the sudden sharp sting.

“Ow,” the guy groaned, rubbing his forehead. He winced, but there was a hint of a laugh behind the pain, a softness in his voice that made your embarrassment double.

“Fuck, my bad,” you stammered, feeling utterly mortified. “I’m so clumsy.”

The guy chuckled lightly, standing back up as he brushed off his pants. “Me too, it’s alright,” he said. As you looked up, you finally saw who you’d bumped into.

It was him. Professor Reid—the young genius who everyone in your classes seemed to talk about, with rumors that swirled around him like leaves in a storm. The eighteen-year-old PhD who made engineering sound sexy, apparently both in his lectures and in the beds of the more... adventurous students. You’d heard more than one friend gush about how he'd helped them understand a complicated theory in more ways than one, their whispers tinged with admiration and amusement.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, all tousled curls, warm hazel eyes, and that slightly awkward but undeniably charming smile. The closeness made you realize how tall he was, his lean frame towering over you. You felt a rush of heat creep down your neck, spreading across your skin like wildfire. You’d seen him from afar, of course—catching glimpses of him in lecture halls or around campus—but never up close like this, and he was... so much prettier than you’d expected.

“Are... are you okay?” Professor Reid asked, still rubbing his head but looking at you with a concern that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, grabbing the books you'd dropped before handing them to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping your books tightly, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was now tingling where he’d touched it. “I just... wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted, his smile widening a little as he looked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I guess we're both guilty.”

“Yeah, guess so,” you said, forcing a laugh. God, why was it so hard to speak right now? You mentally cursed yourself for being so flustered. You quickly glanced around, realizing that most of the tables were still full, and suddenly it dawned on you that there were no available places to sit... except for the table behind him.

“Um... do you—do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, gesturing to the table he’d just been standing beside.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the table and then at you, a strange look crossing his face like he was trying to figure something out. Then, with that same awkward but genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It's all yours.”

You thanked him quietly, moving to the chair and settling down, but as you did, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him—those curls falling just right, his long fingers thumbing through his notes as he lingered nearby. And as you opened your books, pretending to focus on studying, you couldn't stop sneaking glances at the very attractive, young professor.

The hour that followed was filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning, pens scratching against paper, and the occasional cough or whisper from other students scattered around the library. But you couldn’t concentrate, not really. Your eyes kept drifting up from your notes to the table across from you, where Professor Reid sat hunched over his books, his focus so intense that you wondered what on earth he could be doing. Every now and then, your gazes would accidentally meet, and you’d look away quickly, your cheeks heating up as if you'd been caught doing something wrong.

You were in the middle of re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when you heard his voice break the silence between you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, the soft tone of his voice instantly grabbing your attention, “what course are you studying for?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. He was looking at you curiously, genuinely interested, and his expression was kind, almost encouraging. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear and cleared your throat, trying not to let your voice shake as you replied, “Oh, uh, architecture. I’m studying for an exam... final one of the semester.”

“Architecture!” Spencer’s face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like you’d just told him the most fascinating thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so genuinely enthusiastic. “That’s great! I’ve always thought architecture was such a beautiful blend of art and science—it’s like engineering for the soul, you know? There’s so much math involved, but it’s all to create something tangible, something that can change the way people experience space. And the way architecture has evolved over time? It’s like a living timeline of human innovation!”

He continued to ramble, moving from modern skyscrapers to the ancient marvels of Rome, describing the symmetry of cathedrals and the beauty of brutalism. The passion in his voice made every word seem like a story, and you sat there, leaning your chin on your hand, utterly captivated by the way he spoke. It was clear he loved to share knowledge, to connect different ideas, to see how everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

You found yourself smiling wider and wider, nodding along as he spoke, absorbing everything he said not because you needed to know it for your exam, but because he made it all sound so alive.

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, laughing softly as he realized he’d been talking nonstop for quite a while. He leaned back in his chair, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I tend to... ramble a bit. Especially when it’s something interesting. I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Actually... I liked listening to you.”

He seemed surprised by that, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes and offering a shy smile. “You, um... you make it all sound really exciting. It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the kind that lingered like a shared secret. You wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, to ask him about the things he was passionate about. But before you could find the right words, Spencer glanced down at his watch and began gathering his books.

“I, uh, should get going,” he said, a slight note of regret in his voice. “Lots of things to prepare for—classes and, um... you know, life things.” He gave an awkward laugh, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pausing for a moment as if he were about to say something else, but then just smiled instead. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and casual, despite the fact that your heart was pounding harder than it should have been. He nodded, gave you one last shy smile, and turned to leave, weaving through the tables and shelves of books until he disappeared from view.

You watched him go, the way he held himself with that slight awkwardness, his long stride taking him quickly out of the library. And as soon as he was gone, you slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath.

For a fleeting moment, you felt hopeful that you might run into him again, that maybe you’d have another one of those conversations that felt easy and exciting all at once. But then you remembered the stories—the whispers about how Professor Reid often slept with students, how it was no big deal to him, just casual fun. And suddenly, you felt foolish for reading anything more into his friendliness. What if he’d only started talking to you because he was trying to woo you into bed?

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive—very attractive—but if all he saw in you was another potential fling, then maybe it was better not to get your hopes up. After all, Spencer Reid wasn’t like other guys. He was brilliant, handsome, and, from what you’d heard, had more than his share of admirers. You shook your head, trying to brush away the pang of disappointment and return your focus to your notes.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake the image of his warm smile or the sound of his voice. And a part of you—just a small part—hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Spencer Reid than the rumors said.

—

You were rushing, nerves jangling through your body like alarm bells. You were running late—really late—and all you could think about was getting to your exam on time. In your panic, you didn’t see the corner coming, your eyes glued to your watch as you cursed yourself for oversleeping. You rounded the bend with way too much speed, and before you could react, you collided hard into someone else. The force knocked you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground, your books and papers flying in a wild scatter across the floor.

“Oh my!” came a startled voice. “I am so, so sorry, I was just looking for—oh, hi.”

You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows, but the moment you looked up, your heart sank and soared all at once. There, standing over you, was none other than Professor Reid. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern, and his mouth opened as if he wasn't sure whether to apologize or help you up first.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to get back up, your face flushing hot. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—”

“No, no, please, don’t apologize,” Spencer said quickly, his voice soft but urgent as he bent down to your level. “That was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention either.” He reached out to help you up, his hands gentle as he grasped your arm and steadied you, making sure you didn’t trip over yourself as you stood. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes darting over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “I didn’t, um... hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you said, though you could feel your whole body tingling from where he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering even as he let go. You brushed off your pants, trying to regain any semblance of composure despite the fact that you were now not only late but completely flustered.

Spencer began gathering your scattered books and papers, handing them to you with the same focused attention he gave to everything else. He was quick, efficient, but still careful, making sure to line up the pages neatly before passing them back into your hands. “Here you go,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You, um... dropped a few things.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the books from him and clutching them to your chest. And then you remembered. “Oh my God, my exam!” You looked at your watch again, the numbers glaring back at you as if taunting your lateness. “I... I have to go, I’m so sorry, Professor Reid, but I really need to—”

“Wait, wait,” Spencer interrupted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. “Is it in the main lecture hall? The big one across campus?”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “I have, like, five minutes to get there or I'm screwed.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” he said, a determined smile breaking across his face. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

“Y-you don’t have to do that, I mean—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Spencer insisted, already starting to lead the way. “I’m heading that direction anyway.” You both knew that wasn’t true but then, with a quick glance back at you, he added, “Besides, it’s the least I can do after, you know... knocking you over.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, despite the chaos of the moment. “Okay, thanks,” you said, falling into step beside him. It was a strange, surreal thing—running across campus with Professor Reid at your side, his long legs matching your frantic pace. And even though you were still panicking about being late, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, like the whole situation was slightly less catastrophic just because he was there.

“Don’t worry,” he said between breaths, casting a reassuring glance your way as you both hurried down the path. “You’ll make it. I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

You made it to your exam with barely a minute to spare, heart still racing from sprinting across campus and the whirlwind encounter with Professor Reid. As you settled into your seat, your mind was a jumbled mess of nerves, exhaustion, and the lingering thrill of having Spencer Reid rush beside you, determined to get you there on time. The reality of having bumped into him—literally—and seeing his concerned, handsome face up close again was a distraction you struggled to push away. But as the exam papers were passed out and you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, you felt a small swell of determination rising within you.

It wasn’t just about passing the exam anymore. No, it was about doing well—really well—because a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d run into Professor Reid again. And if you did, and if he asked you how your exam had gone, you wanted to be able to look him in those warm, interested eyes and say, “I crushed it.”

And so you put everything into it. Every formula, every theory, every bit of knowledge you’d crammed into your brain over the past few weeks. The hours passed in a blur of scribbled answers and focused thought, and by the time you handed in your paper, you felt a surge of pride and relief. You knew you’d done your best—maybe even better than your best.

—

The new term had settled into a predictable rhythm for you: classes in the morning, work in the afternoons, and then hours spent in the library for some uninterrupted study time. By the third week, you found a comforting routine in the silence and solitude of your favorite corner, tucked away but not too far from the bustle of the main floor. It was your place to dive into note-taking, to tackle assignments, and to escape from the chaos of student life. And though your schedule was tiring, there was something satisfying about the repetition—class, work, library, sleep, repeat.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were in the thick of your study session, textbooks spread across the table, fingers tapping absently against your highlighter as you scanned the pages. You were deep into a chapter on sustainable building design when a shadow fell over your table, and you heard a voice.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the confirmation was still enough to make your heart skip a beat. Professor Reid stood there with that same friendly, slightly awkward smile, his bag slung over his shoulder and a stack of books in his arms.

“Professor Reid,” you greeted with a smile of your own, trying not to let on how quickly your pulse was racing. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that gentle way as he pulled out the chair across from you. He sat down, settling his things on the table with a soft thud, and for a moment, you were both just... there, in the kind of companionable silence that libraries are made for. Spencer pulled out his own work, a notebook and a pile of papers, and began arranging them neatly before him, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of a binder.

“Preparing for midterms?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at you with a tilt of his head, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving a little shrug as you gestured to your scattered materials. “Trying to get ahead, make sure I don’t fall behind. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the open book in front of you. “I’m writing one, actually. One of the joys of being on the other side of the classroom.”

“Wow,” you said, the laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. “That... actually sounds like way more pressure than taking one.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted, a lighthearted grin playing on his lips. “I always end up overthinking it, trying to make the questions fair but challenging, relevant but not too obscure. It’s like creating a puzzle that someone’s actually going to solve.”

You nodded along, smiling at how earnest he was. “That sounds... kind of like how I feel about taking exams, actually. Trying to solve the puzzle without knowing if you even have all the right pieces.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he considered that. “Exactly,” he said, like he’d never thought of it that way before. “It’s a lot like that. But the fun part is watching the different ways people solve it, the different approaches and interpretations. It’s... fascinating, really.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch him, his hands moving expressively as he talked, the way he was so animated about his work. You’d heard him lecture from afar, but this—this was different. There was something more intimate about being across from him like this, sharing space, sharing thoughts.

You smiled, leaning forward a bit. “Sounds like you really enjoy it.”

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s nice to be able to help people understand things, to make learning something enjoyable instead of a chore.”

You nodded, and for a while, the two of you sat there, working side by side, an unspoken connection forming over the shared silence and occasional exchanges. And though you were both absorbed in your own work, you knew now that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves at the same table, sharing the same quiet space amidst the noise of college life.

Every Thursday for the rest of the term, your routine became intertwined with Spencer’s. You’d meet in your usual spot in the library, setting up your notes and books, and he'd arrive not long after, dropping into the chair across from you like he belonged there. And for hours, you’d sit together—sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes falling into deep conversations about classes, life, and everything in between. It was almost comical when, after weeks of these meetings, he finally looked up at you, eyes wide with realization, and laughed softly.

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think I ever asked you your name.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, blurting it out in a rush, and he repeated it back to you like he was savoring the sound of it. And just like that, something clicked into place. He’d ask about your exams, your grades, always genuinely interested in how you were doing. You, in turn, asked about his lectures and the classes he was teaching, and he would share his thoughts on the challenges of balancing students’ needs, all with that passion and depth you had come to expect from him.

Your friendship blossomed, but it was always contained to those Thursday evenings at the library. It was a boundary neither of you seemed to cross—studying together, talking, connecting, but never making plans outside of the walls of academia. And that was fine, for a time. But as the end of your freshman year loomed closer and summer break approached, the thought of leaving and not seeing Spencer every week weighed on you more than you’d expected.

One Thursday, when you could barely focus on your notes because of it, you found yourself fidgeting, chewing on your pen cap as you tried to summon the courage to speak. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice quiet over the hum of the library around you.

“Mhm?” he responded, not looking up from the papers he was reading through but giving a small nod to show he was listening.

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up, but pushed through. “Would you, um, want to come over after exams end? You know, to... say goodbye to the year?”

Spencer paused, his pen freezing mid-note, and he looked up, surprise flashing across his features. He hadn’t expected that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your offer. The idea of spending time together outside the library, beyond your weekly tradition, was both tempting and concerning for him. He’d grown fond of your friendship, of the way you made him laugh and didn’t expect anything from him except a shared space and genuine conversation. But, deep down, a part of him still feared being used like so many others had.

Yet, there was something earnest in your eyes, something that made him think maybe, just maybe, you really did just want to hang out. To be friends, and nothing more. He let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you hoped the heat wasn’t too obvious as you scratched the back of your neck, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Uh, I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “Maybe... a movie? Just something casual.”

“Casual,” he repeated, almost as if testing the word out, and then his smile widened, a bit of relief and something like excitement brightening his eyes. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.”

And just like that, you found yourself looking forward to what might be the start of something new—something beyond Thursday study sessions, something more than a quiet routine.

The Friday after final exams, you paced your dorm room, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. You'd barely slept since inviting Spencer over—second-guessing every detail, every word you’d said. But now, as you checked your phone again, you reminded yourself that it was just a movie, just two friends hanging out to say goodbye to the year. Nothing more. You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to be this excited.

And right on time—exactly at 7 p.m.—you heard a knock at your door. Spencer's punctuality didn’t surprise you, but it did send a rush of excitement through your veins. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before walking over to the door and opening it.

There he stood, dressed in casual jeans and a plain button-up shirt, looking somehow both effortlessly put together and adorably uncertain all at once. His curls were a bit messy, his glasses slightly askew, and he clutched a bag of something in his hands, which he immediately offered up to you with a slightly bashful smile.

“Um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring something, so I, uh, brought snacks?” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. You could see a mix of candy, chips, and a few other treats inside.

You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you—that’s perfect.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he stepped into your room, glancing around with curious eyes as he took in the posters on the wall, the books scattered on your desk, the remnants of your rushed packing for summer break.

“Your roommate left already?” he asked, looking over at the other, empty half of the room.

“Yeah, they went home the day after finals,” you said, trying not to sound too relieved about having the room to yourself. “So it’s just us.”

“Just us,” Spencer repeated, the words hanging in the air with a nervous tinge in his voice. He smiled softly and set the bag of snacks on your bed, taking off his shoes and settling in as if he were almost comfortable—almost.

“So,” you began, moving to sit beside him, your nerves starting to subside as you relaxed into the familiar presence of your study partner turned friend. “I thought we could just pick something light to watch, you know? Nothing too serious.”

“Light sounds good,” Spencer nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, there was that playful glimmer in his eyes—the same one you’d seen during your library sessions, when a joke or comment would catch him off guard.

You leaned forward to pick up the remote, scrolling through the options until you landed on a few comedies and light-hearted movies. You tossed out a few suggestions, and eventually, the two of you settled on a movie neither of you had seen before—some easygoing, feel-good flick that you knew would make you both laugh and not require too much thinking. You hit play, and as the opening credits rolled, you sank back into the pillows, side by side with Spencer.

There was a comforting quiet between you, a sense of familiarity even in the newness of the situation. And as the movie played and the two of you slowly started sharing the snacks he’d brought, laughing at the jokes on-screen, you felt that same feeling you always did on Thursday nights—the calm certainty that, somehow, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The movie had been on for about thirty minutes, and both of you were already lost in the silly over-the-top humor. It wasn’t long before the playful energy from the screen found its way into your own conversation, and you couldn’t resist teasing Spencer a little every time he laughed at something you found particularly cheesy.

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually laughing at this. I thought you had... you know, a refined sense of humor.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I can appreciate a good joke, okay? Even the dumb ones. It’s called versatility,” he said, giving you a sidelong glance before popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning closer as if you were about to share a secret. “You’re just pretending to like it so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

He chuckled, turning to face you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as his knee bumped lightly against yours. “Trust me,” he said, voice low with that familiar teasing lilt, “I’m not pretending. I genuinely think this movie is... absurdly entertaining.”

“Absurdly entertaining, huh?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you leaned in just a little more, close enough to see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. “I think that’s code for ‘terrible but in a fun way.’”

“Okay, maybe it is a little terrible,” he admitted, laughing openly now. “But in the best way.”

The lightness in his voice, the ease with which you bantered—it felt effortless. And then, suddenly, there was a shift. His laughter trailed off as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a beat longer than usual. Your faces were so close, your knees brushing, your shoulders almost touching, and you noticed the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to decide something.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to flirt, to let the playful banter turn into something more, but a voice in his head reminded him of past experiences—where interest in him was just a prelude to sex, a quick thrill before moving on. He didn’t want that with you. You were different—kind, genuine, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had by crossing a line.

And ever since meeting you, Spencer hadn’t slept with anyone. Your study sessions, conversations, and simple presence filled a void in him; being around you was all the release he needed. Now, sitting beside you, he just wanted to keep this intact, afraid that taking a step further might shatter what he cherished so much.

Little did Spencer know, your own thoughts were tangled with doubt. You'd been excited for this night ever since he said yes, but now, sitting so close to him, you wondered if he'd only come over for the same reason he might have gone to others in the past: sex.

The whispers around campus about Professor Reid’s quick, casual flings were hard to ignore. Reconciling that with the sweet, earnest man beside you felt impossible, but still, the thought gnawed at you. What if, to him, you were just another fleeting encounter before summer ended?

You wanted to believe that your Thursday study sessions meant more than a prelude to something casual, but the worry hung there, making your hand pause before reaching for the snacks. What if you were misreading everything? And if this was just casual to him, could you handle it, or would you rather preserve what you had now?

You glanced at Spencer, who was focused on the movie but stealing nervous glances your way. It was clear he was treading carefully, and you could feel the irony—both of you caught on the edge, too afraid to find out what the other truly wanted.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling silently on the screen, neither of you moved to turn it off or get up. There was an unspoken tension in the room, a pull that made it hard for either of you to suggest that this night should end.

“Do you want to watch another movie?” you blurted out just as Spencer said, “I really like hanging out with you.”

You both paused, your words colliding mid-air, and then burst into laughter. It was awkward, sure, but it was the kind of awkward that felt endearing, pulling you closer instead of apart. The kind that made you grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, where you both sat smiling like fools.

“Another movie sounds great,” he said, the grin on his face not fading, and you nodded in agreement. You both took a break—stretching, refreshing snacks, and using the restroom. When you returned to your dorm room, you found Spencer sitting more toward the middle of your bed, and when you slid in next to him, your bodies ended up pressed tightly together, the heat of his side warming yours through your clothes. You were hyper-aware of every place where you touched, but neither of you pulled away.

“Your turn to pick,” you said softly, handing him the laptop.

Spencer flipped through the options with focused eyes, and finally, he settled on a film—a foreign romance, its title scrolling across the screen in delicate script. You raised an eyebrow, curious but also a little lost. “Spencer,” you said, trying not to sound too nervous, “I, uh, don’t speak French.”

His eyes met yours, and this time, the way he looked at you was different—more intense, like he was seeing something in you that hadn’t been spoken aloud. It sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and almost intimate. “I can whisper translate for you... if you don’t mind.”

The idea of Spencer leaning in close, his voice softly whispering translations in your ear as romantic lines played out on the screen, made your heart race in a way you couldn't control. You could practically feel his breath on your neck already, the warmth of his words settling into your skin.

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching on your lips as you tried to keep your composure.

You pressed play, and as the opening scene unfolded, you found yourself sinking deeper into the bed, Spencer’s body comfortably close to yours, and your heart pounding in anticipation of every word he would breathe into the small space between you.

The movie’s soft music and dreamy cinematography made it easy to get lost in its world, but it was Spencer’s voice—low, rich, and soothing—that anchored you. He leaned in, and his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered the translation, his tone low and almost reverent.

“Élise tells her...” he began, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, “‘When I'm near you... everything disappears. The whole world, the sounds, time... there's only you and me.’”

The words hung in the air, and your senses were drawn to the way his lips moved against you as he concentrated on the words. You couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the way he brought the romance to life, the intensity in his whisper making your skin tingle with every syllable.

“Juliet replies...” he continued, not yet noticing how your attention was fully on him now. “‘You are the reason I breathe, Élise. Every beat of my heart... it whispers your name. If I could, I would spend every second of my life looking at you.’”

And that’s exactly what you did now—look at him. His eyes were still on the screen, but there was something in his expression that felt vulnerable, open, as if he wasn’t just translating lines, but baring something deeper, something unspoken between you. You couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, every inch of your body hyper-aware of the closeness between you.

“‘Then look at me... and never let me go,’” he whispered, and when he finally turned to meet your gaze, the intensity in his eyes nearly took your breath away. His voice was softer, more intimate, as if he was no longer speaking for the movie characters but for the two of you alone. “‘Because without you, I'm lost. You are my everything.’”

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you stared at each other, your faces so close now that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his breath came out just a bit more quickly. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the hesitation in them, the question he didn’t dare ask.

“‘I promise you... never, ever will I let you go,’” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips only a breath away. “‘Because I love you... more than anything in the world.’”

Neither of you moved, frozen in that charged space between a word and a touch, every part of you yearning to close the gap as the rest of the world fell away.

The words hung in the air, your shared gaze brimming with something unspoken and heavy. And then, as if on cue, both of you turned your eyes back to the screen, where Élise and Juliet leaned in, their faces close, the tension snapping as they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. The soft sounds of the movie filled the silence between you.

“Do you want me to translate that?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm on your cheek. The words were teasing but tentative, laced with a hope that sent a shiver down your spine.

But before he could say anything more, before you could second-guess the pounding of your heart, you closed the space between you. Your lips met his in a sudden, breathless kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The taste of him, soft and warm, was everything you had imagined it would be. You felt Spencer’s sharp inhale, the surprise in his body, but then he melted into you, his mouth moving against yours like it was something he'd been waiting for all along.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gentle but sure, pulling you closer, and the world disappeared—just like Élise had whispered—leaving only you and him in the electrifying moment of finally letting go.

Deep down, both of you felt that nagging worry—was this just a fleeting moment, a one-time thing? But as your lips moved together, those thoughts slipped away, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, the desperation in every kiss and touch. Spencer laid you back gently, his hands trembling slightly as he held you, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted to stop. But there was only desire and your verbal confirmation, and so he continued, showing you the skills he’d learned over the past year.

And when the clothes were shed and the vulnerability became all-consuming, you allowed him to take your virginity, holding back that delicate truth out of embarrassment over your own inexperience. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to add more pressure to a moment already so fragile and important to you both. Spencer, in turn, treated you with a reverence that spoke to his genuine care, his every touch slow and deliberate, like he was savoring each second.

It was the most passionate, mind-blowing experience Spencer had ever had. Every gasp, every whispered name, every shared look made it clear why—it was you, and it felt like something more than just sex, something deeper, like he was baring his soul alongside his body. When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together, hearts still racing, bodies wrapped around each other like you could hold the moment in place forever. And in that perfect silence, Spencer’s arms became a haven, and you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, happy, and loved.

But morning came like a cold shock. You reached out across the bed, seeking his warmth, and found only emptiness. The sheets were cool, and Spencer was gone—no note, no sign of him ever having been there. The joy, the love, the comfort you’d fallen asleep to vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind an aching emptiness and the haunting fear that maybe all your doubts were true.

—

Summer came and went, and though the days were warm and filled with distractions, nothing eased the emptiness Spencer left behind. The pain of waking up to find him gone never faded, and as you returned to campus for your sophomore year, the ache of his absence settled in deeper, an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

You looked for him—hoping to see that familiar face in the library, in a lecture hall, anywhere on campus—but every search ended in disappointment. It was like he’d vanished, leaving not a trace behind. Over the next three years, you went through the motions, diving into your studies and trying to let go of what happened, but the memory of him never left, haunting every quiet moment and making you wonder what you'd done wrong.

The truth was clear to you now: Spencer had used you, filling some void in himself for one night, and then disappearing, leaving a much larger void in your own heart.

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

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seongwars · 3 days

Text

forget me not | v

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (i have to stop with these long chapters, im sorry) Warnings: infidelity, i think one swear word, punching, slut shaming (kinda), implications of smut

Fic Masterlist

a/n: i guess forget me not fridays are a thing now because i posted last friday too. i'd also like to thank insomnia for letting me churn out two fics in one week, though this chapter is kind of filler

Yunho wandered through the bustling marketplace, weaving between vendors hawking their wares—colorful silks, handmade pottery, baskets of freshly picked fruits. The chatter of townsfolk filled the air, their voices rising and falling in a way that brought the village square to life.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed an elderly woman struggling with a large bundle in her arms. As she shifted the weight of the cloth-wrapped package, her grip faltered, and before she could stop it, the bundle slipped from her arms. Rice cakes and other delicacies tumbled to the ground, scattering across the dusty ground. People walked by, barely noticing her plight, but Yunho, instinctively, hurried over.

“Granny, are you okay?” He asked softly, kneeling to gather the scattered rice cakes. The old woman looked up, her eyes kind but weary, framed by deep lines etched by time. She smiled gratefully, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the fallen cakes.

“Thank you, dear. My old bones aren’t what they used to be,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with exhaustion. Yunho gathered the last of her rice cakes, placing them back in her cloth bundle and tying it securely before handing it to her.

She looked up at him with a warm, toothy grin, the deep wrinkles around her eyes crinkling with gratitude. “You have a good heart,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for him. “I’d like to give you something in return.”

Yunho blinked, unsure of what to expect, but the anticipation settled in his chest. The woman’s frail hands moved slowly, carefully reaching into the folds of her worn hanbok. From its depths, she withdrew a small spool of red thread, delicate and faintly shimmering in the sunlight.

Her gnarled fingers trembled slightly as she snipped a small length of the thread, the gesture deliberate, as if she had done this many times before. She placed the cord gently in Yunho’s hand.

“This is no ordinary thread,” she said in a low, almost mystical tone. “Those bound by this are connected by fate, their souls intertwined across time—no matter the distance, no matter the lives they live. You should only tie this to someone important to you.”

The thread shimmered faintly, its vibrant red hue standing out against the earthy tones of the village. Yunho could almost feel a pulse of energy coursing through it.

"I must be on my way now," she said, her voice soft as her eyes lingered on Yunho momentarily. "Thank you again for your help."

The elderly woman bundled her cloth together, adjusting it over her shoulder before standing upright. Her hunched figure vanished into the sea of bustling villagers, as if she had never existed at all.

"Yunho!" you shouted, breathless and laughing as you reached him. You grabbed his hand, tugging him along excitedly. “Come on, we’re gonna go play by the river!”

"Y/N, look what I got!" he exclaimed, holding up the delicate, shimmering red cord. “Some granny gave it to me! She said it’s special, but I have to be careful who I tie it to. Only someone really important.”

You tilted your head, curious as you eyed the thread. “Like your mom?” you asked, as if it was the most obvious choice.

Yunho hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “No, not my mom. Maybe... Gunho?”

You nodded thoughtfully, swinging your arms as you looked up at Yunho. “Yeah, Gunho’s pretty important. He’s your brother, after all.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, thinking about the people in Yunho’s life—those who mattered most. Family, friends, the people who had shaped him in his premature life. But as the silence stretched, Yunho found his gaze shifting, not to the thread or the crowd, but to you.

Without thinking much of it, Yunho suddenly grabbed your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently. The moment he touched you, the warmth from the thread pulsed between his fingers, almost like it had its own heartbeat. He blinked, surprised at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. Instead, something in him clicked into place—something that told him this felt right.

“Y/N, you’re my friend,” he said softly, his voice more serious now. “I think...I think you’re important. Because you’re kind and you share your snacks with everyone.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone, but you smiled at him anyway, that carefree, trusting smile that Yunho had grown so used to. “Okay,” you replied, holding out your wrist without hesitation.

Yunho’s fingers trembled slightly as he began to loop it around your wrist. It was a simple act, childlike in its innocence, but as the thread touched your skin, it felt like something much deeper was happening.

“There,” Yunho said with a small smile, stepping back and letting your wrist go. His heart still beat a little faster than usual, but he tried to act like nothing had changed. “Now you’ve got your special thread.”

You looked down at it, your expression soft, eyes wide with wonder. “Do you think it’s really magic?” you asked, your voice quiet, almost reverent.

Yunho shrugged, trying to play it cool, but deep down, he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice light, but his heart told him otherwise. “But I hope so.”

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

Yunho’s eyes met yours, the weight of your question lingering, heavy and fragile. He saw the confusion on your face, the struggle to grasp something intangible, and it tugged at his heart. There were many things he wanted to say, truths tangled in past memories you no longer held.

He took a deep breath, gathering his emotions, steadying himself as he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t expect you to remember everything,” he began softly. “I don't even know where to start. But…” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching for yours.

“I’m probably the only person who knows you can never finish a book.”

He let out a soft, affectionate chuckle despite the puzzled look on your face. “You always get distracted by a new one, even though you swear you’ll go back and finish the first one eventually.”

The words kept coming, each one a memory, each one a reminder of the person you were—the person you still were, even if you didn’t know it.

“Or how you’ve tried to convert me into being a Lions fan because you’re convinced blue suits me better than red. And when you’re really excited about something, your eyes look like they’re about to fall out of your face.”

His lips curled into a small, wistful smile, the kind that carried a hint of nostalgia. “I don’t expect you to remember everything,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours.

“But know that to me, you’re everything.”

Yunho’s confession wasn’t a grand declaration or a desperate plea. It was simple, honest, and yet it carried all the weight of his heart. He wasn’t asking you to recall the memories you had sacrificed. He was offering you a glimpse into the life, into the person you had been, and still were, to him.

His words pushed against the walls you had built around yourself. It was strange—your mind felt blank, yet your heart ached with a familiar longing. And in that moment, something clicked.

It was the trust Yunho had in you—the unshakable belief that whatever had connected you two before still lived deep inside, even if you couldn’t see it right now.

“I’m holding you to that,” you said, voice steady but softer than before. The promise hung in the air between you, binding you both to something larger than words or memory. “No matter what you have to tell me, I’d want to hear it from you. And before I forget…”

You snapped your fingers and the air shimmered for a brief moment before the toy puppy Wooyoung had swiped from Yunho appeared. Its small, floppy ears were folded in a way that suggests it's seen better days.

"Thought you might want this back," you chuckled, offering it to him. But before Yunho could take it, you waved your hand over the toy, casting a subtle protection spell. The air around it swirled with magic before sinking into the fabric, leaving a faint warmth behind. "You might need it."

Yunho’s mind drifted back to that day at the beach when you won the toy. You were excited, nuzzling it, saying you’d always have a version of him, no matter what happened. Now, as he held the same toy in his hands, Yunho felt as though he was holding a piece of you—keeping you close, even when you weren’t there.

He reached out, and as his fingers closed around the toy, they brushed against yours, sending a spark through the air between you—subtle, yet unmistakable.

“Thank you,” Yunho said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. His gaze flickered from the toy to your face, and there was a softness in his expression that tugged at something inside of you–a tenderness you couldn’t deny.

"Take care of yourself," you murmured, the words simple but weighted with everything you couldn’t say out loud. It wasn’t just a casual goodbye; it carried the quiet hope that he would return. Yunho gave a soft, bittersweet smile, his hand lingering for a moment longer before he finally let go.

⋆

The drive back to Seoul felt endless and suffocating. The hum of the engine was the only thing keeping Yunho tethered to reality, but even that felt distant, drowned out by the steady thrum of anxiety rising in his chest. He glanced at his phone, resting in the cup holder, the screen dim but waiting. He'd tried calling Haewon three times already, and each time, it had gone straight to voicemail.

With a heavy sigh, Yunho ran a hand through his hair as he merged onto another stretch of highway. His eyes flicked to his phone resting in the cup holder, the screen dark but expectant. He’d already tried calling Haewon three times. Each attempt had been met with the same result: straight to voicemail.

No response. No explanation. Just silence.

Yunho’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he pulled up in front of Haewon’s apartment building. He stared through the windshield, his eyes tracing the outline of the structure he’d seen a hundred times before. Tonight, though, something felt different.

His eyes flicked to his phone resting in the cup holder. The black screen stared back at him, a reminder of his unanswered calls. He’d already tried three times, each one sending him straight to voicemail—no explanation, no apology, just the cold, automated message. Yunho’s hand hovered over the phone again, thumb brushing against the screen, contemplating a fourth attempt. But the voice in his head—the same one that had been growing louder for weeks—stopped him. No more calls.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached her door. Yunho’s heart raced as he lifted his hand, feeling the weight of what he was about to do. With a firm rap, he knocked, the sound reverberating in the hallway. He waited, heart thumping harder than it should’ve been. No answer.

He knocked again, louder this time, straining to listen for any movement inside.

Nothing.

Yunho hesitated for a moment before punching the code into the keypad. The familiar sequence of beeps sounded too loud in the quiet of the hallway, and when the lock clicked open, the sound was almost mocking. He stepped inside, the apartment dark except for the faint light spilling from the bedroom down the hallway.

“Haewon?” he called out, his voice low but steady. No response.

His footsteps were slow and deliberate as he made his way down the hall toward the light from the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could hear faint voices—soft, intimate and too close for comfort. His heart sank.

For a split second, everything felt surreal, like Yunho was standing outside his own body, watching the scene unfold from a distance. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just stood there, taking it all in.

Sungjae, shirtless, lounging in her bed with the same smugness he always wore, looked far too comfortable in a place he had no business being. Beside him, wrapped in the sheets, was Haewon. Her eyes widened in horror, the laughter between them dying instantly as the realization hit—Yunho was there.

“Yunho, I—this isn’t what it looks like.”

But it was exactly what it looked like. Yunho didn’t need an explanation. For a moment, he simply stared at them, his face unreadable, emotion caught somewhere between anger, hurt, and a strange sense of vindication. He had known something wasn’t right. He had felt it in the way she’d distanced herself, and the way Sungjae was too eager to insert himself into their lives.

Rage surged through him, his vision narrowing to just Sungjae’s face, that arrogant, guilty expression that only fueled Yunho’s anger. Before he could think, he was closing the distance in two swift strides, throwing a punch that connected solidly with Sungjae’s jaw. Sungjae’s head snapped to the side, his body tumbling back onto the bed with a groan.

A rush of catharsis hit Yunho at that moment—a wave of release so powerful it nearly knocked him off balance. This wasn’t just about Sungjae or Haewon. It was for something far deeper, something that had been festering in the darkest corners of Yunho’s mind for far too long.

It was for you.

For the night Sungjae had humiliated you, reducing you to nothing with his cruel words, his casual disdain. Yunho stood there uselessly, too afraid of the consequences if he had stepped in and stopped it. He’d failed you then, and that failure had eaten at him ever since. He’d replayed that moment over and over, imagining all the ways he should have intervened and how he should have defended you.

But he hadn’t. And it had destroyed a part of him, leaving behind a guilt that haunted him every time he saw Sungjae, every time he looked at Haewon and knew she had allowed it to happen, too.

Yet, fate had given him another chance.

“What the fuck?!” Sungjae yelped, reeling back from the contact. His hand shot to his jaw, fingers trembling as he wiped at the blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Yunho, but there was no apology in his expression.

“Yunho, listen to me!” Haewon shouted, her voice cracking with desperation. She scrambled off the bed, the sheet slipping down her shoulders as she moved toward him. But Yunho didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at her.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he spat, voice low and venomous.

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he stared down at Sungjae. His knuckles were still curled tightly, blood rushing in his ears as Haewon pleaded with him, but her voice faded into the background. There was nothing left to discuss.

It was over. He could walk away.

“Yunho, please,” Haewon begged, rushing to follow him as he moved toward the door, but his steps didn’t falter. “I swear! It didn’t mean anything!”

From the corner of his eye, Yunho caught sight of Sungjae standing awkwardly in the doorway of Haewon’s bedroom, shirtless and disheveled, a hand still massaging his sore jaw. He looked like he wanted to say something, to either justify or defend himself, but the words died in his throat.

Yunho’s fingers hovered over the door handle, his gaze dropping to the engagement ring still clinging to his finger. The metal felt cold, unfamiliar—like it no longer belonged to him.

“Do you remember when I asked why you always made excuses for him?” His voice cracked slightly, but he swallowed the emotion. “Why you always chose him over me?”

Haewon’s sobs quieted as she stared up at him, her tear-streaked face full of desperation. She shook her head, mouthing silent words, but nothing came out. They had danced around this conversation for so long, pretending things were fine, making excuses, but now those lies were suffocating her, and there was nothing left to cover the truth.

“I thought I was just insecure,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But I was right, wasn’t I?” His eyes locked with hers, and Haewon flinched as though the truth physically hurt.

“Yunho, please—”

He cut her off, his voice sharper now. “Every single time you chose him over me, this was it. This was what it led to.”

“I kept thinking you’d come around,” he interjected coldly. “That I was wrong to doubt you. That maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there. But I wasn’t. You knew exactly what you were doing, Haewon, and you just didn’t care enough to stop.”

“We were having problems!” Haewon’s voice broke through the heavy silence, her words frantic, desperate, as if she could somehow justify what had just happened.

Yunho’s jaw tightened, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he met her gaze, his eyes cold. “We were having problems, and you thought cheating was going to fix it?”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After everything, she was still looking for an excuse, a way to shift the blame onto their relationship as if that could make what she had done less of a betrayal.

With quiet resolve, Yunho slipped the ring off his finger. He placed it carefully on the small table by the door, the soft clink as it met the wood cutting through the heaviness of the room. That simple sound echoed with the finality of his decision, a quiet symbol of everything that had been broken between them.

“It’s over. I’m going to call my parents,” he continued, his tone steady, though his chest felt tight with the weight of what came next. “And contact everyone we sent invitations to, to let them know the wedding is off. You should call yours too.”

With one last look, he turned the knob and stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

“Yunho!” His mother’s voice was warm and cheerful, just as it always was. It hit him harder than expected, that sense of home, of comfort, and for a moment, he almost couldn’t speak.

“Hey mom,” Yunho said, his voice more fragile than he intended. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I, um…are dad and Gunho also there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and he could feel her shift into a more serious tone, the way she always did when she sensed something was wrong.

“Yunho, what’s going on?”

Yunho leaned against the kitchen counter, glancing down at a photo tossed in the trash.It was a candid shot of him and Haewon having a picnic at a cherry blossom festival. His chest tightened as he stared at the discarded image.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. “It’s about the wedding,” he began, and already he could hear the concern creeping into his mother’s voice. “It’s off. The engagement is over.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. He could hear her breathing, hear the sharp intake of breath that made his heart sink, fearing her disappointment. But when she finally spoke, her voice was soft, kind, and full of the empathy that strengthened his resolve.

“Oh. Oh dear, I’m so sorry.” She sounded heartbroken, but not for herself, not for the canceled plans or the expectations. She was heartbroken for him. “Are you okay?”

“I…I will be,” he whispered, his grip on the counter becoming firmer as he tried to steady himself.

In the background, he heard his father, who had clearly been listening in, exhale what sounded like a sigh of relief, almost as though a tension had finally lifted from the air. And then, there it was—Gunho, chiming in with his usual bluntness.

“I knew there was something off about her,” Gunho muttered, almost under his breath, but loud enough for Yunho to hear.

Yunho let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he turned away from the counter. “She was cheating on me, Gunho,” he called out, no longer wanting to skirt around the truth any longer.

There was a beat of silence before Gunho let out a triumphant, “I knew it! I knew it!” He pumped his arms into the air, feeling vindicated by his gut feeling, as if he had been proven right all along.

His mother shot him a warning glance, and though Yunho couldn’t see it, he could imagine the look she gave his brother. The kind of look that only moms could give, one that silenced even the loudest of siblings.

“Gunho, that’s enough,” she warned gently, but firmly. “This isn’t the time.”

Gunho raised his hands in defense, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Sorry, just…you know, I’m glad you’re out of that mess.”

“I’m just glad you’re going to be okay,” his dad said, his voice filled with the unwavering support he always offered. “Your mom and I are here for you, no matter what. Don’t worry about the wedding or the guests. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

A small, grateful smile tugged at Yunho’s lips. “Thanks, Dad. I still plan on calling everyone and let them know. It’s only fair that they hear it from me. I appreciate it. Really.”

“Take your time,” his mom added, her voice full of the love he’d grown up with. “We’re here if you need anything.”

“I know,” he said, feeling a little lighter for the first time in weeks. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Yunho.”

Yunho retreated into his room and sprawled across his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The chaos of the evening with Haewon’s betrayal was already starting to blur. For the first time in what felt like ages, he wasn’t drowning in a sea of overwhelming emotions.

He reached for the plush, his fingers gently brushing over its soft fur. You had imbued it with a protection spell, one that hummed quietly with your magic like a heartbeat under his touch. As Yunho clutched the toy to his chest, a quiet sense of calm began to settle over him. The tension in his muscles began to ease, the ache in his heart dulled just enough to breathe a little easier. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—something so simple, so comforting.

Something from you.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he held the plush tighter. His thoughts drifted, and in that quiet moment, he imagined you there, sitting beside him like you had so many times before.

“Yunho,” you called softly, pulling him from his sleep. The mattress dipped as you settled beside him, running your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, his hand reached out, fingers instinctively finding the curve of your waist. His touch brushed lightly against your skin, as if his hands had never forgotten the feel of you, the way you fit perfectly into his grasp.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his. His breath caught, the warmth of your presence enveloping him as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. His large hands gently but firmly guided you beneath him, as if this was the way things had always been, and always should be. Every inch of his body craved to be closer to you, yet the peace of the moment kept the need slow and steady.

His hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of your cheek. The kiss lingered, sweet and unhurried, filled with a peace he hadn’t known in years. He rested his forehead against yours, the steady rise and fall of your chest in perfect rhythm with his. Everything he’d ever wanted to say was right here, in the way you fit so perfectly against him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Yunho felt whole.

As the dream began to blur at the edges, a weight suddenly pressed against his chest. At first, he tried to ignore it, clinging to the last traces of you. But the weight grew heavier, pulling him out of the dream’s gentle haze. His brows furrowed in confusion as your image began to fade, replaced by...something unwelcome.

His eyes fluttered open, and instead of your face, he was greeted by the smug, all-too-familiar stare of Wooyoung. The black cat sat perched on his chest, tail flicking lazily, like he hadn’t just ruined the most peaceful moment Yunho had experienced in months.

What the...?

"Wooyoung?!" Yunho’s voice shot up an octave as he realized who, or rather what, was perched on him. “How did you get in here!?”

Wooyoung yawned lazily, like waking up on top of Yunho was the most natural thing in the world. He stretched, paws extending directly onto Yunho’s face, effectively muffling any further protests.

"I have my ways," the cat replied with a casual yawn, stretching lazily on Yunho’s chest. “It was getting boring without you around back in Gwangju."

Yunho glared up at the talking cat, trying and failing to push him off. "It’s only been a day! You broke into my apartment because you were bored?"

“You’re my favorite human to torment,” Wooyoung purred, stretching languidly as if Yunho hadn’t just accused him of trespassing. “Besides,” he added, his voice taking on a teasing lilt, “you’ve got my master pacing around like some lovesick heroine.”

You were waiting for him? The image of you, lingering in the emporium, checking the door every time it creaked, hoping it would be him made his heart ache in the best possible way. His gaze dropped to his lap, cheeks burning as he tried to shake off the feeling. It was too much to handle at once, but he couldn’t help the excitement that bloomed in his chest at the thought of seeing you again.

Yunho shifted awkwardly, suddenly hyper aware of Wooyoung’s smug expression as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced over, Haewon’s name lighting up the screen for what felt like the hundredth time since last night. His jaw clenched, tension creeping into his posture, but he made no move to pick it up.

"You gonna get that?" Wooyoung asked from his spot on the bed, his voice filled with an annoying amount of curiosity.

Yunho groaned, rubbing his temples. "No."

The phone buzzed again, this time with a text notification. And then another.

Wooyoung tilted his head, watching as Yunho stared at the phone like it was something toxic. "She's been calling and texting a lot, you know."

"I know." Yunho sat up in bed, running a hand through his tousled hair, the weight of last night’s events sinking in.

“I mean, considering you caught her cheating, it’s kinda impressive she’s so persistent. She’s either really guilty or really shameless. My money’s on the latter."

“Not helping. And how did you know?”

Wooyoung stretched lazily, as though the weight of Yunho’s glare slid right off him. “I’m a magical being, I know everything,” he purred, rolling around in the sheets like he owned them. “So, what’re your plans for today?”

Yunho stared at the ceiling for a moment, the silence stretching out between them. What were his plans? Quit his job, contact more people to tell them the wedding is off, and then find the emporium.

“I’m turning in my letter of resignation,” Yunho said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. The weight of the admission hit him immediately, but along with it came a sense of relief, a flicker of light in the fog that had clouded his thoughts for so long. “I still have people to call to tell them the wedding is off.”

It was one thing to end things with Haewon, to walk away from their relationship, but the reality of breaking the news to everyone—their friends and colleagues—was a whole different kind of burden.

“Well, great! Where do we start?” Wooyoung chirped, his bright eyes gleaming with interest. Of course, Wooyoung would treat this like an exciting adventure. To him, everything was an opportunity for chaos and meddling.

Yunho groaned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his hands rubbing over his face as he tried to summon the energy to tackle the day. “No, you’re not going to help,” he muttered, his voice muffled behind his palms.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed mischievously as he sat up straight, clearly ready to argue. “Why not? I can use my magic to impersonate you and call people while you’re at work. What’s the password to your email?”

Yunho shot him a glare. “Absolutely not.”

“Just think how easy it’d be! I could save you hours of awkward conversations!”

⋆

Yunho stood outside the towering glass building of KQ Bank, his heart pounding in his chest. He had worked here right out of college, climbing the corporate ladder, meeting expectations, playing his part in one of the largest financial firms in Seoul. But as he held the sealed envelope in his hand, he realized that none of it mattered anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Yunho adjusted his tie and walked through the revolving doors, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors of the lobby. The interior was as imposing as the outside—high ceilings, spotless glass walls, and cold, corporate lighting that gave everything a sharp edge.

The elevator doors slid open, and Yunho stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. His boss’s office. He leaned back against the wall, watching the numbers climb, and tried to settle his racing thoughts. The familiar ding of each floor was oddly comforting, a small rhythm in the chaos of his mind.

His hand tightened around the envelope as he approached the door, the crisp paper crumpling slightly under his grip. With a deep breath, he knocked twice, his knuckles tapping softly against the glass.

“Come in,” a deep voice called from inside.

Yunho opened the door and stepped into the room, immediately met by the sight of his boss, Mr. Park, sitting behind a wide mahogany desk. Mr. Park’s sharp eyes locked onto Yunho the moment he entered, their intensity making his stomach twist.

He had always admired Mr. Park’s work ethic, his drive, and the way he commanded respect without uttering a single word. Yet now, as he stood there with the envelope weighing heavily in his hand, he felt a strange sense of detachment from the man who had once been a mentor.

“Yunho,” Mr. Park said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. Is everything alright?”

Yunho swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as a lump formed in his throat. He crossed the room, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that absorbed the tension in the air. With a steady hand, he extended the envelope toward Mr. Park, feeling the weight of it shift as he passed it over.

“What’s this?” Mr. Park asked, his tone shifting from curiosity to mild concern as he took the envelope and slid it open. He unfolded the letter inside, his eyes scanning the words, and Yunho could almost feel the moment his boss realized what it was.

Mr. Park looked up, his expression unreadable, the sharp lines of his face revealing nothing. “Your resignation?” he asked, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of disbelief.

“Yes, sir. I’m stepping down.”

Mr. Park leaned back in his chair, the weight of the letter resting on the desk between them. He crossed his arms, his fingers drumming lightly against his bicep as he studied Yunho with an intensity that made him squirm.

“I have to say, this is unexpected,” he said finally, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been with us for years. Why now?”

“I know this may seem sudden, and I can understand if you’re disappointed. But I truly believe this is the right step for me,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve given everything I have to this role, and while I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had here, I’ve made the decision to step away.”

Mr. Park’s brow furrowed, concern flickering across his features. “Yunho, if you’re burnt out, we can talk about a sabbatical or time off. There’s no need to make any rash decisions.”

“I appreciate that,” Yunho replied, his voice steady despite the emotional turmoil brewing within. He felt a genuine gratitude toward Mr. Park for his concern, knowing that such care wasn’t common in their world. “But I need to pursue a path that feels right for me, professionally. And I…believe that’s outside of finance.”

For a moment Mr. Park was silent, studying Yunho with a kind of thoughtful intensity. Then, he nodded slowly, the leather of his chair creaking as he shifted slightly forward.

"It takes courage to step away from something stable and familiar," Mr. Park said, a hint of admiration in his voice as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a rare talent, and you will be missed. Just remember, the door is always open for you.”

The usual sounds of the office—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, distant conversations—seemed to fade, leaving a stillness between them. It was as though the world outside the glass walls had quieted, recognizing the significance of this farewell.

Yunho’s hands clasped together briefly, before bowing deeply. "Thank you, sir," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "For everything."

Yunho stood outside the park, his eyes squinting against the late afternoon sun as shadows crept along the pavement. The past few days had been a blur—his resignation from work, the finality of ending his engagement. Yet, despite everything, the weight of it hadn’t fully sunk in.

The park was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children. Haewon sat on a bench, her shoulders slightly hunched, and her once-vibrant smile dulled by the truth that had unraveled between them. Guilt seemed to cling to her, casting a shadow over her usual brightness.

With a deep breath, Yunho approached, the gravel crunching under his shoes. She noticed him and stood up from her seat on the bench, each step bringing her closer to something she’d been dreading.

“Yunho,” she said softly, rising to meet him. Her voice wavered with uncertainty, as if she couldn’t quite believe this moment had finally arrived.

“Haewon,” he replied, his tone flat but steady. He sat next to her, the distance between them feeling greater than ever. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of everything they had left unsaid looming over them.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet,” Haewon finally broke the silence, though her voice trembled with doubt. She dropped her gaze, to her hands. “I... I told my parents the engagement was off. I came clean to them about the affair and they were upset…disappointed.”

“And what about you?” he asked, the words sharper than intended. “Are you upset?”

She was surprised by the bite in his words, but Yunho didn’t care. He wasn’t here to comfort her. “I never meant for it to happen like this,” she stammered, her voice weaker than before. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Yunho—”

“But you did,” he cut in, his tone icy but devoid of malice.

Haewon blinked, tears welling in her eyes, but Yunho wasn’t moved. He had been drowning in his own misery for too long to feel pity now. Finally, after a long pause, Haewon whispered, “I did love you, Yunho. With all my heart.” Her voice wavered as the tears spilled over.

“But... but you were drifting away, and I—I didn’t know how to reach you anymore. I didn’t know how to get you back.”

“You cheated on me, and I’m supposed to believe it was because I wasn’t present enough? Do you even hear yourself?”

“I’m not excusing what I did. I know I was wrong, Yunho. But things changed between us, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I was lonely, and...and Sungjae—”

“You had a choice,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “You could have talked to me. You could have told me you were unhappy, that things were falling apart. But instead, you chose to betray me. You chose him.”

Haewon’s lip quivered, her eyes widening in shock as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, to offer an excuse or an apology, but Yunho wasn’t done.

“How long?”

She dropped her gaze to the ground, as though it could shield her from the truth she could no longer hide. Her fingers twisted together nervously in her lap, her breath shaky as the silence stretched out painfully. But Yunho’s patience had run dry.

“Haewon,” he said, his voice cold, barely restrained as he forced her name through clenched teeth. “Tell me the truth. How. Long?”

Haewon’s shoulders slumped as the fight left her. She took a deep breath, her voice barely audible as she replied.

“It started after Y/N disappeared.”

Yunho froze, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to process her words. Three years. For three years, the person he thought he was building a future with, the supposed love of his life, had been betraying him. The revelation was heavy, crushing the air in his lungs.

“How could you do this to me for that long and say nothing?”

Haewon wiped at her tears furiously, her face crumpling under the weight of his accusation. “I was grieving!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation.

“You shut me out, Yunho. You were so distant after Y/N disappeared. I didn’t know how to reach you, I didn’t know what to do, so yes, I made a mistake, but I—”

“Don’t use Y/N as an excuse! This is on you. You didn’t just make a mistake, Haewon. You made a choice. For three years, you had an affair with someone you know I had no trust in!” he gritted.

She sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. But Yunho wasn’t moved by her tears. Not this time. Not after everything he’d just learned.

“I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” Haewon whispered between sobs, her voice fragile and broken. “I wanted to end it, but I just didn’t know how!”

“With Sungjae?” Yunho’s voice was sharp, almost demanding. He had known for some time now—maybe longer than he was willing to admit—that she wasn’t just caught between them. “Or with me?” he pressed, his gaze piercing as he awaited her response.

Haewon shook her head, her tears falling freely now. She bit her lip, struggling to find the words that had been lodged deep in her throat for so long.

“With you,” she finally admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you. I thought if I stayed long enough, maybe it would work.”

For so long, Yunho had tried to keep everything together—tried to forgive, tried to understand—but this was different. This was too much. He had always been the one who tried to fix things. The one who swallowed his hurt, who believed that if he worked hard enough, they could still have a future together. He had convinced himself that they were building something, even when it felt like they were falling apart. But now? Now, the truth was staring him in the face, ugly and undeniable.

He looked at Haewon, the woman he had once loved so deeply, and now she stood before him confessing that she had been ready to walk away long before he even knew.

“You should’ve just told me,” Yunho replied, his voice devoid of emotion, flat and distant, like the warmth had drained out of him entirely. “I would’ve let you go.”

He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t angry in the way he had been moments before. Instead, there was a hollowness to his voice—a weariness that came from realizing that everything he had fought for was already gone.

“We’ve both changed too much to go back to how things were,” he sighed, rising slowly from the bench, the wood creaking under the shift of his weight. His movements mechanical, as he slipped his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground for a moment before straightening his shoulders.

Haewon’s lips parted as if to protest, but she couldn’t find the words. Deep down, she knew he was right. They had both changed, in ways neither of them could have foreseen. And no matter how much she wished she could turn back time, she couldn’t undo what she had done. She couldn’t undo the choices she had made.

“I’m sorry,” Haewon whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Yunho met her gaze, his expression softening for just a moment. “I know,” he said quietly. “But sorry doesn’t change anything.”

He glanced down at her one last time, his face unreadable, though Haewon could feel the weight of his emotions passing between them–the sadness, the loss, the undeniable reality that whatever they had shared was gone.

“Take care of yourself, Haewon.”

⋆

Wooyoung stretched out on Seonghwa’s leather sofa, lazily draping one arm over his eyes as he peered through the gaps between his fingers. He watched as Seonghwa toyed with the envelope in his hands, a thin smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t the reaction Wooyoung had expected from the Lord of Death, especially given Yunho’s departure from his team.

“You took Yunho quitting pretty well,” Wooyoung quipped, rolling onto his side, his voice carrying that familiar edge of playful malice. "Or is this your way of hiding the hurt? A cold, dark void where your heart should be?"

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered over to Wooyoung, unamused, before sighing deeply and setting the envelope on his desk. “He was sincere and honest about it. I couldn’t object to it, not when he came to me like that.” His tone was as even as ever, but there was something beneath it, something almost resigned.

“Is the Lord of Death becoming…soft!?” Wooyoung gasped in mock horror. He threw his hands up dramatically, making a show of his supposed shock.

“Aren’t you a familiar overstepping your duties?” His lips twitched in annoyance as he leaned back in his chair.

“You really lit a fire under Yunho’s ass, didn’t you? Always the instigator, always pushing people to their breaking points.” Seonghwa finally remarked, setting the envelope down on the mahogany table beside him.

Wooyoung chuckled, his voice light but laced with something darker beneath the surface. “What can I say? The guy needed a push.”

“A push? I’m surprised Yunho hasn’t pushed you off a cliff by now.”

Wooyoung grinned wider, all teeth and mischief. “Oh, please. He wouldn’t dare. Besides,” he added, “he wouldn’t break Y/N’s heart. I’m her beloved familiar, after all.”

“Her beloved familiar,” Seonghwa scoffed, lips curling into a small, contemplative smirk. “You seem a little too invested in all of this for being just a mere companion, don’t you think?”

“I’m waiting to see what happens next,” he replied coolly, shrugging.

“You mean whether or not she regains her memories,” he murmured, his voice low and weighted with something ominous.

“Well, of course, that’s part of it,” he said, his voice lighter, though there was an undercurrent of unease. “It’s not every day someone erases the memory of their own soulmate, after all. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious how it’ll all play out.”

Wooyoung stood up, his hands sliding into his pockets as he wandered over to the window, staring out at Seoul’s sprawling skyline. The usual mischief in his expression dimmed as the sunlight cast long shadows across the room, and for a moment, he let himself drop the playful facade.

“I believe in them,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a somber edge. “Despite everything, they deserve a chance. Yunho has spent so much time trying to fill a void he doesn’t understand.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Seonghwa.

“And Y/N... even without her memories, she’s always felt like something’s missing. She may not remember him, but part of her knows.”

Seonghwa, leaning back in his chair, remained silent, watching Wooyoung with a measured gaze. He didn’t speak, but his curiosity was evident, as if he was carefully considering the words Wooyoung was stringing together.

"They're soulmates. That kind of bond doesn’t break easily. After all they've experienced over countless lifetimes, they owe it to themselves to find their way back to each other."

Wooyoung smiled, more to himself than to anyone else, the faintest trace of hope in his expression. “Maybe this time, they’ll get it right.”

<< iv | vi >>

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#ateez #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic #modern au #ateez au #magic au #yunho #ateez imagines #yunho angst #forget me not #supernatural au

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mechdyke-after-hours · 2 days

Text

HEAD MEDIC

a ficlet for @cyberrose2001 and @azu-recentbrainrot . this is for u guys. U both infected me with him. I'm gonna sue. >:(

Ratchet/Human!Reader cunnilingus

painfully soft and fluffy compared to my usual writing. mostly just him eating you out until you fall asleep. mech was HUNGRY.

word count: 1,103

Ratchet was a bit of a hardass most of the time, and most people wouldn't deny that. But good god, he was incredible in bed. You'd heard stories about his party ambulance days, even seen photo and video evidence at some point much to your (very aroused) delight. Sure he was a little older and more battle hardened now, but he retained the passion. Not to mention… the battle scars only added to the appeal.

You spent more time than not at the autobot base. The other mechs had become more than accustomed to you at this point, and you'd even consider them all some of your closest friends. But, even though you loved them to pieces, your favourite time was when they were out on missions, or patrol.

It usually took no more than 10 minutes for Ratchet to start gently running his practiced servos over your form, and no more than 15 minutes for his mouth to be on you.

Today was one of those days.

His servos wrapped around your waist, slowly sliding up to caress your chest softly, squeezing the plush flesh softly. You immediately lean into his touches with an affectionate hum.

“Touchy already? It's been less than 5 minutes, you're so impatient…” You turn around so you can glance up into his optics. His usually bright, kind eyes have darkened ever so slightly and he has what can only be described as a cocky smirk on his face.

“I've been waiting cycles to have you all to myself again…” He mumbled, gently lifting you into his arms. Despite having mass displaced, he was still around three feet taller than you. He pressed kisses to your neck as he walked you to his berth, biting your shoulder gently, his dentae leaving a small red mark. You gasp in surprise, biting your lip to hold back a more embarrassing noise. He lets out a soft laugh “Primus… you're so soft and small… and so fragging sensitive.”

The medic laid you on the lightly padded berth, his servos trailing over your body with practiced delicacy. If there was one Cybertronian to trust with your squishy human form, it was Ratchet. Digits pulled at your clothes, fabric being pulled off with surprising urgency. He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

Your underwear were pulled off quickly, the damp fabric gently held between two digits before he slipped it into his subspace with a grin. You couldn't help but blush, and you felt yourself get wetter.

Ratchet's servos gently pushed your thighs apart, a digit trailing up your slick folds to gently ghost over your clit. He used two digits to spread you open, examining the glistening threads with a hum. “Dirty thing… you're absolutely soaked…” He held up his digits, spreading them apart. Strings of fluids practically dripped down his fingers onto the berth below. “and here you were calling me impatient?” He tutted disapprovingly, reaching up to slide his digits between your lips and into your mouth. You let out a shocked gasp, the slightly sweet, bitter and salty taste of your own fluids mixing with the sharp metallic taste of his plating on your tongue.

Ratchet's digits slipped out from your mouth, reaching back between your legs to rub your own saliva against you, before he leaned down to drag his glossa up your folds. Your back arched, one of your hands clasping over your mouth instinctively. His servos wrapped around your thighs, pulling you as close as possible. He moved his glossa against you like your slick was the finest energon.

Your legs clamp around his helm, and he growls. “That's it sweetspark… you taste so good…” His optics flicker as you meet his gaze, and you can feel him smiling against you. His glossa flicks against your clit, and you yelp. He chuckles again, one servo gently kneading your thigh as the other slides up higher. One large metal digit gently teases your opening, slowly inching its way inside. His glossa lapping against your clit the whole time.

His fingers are massive. Even in his mass displaced frame, his servos easily cover your entire abdomen. One of his digits feels like it could easily be the size of two of your own. The stretch isn't painful, but by god is it a stretch. His digit pumps slowly, but skillfully. He hits every spot inside of you with a surgical and practiced precision. You wouldn't be surprised if he mapped out all your sweet spots and kept a guide in his memory bank for times just like this. Which, to be honest, is a very Ratchet thing to do. He was a master of bringing you to your peak almost embarrassingly quickly. The way he looked up at you with that fucking look in his optics was not helping.

Your lower stomach twists, your thigh muscles clenching and twitching. You squeeze your legs around his helm tighter, and you can feel yourself clenching around his digit. You're so close. So painfully close. “H-hah… Ratchet…” You can barely recognise your own voice with how desperate you sound, and he chuckles softly.

“There, there sweet thing… you're taking my digit so well…” He mumbles, curling his finger up just right. His thrusts increase in speed, hitting your g-spot with each movement. His free servo moves up to your abdomen, pressing down slightly in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His engine purrs. “That's right… overload on my glossa for me sweetspark…”

You do just that.

With an embarrassingly loud cry of his name, your thighs wrap around his helm even tighter, to the point you're almost definitely bruised. You grind against his intake entirely unconsciously. He groans as he works you through your orgasm, relishing in the taste of your orgasm against his glossa. Your breathing slowly returns to normal as you relax your legs, trembling slightly. “F-fucking hell…” You curse, pushing the hair out of your face.

He chuckled again, pressing a quick kiss to your slightly overstimulated clit before he pulled away. His derma glistened with a mix of oral lubricants and your own fluids. “Good job, sweetspark. You're always so good for me.” He moved up to lay next to you, pulling you close to his chassis. His engine rumbled softly as he gently petted your hair, rather affectionately.

You were half asleep by the time he slowly stood up from the berth. He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, mumbling something that you couldn't quite hear, before he headed off back to the main room, leaving you to nap peacefully.

#tulip's writing #valveplug #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #ratchet #ratchet x reader #transformers x reader #valveplug x reader

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thesilverscript · 1 day

Text

Hold The Line.

Warnings? Explicit content, smut, and perhaps mild power dynamics. Toto Wolff x Reader. One shot.

Words: 2.339.

You met a few years ago, in those days following Nico Rosberg��s retirement announcement that reverberated through every corner of the paddock.

You were there, in the middle of the chaos, representing a driver who, on paper, seemed like the perfect fit for the seat.

And then, he came along. No soft words, no easy smiles. Just brief glances and calculated phrases.

The first impression? Distant.

Like two strangers meeting in the middle of a storm, instinctively knowing they needed to keep their distance. You didn’t have time to try and please him, and he clearly didn’t care to disguise whatever it was about you that bothered him. It left a mark, not as an insult, but as a question hanging in the air.

An unanswered point.

In the end, the contract went to Bottas — something that didn’t surprise you. There was more than just merit involved in that choice. It was impossible to ignore that Torger was always close, never too far from the process. He knew exactly what he was doing, even if he never said so directly.

The real surprise, however, came afterward. When the frenzy around the negotiations finally settled, it was only then you realized what had truly been left from that dispute. The bad first impression was just a facade, hiding something deeper, something he, no matter how hard he tried, could never fully conceal.

They signed Bottas, but in the end, you walked away with something that was never part of the plan: Torger. A prize that didn’t come through contracts or negotiations, but one that, somehow, was the only result that truly mattered.

Years later, you were already sharing your routines as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You loved your job with the same intensity that he loved his, so even though you could afford to stop, that would never make you happy. It would probably drive you crazy.

And now, with the birth of your daughter, the balance between professional and personal life had become even more important. Life had changed, of course, but between the commitments and sleepless nights, there was something undeniably beautiful about the way you both adapted — together.

But that also meant that, often, you would be separated by time zones. Like now. You’re at home, getting ready for work after dropping off your baby girl at school, while he’s on the other side of the world, in Singapore.

Seven hours apart.

Seven hours that sometimes felt like an abyss, but which you had learned to bridge with quick messages and untimely calls.

As you fixed your hair and chose your outfit, something in the silence made you pause. Facing the mirror, still just in your lingerie, you looked at yourself and thought: why not?

A picture. Something simple, just to remind him of what’s waiting for him when he gets back.

The click was quick, and soon the image was on your phone screen. But before sending it, you paused. You thought about how he always worried about security issues, regulations, privacy. He’d probably complain, as he always did when something seemed out of his control — though there was always a hint of amusement in his complaints.

Toto loved new technologies, especially when they involved big investments and promising startups. But when it came to using them in everyday life? Well, that wasn’t exactly his strong suit. And with that in mind, you almost gave up.

Almost.

But deep down, you knew the reason. It was the longing, simple and inevitable.

So suddenly, you decided: the worst that could happen was him complaining — and complaining, in his case, always came with a smile at the corner of his lips.

With a quick tap, the photo was sent.

You threw your phone in your bag and got back to getting ready. The morning flew by in the blink of an eye, full of commitments that kept your mind off it. When you finally had a moment to check your phone, all you found were a few quick messages about the trivialities of that pre-qualifying Friday.

Okay, you thought. Maybe he was too busy to reply or send an audio. It wasn’t unusual.

The day went on. When you got home, you picked up your little one from school and spent the evening between homework and a simple meal, while she chattered happily about her day. The daily routine with your daughter was a balm, something that grounded you, even in the busiest of weeks. But as the night went on, Toto’s lack of response began to weigh on you.

When she finally fell asleep, you checked your phone again.

Still nothing.

Just brief, trivial messages.

That’s when an uncomfortable feeling settled in. I’m screwed.

Because Toto, in silence, was always more dangerous. When he didn’t say anything, it was worse than any sermon. He was the kind who, with a single look or the subtle arch of an eyebrow, made it clear where the problem lay.

You took a hot shower, letting the water wash away the weight of the day. With the bedroom lights dimmed softly, you grabbed a book to read, trying to calm your mind before bed. The quiet of the house was almost comforting, and soon fatigue began to win. You settled under the covers, and slowly sleep enveloped you.

Until the sudden sound of the phone ringing woke you.

When the screen came into focus, you saw him — Toto, his face slightly shadowed by the soft light of the hotel room. He looked tired, but there was something in his eyes, something warm and constant that always made you feel closer to him, even with the miles that separated you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, absorbing each other’s presence. His image filled your screen, and seeing him, even after so many weeks, made your chest tighten with the familiar longing that had followed you since he left.

His hair was slightly tousled after a long day, but his eyes — those intense and deep eyes — were fixed on you.

“Hi, sweetie,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Hi, schatz,” he replied, the endearment slipping out with affection in his voice. “Sorry I didn’t talk to you earlier. The day was... complicated.”

You chuckled lightly, already familiar with the craziness of race weekends. “I figured. Qualifying’s coming up, right? How are things going over there?”

He sighed, his eyes tired but lightly shining. “Everything’s under control, I think. But I miss home, miss you two.”

The warmth in your chest only grew with his words. “Don’t worry about the little one. She’s doing great. Today she drew something and said it was for you. Of course, I could barely tell what it was, but it was adorable.”

He laughed softly, with that tenderness you’d always loved. “And you said you’d keep it for me, right?”

“Of course, it’s already on the fridge, along with her other artistic scribbles,” you replied with a smile.

Toto’s eyes lingered on you through the screen, and then, almost casually, his voice dropped lower, softer. “That photo you sent me earlier…”

Your heart raced, the tension between you shifting, growing sharper, though his tone remained calm, teasing what you both knew was coming. “Oh?” you tried to play it off, but you already felt the change in the air.

He smiled faintly, that smile that made your whole body react. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he murmured, his eyes darkening slightly as they stayed fixed on yours. “The way… you looked in that photo, it felt like you were teasing me.”

You bit your lip, still trying to keep it light, but your body was already responding to his voice, to the way he looked at you. “Teasing? Me?”

He leaned closer to the camera, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you forget how to breathe for a second. His voice came out low, wrapped in a lazy devotion, but full of need. “Schatz... the way that lingerie hugged you... and that look of yours... It was like you were calling me, asking me to touch you.”

“And if I was?” you teased, barely recognizing your own voice, low and dragged by the desire already pulsing through every part of you.

He let out a low laugh, almost hoarse, and the sound reverberated through you, causing an instant shiver. “Ah, you know how that drives me crazy,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, the mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You knew exactly what that would do to me. I spent the whole day thinking about you, about how that looked on your skin...” He paused, biting his lip lightly before continuing, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “That was for me, wasn’t it?”

Your body was already warm under his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to break through, but you couldn’t hide it completely. “And if it was?” you responded, your voice coming out lower than expected, your eyes challenging his.

He watched you with palpable hunger, his smile growing slowly, his eyes gleaming with pure mischief. “If it was…” he began, but let the sentence hang, leaving you craving more. “You know what I’d do, don’t you? If I were there right now... I’d have taken everything off you, slowly, feeling every bit. Because I want you to feel everything... like I would.”

Your body reacted immediately, the heat growing almost unbearable. Your fingers slowly climbed up to your neck, touching the skin, and a shiver ran through your body like an electric current.

He smiled, satisfied. “Ah, schatz... keep going. Touch your neck for me, slowly... like I would.”

You obeyed without thinking, your fingers sliding over the warm skin, each movement intensifying the desire already consuming you. Your heart raced, and you could almost feel his hands, as if he were there, guiding you.

“That's it... slowly,” he said, his voice hoarse, full of contained pleasure. “Now down... very slowly. Touch your chest...”

You did as he asked, your fingers brushing the sensitive skin until they reached your chest, and a soft sigh escaped your lips. The sensation was almost as if he were there, present. He saw the effect he had on you, and it only made him smile more.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice in a low, satisfied tone, but still he kept control. “Now... lower. Very... slowly.”

The temperature in your body rose, the desire burning inside. Your fingers moved down, caressing the skin until they finally reached the most sensitive spot. You let out a soft moan, and your eyes closed for a second, losing yourself in the sensation.

“Don’t close your eyes, schatz,” he commanded, his voice firm, but wrapped in dangerous tenderness. “I want you to look at me... I need to see every second of this.”

Your body trembled as you opened your eyes, the two of you connecting through the screen, and the desire between you only grew. The tension was palpable, each second prolonging the sweet agony. “Now... one finger. Very slowly.”

You did as he asked, your fingers gently brushing over your slit, and your whole body responded, a deeper moan escaping your lips. He watched closely, his eyes gleaming, but still maintaining control.

“That’s it... slowly,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, but filled with a force that pulled you deeper into the desire. “You know how I would do it, don’t you? I’d touch you like this... slowly... until you couldn’t take it anymore.”

You felt your body vibrate, your heart racing, your nerves on edge. “Toto… please…” you moaned, unable to hold back anymore.

His smile widened, predatory, but with a sweetness that made everything even more torturous. “Ah, schatz, you know I love it when you beg.” He paused, his eyes fixed on yours, and you could almost feel his tongue sliding over the words. “But not yet. I want you like this... a little longer.”

Pleasure mixed with frustration, and you felt like your body was about to explode, but he controlled every inch of your desire.

“Two fingers now,” he ordered, his voice low, filled with authority, but still sweet. “Slowly.”

You followed, your fingers moving gently, but the growing pleasure was almost unbearable. He kept you on the edge, always there, but never letting you reach where you wanted.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his tone teasing. “I know you want more... but I also know you love it when I leave you like this. Trapped in this desire.” He smiled, full of power. “Now... stop.”

Shock ran through your body, and you trembled, the frustration and desire mixing in an almost painful way. “Toto... no...” you tried to protest, but your voice failed.

He chuckled softly, that low laugh that made your skin tingle. “I said stop,” he repeated, his tone firm, but with a softness that was almost cruel. “You’re going to wait for me... you’re not going to touch yourself. You’ll stay like this... thinking of me. And I know you’ll obey, because you have this thing for me, don’t you?”

Your body still trembled, your breathing erratic, but all you could do was nod, desperate. He smiled, satisfied, with that quiet confidence that kept you hooked on him.

“Goodnight, schatz,” he said, his voice low, but firm, with that smile that made your heart race. “I love you.” And then, he turned off the screen, leaving you alone, still on the edge, the desire burning with no relief in sight.

You let the phone fall beside you on the bed.

Turning your face into the pillow, you hit the bed with your fist, frustrated, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, remembering exactly who you were dealing with.

Damn, fuck.

Now there was no doubt. You were completely screwed.

Inspired by: I was listening to Hold The Line by Toto (😌) on loop and thought: Why not?

#toto wolff #totowolff #toto wolff one shot #toto wolff x reader #fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #toto wolff smut #mysilverscript #toto wolff fanfic #formula 1 fanfic

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the-artist-grimm · 7 hours

Text

Closeup plus basic notes of the lamb's room from my Starfall comic! Anthea's got a room in the attic of the temple

Also extra notes! Placing under Read More just to keep things tidy

The One Who Waits Alter

Anthea started worshipping TOWW shortly after entering Ratau's care. The rat hadn't exactly planned on telling his freshly orphaned, somewhat traumatized ward that their new guardian was previously a cult leader, but Anthea discovered some of his old books on the lost 5th Bishop of Death one day and Ratau was left little choice but to explain. The book was an exact copy of an extremely old, likely from right before Narinder was imprisoned, text that depicted the god of death as a kind, patient being, which for the lamb whose family had died in the most violent way possible quickly became a comfort. It contrasted Ratau's own memories of a somewhat more reserved, stern god, but since it made Anthea happier he decided to let it be. Anthea hasn't missed a nightly prayer ever since, and still does it before bed despite now having direct access to the god himself. The layout was one they read from that old book, which stated that a pentagram wreath was to hang between an evenly divided four candles. Unwritten however was the reasoning-the center was Death, and on either side his siblings who ruled over Life. They were meant to be lit in honor of the siblings who took care of the mortals Narinder would eventually receive after death.

Stars and Starmap

Back when he was still alive the lamb's father, Aries, would take Anthea with him on supply runs knowing they didn't get much one on one time otherwise with their younger siblings around. They'd sometimes be out overnight so the two would go stargazing, and its something the lamb still holds dear. Their original copy of the book, 'A Story of Stars' was one of his last gifts to them which even while he was alive Anthea was super careful with it since books are hard to get, but their brothers kinda colored all over it while Anthea was out gathering supplies shortly after his death one time. The lamb played it off and shared with them after as a 'oh they're little and just miss dad its ok' type of thing, but it was kinda reluctantly, with them being secretly upset about it whenever they saw scribbles all over their favorite illustrations while reading to the kids. It burned with their old life, and now Anthea would give anything to have those scribbled pages back.

Sleep Potions and Herbs

The lamb suffers from sleep problems and often brews their own remedies. They know not to take them often since they're kinda really strong-like once they kick in they literally just pass out, but they keep them around for when nightmares get bad. They know a few other remedies from Flinky, since he used to double as both Ratau's right hand and cult medic. Antidotes, pain tonics, basic essentials for when you don't have a doctor.

The Crown

Gonna make a silly doodle comic but after an uh...awkward incident with Narinder calling the lamb while they were dressing one morning the two made a deal in regards to his being able to see through the crown-if the crown is off and facing a wall it means the lamb needs privacy and he's to try again later or until they call back unless told otherwise. Look he may be a bit of a grumpy god but Shamura raised at least one brother to be a gentleman lol

Hope Chest

In sheep culture weaving/knitting with wool was a huge thing, especially for ewes, like most learned from the time they could walk from their mothers. After coming of age most would start keeping a chest they'd gradually fill with handmade linens, blankets, ect. for their future homes after marriage, and it was something Ratau encouraged Anthea to do since he didn't want them to just drop their culture. They still got a loom over at his place since it's hard to move, though they do have knitting needles in the chest.

Books

Books are somewhat hard to come by if you're not in one of the Bishops' cults where they have scribes so Anthea tends to collect any and all they find

Ratau's Family Crest

Given to the lamb on their 18th birthday. Rats have family crests tattooed onto their foreheads at 18, and since he'd essentially adopted Anthea Ratau thought it was fitting to give them something similar but not permanent. It fell off during their execution, but they made sure to go back and grab it after downing the heretics that attacked after resurrection. They still wear it now under their tunic

#cotl #cotl lamb #cotl fanart #sketch #my art #crimson angel au #anthea

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stagefoureddiediaz · 2 days

Text

what if we've missed some major Eddie foreshadowing???

What if we all followed the red herring and missed a massive clue the show has given us about Eddies arc?! I'm going back to season 7 - 7x05 to be exact and the conversation Eddie has with Marisol when he gets back from Bucks.

The scene plays out like this;

Marisol: I should have told you, about the nun thing. Eddie: Why didn't you? Marisol: Because no man has ever looked at me the same after he found out. There's two types of guys, the ones that get freaked out by it and the ones who get a little too into it. Eddie: Maybe theres a third? The kind of guy who just needs a minute. Marisol: You don't need to slow walk it. If you're not ready for this... Eddie: Yeah. I don't think I am. Yet. so here's something you don't know about me. This moving too fast. I do it a lot. I just go with my gut and let my head catch up later.

Obviously the literal meaning is obvious - the reality of relationships as experienced when something that has been kept secret is revealed. The meaning of the words said can be taken at face value but thats doesn't have to be the only meaning and fandom explored the subtext.

Now I don't think our theorising about the subtext of Eddies storyline in that episode and that scene being about catholic guilt and it setting up Eddie's reckoning with the catholic faith is wrong - I think it very much is about that. But what if there is a second subtextual meaning hidden underneath the catholic guilt and the set up for a catholic faith arc. One that is part of that catholic faith and Eddie arc, but is also its own thing separate from it?!

I know I always read those lines and the idea of a third guy being a play on the idea of people falling into three categories - religious, agnostic or atheist. The third guy being the agnostic as it sits in the middle of that spectrum. Eddie sees himself as catholic and therefore religious. Even though he is lapsed and therefore agnostic is something he hasn't really grasped about himself because he hasn't needed to. until now.

The conversation preceding the Eddie-Marisol conversation above is also really key for this scene - because it sets up the idea of a third way. There is plenty of subtext and metaphors in that scene - Eddie not wanting to go home is a metaphor for the house of god - the church. Eddie at this point in the scene thinks his only options are to go home - to religion - to be fully practicing, or to not return at all - become atheist. Buck revealing he and Tommy were on a date is a metaphor for the third way - agnostic.

This is still a valid way to view the meaning of the scene and sets up Eddies arc for the rest of the season and going into season 8 really well.

But...

The Eddie - Marisol conversation takes place immediately after Eddie’s chat with Buck - when Buck comes out as bi and Eddie says nothing is going to change between them. A loaded line that make it clear that things have already changed between them and that they will continue to do so.

What if it’s also a metaphor for sex in a more literal sense.

'The ones who get a little too into it' are the ones who enjoy and have sex regularly (we're shown and told that is who Marisol is in this episode multiple times) - we'll use hypersexual as the term here

'the ones who get freaked out by it' are not interested in/ don't want or need sex and don't have it - are ace.

Those are the only two guys Marisol describes and that is key. It is Eddie who suggests a third way and describes what that third way is - 'The guy who just needs a minute' - doing this means that this is who he is - he is the third way which is a metaphor for demi sexuality - needing a minute is short hand for needing a connection - needing a bit of time to build up that connection that then allows sex to become part of the conversation. It’s foreshadowing- hinting at Eddie’s demi-sexuality and setting up his s8 arc.

Eddie also talks in that scene about really getting to know each other, that line works on all the various levels of subtext as well - Marisol gives eddie that minute and they are shown 'getting to know each other better' getting to know each other better is also a reference to the idea of Eddie seeking out religion again and getting to know that aspect better but it also plays into the idea of demi-sexual Eddie. Him getting to know himself better and not going with his gut without paying attention to his brain. Figuring out that giving himself that time to see if sexual attraction does develop - rather than starting out with sex early on and then panicking when it doesn't.

This plays into what happens later in season 7 with Kim - it gives him the parallel of Shannon - who he was friends with first - which is why he had sexual attraction to her when their friendship turned romantic. Things with Marisol are not following the same pattern - he isn't finding that connection with her. But he's still learning and figuring things out so when he comes across a doppelgänger of Shannon it allows him to test things out further on that front and not just the not being having let Shannon go of it all.

The fact we see nothing remotely sexual for Eddie in the rest of the season with Marisol, and the decision of the show to go with Eddie hugging Kim rather than kissing her along with the Adam and Eve and snake imagery we get with Kim (her hair is up in a snake knot bun) is really interesting.

Whilst the time we see him spend with Kim can be read as being dates (which is the intention and technically what they are) they can also be read another way because of the lack of romance and sex we see when it comes to Marisol. Marisol is the representation of the church - of catholicism. Kim is the opposite end of the spectrum - she is atheism which is why she has the snake knot bun and the leather outfit and also the dark lighting. she is the snake in the garden of eden tempting Eve (Eddie) to eat the apple. If they had kissed in the later scene then it would have represented him eating the apple - him not doing so means he didn't - that he resisted temptation where Eve did not. Its the play on the religious meaning, but its also a play on the sexual spectrum meaning as well - catholicism v atheism v agnostic.

Buck is very heavily connected to all of this narrative. not only because of the scene preceding the scene about three types of guy, but also because it is him Eddie drops Chris off with before he sees Kim and he is the person Eddie opens up to about Kim. He is always the middle ground. He is the representation of agnosticism in the religious subtext and demi-sexuality in the sexual subtext (what Bucks position on the sexual spectrum is is irrelevant - he represents the connection needed to feel sexual attraction in this context)

There is a third subtextual reading as well (again a subtext that is foreshadowing) - that has only become more clear as we've started season 8. They do like their threes in connection with Buck and Eddie!!

Eddie is going to reckon with/seek advice from the church - so he is going to explore his faith which sets up another 3 way situation- this time it’s the religious agnostic and atheist metaphor from a sexuality standpoint- religious = straight - heteronormative, agnostic = bi and atheist is gay - the opposite of heterosexual!

Eddie won’t need the third way here (or maybe he will - perhaps the show is going to make Eddie Demi and bi - it would be kind of amazing rep if they did. Or maybe Eddie is going to to be Demi and bi initially because he thinks that’s what he is because of Shannon, Ana and Marisol but will ultimately figure out he’s gay when he is shunned by the church for dating a man (metaphorically speaking - it is his parents who would most likely be the representation of this!)

I don't know how this became so long and how it went off on a tangent I didn't mean it to but here we are welcome to my brain 😂😂😂

#I really don't know what my brain is on right now but it is coming up with all so many theories abut things!!#expect more mad posts from me in the next few days!#911 spoilers #eddie diaz #911 abc #demi eddie #the show likes to do this - the layered subtext that only becomes obvious after the event #911 speculation #the audhd is audhd-ing!!

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tgmsunmontue · 3 days

Text

Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 9/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT

NINE

He wakes up early, but the bed is sans Jake Seresin. Hopefully he didn’t kick him or whack him in the face during the night, he’s not used to sharing a bed. Either way, he feels well rested and heads for the shower, hanging his uniform up and hoping the steam will help. It’s got fantastic pressure, which is what he’d expect for Ice, he’s always been particular about his showers. He pulls on his jeans, not bothering with anything more than a white tank, he’s going to need to iron his uniform, the steam not even having any effect on the worst of the creases. He’s a little bummed that he’s going to have to pull on his uniform not even a week into his leave, but balanced against the fact that he now knows for certain his car is a Transformer it’s a small price to pay.

He shouldn’t be surprised when he walks into the kitchen and Ice gestures toward the garage with his cup of coffee. He pours a cup for himself and heads in the general direction Ice have indicated. He finds Bronco, Dustdrift and Ninja all lounging around in a circle with Mav talking to them; Jake is there as well, eyes wide and mouth split in a grin as he follows their conversation. Bronco looks funny, sitting like a toddler with his legs bent underneath him but he also doesn’t seem as angry or upset so he walks in and settles down beside him.

“Morning…”

“Dustdrift is pretty sure that Jetfire’s wings are two days travel north of here. We can go and pick them up after out meeting this morning!” Jake says, and Bradley raises an eyebrow, looks to where Ice is standing in the doorway watching them all with a twist to his lips.

“Let’s see what the meeting brings about hmm? I imagine the US Navy can probably manage picking up some wings and transporting them here.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it…” Mav mutters, winking at him and Jake.

… … …

Unlike with Maverick, he doesn’t have to chivy either Bradley or Jake along. They’re both presentable and ready to leave well before Tom actually wants to depart, leaving him yelling at Mav to hurry the fuck up. He tries to ignore Bradley’s eyeroll and smirk, because it hurts a little to have almost a decade of time lost between them. They used to share those looks about Mav when Bradley was a teenager and seeing it now makes his heart ache.

Finally, Mav is ready, looking disgruntled about having to wear his service uniform but he still looks good and when Mav catches him looking he grins and shoots him a wink. It’s a good thing he did tell Seresin about the status of their relationship, anyone with two eyes and a slightly less-than-straight view of the world would see what there is between him and Mav. Fortunately for them most of their peers and superiors are oblivious, or, definitely in some cases, simply turn a blind eye.

“I’ll drive,” Tom says, and they all follow him out to his car. He stands there looking at it, wonders if his boring beige sedan is suddenly going to come to life. It’s going to take him a while to not expect everything to have a hidden second-form. Hound is also parked just out in the street, and if a car could look insolent it would look like Hound in that instant. He suspects today is going to be a challenging day.

“It’s just a car,” Dustdrift says, and their voice is scratchy sounding and Tom thinks it may be the first time he’s heard them speak, but it’s also a relief to know that he’s been in control of his car this entire time and not just had the illusion of control. He doesn’t think he would take it anywhere near as well as both Bradley and Maverick have regarding their favorite modes of transportation.

“I’m not leaving Bronco here.”

The look of relief on the blue trucks face is immense and Tom shrugs. Technically he cannot order the Transformers to do anything, not as far as he understands it. There is an unwritten memorandum, and as he understands it the human race is only alive because a particular faction of Transformers seem to prefer them that way.

“Fine. You and Seresin in Bronco, I’ll go in Hound and Mav, you’re driving my car.”

“Uh, why do we need all three vehicles? Can’t I take Ninja?”

“We can’t let Hound or Bronco just drive up to the gate without drivers!” Tom snaps, and of course Mav’s eyes go wide with delight.

“Why not? Wouldn’t it be great?”

“No! We’re meant to be keeping their existence a secret, not turning it into material to prank people.”

“You spoil all my fun…”

Tom knows half of what Mav says he does simply to wind Tom up and get a reaction, but some days he wishes he could have a more peaceful existence. He knows he’d get bored far too quickly and dismisses the thought usually within seconds, but today he just has the additional worry of something going a certain way which he had never thought was possible. Having Mav know about Transformers is one thing, but to also have Bradley and somehow another young man drawn into it makes the weight of responsibility feel unbearably heavy. He really hopes there is someone higher up he can pass it on to, but is also smart enough to know it’s unlikely, not with his friendship with Mav and relationship with Bradley. They’re going to want him involved in some way at least, even if any final decisions won’t be his because of his potential emotional investment.

… … …

Sunday morning and he’s up early enough to be going to church with his family, and instead he’s on the other side of America, dressed in Admiral Kazansky’s old khakis and pretty sure he’s about to be indoctrinated into something much higher level than he ever expected, especially given his age and rank. He’s thrumming with nerves and excitement, no idea how or why Bradley seems so calm, although he supposes he’s grown up surrounded by all this, so maybe there isn’t the additional novelty factor for him.

Hound had driven into a specific hangar, the doors opening and closing behind him automatically. Admiral Kazansky’s sedan looks so mundane in the space, and he can tell Captain Mitchell was itching to run around and check everything out and Jake can’t blame him. Wants to do the same and only his training keeping him tightly in control. He follows after Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell, down corridors lined with photos and Bradley is at his side, cool as a cucumber and Jake tries to imitate him.

“Gentlemen. Welcome.”

Jake swallows, suddenly very aware that he is by far the lowest rank and also the youngest in the room. There are another eight Admirals of differing levels, and then the fucking Secretary of Defense is there, and he notes even Bradley’s steps falter. Holy shit. This is big. He already knew it was, but this is the proof and he wonders if he’s going to meet the president. Because this is something the president would know about. He follows the instruction to sit and then listens as they all talk, and he tries to follow the conversation.

What he quickly learns is that Cain is an asshole and that there are two camps of belief in the room that are being voiced. One that the Transformers should be subservient and do what they, the humans, want. Jake thinks that is laughable but keeps his mouth shut. Then there is the second camp who think that they have a partnership, are allies, with the Transformers. And okay, Jake thinks that’s more plausible at least better than the first.

However he thinks he might need to set up a third camp, where he, as a human, knows about Transformers only by their grace and any relationship they have is not based on how useful they are to each other. At least he doesn’t think so. Sure, Starscream definitely only tolerated Jake in the beginning because he was useful to him, said he’d help find Jetfire’s parts and help rebuild him, or find people that could. He feels it’s shifted a little, suspects that Starscream doesn’t exactly have a lot of experience with humans; he’s seen Bronco and Sally and Ninja now and they’ve got deep loyal streaks and it’s not entrenched in military orders at all. In fact, with Sally and Ninja he’d go so far that they like Maverick because he’s so averse to following orders. It’s something of a revelation.

“May I ask a question?” Bradley asks, and Jake has missed the last little bit of discussion and is annoyed at himself. Then Bradley simply goes ahead, clearly feeling like he’s immune to anything they could say or do and… holy shit. He guesses they sort of are. “Why are we deciding on anything when the other party who has to agree isn’t present?”

“The leader of the Autobots is going to be meeting us at the airstrip. We need to provide a united front.”

Captain Mitchell snorts and doesn’t even try to look apologetic. Admiral Cain looks annoyed simply by the fact that Captain Mitchell and Admiral Kazansky are there and he wonders if there’s a history there; scorned lover or power struggle.

“With all due respect sir, what weight do our wishes have here? We could all decide to retire from the service as soon as our current posting finishes.”

Jake slides his eyes to Bradley and then to Admiral Kazansky, because Captain Mitchell has a point, but it somehow also sounds like a threat. He doesn’t want to leave the Navy, however if they ground him? Then what’s the point? He wants to fly.

… … …

“We have a research base located in Fallon, which suits our cover story, which is that we’re sending the both of you to Top Gun. Along with Captain Mitchell. There is also some other training which isn’t so well known about which aligns with your interests.”

“A research base?”

“Where we work on understanding the Cybertron technology more in-depth.”

Bradley frowns, wonders why they simply don’t ask if it’s all meant to be a reciprocal relationship, and a quick glance shows him Mav is thinking the same thing. Ice looks almost bored, his face difficult to read in this type of context, closed off and serious. Jake is looking skeptical which is reassuring, he hopes they’re on the same page at least.

“Of course we want to utilize your skillsets for as long as you’re willing to share them with us…”

“Our what? Sir," Mav asks, the sir tacked on like an afterthought and god Bradley loves and hates him.

“Clearly there is something about the three of you which draws Transformers to you, we’d be interested to see if that is biological or –”

“You want to run tests on them?” Ice asks, his voice cold and dripping disdain and huh, this might be part of why he has the callsign he does.

“If we refuse?” Mav asks, his eyes narrowed, and Bradley is glad they’re both asking, because he feels like this is a dangerous area to start arguing with his superiors. Ice and Mav will both ensure anything that is proposed is above board and he’s so glad that they’re there right now.

“Everything is completely voluntary.”

Bradley holds back a groan, because that’s like saying breathing is voluntary, and they can stop any time.

#Caring Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide #hangster #Top Gun Maverick #AU #TF and TGM crossover

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jinisnuggets · 2 days

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✧.* 11 𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘

PAIRINGS | Vampire! Killer! Sunwoo x Cryptozoologists! Fem! Reader

GENRE | Vampire Au, Angst, Fluff(ish)

WORD COUNT | 2.3k

SYNOPSIS | What happens when multiple series of death happen at the same time, all with different motives and zero connection between the victims. Most people would blame an organization; but your team blames something… a little more otherworldly.

WARNINGS | Mentions of death, unnatural cases, a bit of blood, crime scenes, swear words(ish)

NETWORK | @deoboyznet @starlit-network @k-library

A/N | It took me a while along with a lot of postponing, but this is my submission for @deoboyznet boyz who bite event. It isn't my best work at all, a bit lazy but it will due :D

“Y/n! What do we do with them?”

You stared at the body which laid on the floor, unsure of how to respond to your colleagues.

The police had called your team because this case looked unnaturally gruesome, something that didn't look like the work of a human due to the extent of it. You were put in charge for the moment; though you weren't the main boss.

“Bring them to the lobby for now. It'd be important to bring them in for investigation.” you finally responded, seeing your coworker nod in understanding and run over to those in charge of caring for the corpse.

You sighed, turning around and spotting Chanhee approaching you, clipboard in hand.

Choi Chanhee was one of the newer guys; he was in charge of concluding what monster everyone should be expecting in a certain situation based on any small clues he could find; this was actually his first serious case.

“Whatcha find?” You asked informally, seeing him chuckle as he took a spot right next to you.

“I found a couple things on the body, such as two bite marks on their neck and multiple stains of unidentifiable blood covered fingers on walls. It seems like whoever, or whatever did this knows that they won't be in police systems.”

You stared at his writing, nodding in response.

“Right so-” before you could finish your question he shushed you with an undeniable confidence. You held your laughter, trying to remain professional, but to be completely honest you thought it was adorable.

“Vampires are the most likely cause.” He stated, making you second glance all the gathered clues and nod.

“It'd make sense; the two bite marks and fingerprints seem to add up.” you started, scanning the room for any other missed clues that had yet to be discovered. You glanced back to see him slowly walking forward, you followed him shortly after.

“However, I also found that the fingerprints carried a certain detail that could prove helpful in our investigation. I took some time to study the previous records that we have on various creatures, and found a seemingly repetitive pattern for vampires. All of them have this certain mark on their finger that they receive depending on their vampire age. The older the vampire is, the bigger and more evident the mark will be.”

He approached a stained wall, locating the mark and allowing you to inspect it.

“Judging by this mark; it appears this vampire is quite young, appearing to only age around 15-25 years old.”

You glanced back at him.

“You found all of this just by looking at a fingerprint?”

He chuckled awkwardly, nodding his head in response. How could such an important factor go unnoticed? Was all you could bring yourself to ask, not out loud, but it was still a worthy question.

“Alright then, best go talk to a superior on this new discovery. You better teach us about this age telling mark.” You said with a tease, watching him grin before nodding.

“Y/n!” A voice called from afar. It was Juyeon, who had been jogging towards you while holding a folder.

“What is it?” You asked, seeing him hand over the folder full of files.

“Your husband… Kim Sunwoo is here to pick you up.”

“What!?”

Chanhee and Juyeon looked over at you with a confused expression. You shook your head to snap out of your transe and decided to accept it.

“Not sure why he decided to do so in a time like this but alright.”

Glancing around, you called out and decided to put Jacob in charge. He was the better option between everyone in the crowd.

Waving goodbye and making your way outside; stepping over the ‘crime scene’ tape as you approached your husband.

“What important event is it today that you had to pick me up early?” You asked teasingly, watching him look up from his phone to return that teasing gaze.

“Forgot our anniversary?”

Your expression immediately dropped as you scrambled for your phone, watching him burst out laughing as the screen lit up and showed a different date.

“I'm kidding.”

“You jerk.” You responded with a laugh, placing your phone back inside of your pocket before looking back up at him who was leaning down to plant a small kiss on your forehead.

“Hey now, that’s a bit rude.” he chuckled teasingly, earning a mimic from you as he walked over to the driver side door. You entered the vehicle and felt the car go into drive. You simply stared out the window as he drove off; the small restaurant which had become a crime scene vanished out of sight.

Far too focused into your own thoughts, you spoke without much of a thought.

“Sunwoo… do you believe in monsters? All those creatures we hear and see in movies and novels?” You asked in a low voice that expressed your exhaustion.

He hesitated for a moment, stopping at the next red light and relaxing back on his seat for a moment as he remained silent. He sighed, “There must be something out there.” he muttered, almost to himself as he leaned back up upon the once red light becoming a bright neon green.

“Something you discovered at work?” He questioned, to which you nodded, not moving your gaze from the window and continuously staring at the outside.

It wasn’t supposed to be said, but Sunwoo was your husband and you practically told him everything that was meant to be kept secret from anyone outside of those in the organization.

“A new body was discovered. Police say that the murder must have taken place sometime around the early hours of the morning.” you groaned, watching him glance at you through the rear view mirror and nod.

“So many new cases of late; have you ever thought they all may be connected?” he questioned, watching you glance over back at him and nod knowingly.

“We have, but it seems that the culprits are all different people and none of the victims seem to be closely related. I suppose the motives should be different as well.”

He didn’t say much after that, simply listened and offered to buy you fast food; and well, you didn’t ask him to say much either, afterall it was a situation between you and your colleagues; something between you and your job.

—-----------

Sunwoo approached the doorway, wiping the red off of his cheek and slipping into the warmth of his jacket; knocking on the door and waiting for the person on the other side.

The door opened slowly and cautiously.

“Sunwoo? How the hell are you walking around like that?” He said, being quick to drag him into the room.

“Don't overthink it.” Sunwoo reassured, entering the small and cozy living space and taking a seat on the couch. “I was cautious when making my way over here.”

“I surely hope you were.” He muttered, breathing a sigh of relief as he passed Sunwoo a black towel to clean himself.

“So what have you been up to Eric?” Sunwoo said casually, earning a reaction from Eric as he immediately turned due to his nonchalant attitude.

“That's what I would like to ask you. What did you do?” Eric redirected, brewing some coffee and taking down 3 mugs from the cabinets above.

Sunwoo stared before sighing and smiling to himself. “I’m not sure if I should-”

“Sunwoo?”

He turned around to the sound of his name, smiling upon seeing Eric’s roommate, Haknyeon, who was coming out of the shower and drying his hair with a towel.

“What happened to you?” He asked, unsurprised by Sunwoo’s current state and messy appearance.

“I'd like to talk about it; but before that let me take a shower. If I returned home like this I'd earn a concerned stare from Y/n.”

Eric and Haknyeon nodded in understanding, Eric's eyes softening upon the mention of his friend's soulmate. Sunwoo walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

***

They all sat in the living room, warm coffee in hands along with small store-bought muffins and pastries. Both Eric and Haknyeon refused to look away from Sunwoo, staring at him until he finally decided to speak up.

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled, placing his mug down and reaching out for a small plate.

“You don't need to speak up, we're just curious.” Eric added, to which Sunwoo shook his head.

“No worries.” He reiterated.

Haknyeon and Eric listened intently, taking a couple sips from their coffee's and paying attention to every word he spoke. Though at first disagreeing they eventually agreed and let go of the entire situation.

—-----------

You stared in confusion, seeing their uneasy stares.

“Please take a look.” He said, making you take the envelope from his hand and stare down at it.

In the envelope, there were multiple photographs of the crime scene from the previous day. At first glance there isn’t anything particularly wrong with them; it wasn’t until closer inspection that you noticed the figure who lingered in the back of the photos. All except one.

“Who is that..? You stuttered, seeing them take glances at each other before shaking their heads.

“We were hoping you would know that...” Jacob replied, the small bit of hope in his voice fading into an abyss of emptiness.

As if on cue, Chanhee walked into the room. His curiosity had gotten the better of him and he decided to check what the sudden commotion was about; heart dropping upon hearing the news of the mysterious person in the back of the captured pictures and almost quitting right then and there.

“This doesn't make sense. Vampires don't appear on pictures. They can't appear on pictures..!” Chanhee exclaimed, making you all glance at him realization.

He was right. Vampires and many other mythical creatures don't appear on photographs due to the fact that they aren't exactly alive; they aren't technically real.

Jacob and Hyunjae tried to reason, maybe it was one of your people though it was highly unlikely. Juyeon stayed silent, although you knew it was just him trying to make himself feel better about the entire situation. You on the other hand, took the time to analyze the photo better, the body shape seemed oddly familiar to you.

“If there was someone else there; I'm confused as to how they went unnoticed.” A voice spoke from the doorway.

You all turned around, coming face to face with Kevin who stood in the entryway of the room. Hyunjae’s face lit up by the entrance of the familiar face; feeling better to see someone reliable and different.

“Or how they got passed the cops who were positioned outside on that manner.” Jacob added, his voice of fear being replaced by annoyance.

However, you remained silent as they all argued, and for that left the room without saying another word. This was more than just a vampire case and you knew it. It was a case of some sort of betrayal.

—-----------

You laid in bed, being joined by your husband soon after who laid beside you, taking you into his embrace and cuddling you, pressing multiple lazy kisses up to your temple.

“Long day?” He asked in a comforting voice.

“Doesn't matter right now.” You smiled, feeling his lips plant another small peck onto your forehead. His breath was shallow, low and solacing; bringing you a relaxing sensation that drifted you off into a deep state of unawareness.

You didn't know what happened next, you fell asleep.

5:27 A.M.

Sunwoo wasn't by your side.

He was gone, vanished from sight..

You waited for a couple seconds, thinking he might've gone downstairs to get a cup of water from the kitchen; but as the minutes went by, you started to discriminate that thought furthermore.

Lifting yourself from the bed, you made your way to the closet, taking out a jacket and finding the arm holes to slip into, zipping up the zipper and finding the door inside of the dark room. Your walk down the stairs was careful, your mind felt like it had been in a dream-like state, which made it difficult to concentrate when you found your shoes next to the door.

It took you a moment before you registered the feeling of the outside wind brushing up against your cheek, hair flowing by the cold air, moonlight shining inside of the house and illuminating the dark space.

“What are you doing awake?” He said, walking inside yet keeping the door open to allow the midnight air to enter of the enclosed area.

“I would ask you the same question.” You said with unintended seriousness that caused him and his stomach to turn.

“I just went out for a walk-”

You shook your head, he was lying once more and this time you wouldn't stand by it. You felt your throat tighten, in a tenseness that you found yourself unable to describe.

“Blood. It's on your shirt.”

Your mouth said it before your eyes had noticed. He looked down and glanced back up, eyes an unsettling red color that hadn't been there before. Something that only appeared now.

“Right.” He agreed, nodding casually at your words as if it was normal to be carrying around a shirt full of red stains.

You knew now,

Vampires were a very real thing.

Something so real that they shouldn't be second guessed. The way humans don't second guess another human's existence.

But vampires weren't the worst of creatures, at least not all of them. There were definitely worse things on this planet; worse stuff than blood sucking monsters who were on the constant look out for a fresh meal.

But some didn't feed off of human blood, others straight up hated it, it was different for everyone. Vampires had their own taste and likes, just like humans did. In fact, humans and vampires were species of similar kind.

Both held similar complexity, and strived to survive from everyday dangers. If any creature had the chance of blending in almost flawlessly with a human crowd, it'd be a vampire.

And of course, finding out your lifetime partner’s secret couldn't be helped. It was an obvious shock, but you learned to accept it everytime you remember his vivid words that night, reaching out his hand to bring you into the night sky with him.

“Will you join me?”

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lvndrfucks · 3 days

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Hiiiii I love your writing smm and you’re one of the only people writing for the wallows 😭😭 Do you think you could do a Braeden or Cole fic where the reader’s the new photographer for the band and one of them starts having feelings for her? Thank you!!!💕

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ you’ve been hiding in plain sight｡˚📹 ࣪𖤐💋

You’ve only had one job in your life and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You were lucky to get an opportunity like this, knowing how many would kill to be in your position. But it was also the fact you were doing what you loved with the people you loved supporting you.

You were first introduced to the Wallows members during a photoshoot. Nothing crazy, just a basic background and the boys being themselves. Despite the seriousness of the photos, they were always cracking jokes. You couldn’t help but laugh a few times with them.

“I feel like I’m doing those Kohl’s family photo shoots,” Braeden said. “Can we pose like that?”

You chuckled a bit. “Go for it.”

They lined up close together, putting their hands on each other’s waists and stared into the distance. You laughed while getting the shot.

“Okay. Why don’t we take a break and then we’ll bring in the bench prop for the next portion.” They nodded at your instruction.

While you were reviewing some of the photos on your laptop, you noticed one of the boys approaching.

“Hey. I was just wondering if I could look at how the pictures came out so far.”

“Yeah, of course.” You moved over to let Braeden view the screen.

“These are amazing,” he spoke after a moment of silence. “The lighting and everything is like perfect. How long have you been doing photography?”

“Well, I started in high school. Just taking photos for yearbook and stuff. Then, in collage, I got my Bachelor’s in Fine Arts. I didn’t get hired until two years ago,” you explained. “I’ve also done a few concerts and events.”

“Wow. Thats impressive,” he complimented. “Do you mind if I see your other work?”

You nodded. You decided to show him the photos you took from a festival at the start of your career. It was the first time you’d ever been to an event so wild and full of energy. You felt lucky to had been given the opportunity.

“Wait, is this Lollapalooza,” Braeden questioned.

“Um, I think so. I don’t actually remember.”

The further he scrolled, the more excited he became. “Oh, my God, it is! Look, there I am!” He clicked on one of the photos that showcased him singing on stage with the rest of the band.

You laughed slightly. “It was so long ago, I didn’t recognize you guys. What a crazy coincidence.”

He smiled, agreeing with you. “These photos are sick, though. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks.” You looked down after feeling your face start to warm.

“I don’t know if this seems appropriate or not, but we’re going on tour soon and we could really use a photographer. I don’t want to steal you away from your job or whatever, I just think you’re the perfect person we’re looking for.”

You must’ve heard between the lines because all you could pay attention to was the fact he called you the perfect person.

You were speechless at the offer and told him you’d have to think about it. It sounded like a dream, but you didn’t want it to backfire in the future and ruin what you’d built up so far. It took a lot of time to think over and you consulting your friends about it. In the end, you were sure you made the right choice.

The concert had just ended. Everyone was still high on adrenaline and congratulating each other on another successful show. You were packing up all your belongings when Braeden walked towards you.

“Hey, did you make sure to get my good side?” He made a model-like face that made you laugh.

“All your sides are good,” you replied playfully.

He grinned. “We were thinking of going out for some drinks. You should come with.” You hummed unsurely. “Come on,” he urged. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fine. But I’m gonna change really quick.”

“That’s fine. I can wait and we can ride together.”

As much as you got along with Dylan and Cole, you and Braeden seemed to have a different relationship. You two often complimented each other so much that it was borderline flirting at this point. On plane and car rides, you both always sat next to each other and have shared hotel rooms before. There was one incident of having to share a bed because all the other rooms were booked. Neither of you complained.

You enjoyed the company of Braeden and how you felt around him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was more than friendly behavior.

Back on the tour bus, you put your camera equipment away and changed. Braeden was waiting in the small living room area when you stepped out. He looked up from his phone when he heard you.

“Uh, you look great. Very, very pretty.” He let out a small nervous laugh.

“Thanks, handsome.” You smiled and patted his chest. “Come on. Let’s get drunk.”

The music was loud inside. There were flashing lights on the dance floor and bodies everywhere. You and Braeden held hands while maneuvering around to find the others. For safety reasons, of course.

The others were already occupying a booth in the corner. You and Braeden managed to squeeze in, your bodies pressing close to each other. You could feel his chest against your back and he kept one arm behind you on the back of the booth.

Shots went all around, which you weren’t very fond of. Braeden laughed at your cringed face in disgust as you downed the drink. He left briefly to order something else.

“So,” a smirk painted across Isabella’s lips, “you and Braeden showed up together?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing where the conversation was going. “Yes. Just like you and Dylan and everyone else showed up together.”

She threw her hands up in defense. “I’m not saying anything. Just pointing out a fact.” You nudged her shoulder with a smile.

Braeden returned with two drinks in hand; one for you and one for him. You thanked him and clinked your glasses together.

The next hour or so consisted of laughing and drinking. In that time, your head was already buzzing and you were swaying in your seat. You gasped suddenly hearing the music change.

“I love this song!” You patted Isabella’s arm. “Let’s go dance! Please!” She laughed and nodded.

Braeden moved out of the way to let the both of you out. He wasn’t that drunk, wanting to keep an eye on you. And everyone else. He watched you and Isabella start singing along to the song, jumping around with everyone else. There was a faint smile on his face that he didn’t realize was there.

He felt someone pat his back. Dylan gave him a knowing look.

“Are you gonna make a move or stare like a creep?”

“I don’t know if she likes me like that,” Braeden told. “Yeah, I guess we flirt and stuff, but don’t friends do that?”

The whole table stared at him.

“Dude, no,” Cole said. “Have you heard how she talks to me? One time she yelled at me for drinking her Dr. Pepper. When you did, she said it was fine and bought more.”

“Trust me, she likes you,” Dylan concluded. “Go over there, man.”

Braeden looked down in thought, then nodded to himself. He chugged the rest of his drink and stood up. The boys cheered behind him.

Braeden said something in Isabella’s ear you couldn’t hear. She nodded and walked back to the table. She gave you a thumbs up over her shoulder.

“Is it okay if I cut in?”

You nodded at his question and felt your body draw closer to him. There was small hesitancy in his movements when all of a sudden, his hands gripped your waist. You raised your brow before draping your arms over his shoulders.

“Can I tell you something,” he asked.

You gulped. “Of course.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, like he was trying to find the right words. He looked into your patient eyes and decided: fuck it.

Braeden surged forward, his lips landing on yours. A few seconds later, he pulled away. He awaited your reaction. Your mouth slowly upturned before tugging him towards you.

hera speaks!

tysm for the request and i hope you like it <3 i’m working on a few more and some of my own, but requests are always open !!

#wallows #wallows imagine #wallows x reader #braeden lemasters #braeden lemasters imagine #braeden lemasters x reader #dylan minnette #dylan minnette imagine #dylan minnette x reader #cole preston #cole preston imagine #cole preston x reader

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twinsandselfships · 28 days

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Us: *cautiously watching Duck Shuffler pass by because we're curious*

Duck Shuffler: *following us around because he's curious*

Us: Is he following us?!

Duck Shuffler: Are they following me?!

#⚫ betting on black and white ⚪#No but for real!#We were playing TTCC and he walked past us TWICE while we were battling other cogs.#One of those times he walked BETWEEN the two of us!#We were so scared he'd join the battle (we're not ready!)#We've never gotten so close to him #Scary but thrilling

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hella1975 · 1 year

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sometimes i think about the fact my grandparents literally overnight just cut us off and im like. how did u even do that. does it torment you

#eeaao's 'how did you let me go so easily' moment. like i dont let myself even THINK about this too often #bc i immediately beat myself back with the 'if it's hard for you then imagine how hard it is for mum. her PARENTS cut her off'#but like. idk. my nan i couldn't give less of a shit about which is something i always find so interesting #bc even as a child with NO basis for it or any understanding of her behaviour both past and present i still wasn't Comfortable around her #like children are smart actually. i just Knew her vibes were off and i Knew my mum was weird when she was around #like i truly dont think i ever loved my nan even when she was a very frequent part of my life #but my grandad? i ADORED him. id see him multiple times a week and he's the kindest man ive ever met #and hannah what i told you about my mum saying certain people have magnetic auras THAT WAS ABOUT HIM #like i cant actually put into words what it was about him but people just wanted to know him and spend time with him #but he was weak and let my nan walk all over him and when push came to shove he chose her and now ive not spoken to him in 3 years #& i KNOW he loved me. he thought the world of me like it's a bitter unspoken thing between me & my sister that we KNOW i was his favourite #he used to buy me egg butties at agricultural shows when my mum said no and specifically ask for two eggs #he used to sit and eat his soup with me when he came over to do work at the house #he used to play with me. he used to smile all the time. i can so clearly hear the way he'd go ''iya [my name]' with his proper rural accent #or how he'd tell anyone who would listen 'she's tough as old boots that one'#and i could make him laugh like NO ONE else could and he'd light up and go 'give over' and he genuinely enjoyed my company #i KNOW HE DID. and i havent spoken to him in 3 years. he'll be dead soon #and i cant talk to my mum about it bc it's her DAD it is so much worse for her and i cant talk to my sister about it #bc she wasn't close with him like i was and she just shuts the conversation down and those are the only two people #who know my grandad and know what he meant to me so im just here like. he literally stopped speaking to me overnight #i stopped hearing from him i stopped meeting up with him im so so angry with him the love is still there i dont know where to put it now #why couldnt he stay. why did he pick her when she's a loveless void of inhumanity. why werent we enough #hella goes home #my grandparents on my dad's side are also not in the picture funnily enough but idgaf about them. she got that grandparentless swag

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werewolfbneimitzvah · 5 months

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vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

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ciaoteamo · 6 months

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Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

#ciaoteamo #x reader #imagine #smut #milkman smut #milkman x reader #milk the man #milkman #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses

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sttoru · 8 months

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.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. it’s late at night and you try to cuddle with sukuna. keyword; try.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. fluff, angst (+comfort). heian era. size difference (readers referred to as small). sukuna’s a bit mean, but he also has a soft spot for you. miscommunication ? it gets solved. reader gets called ‘woman, doll’.

“what are you trying to do?” sukuna sighs. you’re up to something again, he figures. his red eyes follow your body as it crawls up to him on the bed.

you’re both tired after a long day of fulfilling some duties here and there around the estate. all you need is a big beefy man wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm and safe.

the perfect man for that is sukuna. those four arms of his wrapped around your small body feel like heaven.

“it’s called cuddling,” you retort. the sarcastic tone you used triggers a deep sigh from the sorcerer. sukuna holds back the urge to say something sarcastic as well.

he doesn’t utter a single word once you snuggle up to his chest. you’ve taught him how to cuddle during the first time you asked him to hold you. sukuna was awkward with showing any type of affection back then.

. . he still very much is.

“hug, please,” you remind him. the cold-hearted man scoffs, though listens to your polite request. all four of his arms imprison you against his chest, your small body nearly disappearing behind his limbs.

that’s what you like most about those cuddles you share together; how you fit so perfectly in his strong arms. it’s much more comforting than you thought it would be.

a pair of hands rests on your waist, the other pair on your hips. sukuna glances down at you and immediately notices that smile on your lips. even after all this time, he still cannot fathom why you’re so carefree around a monster like him.

and that inability to understand you and your love for him is accompanied by an urge to push you away.

“you got your hug, now get up,” sukuna interrupts the silence. his voice is cold and devoid of emotion—he uses that voice when he talks to other people. not with you, “i have better things to attend to.”

thus, it hurts. when he talks to you like that. like you’re not the person he secretly cherishes most. though, you remind yourself of sukuna’s own words. the ones you heard him say a while ago.

‘love is meaningless’, he said. you remember. and yet you kept hoping that he’d change his mind about that statement. you hoped and eventually saw exactly that: your presence and your affectionate gestures mellowed his heart of steel.

but all that effort seems to go down the drain every time sukuna pushes you away.

you know it’s because he’s unfamiliar with the feelings of love. he may not say it nor show it, but you know that sukuna’s afraid of hurting you. so, he creates a gap between you two every now and then.

you know and yet you’re patient.

“oh, ‘kay,” you nod in understanding. you pull away from his embrace and get up from the bed. your bottom lip trembles.

sukuna is not gullible. he’s anything but oblivious. especially if it’s about how you feel and act. he notices every single change in your mood; whether you mask it or not.

you walk to the sliding doors—ready to open them and step out into the hallway. your eyes are a bit watery, but you quickly blink the tears away and take a deep breath in. you reach for the door.

“come back here, woman.”

sukuna’s booming voice makes you stop. you glance at his form over your shoulder. he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

is he. . . upset?

“why? you said you had better things to attend to.” you answer with a shrug. you try your best to not make it seem like his earlier words had effected you. you turn your head towards the word with a huff, “go on, then.”

sukuna narrows his eyes. he sucks at communicating what he actually desires—what he actually wants. right now that want is for you to stay. even though that completely contradicts his previous words.

the sorcerer doesn’t know what to do. when you’re with him, he pushes you away out of guilt. when you’re away, he wants you back with him.

love is complicated.

��you. . .” sukuna grunts in frustration. all those feelings for you inside of his heart are playing with his rational thoughts. he doesn’t like seeing you upset. he wants the usual you back, “tsk. fine then.”

silence, followed by the creaking of the bed frame. seems like sukuna’s getting up to do whatever ‘business’ he needed to attend. at least, that’s what you thought.

you slide the door open and set a foot outside of the chambers. before the other could follow, you’re suddenly lifted up in the air by a strong pair of hands. your vision turns upside down as your body is effortlessly hoisted onto a shoulder.

“woah!” you gasp and feel the blood go to your head. your eyes are fixed on the back of your lover. you kick your legs in protest, but only get a smack to your ass in response. you whine at that, “put me down!”

“watch it, doll,” sukuna hisses at your fierce demand, a warning to fix your tone. he puts you back down on the soft mattress. he’s surprisingly gentle when he settles you in place—not throwing you on the bed or anything similar, “should’ve listened when i told you the first time.”

your eyes meet sukuna’s and you notice how much they’ve softened. that alone makes the lump in your throat disappear. your love for him isn’t one sided—you’ve always kept that in the back of your mind—yet your thoughts made you overlook the little things he does for you.

his actions speak louder than his words. that’s the kind of man he is.

sukuna’s trying to open up more, though that process is slow. you’re fine with that.

especially when there’s that faint pout on his lips as he stares at you. his eyebrows are still furrowed, his crimson eyes sharp yet warm.

“oh, you want me back in bed this bad?” you tease once you get the opportunity. the man in front of you clicks his tongue and grabs your cheeks with one hand, turning your head up to face him.

sukuna’s eyes are focused on yours. the eye contact is intimidating, but you’re hypnotised. you physically can’t look away. he leans in and bites your lip with his sharp canines, “shut up.”

that raspy whisper alone confirms your assumption. you giggle at his attempt of refuting your point. you’re used to all those intimidating words and actions he pulls to get you to stop your teasing.

those empty threats—it’s becoming rather cute with how hard he tries to deny everything. he fails nearly every time, however.

“come,” sukuna lays back against the pillows after placing a quick and sloppy kiss against your lips. he pulls your body against his and presses your head against his chest, right where his heart is beating, “continue with your.. ‘cuddling’ thing.”

he put your ear right above his heart, because he remembers listening to his heartbeat calms you down. you told him that a while back. sukuna doesn’t understand why you like it, but his fingers massage your scalp either way.

that’s also something that brings you comfort.

you’re surprised by how much he knows about you, but appreciate it anyway. he remembers both the big and small things about you. ‘that’s how he probably shows his love,’ you conclude silently.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff

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filmstarved · 1 month

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i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot.

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble.

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly.

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin.

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him.

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles.

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning.

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you.

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans.

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it.

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully.

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did.

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top.

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it.

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely.

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again.

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything.

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he.

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies.

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face.

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass.

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again.

ease and silence…and love.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #xmen fic #wolverine smut #i hate everyone but you #logan howlett #wolverine #hugh jackman

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