#but once I make that decision there is no going back

[harrygoeswest]

Lazy Days

Featuring fiance!Harry, nail painting, bath smut, and general soppy shit.

Trigger warnings: [if there was a 6th Spice Girl she would've been called] soft spice

Word Count: 3,870

A/N: Hiyaaaa. Ages ago (and I really do mean like actual years ago, on a blog long since forgotten) I posted on here a head cannon of all the things I think Harry does during his down time. This is basically just that, but in fic version. Hope you likey like!

~~~

It’s the shifting of weight on the mattress that stirs you from slumber; the sudden absence of warmth from another body at your back; the whisper of fingertips over your hips and thighs. Still, your body is too tired, your limbs too sore to stay conscious for long, and once the rustle of sheets and padding of feet against the hardwood dissipates, you fall back into the darkness of sleep.

Not too long later, you’re awoken again—the click of a door, the soft clunk of clay on wood. Between sponged kisses up your spine where you lay on your front, you catch a whiff of coffee. You smile to yourself.

Those same fingers from before trace the curve of your sides, those lips now pressed lovingly against the nape of your neck. As tentative fingers make way for strong, capable, safe hands, a satisfied sigh leaves you. You’re gently tugged back into the solid embrace of your lover, his front to your back, skin to skin. His arms are a blockade, arresting you into submission.

“Good morning,” Harry practically slurs, his lips brushing and breath tickling your ear.

Melting against him, your response is a croaked, “Hi.”

That plush mouth of his ghosts across your shoulder and back to your neck in slow, tantric lines. While one hand—one arm—remains firmly in place to keep your body gripped to his, the other travels to his favourite places. He starts with small, spiralling circles on your hip, before migrating to the soft swell of your stomach, following the scars of stretch marks on your thighs. You can feel his barred hand testing the weight of your boob, a light-pressured knead.

A satisfied, breathy moan leaves you, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“When was the last time we did this?” he asks, still massaging your breast.

“Did what?” You barely open your mouth to speak.

“Just…nothing? Slept in? Cuddled?”

You grunt, thoughtful. You can’t remember. “Too long.”

His hum sounds like an agreement. “Shall we just…stay in today?”

You idly skim your fingers along his forearm. “Can you manage to sit still for that long?”

He pinches your waist, and you yelp. “I can for you.”

A fizzy kind of happiness begins to bubble its way through you. He achieves this feeling a lot, with his words. His actions. Sometimes just his face. He’s so handsome.

“Deal,” you finally agree.

You drift in and out of consciousness as Harry’s mouth and fingers map your body. He mumbles in your ear in gentle pries for attention, sometimes compliments and verbal loving. Subtle affections. And it’s also contemplation—what are you going to do with your day off together?—or future planning—do you sit your mean uncle next to his problematic third cousin at the wedding just to see who makes a scene first?

You elbow him for that one, even though he makes you laugh with his boyish mischief.

Sunlight filters in through the bedroom blinds, and even though it’s cold outside, it warms your skin where it touches. Harry notices the same thing you do—the way your engagement ring glints off the light—because his hand finds yours, particularly that one finger with his ring on it, and starts toying with it.

Saying yes was the easiest decision you’ve ever made, and for some reason, Harry struggles to believe it sometimes. Why he ever thought you’d say no is beyond you.

In the quiet room, the endless band recedes as the focal point of your attention while his hands continue to caress and travel around the plains of your body. You simply let him, snuggling back into his embrace, holding his arms around you so he doesn’t let you go.

Before long you feel the sensation of want growing, pooling between your legs. It appears much the same for Harry, whose length has stiffened at your back. With a slight adjustment you let it slip between your thighs, sliding against your bare pussy. You release equally tortured groans, his face shoving into your neck, his tongue tasting and his lips sponging kisses there.

You reach behind you, pushing your fingers through his hair and gripping, keeping him pressed to you as closely as possible. His mouth finds yours, tongue eager as it slips between your lips. The kiss is anything but innocent, and it causes the friction between your legs to heighten.

“Find a condom, H,” you beg breathily.

His presence slinks away, only briefly, and you turn over your shoulder to watch him clumsily searching for a foil packet in the drawer of his bedside table. Producing one, he gets to work.

Once he’s rolled it on he’s back with you, arms returning around your middle and his length squeezing through the space between your thighs. He lifts your leg up by the back of your thigh, and his cock sinks into the heat of your wet pussy.

“Fuck yeah,” he mumbles, nibbling his way down your shoulder, “y’always feel so fucking good.”

“So do you,” you huff out, as your body adjusts to the feel of him.

It starts slow, calm. All of your recent intimate moments have been rushed and sloppy because you’re hardly ever home at the same time and you’re too exhausted to do anything. But this…this feels like the opposite.

Harry takes his time. He keeps your leg aloft while he moves in and out of you, talking in your ear with his favoured phrases.

“Can we move?” you ask after so long. “My leg’s starting to cramp.”

“Sure.” He slows down and pulls out of you. “How d’you want it?”

Throwing him a devilish smile, you roll onto your front and lift your ass in the air.

Harry chuckles. He takes a firm grip on one of your round ass cheeks, squeezing and pinching, before landing a swift smack to that same place.

You groan, arching further into the mattress.

His dick sneaks back inside of you and he takes your hips in his hands. His thrusting starts off measured, timed to perfection to build the ache inside you. His cock really does feel sensational, the way it stretches your inner walls, filling you up. 

“That feel good?” 

“So fucking good,” you assure him. “But I need it faster, baby.”

“How fast?”

“Just…faster than this. It’s nice and all, but I like it when you’re a bit messy.”

“Funny, you never say that when I’m drunk.”

Drunk Harry trying to have sex is…an experience. And not necessarily in a good way.

“I want to feel my backside jiggling, and that ain’t happening at this pace.”

He smacks your ass again, his palm immediately soothing the sting. “I can do that.”

And boy does he deliver. With his hands back on your waist he pistons his hips with vigour. It feels sensational. Your body comes alive as every thrust reaches a deeper, more pleasurable place.

“Fuck, Harry, yes.”

He loves that—the praise you give him. Turns him on and builds him up. He gets faster, sloppier. He becomes uncoordinated, jostling your body forwards, backwards.

You reach under the pillows, fisting the sheets and the corner of the mattress, just looking for purchase on anything.

“You feel. So. Good.” He punctuates each word of his statement with a punishing pump of his hips.

A cry leaves you, and you bury your head further.

He smacks your ass again. And again. The sharpness of it, the crack of skin-on-skin echoes through the room.

You suddenly feel his weight over you, the warmth of his skin against your back. His cock shifts inside you, a strangled gasp garbling from your mouth at the bottoming feeling of it close to your stomach.

His teeth sink into the crook of your neck and then he soothes the bite over with his tongue. “You’re edible.”

“Likewise,” you choke.

Still thrusting away, he grabs a boob in one hand and toys with your clit with the other.

The noises you’re making become hysterical and disconnected. You’re a mad woman—you’ve lost your mind.

“Harry,” you pant.

“I know,” he grunts, his teeth in your neck again. “Fuck.”

“I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” His breathless question leaves perspiration along your shoulder.

“Yeah. Come with me?”

“I’ll certainly fucking try.”

You clench your pussy around him. “Please?”

“Shit!” he yells. “Do that again.”

So you do, your delicate muscles contracting around his thick, hard length. He rubs your clit faster, and you tumble over the edge as he follows.

Spent, Harry collapses onto you, his body a delicious weight.

“Fuck, that was good,” he pants.

“It really was.”

“I think I need a nap.”

“We’ve only just woken up.”

“You’re the one who wanted it fast and hard.”

“Yeah. And?”

He sighs, his lips grazing your neck and shoulder. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

— — —

Later that morning, as you’re pulling fixings out of the fridge for a cooked breakfast, Harry appears out of the pantry, tying an apron around his waist.

A laugh tumbles out of you. “What are you doing, H?”

He gestures down himself with both hands. “Getting ready to make breakfast.”

“You and I both know you will not be doing any of the cooking.”

“I will be here for moral support.”

“Right. Which involves sitting there,” you point to a stool at the island, “and looking pretty.”

He flashes a winning smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

In lieu of swatting him with a tea towel, you flip him the bird.

“Is there anything I can do?” he offers, even as he’s rounding the counter to take his usual seat.

On a sigh, you say, “No, Harry. Your company is all I need.”

“You’ll be sick of me by the end of the day,” he predicts.

“Impossible.”

The food is a poached egg and salmon affair, which you plate up and serve at the counter. You take a seat in the stool beside Harry, both turned towards each other with your knees interlocking. He eats his breakfast one-handed, his other resting on your knee, squeezing every so often.

Rumours by Fleetwood Mac drifts from a speaker on the windowsill—Harry’s choice—eventually bleeding into Rock Spectacle from the Barenaked Ladies—your favourite.

When you’re done eating, Harry collects up all your dirty crockery and leaves a peck to the top of your head as he passes. While he does the washing up, you take the clothes out of the washing machine and put them into the dryer, then add a second load to the washer.

You finish your task before him, so you head into the living room and start looking for something to binge for the day. When Harry does reappear, now only in his boxers, he snatches the remote out of your hand, wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you down onto the sofa with him. You yelp as you tumble into his lap.

“What do we need to catch up on?” he asks, barely struggling with breath as he rearranges you with ease.

You wind up with your legs draped across his lap, the rest of your frame curled into his side. You make an attempt to swipe the remote out of his hands, but he holds it aloft with a shouted, “No!”

Heaving a sigh, you give up. “Silent Witness is back on. Or there’s, like, ten new murder documentaries on Netflix.”

He gives you a funny look. “Anything that doesn’t involve death?”

You scoff.

“Please. You love it.”

“I’m concerned you’ve watched so many at this point you could easily murder me and get away with it.”

“And you’d be right,” you deadpan.

He barks a laugh. “Fine. Murder in the day, rom-coms at night.”

“Good plan.”

— — —

Some hours later, when the low January sun is just past its highest point, the two of you vacate your nest on the sofa for some lunch. While Harry puts something together from the scraps in the fridge, you find the bits you need to paint your nails. Once you’ve eaten, you set everything up on the coffee table.

“What are you doing?”

Peering up at him from your seat on the floor, you answer, “I’m painting my nails.”

He’s quiet for a moment, curiously studying his own nails. “Will you do mine too?”

You fight the twitch of your mouth. “Sure. Pick your colours out.”

He joins you on the floor to rifle through your polishes. “What are you having?”

“Blue. Dark glitter and pastel.”

“I want the same.”

“Alright,” you say with a giggle.

“Can I paint yours?”

“If you like.”

So, with your insane murder documentary on in the background, you take turns to paint each other’s nails over the coffee table. He’s meticulous and particular with his work—tidying your cuticles, filing your nails to an even length, and never painting outside the lines. He also applies cuticle oil when he’s finished.

“Only thing missing is the warm flannel massage,” you joke.

He gives you another of his funny looks. “Do you want that?”

“No,” you chuckle.

“I’ll do it,” he insists, “hang on.”

“Harry, it was a joke!” you call after him as he runs from the room.

A minute later, he returns with a steaming flannel in hand. Retaking his seat, he leans over the table and takes each of your hands in turn, massaging your fingers and palms with the hot cloth.

“How do they look?” he asks as you admire your fresh manicure.

“They’re perfect,” you declare. “In fact, I’m concerned my abilities aren’t up to scratch.”

Your fiancé scoffs. “Don’t talk bollocks. They’ve always looked good.”

Deciding to keep quiet, you snatch his hand in one of your own and the cuticle stick in the other. While you prep his nails for polish, you keep an ear trained on the TV and what’s happening in the story. Harry remains suspiciously quiet, but you can feel his gaze on you all the time—not what you’re doing to his nails, but on you. It should be unnerving. Maybe even disconcerting, but you actually find it oddly relaxing. You’re so used to having his eyes on you—though it has always boggled you why he’d want to—it’s a comfort. You feel safe with him.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter at something said on the telly, and you catch Harry’s nose wrinkle.

“That’s grim,” he agrees under his breath.

“You gonna do that to me one day?” you tease.

“What? Quarter up your dead body and shove it in a barrel?”

“Yeah.”

He barks a laugh. “No way. You’re no use to me dead, darling.”

“Aw. That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Fuck off,” he scoffs.

— — —

The sound of a cork being popped causes your head to lift from where you’d been staring thoughtless at the rising bath water. You find Harry standing in the doorway to the bathroom, two wine glasses slid between his long fingers and a bottle of something bubbly in the other.

“What’s that?” you ask, swirling the water around with your foot to even out the temperature.

Steam swirls seductively through the air, rising from the tub in wafts and waves. Lavender and chamomile candles burn in the corners and on the windowsill. Your bath time playlist fills the otherwise silent room, featuring pandemic Taylor Swift and early London Grammar tracks.

“Wine, duh.” Harry places one glass on the lip of the tub and the other on the floor.

You watch bewildered as he fills both. “What for?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

He kisses his teeth and shakes his head, his response an exasperated, “So many questions.”

You roll your eyes as you strip out of your clothes, knowing well enough you’re not going to get an answer to any of them. Also, who really cares what the wine is for? You’re an adult with no work commitments tomorrow.

Harry sits beside the tub using a stolen pillow from your bed to cushion his backside. While you talk more wedding plans his hand dangles in the water, sometimes just swirling the water around idly, other times gliding a finger up and down your arm, your waist, your thigh.

His touch is intoxicating, and you find yourself sinking lower into the water.

His gaze trails to your legs where they’ve subtly spread for him. Expression hungry, he dances his fingers across your inner thigh and up to your pussy.

The conversation naturally drifts off as he starts teasing your clit, his chin now resting on the side of the tub to watch his work.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s done it so many times—a talented man with talented fingers. Perhaps not quite like this, though, set up in the bathtub, but it works all the same. In fact it might be even better this way. 

He works his way around your needy clit and then into your wanting heat with his finger, causing your body temperature to spike. You moan and gasp your way through his clever ministrations, having to bite down on your own finger when he adds a second to take up more space.

What actually finishes you off, unbelievably, is when he leans in to kiss you.

When you’ve calmed down he slowly removes his fingers, and he’s about to wipe them on a towel, but you snatch his hand and clean them up yourself before he can. He groans and kisses you again.

With your legs like jelly, Harry helps you rise out of the bath and onto the solid, heated bathroom floor. He finds your towel and wraps it around you like a well-sated little burrito. He brings you into his arms, your body flush against his, and he pecks the tip of your nose ever so lightly. You can’t help but smile up at him, because you seem to have found the man who is the exact perfect mix of sweet and spicy. Your smile brings out his own—dimples and laugh lines and all.

“Shall we get a takeaway?” he asks, breaking the spell you’d found yourself in.

“I’ve bought stuff in for dinner!”

“Ah, we can have that tomorrow.”

“Harry,” you scold.

“I really want Thai.”

“You always want Thai.”

“That’s not true. Yesterday while you worked late I had sushi.”

“But was that really just a substitute for Thai while I wasn’t home?”

“Nope. I really wanted sushi.”

“Sure.”

“Come on, bab,” he starts nudging you towards the door, “go put your jim-jams on, and I’ll put the order in and set the lounge up for movies.”

“You don’t know what I want,” you argue, digging your heels in.

“You have the same thing every time, my love.”

“Well maybe I want something different.”

“No, you don't.” 

At the entrance to your bedroom, he whips off your towel and shoves you through the door. “Go on.”

�� — —

Harry’s phone starts chirping on the coffee table when you’re nearly done with your first film. His head is in your lap, knees up with his white-socked feet pressed against the arm of the sofa. Your hands are in his hair, freshly painted nails scratching his scalp. You love the noise he makes when you do it—he purrs like a kitten.

Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney bicker their way around Sydney on the telly, with Glen’s abs and Sydney’s chest on display for the entirety of Australia to see. Not that you’re complaining.

Harry blindly reaches for his phone while moving as little as possible, and lifts it high to check the caller ID.

You wince at his mother’s name on the screen because you know he’ll never turn her down if he’s free, even though it’s your first day off together in months and you’re in the middle of a film. This isn’t to say you have anything against the woman—you don’t. She’s amazing, kind, and generous.

But…

“Pause the TV, bab?”

Harry is a mummy’s boy.

And sometimes, just sometimes, you don’t feel up to listening to their conversation for an hour.

Still, you love the man and his mother, so you pause the movie and paste on a smile that portrays interest. Anne asks about your day, how work is going, how the wedding planning is coming along, and fortunately these are all things you can give invested updates on.

Conversation naturally turns to Harry’s sister, the baby, and the next time you’re all free at the same time. Your work is unpredictable, so as always you can only give the disappointing, unhelpful answer of “You’ll let her know soon.”

You’re not sure exactly how long you end up on the phone with your mother-in-law-to-be, but it’s approximately one whole glass of wine. As soon as the call ends, Harry curls up right back next to you, his head returned to its favourite place in your lap.

Another two full films later—10 Things I Hate About You and 13 Going on 30—you finally hit your limit and decide to call it a night. You do a quick tidy up, clearing the mess of your dinner and that second ‘celebratory’ bottle of wine. Not wanting to wake up to a mess, the two of you tag team the dishes, although Harry spends the first few minutes clinging to you from behind and feeling you up in lewd ways.

It’s late by the time you’re done. You can’t fight the yawning you’re doing, and your body is close to shutting down. The ascent of the staircase to bed looks like a mountain.

“Want a piggyback?” Harry offers with a peck to your cheek.

“Yes please,” you say, still yawning.

“Climb on, then.”

You scramble ungracefully onto his back, your arms fastened around his neck and your legs hooked in the crease of his elbows. He carries you up the one flight with criminal ease and straight into your shared bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, settling you back on your feet.

Smothering another yawn, you nod as you stumble toward the bed. “I am. How can I be so tired after doing nothing all day?”

He smiles down at you, green eyes shiny and hooded. “You’ve worked hard recently. It’s probably catching up to you.”

You grunt in response. His hands paw at your clothes so you allow him to undress you. Once you’re both naked you tumble into bed.

Finding yourself back in an innocent tangle of limbs, you sink against the warmth of his body.

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Harry prompts, his lips brushing your temple.

Your finger traces the lines of tattoos on his chest—the swallows, the butterfly, the ‘g’ and the dates. “No idea.”

“Walk?”

“No.”

“Drive?”

“Maybe.”

“Noted.” He giggles, kissing your temple where his lips rest. “I know just the place to go.”

“Yeah?”

He hums. “I think you’ll like it.”

“If you’re with me, I’m sure I will.”

His arms tighten around you, and you reciprocate his grip, burying your face into his neck.

“I love you, H,” you mumble, on the cusp of unconsciousness.

And just as you slip into that dark, warm abyss, you hear his whispered, “I love you, too.”

[moonstruckme]

i was wondering if you could do a softdom!remus x fem!reader like drabble? and i wanted it to be something about driving bc i am really nervous when i drive (even at 22) and i was wondering how remus would help with that?

Ty

cw: driving anxiety, anxiety in general, Remus being a bit stern but he loves us I promise

soft dom!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 500 words

“Breathe,” Remus reminds you. 

You try, but it gets caught in your throat when the car in front of you brakes abruptly. “Shit,” you hiss over the hammering of rain on your windshield. “I can’t do this.” 

Traffic starts moving again. You hardly take your foot off the brake, trying to put distance between you and the car in front of you. In your rear view mirror, another set of headlights glares at you, insistently close. Remus’ hand covers your thigh.

“You can,” he says soothingly. “Take it at your own pace.” 

You take your lip between your teeth. You can hardly see twenty feet in front of you through the downpour, the brake lights ahead an indistinct smear of red. You’re terrified of hydroplaning. 

“Sweetheart.” Remus sounds almost amused. “Breathe.” 

You let your air out in a long whoosh. His thumb strokes just above your knee, but your entire body stays tensed nonetheless. 

“You can’t keep holding your breath like that,” he chides. “You’re alright.” 

“The guy behind me seems angry,” you worry. 

Remus turns around, noting the headlights pressing close to your car’s rear. He frowns. 

“If he’s really upset, he’ll go around,” he says. “You’re not doing anything wrong, dove. That’s our junction coming up anyway, J5.” 

You shrill. “What? I don’t have time to get over!”

“You do,” Remus says placidly, “but you don’t have to if you don’t think you can.” 

“Of course I have to.” You flip your signal on, checking your mirrors desperately for an opening as the junction approaches. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me until just now!”

“Oi.” Remus gives your thigh a warning squeeze. “Calm down. I didn’t think you’d need more time than this, but it’s fine.” 

“I don’t see a place to get over,” you fret, though you’re minding your tone a bit more carefully now. 

“That’s fine, dove. Take your time. It’s not the end of the world if we can’t make it.” 

“You mean we just miss it?” You’re still looking for a chance, though losing hope now. The flow of cars seems endless. 

“Yes,” he says sternly. “Take the next one. We’ll still get there.”  

“Oh.” You let out a breath, relaxing some. “Okay.” 

“There. You were doing it again, see?” Remus’ hand leaves your leg, coming instead to rub between your shoulder blades. “Stop holding your breath. Just take whatever time you need to make good decisions.” 

“Okay,” you say again. You lean back into Remus’ palm, and he huffs a laugh, rubbing more firmly. “Okay, yeah. Sorry I snapped at you.” 

A low hum. “You’re alright. We’ll call it extenuating circumstances, but just this once, yeah?” 

“Okay, thanks. Sorry.” 

“It’s forgiven, sweetheart.” 

Finally, there’s space to move into the next lane. You signal. “I can take this exit here?” 

“Mhm.” 

You slide into the opening seamlessly, loosing another breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your eyes slide to Remus guiltily. 

He laughs, rubbing between your shoulders. “That’s it. Keep going, dove.”

[silcoitus]

Erm hello. Idk if this has been requested yet by me or not but….

Silco x reader with a hand fetish maybe? Fingers in her mouth and all yk?

Because this is a request, I am posting the full text. In one month, it will be converted to an AO3 link, so read it here now while you still can!

Practiced Hands

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI

Tags: Young Silco, f!reader; hand and finger kink, semi-public sex, fingers in mouth, vaginal fingering, dirty talk

Word count: 1.7k

Betas: @juniper-sunny

You've always noticed how dextrous Silco is with his hands; the way he twirls his pencil or fiddles with his butterfly knife. One night, when you have The Last Drop to yourselves, you see just how good his hands truly are.

He doesn't even realize he's doing it.

Of course he doesn't realize. 

The man just oozes effortless swagger, innate charisma. Every movement is less like a gesture and more like a dance; everything he does somehow elegant.

You busy your hands, wiping down a tumbler with a rag, standing opposite Silco as he pours over his notebook. His eyes are pinned to the page while his elbow rests on the countertop, his butterfly knife twiddling between his long, deft fingers. He flicks it open and spins it around, not even looking at what he's doing. The metallic clatter and the swish of the knife through the air a steady rhythm, almost musical.

“Silco.”

“Hmm?”

He doesn't look up. The knife continues to dance between his fingers.

“You better be careful with that.”

“With what?”

He finally looks up, his hand still moving. Finally, his ocean green eyes look to his knife and back to you. He chuckles lightly before clicking the knife closed with a decisive flourish.

“What? Scared?”

You roll your eyes.

“Not for me. For you.”

“Please,” he says, picking up his pencil. He twirls that just as dexterously. “I can handle it.”

You let out a sigh before setting down the tumbler, throwing the rag over your shoulder and crossing your arms. Hip popped, you watch him return to his work as he idly fiddles with the pencil. 

Those long fingers of his move so quickly, so effortlessly, never once dropping the writing instrument. Something about the movement sends heat to pool in your belly and desire to rise in your chest.

He's been driving you insane ever since you joined the operation. His arrogance and dryness, his hot-one-minute-cold-the-next nature. You can't get a read on him, and yet you can't look away. And if that wasn't enough, the slight pout of his lips is begging for someone to kiss it—or better yet, lick it.

You shake off the thought, turning your back to him. As you tidy up the bar, Silco continues to work silently. A rare comfortable silence between the two of you, save for the jukebox humming lightly in the corner. 

Silco breaks that silence with a soft call of your name.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing after this?”

“I dunno,” you say without turning around. “Just heading home, I guess.”

You hear Silco stand behind you, the stool squeaking as it spins. His footsteps get closer and closer as he makes his way around the bar to join you. You're reaching up to replace a bottle to the top shelf, standing on your toes, when you feel something at your back. Soon, Silco's hand is on yours, taking the bottle from you.

“Here,” he says, his breath in your hair. “Let me get that for you.”

You turn, your nose brushing against the tip of his with how closely he stands to you. Your eyes dart between his two ocean green ones as his fingers wrap around yours, tugging the bottle free before setting it down.

“There you go,” he hums.

“Thanks,” you whisper, heels returning to the floor, making Silco seem even taller.

His hand lingers on yours, his free one snaking around to your hip. Your heart races in your chest, firelights in your stomach.

“You know,” he coos. “The rest are gone for the night.” His fingers intertwine with yours, bringing your hand down to rest on the counter. “We have the bar to ourselves.”

Your breathing grows shallow, anticipation building behind your ribs.

“That so?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, guiding your hand so it rests on your stomach, his thumb agonizingly close to the bottom curve of your breast. 

He untangles his fingers from yours, wordlessly instructing with a squeeze to the back of your hand to keep it still. You freeze, keeping your hand steady on your stomach as the pad of his middle finger glides up your shirt between your breasts. 

“I saw the way you looked at me,” he says, voice honey in your ears. “The way you looked at my hand earlier.”

That same hand is wrapping around your neck now, his touch featherlight. Those long fingers cover so much of you and you find yourself lifting your chin as he moves against you. His chest presses into you, and you're certain you can feel the hardened length of him against the swell of your ass. 

But all you can focus on are those fingers now cradling your chin, heading north.

“Did you enjoy it? The way my fingers move?”

His middle and forefinger rest on your left cheek, his thumb coming up to swipe across your bottom lip. 

“Would you like to know how they taste?”

Your hand at your stomach grips the fabric of your shirt tightly now, molten lava sent down to your core.

For a moment, you forget yourself, lost to his touch and voice. It takes you a second to remember he had asked you a question.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, nodding as much as his hand will allow.

His thumb swipes along your top lip now, your mouth hanging open to let out shallow, bated breaths.

“Go on, then,” he coos. “Indulge yourself.”

At that, you stick out your tongue, Silco's thumb coming down to press on it. As soon as he does, you close your mouth around it and suck, tasting the sweat on his skin. You hum around him, not even realizing that your eyes have fluttered closed.

“That's it.”

You drag your teeth across his thumb and he chuckles softly at that.

“How about some more?”

He pops his thumb out, replacing it with his middle and ring finger. You readily accept both, humming as you allow him to press them in as deep as they can go, fingers firm against your tongue.

“How long have you wanted these inside you?” He pulls his fingers back a fraction before sliding them back in. Your thighs press together as you picture that same movement between your legs. “Perhaps as long as I've wanted?”

You whimper around him, dampness growing in your underwear. And if his fingers in your mouth wasn't enough, his other hand is snaking down your hip, moving with purpose toward your navel.

“I should fuck you with my fingers right here in the bar,” he whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

You nod, whining a muffled whine.

Eyes half lidded, you feel drunk off him. More drunk than you could ever feel on any drink from the bar. His hand works quickly to undo your belt, fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants.

“How much do you want this?”

Your free hand flies to grab him by the thigh, fingers digging into his pants desperately. 

Right hand still working your mouth, his left dips beneath the waistband of your underwear, gliding down to your mound. And when the pads of his fingers glide through your folds, he finds them absolutely drenched.

You feel completely captive to him, his body encircling you and his fingers playing you like a puppet. Your walls clench around nothing as he massages a circle into your clit.

“Mmph!”

“That's it,” he hums, coating his fingers in your arousal. “Don’t worry. You're in good hands.”

At that, he presses two fingers into you. Your hips buck and your mouth falls open at the touch, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure shoots through you. Your toes clench and you scoot your feet apart, spreading yourself wide for him. His palm grinds against your clit as his fingers in your mouth press down on your tongue, middle and ring finger rolling against it like a steady wave.

You knew his hands were good.

You didn't know they were this good.

You already feel on the edge of ruin, hips shamelessly chasing the curl of his fingers inside you, grinding yourself against him. So blissed out, so overcome by want, you lift your hand from your stomach to grab your own breast, kneading it as you chase your high.

“I love a woman who knows what she wants,” he hums, his breathing almost ragged. He seems to be enjoying watching your undoing as much as you are enjoying experiencing it.

Your name is a prayer of praise on his lips, a quiet secret against skin. And as Silco's fingers continue to curl within you, his chest flush with your back and his palm grinding your clit, you wish this moment could last forever.

Silco shoves a third finger into your mouth, followed swiftly by a third at your core, stretching your walls.

A few more rolls of your hips, a few more curls of his fingers and then—

“Mmph!”

Your walls pulse around his fingers as you come undone, drool escaping out the sides of your lips as you pant and moan through your climax. It's impossible to tell which part of you is wetter with how slick both Silco's hands are. Chest heaving, clit throbbing, you feel as if every cell in your body is singing, crying out in unison one singular word.

Silco.

He eases you through your climax, both sets of fingers matching the rhythm of your spasming walls. And when finally your orgasm slows, he holds you in place, not moving a muscle.

Eyelids heavy, breath ragged, you feel exhausted all over. Silco's fingers remain inside you, a heavy, comforting presence within you. And when he pulls his hands from you, he does so only for a moment before bringing his left hand up to your mouth.

You can smell yourself on him and see the way his fingers glisten with your release. Wordlessly, you open your mouth and Silco pushes each drenched finger inside one by one.

You lazily suck on each of his fingers in turn, cleaning them as you try to piece yourself back together. 

Satisfied, he pulls his last digit free from your mouth and rests his damp fingers on your stomach possessively, both arms curled around you.

It's almost sweet, the way he embraces you.

But as your senses slowly return to you, you can feel the needy press of his crotch to your backside.

His chin tucked over your shoulder, his voice is a low rumble, a deep devilish purr at your ear. Your eyes flutter closed at the sound and warmth fills your body at his words.

“Why don't we continue this upstairs?”

A/N: Yes, a part 2 is already written 👀 Look forward to it.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @constantfragmentation @ariaud @jennrosefx @steponmesilco @leave-me-alone-silco @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @you-never-talk @noposwe @toripandashady @sirenofzaun @22carolina08 @roxnpens @commanderblood @medic-simp @cthezaunite @verdant-onyx @ursawastricked @artwithvivien @edlix @lackofhonor @spoczkot @witchypandamonium @lotus-99 @robin-the-enby @blissfulip @all-that-we-hope-to-be @zaunite-leo @silvia-elaine-hestia @nyx2021 @cccandynecklaces @another-batkid @toogaytofunctiondangit @rinkatai @mollymauksboi @pinklunarprincess | @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @witheringblooddemon @ladymer @redlovett

[starlightxsvt]

Appeal | sibilance. 4

synopsis ➳ ❝he has appealed and now, you have a serious decision to make. ❞

pairing ➳ lawyer fem!reader x rich badboy!wonwoo ft. Jeonghan genre ➳ angst, drama. word count ➳ 5.6k warnings ➳ cursing, slight love triangle, lots of pining, a bit of lying and deceit ig (this is pretty tame overall)

previous chapter

Wonwoo’s grip on your wrist is bruising.

He drags you with him, not stopping despite your complaints and resistance while you clumsily try to keep up, managing your dress with your free hand.

When the door of the private dressing room closes behind you with a loud thud, silence settles and he finally lets go of your hand. You remain pressed against the door, watching him with bated breath. 

The man takes a few steps away from you before turning to face you, a somber look on his face.

Then, he is down on his knees.

—

15 MINUTES EARLIER

Jeonghan’s words have stunned you into silence and you are still scrambling for an answer. Moments pass and as words fail to leave your mouth, Wonwoo marches towards the two of you with a determined look and frees your hand from Jeonghan’s.

“We need to talk.” That is all he states before pulling you away and into the corridor, back to where you just fled.

“Wha—” You turn back to look at Jeonghan while trying to free your hand from Wonwoo’s stone grip. Your colleague remains rooted in his spot, looking at you impassively. His gaze is foreign and distant, appearing almost neutral, giving you a hard time decoding his thoughts.

Fuck, what is going on?

This entire night has been a roller coaster, the majority of which has been spent with Wonwoo dragging you behind him whenever and wherever. 

“Wonwoo, for fucks sake…I told you—” You hiss, trying to pry his fingers off your wrist with your right hand.

He suddenly stops, prompting you to almost collide with his back.

"___," he inhales shakily, his pupils wide and shining. "I promise I'll let you go. I just need ten minutes of your time. That's the only thing I'll ever ask of you. We can never see each other again after this and I’ll be fine with that…but I need you to wait for me. I need to be on the stage right now. I'll finish as quickly as possible and then, just give me five minutes to talk to you." You see his throat bob as he swallows. 

His grip on your hand tightens. "I just need you to hear me out. Once. Please."

Your throat suddenly feels dry, as if the next word you speak will come out as a wheeze. You take a moment, peering into his eyes before swallowing the growing lump in your throat and then nodding. "Okay."

"Thank you." He squeezes your hand, his eyes shining.

From the grand hall room, you hear the emcee call for Wonwoo and the hushed chatters of the room growing louder and louder. 

“I'll be back quickly. Just wait for me in the dressing room.”

“Just go.” You tilt your chin, pointing behind him as the emcee calls his name for a second time and he lets go of your hand, jogging towards the ballroom while turning his head back to take glances at you.

From outside the room, in the corridor, where you stand, you watch him walk up to the stage and stand behind the podium. The people in the crowd are going crazy, putting two and two together. Wonwoo appears in front of them for the first time as Jeon Wonwoo, the chairman's only son, not the new shy and nerdy marketing department employee. 

Despite it being his acceptance speech, he makes it quick. As soon as he's done, he rushes back down the stage, politely excusing himself from everyone as he hurries out of the room and drags you away from the hundreds of pairs of eyes now eagerly set on him. 

Soon, once again, you are inside the dressing room with Wonwoo, hidden from the prying eyes of the world.

—

“Wonwoo…” You gasp, alarmed to see him on his knees.

“Please, just listen to me.”

“Can you get up first—”

“I am sorry!” He cries out, his fingers gripping the expensive fabric of his pants as he gazes up at you. It is weird and unnerving to see Wonwoo, dressed so formally, on his knees begging for your forgiveness.

If his plans were to catch your attention, he has succeeded.

Flabbergasted, you watch him, your body frozen awkwardly as you look into the turbulent storm clouding his eyes. 

You have never seen him look so sincere yet so in despair.

“I am sorry for everything.” He sighs, his head hanging low. “I had a plan, I swear. I really wanted to do this right. I brought up the topic of my father trying to get me married only to let you know that I am serious about you. I told him no. I told him I have someone that I love. I understand how you feel about me, I really do. I did not treat you well and you…you deserve so much better but I swear on my dying breath that I will treat you right this time. I only need one last chance.”

You are still rooted in your place, not breaking eye contact with him as the breath you were holding until now finally escapes. Despite the palms of your hands growing cold, the room suddenly feels hot and you want to voice it out but somehow, you lack the strength.

He continues. “I understand that there is someone else who likes you. And I also accept that you might like him back. What I’m asking you to do is consider. Consider me as an option. Don’t kick me out of the equation just yet, please. When you go home tonight, just think about giving me one final chance. You can take your time. I am ready to wait for you for eternity. I mean it, ____.”

As his words come to a halt, thick, heavy silence hangs in the air.

“Will you please stand up now?” You whisper finally.

He does so, slowly and then stands in front of you with his hands clasped in front of him, looking like a guilty criminal waiting for his hearing.

“Can I go home now?” You whisper again, your voice shaky. Right now, you are too frazzled to even think. You need to be as far away from him, from the world as possible. 

You don’t miss the disappointment flicker in his eyes but he handles it well. “Of course. Will you allow my driver to drop you home?”

“I want to take a cab.” You reply immediately, your tone final.

Wonwoo nods silently.

You watch him for a moment longer before standing up straight and taking a deep inhale. Then you turn around and twist the door knob open. 

“Goodnight. Get home safe.”

You stand in silence for a moment. 

“Good night, Wonwoo.” You murmur, not looking back.

—

The steam continues to bloom from the cup of your coffee as you stare at it, your head lost in the clouds.

Last night was hectic. 

That was a gross understatement.

So much happened last night that you are still processing the events one by one, dissecting them into little pieces carefully. You caught a cab straight home, took off your dress, and lay in the bathtub for two hours, staring at the ceiling. Never in a million years did you imagine that to be the end of your night but truly, that was how it ended.

Your sleep was poor and now, at 9 in the morning, as you sit by the window of the living room of your apartment, gazing at the city skyline and sipping your coffee, you wait for that moment of clarity to hit you.

It never comes. 

Your brain is still a jumbled mess, replaying the same few moments from last night without any thoughtful input.

Jeonghan could not have meant that really, could he? And how much can you trust Wonwoo’s words? How much of a wise decision would it be to go down that path again? Do you truly have it in yourself to go through another heartbreak from him?

You realize how you only keep thinking of Wonwoo and his actions when Jeonghan was the one who dropped the bomb on you last night. Old habits die hard, you suppose.

You cannot let this go on, though. You have to start somewhere and as you empty your cup of coffee, you decide to talk to Jeonghan first.

He texted you last night, asking if you got home safe and you left him on read, not finding the energy within you to reply.

With a soft sigh, you reach for your phone and type out a message to him.

You: Hey. Can we meet up?

His reply comes within two minutes.

Yoon J: Of course. When are you free?

You: In an hour maybe.

—

The slight chill in the breeze is comforting, soothing your heated skin. 

You have been walking around the park for the past half an hour, trying to distract yourself from the overflow of thoughts and theories in your mind. After completing four laps around the park, you sit on a bench and catch your breath, observing a father teaching his daughter how to ride a bike. Her squeals of excitement are loud enough to reach your ears and make you smile as momentarily, all the thoughts slip away from your head.

Then, you are snapped back into reality.

“Hey.” Jeonghan smiles, tentatively sitting next to you.

You turn to your left and watch him sit down, maintaining a good distance from you.

“Hi.” You give him a small smile. 

“Got home alright?” He asks. His demeanor is calm and friendly as usual, like nothing happened last night and you almost start to think that it was all a dream. 

Jeonghan keeps looking at you expectantly, that soft smile always playing on his lips as the gentle spring breeze wooshes by, blowing the flimsy, golden locks of his hair.

“How do you do this?” You whisper, subtly shaking your head in wonder.

“Do what?” he blinks.

You exhale, using a hand to brush back the rebellious strands of your hair. “You…you are always so…easy and friendly and nonchalant… Jeonghan, how do you do it?”

The man stares at you in silence for a few beats. His demeanor shifts like he is shedding a mask, and his expression grows somber.

“I don’t know,” he replies, looking at the ground. “I never take anything too seriously, I suppose. Life is already messy as it is. Why make it worse by stressing over everything?”

You gaze at him briefly before voicing the question softly, “Did you mean what you said last night?”

Another pause. Jeonghan does not break eye contact with you but from the unfocused look in his eyes, you see his mind running. 

“Yes or no, Jeonghan.”

“Both.” He mutters. “I…Let me explain.” He exhales loudly and shifts in his position, angling his body so he can look at you better. 

“Last night what I said…it was a test. For you and Wonwoo.” He pauses, his eyes flickering around as he searches for the right words. “You see, I saw him following you and I had to pose the ultimatum. I say it was a test for you because if you rejected me immediately, I would know for sure that you had feelings for the kid. Hell, I was even expecting a slap from you. But you didn’t do any of that. You looked like you saw a ghost and I honestly don’t know how to interpret that reaction.” He shakes his head, a small smile growing on his lips.

“As for Wonwoo, he passed the text. With flying colours, I must admit. I wanted him to hear my confession because I needed to see what he would do. If he turned around and left like a pussy, which…I thought he would, then I would have the green light.”

“For what?”

“To pursue you.” Jeonghan doesn’t break eye contact. “I…felt guilty sometimes, you know, wondering if I was coming in between the two of you. You and I both know you have not been able to move on from him completely. I wanted to check if he felt the same way about you and he does. I guess my confessing to you finally triggered him. That was the manliest I ever saw him.”

As the gravity of his words settles on you, you cannot help but scoff. “Am I a joke to you all?”

“What? No! Never! Why would you think that?”

“You told me to go out with you, Jeonghan!”

“Do you think I was lying?” Jeoghan scoots closer to you. Grabbing your upper arms, he forces your body to face his. “Look at me.”

With a grunt of annoyance, you do so.

“I like you, ___. You are smart, kind, funny, beautiful and capable and all good things so it's hard not to fall for you. But I will not force myself in your life when you and Wonwoo are still unfinished. I needed to know where he stood so I did not feel guilty pursuing you seriously. Trust me, if he let you go yesterday, things right now would have been a lot different.”

This is the first time you have seen Jeonghan be so serious.

“You mean a lot to me.” He continues, resting his hand on the top of yours. “As a friend, as a colleague. I did not…I do not want to ruin this friendship by loving you in a way I am not allowed to. I do not want to break my own heart or yours. I’m sorry that I took you by surprise with my confession. And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

A small sigh parts from your lips as you stare at your shoes. As always, Jeonghan and his way with words.

You peer at his face. “It’s okay. But…I…I don’t know if I can return—”

“I know, I know.” He interrupts you, holding his palms up in surrender. “No need to rub salt on my fresh, gaping wounds. I figured that much after you left me on read yesterday.”

You roll your eyes, unable to hold back a small, throaty chuckle. 

“How dare you laugh at my misery?” Jeonghan cries out dramatically, making you laugh harder. Soon you are both laughing and you feel the tension surrounding you dissipate into nothingness. When you two have composed yourself, he questions, “So, what did he say after he dragged you away like a knight in shining armour?”

You fall silent, thinking about the words Wonwoo shared last night. Your colleague leans closer and closer to your face, his eyes shining with childlike curiosity. 

“Ugh— move away!” You shove him backwards playfully.

“Don’t tell me he cried!”

“No!”

He didn’t cry but he got on his knees and begged for a second chance. But you decide not to share that and tarnish Wonwoo’s image. Jeonghan would never let him go and you need to keep the new CEO’s image intact.

“He…said he was sorry for everything and asked for another chance. But he didn’t force anything on me. He…he asked me to consider him as an option, that’s all. He said he would wait for me no matter how long I may need.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen and his lips part in surprise. “Did he really say that? Wow, the kid finally grew up, no? How noble of him!”

“Stop being sarcastic.” You shove his arm, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan chuckles. “No, seriously. He has changed a lot from the first time I saw him.”

You ponder the words. 

“He has indeed.” You find yourself murmuring. 

“So,” Jeonghan clasps his hands together. “What have you decided?’’

“I haven’t decided anything. Not yet. I need time to think.”

“I understand.” Jeonghan nods. “Just a tip. Even if you decide to give him another chance, don’t let him know right away. Make him suffer a little.” He grins conspicuously making you shake your head with a smile.

After a moment’s pause, you look at him. “Jeonghan?”

“Hm?”

“Are we okay? Truly?”

“All good, I promise.” He gives you a soft smile.

You smile back. “Glad to hear it because we need to work together and wrap up Mr. Kim’s case this week.”

“Ugh,” he groans, putting his hands on his head. “You only think about work, don’t you?”

—

Early morning on Monday you visit Jeon Industries to submit a few documents. With your task completed, you stand in front of the elevator, waiting for it to come up when you get a text from Chairman Jeon’s secretary.

Secretary Yu: Chairman wants to see you. When can you come by?

You: I’m in the building. I’ll be there in five.

The chairman’s office is quite barren, the walls devoid of the certificates and images that used to occupy a vast expanse of the space. As you take a seat on the couch and an assistant serves tea, you take a look around and notice cardboard boxes piled up in a corner. The top box is agape, giving you a peek into the contents inside— books and crests and other such things.

“Feels empty, no?” The chairman asks as he takes a seat. “I have been in this office since my twenties. It sometimes feels unreal, you know.”

You nod and watch him take a sip from the steaming cup.

“Will your son be using this office?” You ponder out loud.

“No, actually.” He sets the cup down. “He will use the one down the hall. So this one will remain empty for now I suppose.” He sighs, almost wistful.

You hum your acknowledgement and busy yourself with the tea, wondering why you have been summoned. He never asked you or anyone, from your knowledge, to visit him for tea and an idle chat. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He states, looking directly at you. You set down your teacup and sit straighter, clasping your hands over your knees.

“You see, my son apparently has someone he likes. He refused the match I set up for him because of her. Do you have any idea who it might be?”

Oh boy. Is this a trick question? Could it be possible that someone found out about your affair and let him know? Nothing gets past Secretary Yu so you won’t be even surprised. 

With your index finger, you push your glasses over your nose bridge. “Uhm, no sir. I…don’t know anything.” You speak, putting on your best poker face.

The chairman nods. “I understand it’s weird to ask you but you know my son. He would never tell me and you have been pretty close with him. You’re the only one in the company he listens to.”

Not finding anything other than lies to say, you just nod.

“I need to know about the girl.” He continues, almost as if he’s talking to himself as he takes another sip of his tea. “If she feels the same way about him then I need to meet up with her, talk about their future. Otherwise, my son needs to marry an advantageous match. He will start his job as the CEO next week and the quicker he marries the better.”

“I understand, sir.” You reply like a parrot. Beads of sweat gather on your neck and you cannot wait to get out of this room.

Chairman Jeon sets his cup down and then looks at you. “Anyway, I was wondering if you knew anything about it. No problem if you don’t. You have been a great asset to this company. You handled all my son’s troubles very smoothly so thank you.”

“I was just doing my job, sir.”

“You sure are very good at it.” He grins. “After Mr. Kim’s case is over, take a break. It has been long overdue for you. Now that Wonwoo will take over this company, you need to be by his side. He still has a lot to learn and knowing my son, he will get in trouble and the person I trust most to get him out is you.”

You nod with a polite smile. “Thank you, sir.”

He nods. “Take a month off. I will see you again after your break.”

—

The cool afternoon air flows by, ruffling your hair and messing up the strands. You stand with your arms crossed, gazing at the view from the rooftop of your office building. The meeting with the chairman sure left you jittery, adding another worry to your already preoccupied mind. It sure does not help that you lied to him. What if he knew everything and was just testing you? 

Shit. Let’s not think that.

“Look who I found skipping work.” Jeonghan’s teasing voice makes you turn around. “Whatcha doing here?” He asks, strolling towards you with his hands in his pockets.

“I could ask you the same.” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I had the urge to smoke. Thought I should get some fresh air to distract myself.”

“Mhmm.” You hum, looking back at the view. 

From this high up, all the buildings, even the skyscrapers appear weirdly small and unintimidating. The roads and the vehicles all appear cartoonishly minuscule and you feel like you can watch them for hours without getting bored. It is a monotonous job, standing here and watching the city breathe but it brings peace to your mind, as you zone out and the raging thoughts in your head calm down.

Jeonghan rests an arm on the railing and peeks at your face. “Looks like you are procrastinating, Lawyer ___.”

“I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Well, you can think about them after we are done with this case. We cannot be distracted now, at the very end.”

“I know.” You murmur distractedly. 

“Come on,” Jeonghan pats your shoulder. “Let’s get back to work. We have so much to get through.”

“Jeonghan?”

The man is about to walk towards the stairs when your voice stops him. “Hm?” He turns around.

“Do you think he and I are a good match?”

Jeonghan silently observes you for a moment, his lips set in a straight line. “You and Wonwoo? Yeah, why not? I would say you are too good for him but he is not all that bad, I guess. Not these days at least.” Your reply is a hum but you don’t find yourself fully convinced. After seeing the chairman today, you realized you have much more to consider. It is not about you just accepting Wonwoo. The chairman has to accept you. 

Will he do that? Can he do that? Knowing Wonwoo rejected a better, more advantageous match because of you?

“Where is this coming from? Are you seriously doubting yourself?” Jeonghan frowns, stepping closer to you to get a better look at your face.

You shake your head and force a smile, shrugging off the heavy thoughts. “You know me. Just overthinking. Come on. Let’s get going.”

You walk past him but he calls your name, making you crane your head back.

“The kid told you to consider him, right? I will add something to that. If you decide to reject him, do so because your heart wants that, not because of anything else. Not because of what others may think and definitely not because you think you are not good enough for him. Because that is not true and you know it. We all do.”

A soft, grateful smile kisses your lips. “Thank you, Jeonghan.”

The man returns your smile, walking alongside you. “Now let’s get to work, shall we?”

—

Thursday evening starts with the never ending shots of soju while you all wait for the food to arrive. It is Mr. Pi’s treat, celebrating you and Jeonghan as you have successfully wrapped up Mr. Kim’s case, earning a good reputation not just for yourselves but for the company. So of course, he is ecstatic to have a team dinner with everyone, more so than ever before.

He claps his hands loudly, demanding everyone’s attention. “Listen up! I want every one of you to get home wasted, you hear me? No one goes home sober!” He grins and then dramatically, pulls out a credit card from his breast pocket. “Guess whose card this is? Our chairman…well ex-chairman’s son, our dearest new CEO Jeon Wonwoo’s! He gave it to me, asking me to take you all to a nice dinner. So, bottoms up!”

Your boss’s revelation comes to you as a surprise. Pouring yourself a shot, you quickly gulp it down as your mind starts sprinting. Why is Wonwoo treating your team to a meal? Is it to create a better impression on the legal partner after his colourful past?

Jeonghan leans closer to you suddenly, speaking in your ear so that you can hear him over the noise and the chatter. “How benevolent of your lover!”

You roll your eyes. “God, please stop.”

He smirks, taking a shot of soju. “I will bet my right kidney, an arm, a leg, and my entire bank balance that he did it for you.”

“What?’’ You are genuinely confused. 

“Oh please.” It is his turn to roll his eyes. “He knows how hard you have been working and what other way to treat you than under the guise of a company dinner? He knows he cannot just ask you out for dinner so he does this. Quite nice of him. We all get a free meal. You bet I’m gonna drain that kid’s card tonight.” Jeonghan chuckles, his nose crinkling and he almost looks like a cartoon villain. He stands up and yells out more orders for side dishes as cheers erupt around the table.

You flinch because of the noise, finishing your shot and then excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

When you step out, you see that one of your colleagues, notorious for his terrible singing voice is belting out drunk tunes and the food is yet to be served. So, you sneakily avoid your table and step outside for some fresh air.

Not even a minute in your solitude you are interrupted by your boss.

“What are you doing here? You’re one of the stars of our show! You should be back there.”

You offer him a polite smile. “I am just tired. You know how hectic this week has been.”

“I would say you had a very hectic year.” Mr. Pi nods. “When are you going on your break?”

“It has officially started.” You grin at him. “Don’t expect to see me in the office for the next two weeks.”

“What? Only two weeks?”

You kick the pebbles on the ground, shifting from one foot to another.

“You know me, Mr. Pi. Work is my life. What will I do with a month's break? I will go crazy. At least with work…I am busy…” You trail off, your thoughts trailing back to Wonwoo.

Mr. Pi is quiet for a few long moments.

“He mentioned you.” He states, looking up at the night sky. At first, you are confused about who he is referring to. 

“When he gave me this card, he told me to take you all out to dinner and then specifically mentioned you, asking me to check up on you and make sure you eat well and get home safe.”

Your throat closes up for some reason. It is the drinks, you convince yourself.

“He is a really nice guy, you know.” Your boss continues. “I have been working with Chairman Jeon for almost twelve years now. I have known Wonwoo since his teenage days. He was a troublesome kid, for sure but he was lonely. Very lonely. His father did not understand that, he never even acknowledged it. He was very close to his mother, you know. Her death hit him very hard and things went downhill from then. He needed his father to be there for him but he never was and they grew apart. And so, he became how you saw him. A troublemaker, a spoiled brat.”

You find yourself unable to utter a word. Staring hard at the ground and not blinking, you simply nod. 

You don’t want your tears to come out, especially when you have no idea why you want to cry.

Mr. Pi softly pats your back. “Don’t stay out here for too long, hmm?” You stiffly nod once more and he leaves, stepping back into the restaurant. 

You stand outside for five more minutes, fighting the tears.

—

Jeonghan rests his head on the window of the cab, his eyes closed, his body softly jerking now and then due to the car’s movement. 

He continues humming a tune as you sit next to him and gaze at the city view passing by. The moon is bright and shining today, making the city appear almost ethereal. You briefly wonder if it's just your drunk brain casting a misty glow on everything.

It cannot be. You drank barely a bottle. For whatever reason, you did not feel like getting wasted. Maybe because you don’t trust yourself enough. Who knows what you might have done after getting wasted. Would you have shown up at Wonwoo’s house? 

Gosh, just the thought makes you cringe and you shake your head, pushing that image away.

Jeonghan shifts beside you, sitting up straight.

“You okay?”

He nods. “I hold my liquor pretty well.”

“Mhmm, sure.” You smirk.

“Seriously. I am not drunk. My head just feels heavy. I need to sleep.” He yawns and then rubs his temples. “Thank god for the weekend.”

You hum in reply.

“Any plans for your vacation?” He asks.

“Not yet.” You reply. Maybe you will go see your parents. Stay over there for a week perhaps. 

Silence cocoons inside the cab once again. You think Jeonghan has fallen asleep but looking beside, you find him staring out the window, appearing lost in his thoughts.

“I have to tell you something.” He murmurs, not looking at you.

“God, Jeonghan, I swear—”

“No, listen to me. It’s serious.” He turns to face you, his expression sincere. “I lied to you.”

You straighten your back, looking at him with a frown. 

“Remember the first time you asked me to get coffee for you? Remember how I got it just right? It’s not because you and my sister share the same taste. It was because of Wonwoo.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

“He was there when I was placing our orders. He came and selected yours and then told me not to tell you. I…I didn’t tell you not because of that but because, back then, I thought I could use that to make you like me.”

You are stunned into silence.

Jeonghan looks down guiltily. “Also remember the heat pack and the pain relief patches I gave you when we had just started working on Mr. Kim’s case? They were from him too. I saw him at the coffee shop in front of our office almost every day. He used to wait there from 7 am to get a glimpse of you. He would ask me about you every day.”

Unsurprisingly, you are speechless.

You stare at your lap, fidgeting with your fingernails. You feel a lump forming on your throat and you have to swallow multiple times to clear your voice. “I see.” You whisper.

“Some time back then I realized he was serious about you. He regretted treating you that way.” Jeonghan sighs. “I can’t believe I am saying this but he is a decent guy.”

Silently, you stare at your lap, taking time to carefully observe the muted blue and grey pattern on your skirt. 

“I am sorry. Are you mad at me?” Jeonghan questions softly.

Releasing a gentle sigh, you meet his eyes. “Not really. Thank you for telling me all of that.”

He keeps looking at you impassively, almost like he cannot believe that you are not mad.

“I mean it, Jeonghan. Thank you.” You pause for a beat. “Now I can make my decision.”

Recognition dawns on his face as he nods and leans back on his seat, resting his head on the headrest. He smiles, closing his eyes, “Glad to hear it.”

The rest of the drive goes by in silence before you reach Jeonghan’s apartment complex.

“Are you sure you will be alright?” You ask, watching him unbuckle his seatbelt clumsily. “Should I walk you to your door?”

“How noble of you,” he grumbles, finally prying it off and opening the door. With wobbly feet, he steps out. “Get home safe and enjoy your vacation. I will text you tomorrow if I don’t die.” He does a two finger salute and turns around, waving his hand in dismissal. “Night.”

“Goodnight.” You yell back, watching him enter his building as the car starts moving again.

“Sir,” You refer to the old man driving the cab. “Can you take me to this place instead?”

—

Fifteen minutes later, you are at your destination.

The streets and the houses are familiar, echoing haunted memories that you have tried very hard to forget. 

You stand in front of his house, under the warm yellow porch light, hesitating to ring the bell. 

The streets are empty and quiet, not a soul in sight and you know that if someone saw you lurking out here for too long, they might call the police thinking you are a thief.

Exhaling a loud, shaky breath, you press the calling bell.

Fuck it.

A second ticks by, then another and then another. You start to think that he may not be at home. You count each second that goes by and exactly forty seconds later, the door opens.

Wonwoo, dressed in pajamas with a towel hanging around his neck stands on the other side in silence. His eyes scan you from top to bottom, twice, widening with every breath. A drop of water trickles down his forehead from his damp hair and his lips part, but no words come out. He continues staring at you in absolute bewilderment.

“Hi.” You whisper. 

series masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay in the update guys, but I hope this was a fun read for y'all! Gear up for a lot of romance and fluff for the next part because it will be the final part. Hopefully, it’ll be out within this month. Until then, toodles! <33 (also, drop by my ask box and let me know your thoughts!)

[telephoniii]

Malleus copes with you leaving.

Malleus knows this is best for you.

It was your decision to make and yours alone. Lilia sat him down and thoroughly lectured him on it. He couldn't hold you back from happiness. Yet the heartache he felt only grew.

What was the point of all the late nights spent with you? The secrets whispered in the winds? The kisses shared past midnight?

Why would you provide him with such memories only to leave?

The second you stepped through that mirror, disappearing from his sight, Malleus felt sick. His whole world had been changed. He foolishly placed all his love and more onto you. Now that you’re gone, he’s directionless.

Malleus feels Lilia pat him on the shoulder. His voice isn't as playful as it usually is but still carries a chipper tone. “You’ve got centuries to find another!… Learn to let go.”

Let go?

Was this how relationships worked? You put in your all just to inevitably let go? How cruel.

He secluded himself from all of Diasomnia for a week, including his bodyguards and Lilia.

Malleus felt your absence everywhere. The starry nights are more silent than ever. Ramshackle reverted to an old, dusty dorm. He wonders what happened to your cat companion once you left.

The Gargoyle Research Club is canceled until further notice. Not that anyone else attended. Without your smile to invade the room, Malleus felt no desire to ramble about the complex history of his favorite subject.

Everything felt dull. And he despised it.

One night, he made his way into the abandoned dorm of Ramshackle.

He found your old room, your old mirror. Malleus thinks he’s going crazy. He swears he saw your reflection in the dinky glass.

It's amusing in a way. How one human had impacted his life so much.

Malleus wonders how you’re doing without him. Is it better? Living in a world where you could never see his face again?

He remembers you talking to him about your real family, reminiscing on bad and good memories. That was the first time he felt compelled to hold you. To comfort you. To make all the pain go away.

He would've never guessed you would soon be the source of his pain.

Malleus resents how easy it was to lose you; how easy it was for you to let him go. But another, louder part of himself knows that he could never hate you. When you left, you took a part of him permanently.

He longs to see you again.

For you to prance by his side at his club. For you to text him silly messages throughout the day on his tiny device. For you to come to him asking for help in finding Grim.

Malleus is unbearably lonely without you.

Then he hears a thud. It seems as though the wind had knocked an item in your room over. A journal. Malleus can’t help but observe the little notebook.

Your name was written on the cover. He immediately opens to page one.

The date at the top was the exact day he remembers first meeting you. You write about a handsome stranger you met at night. Based on your words, you felt as though you had intruded on his space.

Malleus soon finds himself spiraling, reading page after page of you describing your time at NRC; the people you met, the memories you created, and the fae you fell in love with.

He feels a surge of disappointment as he quickly reads through it all, soon reaching the end. His eyes widen as he turns to the last page. A mere two sentences were written in ink.

“You’ll always be my love. Even if we’re dimensions apart, Tsunotaro.”

Malleus’s grip on the leather cover tightened. You knew he’d find this. He’s partly amused. You are always full of surprises.

He rips out that last page addressed to him, letting the notebook fall to the floor as he does.

Malleus transforms the torn paper into a delicate, green rose. That flower will now always hold a piece of his magic.

The fae places it in front of the mirror in which he stares at his reflection.

~

“I, Malleus Draconia, vow to never love another like I did you, my dearest child of man.”

[cherrysolo]

lu x humanities/social science reader where you teach him concepts in your major and yap about social, cultural implications of stuff, etc. he listens to you so intently because he is interested in it but mainly because it's you talking about something you're passionate about. this man is part sapiosexual imo, meaning he's attracted to intelligence. he loves hearing you ramble on about whatever the hell it is. But also, he teaches you some coding stuff or you guys make some cool shit together. idk anything about that stuff but i'd imagine he would show you how to do some stuff. he'd encourage you and be such a good teacher!

bed chem

warnings: smut lol

soooo I kinda took this request and ran with it hehehehehehhe hope u enjoy <3

you were sitting in your dorm with your boyfriend luigi, studying for a psychology midterm. while he was working on some coding, you were stuck trying to remember different behaviour theory terms. memorizing definitions and theories gave you a migraine, and you loved pursuing your neuroscience degree but it could be difficult for most of the time. you let out a huge sigh,

“what’s wrong angel?” luigi stops typing on his laptop and turns to you.

“hmmm just feeling kinda dumb, I can’t seem to focus on studying,” he sighs and moves closer to you,

“don’t talk down on yourself baby, sometimes you just need a break or look at things from a different perspective,” he encourages you and presses his hand on your shoulder, rubbing slightly. “maybe you need a partner, or a visual, or both?” he hums moving closer to you.

“I don’t know, I can’t take you away from your work,” the frustration in your voice makes his heartache. he wants to make you feel better, and make you forget about the stress that consumes your mind.

“don’t worry about me baby, let’s focus on you,” he moves up to sit behind you, basically sitting on his lap now. his hands grip your hips to pull you closer into him. You part your knees on either side of him and situate comfortably on him, your ass is swell to his core.

“so you’re studying behavioural styles?” quirking his head to look at your laptop, you nod.

“well, let’s start with what behavioural styles are?” his hand slowly starts moving from your waist up to under your breast. your breath hitches, “uh, well, behavioural styles are used to describe how people tend to interact with others, umm make decisions, and uh approach tasks.” you answer with a stuttering breath. his hand finally squeezes your breast slightly, starting to pepper kisses on your neck. “smart girl, let’s do some more, sound good?” you hum quietly, “can you use your words, baby?”

you nod quickly, “yeah that’s good” his hand lowers from your chest and moves to your hip again,

“what are the four behavioural styles?” you clear your voice, his touch is sending goosebumps across your body.

“uh well, the first one is, uh dominance because people are -oh um” you sigh as he rests his hand on the top of your shorts, tapping his fingers above your pubic bone.

“what was that baby?” you can hear his smug smile behind you, he was such a tease.

“uh it’s because people are influenced by power and uh control,” you blurt out quickly as he presses a kiss to your neck.

“good job, continue,” he lowers his fingers into your shorts but not yet touching where you need him most.

“the next one influence, uh because- oh god,” you moan out as he places his fingers on your clit.

“why’d you stop baby, keep going” he whispers as he slowly rubs you. your breathing becomes rigid, you can’t believe he’s doing this to you.

“because people need relationships to thrive, and uh you know, recognition and love,” your brows furrow trying to concentrate.

“good job baby, you’re so smart,” he clears his throat and continues to decent up to remove your top, motioning you to lift your arms. once your top is gone, he goes back to your core. his lips reattach to your neck, sucking purple marks into it.

“right, there’s also the steadiness style, oh fuck,” you curse because of his fingers begin to remove your shorts, you lift your hips up to let the cool air hit your clenched core.

“continue, what is it for?” he questions, pressing his fingers back to your clit, smearing around the wetness.

“it’s um, because people are driven by stability, they want community,” you whine out. “ that’s right, my smart girl, you deserve this now,” he says as he plunges a finger into your soaked core and curls it upwards.

“oh god lu, please” you praise wanting more.

“next one baby, then I’ll add a finger,” you breathe in and out through your nose, finding the strength to answer the final question.

“oh- uh- the final one is conscientious type.” you breathe out.

“good girl, continue,” he begins to quicken his movements.

“they uh are driven by accuracy, quality, and knowledge.” you quickly get out, and he pauses his movements to motion you to continue.

“they tend to be analytical, detail-oriented, and uh they enjoy solving problems and making logical decisions. uh like you lu,” you mumble out as he adds a second finger. the noise of wetness filling the air,

“such a good and smart girl you are, fuck,” he praises you while moaning out.

“hmmm see you just needed some help,” he continues to praise you as you clench around his fingers. your brain is completely empty at this moment in time, only concentrating on reaching your peak. his thumb hits your clit and a familiar feeling fills your stomach.

“lu, please, I’m so close,” your incoherent babbling is enough of a signal for him to quicken his pace.

“you’re my good girl, c'mon just let go, you deserve it,” as those words are let out, your orgasm takes over. your chest is heaving and you feel dizzy. you lean over to look up, and place a quick kiss to his mouth, “I love you lu, you really know how to help a girl study,”

“I love you too baby, next time you can help me,” you both end up laughing in each other's arms.

[undeadentropy]

Calling it now. Nonvoter maga will keep pretending Harris would have been just as bad, and blame democrats for not fighting back. While sitting on their ass themselves while their neighbors die, because democrats just mirror them more than anything. Most nonvoters have the privilage of not giving a shit, and their well off asses are the only ones democrats care about. Why do you think they thought they could 'send a message' in the first place by not voting? And yes I see nonvoters as maga. There is no neutrality in fascism. They made their choice, and their choice was that this was acceptable so long as they could pretend to be good people about it. They are as useless as the democrats who we could have been fighting instead right now. Meanwhile the rest of maga will blame biden for making trump and them extremists in the first place. A necessary evil to save america and all that shit. Fascists are nothing if not predictable.

There will be a point where the truth really sets in, once bodies really start piling up and the smog of war fills the skies. People will either go into denial about their role in it, or they will repent and fight back. No matter what happens now, there will be blood. A lot of blood. There's no escaping that now. The trolley has already come and we voted to let it do its thing. The only way to stop it now is before the next trolley problem occurs, and another group must make a fucked up decision because of us.

But we can just shoot the nazis and end it. Deny, defend, depose. It's the only way to save as many lives as possible. But that requires people in this hell country to care about other people for once in their lives, enough to risk or sacrifice their own. It requires heroes to step forward. So uh, we'll see.

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 3)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: this actually came from my own brain for once lol

word count: 1,049k

summary: your aunt pays you and alexia a visit.

genre: angst/comfort warnings: mean aunt? death of parents, fighting with family members, grief, struggling, possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here chapter 2: here chapter 4: here

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared down the woman who had dared to show up at the door. Tía - your aunt. The one who’d always been more of a stranger than family to you. The one who’d only ever cared about your parents’ money and now, it seemed, was here to claim what was left of them.

Alexia’s eyes flicked nervously between the two of you, her hand hovering near your shoulder as if to stop you from doing something you might regret. You didn’t care, though. Your whole body was consumed with the rage that had been building up for weeks now. The anger that had started as a small knot in your stomach, then festered into a full-on storm, and now, standing in front of you, was the person who had the audacity to add fuel to that fire.

“What the fuck do you want to take from me now, tía?” you repeated, your voice low but cutting.

The woman flinched at your words, but her posture remained stiff and composed. She was used to dealing with people who feared her, who catered to her every whim, but she wasn’t expecting this. You could see the shock in her eyes as she straightened up, her hand clutching a small, designer purse. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at you as if you were the one who had overstepped, not her.

“Y/N…” Alexia’s voice was soft, trying to calm the tension in the air, but you couldn’t be calmed. Not now. Not when the woman had the nerve to show her face after what had happened.

Your aunt cleared her throat, finally speaking in a voice that was as cold as her expression. “I’m here because I-”

“Don’t. Just don’t,” you interrupted her, taking a step forward. “I know why you’re here. You want to make sure there’s nothing left for me, don’t you? You want to take whatever my mamí and papá had, whatever scraps are left. You’re here for the money. What else?”

She looked taken aback by your directness but quickly recovered, her lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m not here for money, Y/N,” she said, her words deliberately slow and measured. “I’m here because you need to make some decisions about what happens next.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fought to control the burning rage inside you. “What decisions? What decisions are you talking about?” you spat, your tone sharp.

Alexia stepped in then, trying to ease the situation before it escalated further. “Chica, please. Take a step back. Let’s listen to what she has to say,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring, though her eyes were full of concern.

But you couldn’t listen. Not to her. Not to anyone who seemed to think they had a say in your life now that your world had been turned upside down. Your gaze didn’t leave your aunt’s face as you spoke again, this time more quietly but no less firmly.

“Leave. Right now. I don’t want anything from you. You don’t get to walk into my life like this, pretending you care after all these years.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger beginning to build behind her cold facade. “You’re going to have to face reality sooner or later, Y/N,” she said, her voice taking on a more threatening edge. “You don’t have anyone else left. You need to start thinking about what’s next, because you can’t live in the past forever.”

You took a deep breath, the words cutting deeper than any knife could. But you wouldn’t let her win. Not today. You turned your back to her and walked toward Alexia, who had been watching the whole exchange in silence.

“Come on, chica,” Alexia said softly, her hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to listen to her. You don’t have to let her get to you.”

But it didn’t stop the anger from bubbling inside you. Reality? Your reality was gone. What did she know about reality?

“You don’t get to talk about reality,” you muttered under your breath, your voice strained as you pulled away from Alexia’s touch and took a seat on the couch again. “Not after what you’ve put me through, not after everything you’ve let happen.”

Alexia sat beside you, her presence a calming force as always, though she was visibly upset by what had transpired. Your aunt, however, didn’t seem to care about the emotional toll this was taking on either of you.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N,” your aunt said curtly, turning on her heel to leave, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she marched out the door without another word.

The silence that followed her departure felt suffocating. The room seemed to close in around you, and you could feel your chest tightening, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Alexia didn’t say anything for a few moments. She just sat there, her hand resting on your knee, offering comfort in the way only she could.

You didn’t want to cry. Not again. Not in front of anyone else. But the dam inside you had already broken, and all you could do was let the tears spill silently, staining your cheeks as you sat in the hollow silence.

“Amorcito…” Alexia finally whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m so sorry. I know this is... this is so much for you to handle. But you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely. You didn’t have the energy to stop them anymore. The woman who should’ve been there for you, your family, had just shown her true colours. And now, more than ever, you knew that you only had the team. You only had Alexia, Mapi, Ingrid, Lucy, Keira, and the others. They were the ones who truly cared.

Alexia pulled you into her side, wrapping her arms around you like a protective shield. You didn’t have to say anything. She already knew.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself lean into that comfort, allowing yourself to be held.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-one: The Distance Between Us

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 21 | next

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The night felt different after the incident with the panther mask. The sharp edges of tension that had once crackled between you and In-ho now simmered quietly beneath the surface, but something was shifting. You could feel it—he wasn’t pulling away in the way he had before, but there was something else. Something unspoken. He had changed after that moment of confrontation. It wasn’t just about the panther anymore, it was about you—and about him.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the room heavy with silence. In-ho had barely spoken since the two of you returned to the suite. The brief moments of calm, of connection that had once sparked between you, had started to feel distant, like they belonged to someone else.

You didn’t know when it had happened—when the distance had crept in—but now it felt like something had shifted irrevocably. The softness in his gaze, the way he’d brushed your cheek earlier, the almost unguarded way he held you as the panther’s presence had loomed—those moments had been real, but they felt like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. You had almost convinced yourself that he was beginning to let go, that maybe, just maybe, he was opening up to the idea of letting you in.

But tonight, it felt like he was closing off again.

You turned toward his side of the bed, only to find it empty. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of his movements on the other side of the suite. You didn’t need to look to know he wasn’t asleep. You could feel it—his restless energy had filled the room, and you could sense the way he was holding something back.

You sat up, pulling the blanket off your shoulders as you slipped out of bed and padded across the room. The lights were dim, casting soft shadows across the room, but even in the near-darkness, you could see the tension in his shoulders as he stood by the window, staring out into the night.

“In-ho?” you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room.

He didn’t answer right away. The seconds ticked by in silence as you stepped closer, the weight of the moment settling heavily between you.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice strained, distant. “Go back to sleep.”

You stopped just short of him, your gaze tracing the lines of his back. Something in his tone made your chest tighten, a small flare of concern igniting in you. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was something more to this, something you weren’t seeing.

“You’re not fine,” you said softly, your voice gentle but firm. “In-ho, you’ve been… distant. Ever since that night. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can feel it. What’s happening?”

He didn’t respond right away, his hands gripping the windowsill as though he were trying to hold onto something—anything. The silence between you felt like it stretched for miles.

Finally, he turned, his gaze meeting yours for the first time since you’d entered the room. His eyes were darker than usual, almost pained. “You don’t understand,” he said, the words heavy, as if they were forced out of him.

You frowned, stepping closer, your heart pounding. “What don’t I understand? In-ho, please… talk to me. You’re shutting me out, and I don’t know why.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t know what it’s like,” he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. To lose her… to lose a part of yourself in the process.”

Your breath caught, the air around you suddenly feeling thick with the weight of his confession. You knew about his wife and the child they had lost, the death that still haunted him. But hearing him say it, so raw, made something tighten deep inside you.

“I do know, In-ho,” you said quietly, your voice soft but insistent. “I know you’re still hurting. But I’m not asking you to forget her, or to replace her. I’m here. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, you thought he might let you in. That brief flicker of vulnerability you’d seen before was there again, but it quickly faded behind a wall of coldness.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice lower now, tinged with something that felt almost like shame. “I can’t… I can’t love you like this. I’m not whole. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. And I’m afraid that if I let myself… if I let you get too close, I’ll lose you the same way I lost her. And I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

His words cut through you, each one heavier than the last. The air in the room felt suffocating, and you took a step back, as though trying to process the weight of what he’d said. You could feel the struggle inside him—this deep, internal war that kept him locked in the past, unable to move forward.

“In-ho,” you whispered, your voice shaking just a little, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you. I am with you. But I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

He stood there, silent, his back to you once again as he tried to mask the turmoil behind the mask of indifference.

“I can’t do this right now,” he said abruptly, his voice hardening again, like a shield descending between you. “I need space. I… I have to go. There’s something I need to take care of.”

Before you could protest, before you could try to convince him that you understood, he moved quickly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading toward the door. You opened your mouth to call out to him, but the words got stuck in your throat. There was nothing more you could say.

He paused at the door, his hand on the handle, but he didn’t turn around. “I’ll be back later,” he said in a voice that held no trace of the warmth it had once had. “I just… I need to clear my head.”

And with that, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him with a quiet finality that left you standing alone in the middle of the room. The silence felt oppressive now, the air thick with the weight of what had just transpired. You could still feel the echo of his words hanging in the air, the finality in his tone.

You didn’t know when he would come back. Or if he would come back with the same look in his eyes.

But you knew one thing: In-ho was still fighting. Fighting against what he felt, fighting against what he needed, and fighting against you. And right now, there was nothing you could do but wait.

This version stays true to the evolving dynamic between you and In-ho, where the closeness is still there, but his fear of losing you—and his unresolved grief—leads him to pull back. The emotional tone of Chapter 20 is carried forward, where there’s a real bond forming, but with In-ho’s unresolved trauma and hesitations still holding him back.

———————

Chapter twenty-one!! Woops they’re back to being distanced… I couldn’t let them be happy this easily lol. As always lemme know what you think! Thank you!

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[adieutristana]

Can you write something where you comfort Jinx and calm her in season 2 where she gets hallucinations and looks really scared when sevika tells her about Isha?

of course! thank you for the request <3

guys somebody go back in time and slap past lottie for deciding that taking 16 credit hours this semester would be a good idea 😒

summary; comforting jinx after isha is taken.

characters included; jinx (romantic), sevika (platonic) isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; hallucinations, mentions of poor mental health, hurt/comfort, isha is barely there but she’s there, same with sevika, mother/mother/daughter dynamic

men dni.

jinx kicks open the door to her hideout, buzzing with excitement. you’d just been out in the lanes together, looking for materials for one of jinx’s new inventions. another type of bomb, unsurprisingly, but one that would be better for ranged attacks. you also picked up some metal and paint so that jinx could make isha some new toys. maybe some new insects to make fight.

you smile at the thought.

"i'm back!"

your girlfriend calls out, approaching her workbench. she glances over, her eyes carefully scanning the area for any signs of isha.

"time to find out who's the new pebble weight."

she continues, glancing around. you also try to look for the little girl, searching for any signs of her. she's quiet, but she usually would've made her presence known by now. any other time isha would've jumped out with her helmet on, giggling and running circles around yourself and jinx. as if asking when you can play again, what's the next game.

"isha?"

jinx asks, her tone a bit more unsure- but she turns around, towards the tent on another platform of the hideout.

"oh, okay. i get it. playing that game, are we?"

she comments, as you follow along. long, blue braids swaying behind jinx with each of her movements. her tone is light and chipper, hopeful even. isha likes to hide. she likes to surprise the both of you, running up behind you and wrapping herself around your legs. you hope this is one of those times.

hopefully this is just a game, isha simply hiding and waiting to jump out at any moment. or maybe she didn't hear yourself and jinx calling out for her. maybe she's sound asleep inside the tent, having tuckered herself out. you hope to whatever is out there that it's something simple.

jinx glances inside the tent, peering her head in different directions while you look inside of various crates and bins. you can see the concern etched into the girl's features, glancing over as you continue to look for isha. but there's no sign of her. almost as if she vanished.

"god damn, she's good at hiding."

you grumble. you search any surface you can find, any little passage that she could hide in, any sheets or structures she could be hiding behind. but still, nothing. jinx turns to you, opening her mouth to say something.

"they got her."

sevika's distinct voice cuts through. you see her making her way toward the structure you're standing on, limping on one leg as liquid pours from where her prosthetic arm should be. falling onto her knees, trying desperately to keep herself upright. she looks like she's been through hell just now, and you can feel your heart drop to your stomach. they got her? who got her? what does that even mean?

"what?"

"she came to the rally. topside raided the place. took everyone."

sevika continues. oh, fuck. the rally. the rally zaun had planned to retaliate against the brutality of piltover's enforcers, which jinx was less than happy about. the woman had told her that she was a symbol, a beacon of hope for the people of the undercity. somebody who demonstrated power and resilience. she never once backed down from a fight, never showed fear in the face of injustice, and always stood up for what she believed in. even if it wasn't a conscious decision, she was taking a stand for her city.

but still, jinx didn't want to come. no matter how much sevika urged her to and no matter how much of a difference she was told it would make. and now, you're finding out that isha had showed up to the rally and had been taken. taken to gods know where and there's nothing either of you could've done. panic begins setting in, yet you haven't even seen jinx's face yet.

the thought of anything happening to the girl you and your girlfriend had taken in made your stomach twist. a playful, sweet girl who you'd both grown to care for. one who made you laugh, who kept you on your toes, who added the bit of adventure and unpredictability both you and jinx needed. only a child, and she's been taken. taken.

you look over to your girlfriend, and immediately rush to her. she's distraught. torn. rosy eyes are frantic, not quite focusing in on anything, her gaze downcast. the second you see her gasping, shaking her head, hands coming to cover her ears, you know something is seriously wrong. you're torn.

you've seen jinx in a similar state before. although her episodes had gotten more spaced out in your presence, the intensity dimming over time, they'd never fully gone away. you knew they never would, either. but you'd always been there to help. but this?

"jinx. jinx."

should you reach out to comfort her? would she be okay being touched right now? you don't know. but it's killing you to see her like that, so distraught. you know it's a horrible idea, she'll probably flinch away and retreat further into herself, but you have to.

you slowly reach out to grasp the girl's shoulders, a motion you hope will ground her at least somewhat. she lets out a sharp gasp at the touch, her eyes meeting yours for a split second. she doesn't respond, but she doesn't move away. this is good.

"shut up, shut up..."

she mutters under her breath, and you squeeze down on her shoulders. your thumb brushing against the cold, bare skin. you're trying to look into her eyes, get her to redirect her focus, but you can't seem to get through to her. you look back, and sevika is still on the floor, heaving. fuck.

"shut up!"

you hear a gunshot, and a sharp gasp leaves you. your ears begin to ring from the sound, but you throw your arms around your girlfriend's shoulders. you can't bear to see her like this. nothing short of scared, distraught.

"jinx!"

you move to swiftly smack the gun from jinx's hand, the metal making a clink sound against the steel of the floor. jinx tenses against you. her breathing is erratic and she still can't quite look at you, or sevika, or anything.

"jinx, baby, please, look at me. i know you're scared, i know this is a lot, but you have to calm down."

you tighten your grasp around the girl's shoulders, searching for absolutely anything in her expression. but all you're able to find is utter despair. blank eyes and parted lips. jinx's chest is heaving and she's grasping at her head, frantically looking around as if she doesn't fully believe that isha has been taken. like she's waiting for the little girl to jump out and tell her that she's okay.

her breath is coming out in pants, and you feel so damn lost.

"jinx. jinx, please. we'll find her, i promise we will, but we can't until you calm down."

you plead, one of your hands coming to her cheek while your thumb brushes across the skin. jinx is inconsolable to a point that you've never seen before, but you have to try everything in your power. for her.

finally, pink eyes meet your own, although hesitant. your heart all but clenches in your chest as you see her finally looking at you. acknowledging you and your words, even if non-verbally.

"baby. we're gonna find her. trust me, we will tear up this damn city and piltover if we have to, but we will find isha."

jinx's eyes are shaky, her gaze flitting between you and sevika as she pants. you can't hear it, but you're sure her heart is beating like a war drum. you're sure the battle in her mind is one not even she can comprehend. she lets out a shaky breath, slowly nodding.

"will we?"

"we will."

you affirm, your thumb continuing its motions on her cheek. your other arm comes from her shoulder to wrap around her waist, a desperate attempt to bring her back to reality. her breaths are still shallow at best, but you can see them relaxing the slightest bit. slow progress, but it's something.

"she's okay, jinx. i'm sure of it."

jinx shakes her head frantically, the tremble in her voice evident.

"she's out there somewhere. scared, and probably alone."

you sigh, looking down for a second. you know that jinx is probably right. if someone really did take her, isha is absolutely scared, and more than likely alone. it hurts your heart just to think about it. but you have your girlfriend in front of you, in desperate need of comfort and help. you can't dwell on that.

"probably. but i doubt she's hurt. we'll find her, and she's gonna be okay."

jinx lets out another shaky breath, and purses her lips. she pauses, before looking back at you again. she isn't quite reciprocating your touch, and she isn't giving you much to work with. regardless, she's calming down.

"we need to look for her."

she states plainly, to which you nod in agreement.

"we will-" you pause, looking out of the doorway, then back at jinx. "let's go. right now."

"right now?"

"right now."

jinx gasps softly, and mutters a little, 'shit, okay.' you press a quick kiss to her temple before rushing towards the exit of your girlfriend's hideout. quick on your feet and determined to find isha.

[djarindroid]

Surviving

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: After getting you through the third game will Thanos stay true to his word and help you get out alive?

Warnings: Brief mentions of death, Alternative Universe (deviates from the show story line), Thanos still ooc in places (sorry I can't help but write him as a bit of a softy).

Word Count: 1,881

Comments: Thank you to everyone that read part one! This one isn't as long as is more of a build up to part 3 💕 Apologies to any Nam-Gyu lovers, I had to give him a bit of shit in this

<- Part one

The walk back to the dormitory was as quiet as ever, though Thanos didn’t leave your side the entire time. He kept his hand firmly clasped around yours, willing you forward. His grip was so tight, as if letting go might send you spiraling.  

As you filtered back into the dormitory the absence of the fallen players became painfully apparent. Only 100 of you remained, making the once cramped room feel eerily spacious.

‘Min-Su!’ Thanos called out, tugging you along with him. He pulled the reluctant boy into a big hug.  ‘I’m so happy to see you again, bro,’ he said. His enthusiasm felt wildly out of place but what else would you expect from him? 

You watched the odd exchange. Min-Su clearly didn’t want to talk to Thanos. As you watched him awkwardly try to pull away a flicker of doubt crept into your mind - had you made a mistake trusting Thanos so easily? 

Before you could dwell on it Thanos gripped Min-Su’s shoulders, his tone turning serious. ‘We’re voting to leave this time bro. No more games, you got it?’ Shock took over Min-Su’s face, his gaze briefly flickered to you before managing a nod.

‘What happened to staying until we hit 1 billion?’ a voice interjected. Player 124, Nam-Gyu slid up to the group, and patted Thanos on the shoulder.

Thanos, clearly irritated, released Min-Su, allowing the boy to scurry away, as his attention turned to Nam-Gyu. His eyes looked pointedly from the hand on his shoulder to Nam Gyu’s face. ‘Things changed,’ he offered simply.

Nam-Gyu looked momentarily confused before his gaze shifted to you, his eyes widened with apparent understanding. ‘Aaah, I see how it is bro,’ he said whilst making an exaggerated gesture toward you. Your stomach sank at the implication.

Thanos stepped fully in front of you, blocking you from view. ‘What do you see, huh?’

Nam-Gyu shrugged, unfazed. ‘You’re playing the hero, getting yourself a lil something to keep you warm at night right?’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively. ‘I don’t blame you bro, maybe you could share though?’

In the blink of an eye Thanos had grabbed Nam-Gyu by the front of his shirt and yanked him close. ‘You don’t know a thing about me and you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ his voice was low and sounded dangerous.

Nam-Gyu grabbed at Thanos’ hand trying to pry himself free, ‘okay man, I’m sorry! I’m sorry okay?’ He desperately tried to apologise. ‘Just thought something was going on.’

‘Why don’t you go follow someone else about?’ Thanos said with finality, releasing Nam-Gyu and shoving him away in the process. ‘Idiot,’ he muttered before finally turning back to you. 

You stood in shock, your face probably mirroring Min-Su’s had earlier. Had that just happened? How had Thanos changed so much in such a short time? Not only was he helping you but he was standing up for you now too.

His expression softened as he met your eyes. ‘Don’t listen to that idiot,’ he gestured over his shoulder. You nodded, the words of thanks on the tip of your tongue. But before you could speak, the pink guards entered and announced the next vote.

The vote was once again being conducted in reverse order, starting with player 456 who stayed steady with his vote to leave. The tally flickered unevenly, between staying and leaving, the gap changing with every decision.

The uncertainty gnawed at your insides. You twisted the hem of your tracksuit as you tried to calm yourself. Thanos noticed, his hand reaching out just enough to brush against your own. ‘Relax,’ he murmured, his voice soft enough that no one else could hear. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’

You glanced up at him, his calm expression steadying you, if only for a moment. Though as the vote went on the anxiety continued to claw at your chest. 

When your number was called, you moved forward quickly. You wanted to get this done. You didn’t waste any time pressing the red X, adding another vote to leave. You looked up and watched the number change to 24. Leave was still behind, but only barely.

As you joined the others stood on the giant red X the next number was called. ‘Player 230.’ Thanos’ number. You hadn’t realised he would be following you up there.

He waltzed through the centre of the room, giving you a quick wink as he passed. Your heart raced as he approached the pedestal. Had he been serious? Or was Nam-Gyu right, was Thanos just playing the hero in an attempt to win you over? 

You felt as though your life was in the balance as he approached the machine. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you watched with a bated breath.

He didn’t hesitate, as soon as he was in arms length he slammed his hand down on the red X. Relief took over you as you watched the leave total climb to 25. A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. O’s looking disgruntled to lose, what they thought, was an easy vote, whilst the X’s buzzed with cautious excitement.

Thanos proudly ripped off his O badge and turned to look at you as he firmly pressed the red X into place. He was smiling as he sauntered over to you. ‘Told you I’d get you outta here,’ he said, slinging his arm around your shoulders as he led you further into the leave group.

That’s how you stayed for the remainder of the vote, nestled into Thanos’ side. Each time someone voted to leave he squeezed your arm, his smile growing wider with every additional tally. 

The remaining votes thankfully went quickly, and soon enough, there were only 3 people left. To go home, 2 out of the final 3 had to vote leave.

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating. The tension seemed charged, making it hard to breathe. Every shift and murmur felt amplified, like the walls were pressing in. 

‘Player 007,’ the next player was called forward.

All eyes were on him as he walked to the front. The faint squeak of his shoes seemed to echo around you.  

As he neared the pedestal you heard an elderly woman reassuring other players - ‘don’t worry. My Yong-Sik will definitely press X this time.’  

Perfectly on cue, player 007 slammed the X button down, with his new badge in hand he turned and shouted ‘LET’S GO HOME!’ 

Everyone around you cheered. The joy around you was infectious, but amidst the celebration a small voice in the back of your mind reminded you that it wasn’t over yet. 

Thanos must have noticed the flicker of worry on your face because his arm tightened around you. ‘She voted leave last time,’ he said quietly, drawing your attention to the lady who was about to vote. ‘This could be it señorita.’

Silence once again settled across the room as player 006 stood in front of the pedestal. Her hand hovered indecisively between the two buttons as she stared up at the screen. Each second dragged on as she held the fate of everyone’s lives in her hand.

The anticipation was unbearable. You could hear your own heartbeat thundering in your chest. The only thing keeping you steady was Thanos’ unwavering grip around you.

Finally, her hand went down.

The red X lit up.

For a moment the room was silent, as everyone processed what had just happened. Then chaos erupted around you, as cheers of joy rang out . It was over. You were going home!

Thanos pulled you into a tight hug that lifted you off the ground. He jumped around, shouting with unrestrained joy. You got swept up into the moment, throwing your arms around him and laughing along. The fear that had been looming over you completely melted away in that moment. 

‘I told you!’ He shouted. ‘I told you I’d get you outta here!’ Tears stung the corner of your eyes, he was right. If he hadn’t changed his vote you could’ve been left in a tie and who knows what would've happened then.

‘Thank you,’ you cried into his neck as he continued to hug you. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ 

‘Hey!’ He pulled back with his signature smirk plastered on his face. ‘I thought I told you pretty girls shouldn’t cry.’ He wiped your tears away as you laughed.

‘These are good tears this time, thank you!’ You pulled him back into another hug, letting the relief of surviving take over you. He seemed momentarily surprised that you’d initiated a hug but quickly recuperated and hugged you back just as tightly.

Suddenly the voice of the soldier rang out, ‘the majority has voted to terminate the games. We find it a pity to say goodbye so soon. The money accumulated will be distributed among you evenly. The preparations for your departure will now commence.'

Thanos had let go of you during the announcement. Instead, he stood rooted in place, staring up at the screen where the prize money was displayed. You followed his gaze, taking in the amount, it was more than enough to settle your debt.

You turned your attention back to Thanos. His expression was unreadable, his jaw was tense and his hand reached for his necklace. He gripped the cross tightly, his knuckles whitening.

You reached out and gently touched his arm. ‘Are you okay?’ You asked softly.

‘Huh?’ he blinked and slowly turned his head to you, his eyes remained fixed on the screen until the last moment. ‘Oh yeah! Of course I am, princess!’ The forced lightness in his tone was given away by the tension in his shoulders. 

You studied him for a moment. ‘Are you sure?’ you asked, leaning closer.

His eyes flicked between your own, you could see the internal struggle, as if he was battling whether to let you in or not. But before he could say anything the guard began to explain the instructions for you all to leave. You barely registered their words, keeping your eyes and thoughts on the man beside you.

He’d been such a high energy mere moments ago, but now that freedom was within reach, something seemed…off. As if the thought of leaving unsettled him more than staying ever had. You wished you could help him, like he had helped you. You watched as his eyes flickered between the guards and the money on the screen. 

Suddenly, a faint hissing sound filled the air. You glanced upward in confusion. The guards continued to talk as if nothing were happening, their muffled voices blending with the sound, but you noticed a strange, sweet scent filling the room.

Around you other players began to sway on their feet, some stumbling before collapsing to the ground. Panic began to rise in your chest as your vision blurred. You reached out to Thanos as the world tilted.

His eyes met yours, wide and dark, and for a fleeting moment his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. But the strange gas was taking hold. Your knees buckled and your grip on him loosened. The last thing you saw before darkness consumed you was Thanos’ face, as he too fell to the ground by your side. 

-> Part Three (Coming Soon)

Taglist: @andersonslove @fallout-girl219 @olasz-2003

[foreverlittlesoshi]

about damn time

noah sebastian x reader

content warning: pregnancy and fluff

word count: 921

once getting back home from the maldives, you noticed a few red flags but decided to ignore them. probably from still riding on the high of finally marrying noah and how perfectly amazing the honeymoon was, even after making the big decision to finally have a kid. time had slipped away from you that you weren’t even thinking about once getting back home since you both had work to get back to, mainly noah having to prepare to go back on tour in australia. 

at first it was nausea but no puking along with a fever so you thought you caught a stomach bug and decided that it would pass soon so no need to make a big deal of it. next thing was extreme fatigue, like more than usual. it felt like no matter how much you slept even after being up for just a few minutes, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. the next few symptoms just felt like what happens before a period. sore & swollen breasts, moodswings, cramps, bloating and small break out of acne.

the thought of something being wrong didn’t hit you until your sense of smell heightened and no matter how much you scrubbed and scrubbed around the house, you somehow found something else that needed to be cleaned the next day. then you started having an intense craving for sushi, which you didn’t even care for since seafood and when you finally got it, you thought you were gonna die from pure happiness. you didn’t even notice how much you were going to the bathroom until noah had pointed it out.

“babe, are you okay?” he asks as you walk back into the room.

“yeah, why do you ask?” you retorted back confused and he shrugged.

“that’s like the 6th time you’ve peed in the last 30 minutes.” noah then informed you.

“i probably just drank too much water.” you say brushing it off.

it was late one night when you finally realized that your period was late, but you chalked it up to the fact that your period had a mind of its own and would come eventually. the cramps were still happening and your breasts were still swollen & tender so it had to come soon or maybe this was a rare month you would just miss it. so you just went on with your life, living it pretty normal though the cramps were just starting to annoy you to the point you had to drug yourself with melatonin to sleep at night. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” noah asks with worry so clear in his voice.

“babe, i promise i’m okay. no need to stress yourself out and cancel when you guys have so many fans who’ve been waiting so long to see y’all.” you tell him while running your hand through his hair.

“i just wanna make sure you’re okay. you haven’t been acting like yourself lately which i know you think i haven’t noticed but of course i did. i don’t know if i’ve done something or maybe have been focusing a little too much on the tour but i just want you to know that i’m sorry and i love you.” his words make your heart break while tears gathered on your waterline.

“i love you too but no, you haven’t done anything. i think this depressing ass winter weather is just getting to me too much right now.” he couldn’t control his laughter at that answer, “now, enough sad stuff. let’s watch a comedy before you have to leave me tomorrow.”

-

you couldn’t take it anymore.

you tore the box open quickly as well as the plastic wrap around the test, removing the cap and peeing on the test. once getting enough on the test, you capped it and laid it face down to finish your business. washing your hands felt like ages due to the stress and just focusing your eyes on the test. finally deciding it was time to see, you grabbed the test and flipped it over to reveal the results.

positive.

no, no way. maybe the test is broken. you thought to yourself. you wasted no time rushing down the stairs grabbing your car keys and rushing to go get more tests. 

-

next thing you knew, you had five positive pregnancy tests covering the bathroom counter and questioning how you were able to produce that much pee even with being pregnant. grabbing you phone, you immediately called noah and felt like your nerves were about to explode.

“hi baby!” the sound of noah’s voice made you feel like crying.

“so, i have some news.” “what’s up?”

you felt like time had stopped when the next words left your mouth, “i’m pregnant.”

“oh, thank god. i thought it was bad news.” his answer made you happy but also confused you.

“wait, you’re not mad or upset?” you ask and he just laughs.

“of course not. that’s what we spent the majority of our honeymoon trying for and the only thing i’m upset about is the fact i’m not with you right now.” noah tells you.

“that’s understandable. so maybe you should hurry up and come home.” you then say to him in a serious tone. 

“the first chance i get, i will. i promise.” “you better.” and the sound of his laughter was so precious.

“i have to go, baby but i’ll text you later. i love you.” he then says which made you whine.

“okay, i love you too.” 

an - so fun fact, this is actually based on real life because i found out last week that i'm pregnant and these were my actual symptoms. so yeah, my time for writing may be more slim now since i have many things to do before september and i will have to be working way more now

[spicyspiders]

Professor Howlett

logan howlett x male reader smut

3.7k words

cw: power imbalance (logan is the reader's professor), age difference, rimming, virginity kink, thigh fucking, size kink, and spit as lube.

“This is utterly disappointing,” Professor Howlett tosses your paper down onto his desk with a thwap. The sound makes you jump, but you quickly steel yourself before he can look up and see how your calm expression is beginning to break.

You have to clear your throat before responding, though it does little to stop the lump you feel forming in your throat, ”I tried my best, professor,” you respond, keeping your eyes locked on the paper littered with red pen marks.

“Did you?” Professor Howlett questions angrily, making you jump once more at the tone, “because this sure as hell doesn’t read like it!”

“Professor, I-” you try to explain, but he cuts you off. 

“The first paper you wrote got the highest grade in the class, and then you go on to write this?” He asks, waving the red pen he used to mark up your paper angrily in the air as he speaks. If you weren’t biting your lip hard enough that at any second you thought it would bleed, you would laugh at the display. 

He looked at you expectantly, and with how angry he looked, you didn’t think any explanation that you could give would be enough. You had to try and do so anyway, knowing the sooner you spoke, the sooner you could leave his office and contemplate dropping his class or dropping out of college in general. 

You suck in a shaky breath before you respond, “I’m sorry, professor,” and when his angry expression doesn’t falter, you continue, “I knew I didn’t give myself enough time and knew I just had to take the hit to my grade and do better on the next paper.”

The man in front of you lets out a bitter laugh, “so you waste my time?”

“That wasn’t my intention, sir,” you respond, slouching down into the chair, trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You look up at the man across from you after a few moments of awkward silence, meeting his eyes as you try to calm your racing heart. 

He lets out a long sigh before he speaks again, “I must have set my expectations for the rest of your assignments too high,” he passes the paper across the desk until it sets in front of you, “I apologize.”

You can feel anger welling up in your body at his words. It was one bad assignment, it’s not like you were now some lost cause. “I can still write a paper just as good as the first one,” you snap before snatching the paper off the desk. “I told you,” you huff, angrily unzipping your book backpack to put the paper inside, “I didn’t give myself enough time, which won’t happen again,” you stand up in a flash, the chair shooting out from behind you fast enough you’re surprised it didn’t tip over, “I apologize, professor.”

“Hey hey hey,” Logan says, racing around the desk to grab your shoulder. He turns you around slowly from where you were about to stop out of his office and slam the door behind you, “I don’t want this to impact your grade.”

”It already is,” you spit, not angry at him, but angry at yourself. You remember getting the notification this morning that your professor had posted the grade, the number immediately turning your mood sour. 

“It’s okay,” Professor Howlett says, running a soothing hand down your shoulder, “I’ll give you a week to rewrite the paper and give you full credit back.”

“I’m not rewriting the paper,” you say with a bitter laugh that sounds a lot like Professor Howlett’s did earlier. 

“I know you can do better than this,” Professor Howlett responds, crossing his arms along his broad chest. 

“As you’ve already said,” you say, rolling your eyes, “I’m not writing an extra paper,” too tired to even think after you stayed up all night bullshitting the paper you had turned into Professor Howlett, you put the decision in his hands: “so what do you want to do, professor?” You ask tiredly.

You stare into Professor Howlett’s eyes, waiting for the man to make his decision. He looks back at you, observing you closely with his dark eyes. You are on the edge of feeling uncomfortable by the time he’s made up his mind, a look that you’re unable to pinpoint settling over his face. 

“Take off your bag and put it in the chair,” he commands, the lone tone of his voice making you shiver. 

“Okay,” you respond shakily, now back in front of him with your bag resting in the chair, “now wh-”

Your back collides with the door, and then a second later, his lips collide with yours. You gasp in surprise against his mouth and feel his tongue enter the opening, the appendage sliding wetly against yours. 

Too caught off guard to respond to the kiss, Logan moans against your unresponsive lips, one of his hands going to your chin to angle your head so his tongue can move deeper. His other hand you can hear beside you fiddling with the lock, and when the knob finally clicks, you can barely hear it over the sound of Professor Howlett’s breathing after he pulls away from the kiss. 

“Professor-” you begin, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, your mind too confused on whether you should push him away or pull him closer. You’ve already crossed the line you never thought you would cross. Sure, you had your fantasies dating back to the first day you walked into class, but you thought those would just stay in your head, only coming out in breaths of the professor’s name when your mind would wonder when you touched yourself.

“Logan.”

“Logan,” you correct yourself, trying to bite back a moan when Professor- Logan pushes his thigh between your legs, “I don’t think-”

He cuts you off with yet another kiss, but this time, you crane your neck to pull away from the kiss, trying your hardest to ignore the weight of your cock chubbing up in your pants. 

The second kiss ending abruptly does nothing to discourage Logan, instead, it gives his lips a new area to map out. “You drive me insane,” Logan moans against the column of your neck, his stubble digging into the sensitive skin. “So smart,” he says kissing down until he reaches the collar of your shirt, “so beautiful,” he whispers, moving to press his forehead to yours, “yet you barely talk in class,” he says, pressing his lips to yours once more, but this one much softer than the last. 

There wasn’t a participation grade outlined in the syllabus for Logan’s class like it was for some of your other professors, meaning you weren’t going to talk if you didn’t have to. Sometimes you did, feeling bad when he would ask a question and no one would respond immediately, hating the awkward silence. And now that you think about it, those were usually the nights your mind would think of him while your fingers were wrapped around your cock. Good job or good answer Logan would say, the praise lighting a coil of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“It’s only for me to see, is it?” Logan asks, his hands moving to hold your hips possessively, “only I get to see how smart you are,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, seemingly answering his own question. His lips go to the racing pulse point on the side of your neck, his teeth sinking into the skin. 

The bite burns, making your mouth fall open with a whimper, the sound a mix of pain and pleasure. Logan’s hot tongue runs over the mark, trying to soothe the pain with warmth. You give way to the feeling, letting your head fall back onto the wooden door, giving Logan more room to work. 

You bury a hand in his dark hair, running your fingers through the dark locks. Logan pulls away at the feel of your fingers in his hair, his eyes now darker than they once were, his pupils dilated in lust. You stare at each other once more before, taking in Logan’s already disheveled appearance with his dark eyes, messy hair, and crooked tie.       

You respond to the next kiss Logan initiates. It’s softer than you expect, at least, it is at the start. It begins to heat up when you tighten the hand in Logan’s hair to change the angle. You both moan when your tongues meet once more, spit mixing together. 

Logan wraps an arm around your lower back so you can stumble your way to the couch that sits against one of the walls of his office. Your lips break for air when you feel the back of your legs meet the cushions, your chest heaving as you suck in lungfuls of air.

Logan pushes you down onto the couch before one of his hands yanks at his tie, pulling it through the neckline of his sweater, and then he throws the garment away as if it has offended him.  Next comes the black sweater, leaving him with dark slacks and a button-up shirt. 

You feel your cock throb in your pants as you watch Logan lower himself onto his knees. He pushes his way between your legs, his hands going to your hips to get your pants down in a pool between your ankles. 

Your breath comes out in a stutter when Logan leans down, his nose coming into contact with the bulge in your underwear. He runs his nose along the length of your cock, then his tongue runs along the same path, paying extra attention to the wet spot on the cloth that rests over the head of your cock.

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moan when Logan gets your underwear out of the way and swallows your cock. Logan takes it deep enough for you to feel, the hot, wet, constriction of his throat, his hand finding balance on your thighs. 

Logan’s breath puffs wetly against the head of your cock when he pulls away, his spit hardly having the chance to cool and dry as Logan runs his tongue up the length of your cock. He doesn’t take it as deep when he sucks it back inside his mouth, instead, he focuses on the suction. The hot suction of his mouth pulls a glob of precum from the head of your cock onto Logan’s tongue, the older man groaning at the taste.

The vibration through your cock makes your hips jump, sending your cock back deep into Logan’s throat. The movement catches Logan off guard, causing the man to gag around your cock, his throat convulsing wetly around the hard length of your cock. 

You pull the hand over your mouth and put it into Logan’s hair, trying to run your fingers through the strands soothingly. “Sorry,” you gasp, swiping your thumb under Logan’s eyes to wipe away the tears that fell. 

Logan surges up to pull you into a wet, messy kiss. His tongue is immediately in your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“M’sorry,” you repeat. 

Logan chuckles softly, “it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks.

Your stomach tightens at the pet name, affection coursing through your body. You place your hands on Logan’s belt buckle, already knowing how much you’re going to struggle trying to get his pants undone and out of the way. 

It takes you longer than you want to get his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, and Logan doesn’t make it any easier when he presses, chaste, soft kisses to your mouth. Once open, Logan stands to get his pants down and off, the large bulge of his cock trapped behind his underwear. 

Just the sight of the bulge has you feeling intimidated, while at the same time making your mouth water. Anticipation joins the mix of lust and intimidation in your gut, which all combine into a feeling of pleasure that has your cock throbbing in the air. 

You place your hands on his waistband, Logan’s hands coming to rest atop yours a second later. With Logan’s help, you push his underwear down slowly, watching second by second as his cock is revealed to you.   

Your fantasies did not measure the actual size of his cock in all of its long and thick glory. It hangs heavy in front of your face, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. Past the length of Logan’s cock, his balls hang heavy and full. This up close, you can also smell his musk: heady and all Logan.

A broad palm cupping your cheek draws your attention away, turning it instead to Logan’s face. A wave of heat washes over your body when you realize that in the moments where you were taking in the appearance of Logan’s cock, the man had pulled the rest of his clothes off. The button-up now lays in the pile with the rest of his clothes, giving you a full view of his broad, muscular chest. 

“I’ve never seen you so distracted,” Logan says with a smirk, his thumb running along your cheekbone. 

“What?” You question back, your voice breathy. 

Logan’s smirk broadens into a full smile, “I asked if you wanted to take that off.”

At a loss for words, you can barely think of a response, “oh,” you decide. 

Logan chuckles softly, his other hand running along the slit of his cock. When he pulls it away, a strand of precum follows the pad of his finger. Logan pushes his finger past your lips, still open in the shape of the soft oh you just let out. 

You suck at his finger when it touches your tongue, the salty taste lighting up your tastebuds. You hear Logan groan when you suck harder, wanting to get to the flavor underneath and see what Logan himself tastes like. 

Logan’s finger comes free with a slick pop, “let’s get the rest of this off,” he says. 

You only had your shirt and shoes to get off, and what should have been an easy, less than a minute process, felt like a lifetime. Logan tenderly pulled your shoes and socks off, one and then the other. Your shirt was next, coming off slowly with two broad palms sneaking up your shirt. Logan’s lips followed the path his hands made, all the way up to your lips that he kissed after your shirt was tossed away. 

Logan got back into the familiar position he was just in, but instead of sucking your cock, his mouth went lower. He bit into the meat of your thighs, and though you couldn’t see the one on your neck, you were sure that it matched the new ones he was making. 

“Roll over,” Logan commands, pressing a kiss to the mark he just made on your left thigh. Logan maneuvers your body into the position he wants, leaving your body pressed to the front of the couch, and your feet hanging over the cushions in front of Logan.

You press your forehead into the wall in front of you, feeling the puffs of Logan’s breath along your back, “do you have lube?” He asks in a low voice, his lips running across your skin. 

“No,” you reply, your body tense as you try not to shake in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his head coming to rest against your shoulder, “that’s okay,” he says, and you feel your body relax, “I can get you wet enough,” With how big his cock was, you doubt it, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Logan’s first step to getting you to be what he says is wet enough is with his tongue. He starts with soft swipes of his tongue, letting you get accustomed to it. It wasn’t like it was hard, especially with the combination of the rough stubble on his face, which only added to the pleasure. 

The next step is spit, which, really you could say goes with the first. You already feel as if there’s enough of it already there from Logan’s tongue, a large extent due to when Logan kept pushing his tongue as far as it could go. It left you clenching down on the wet muscle, clawing your fingers into the couch as it massaged your walls. 

Logan didn’t let up and moved to spit a glob of spit onto your hole when it relaxed after pulling his tongue free. Caught off guard, you jerked forward, your cock coming into contact with the cushion of the couch. The friction had you gritting your teeth trying to stay quiet, hoping that because it was nearly five in the afternoon on Friday, most of the people in the building were already gone. 

Logan was quick to press the spit into your hole with a thick finger, all the way down until you were clenching down on all of it. “There we go,” Logan whispers from behind you, the wet heat of his breath on your shoulder. 

You turn your neck to face him, gasping into the kiss he presses to your lips. Logan swallows the moan that’s punched from your chest when his finger finds your prostate, the older man groaning as you clench down on his finger. 

Logan pulls away from the kiss at the same time his finger is pulled free. You feel the couch shift as Logan moves, the man making his way back down face-to-face with your hole. You’re proud of yourself for not jumping as hard when Logan spits on your hole a second time, the glob going deeper than the first after opening your hole just with one finger.    

“Does it burn, baby?” Logan asks, now that he’s using two fingers to chase after the spit instead of one.

”A little,” you whine around the burn as he scissors them apart. Almost like Logan can read your mind, he brushes his fingers along your prostate when the burn feels like it’s becoming too much. You feel precum leak from your cock, staining the upholstery. 

”That’s normal for your first time,” Logan says, pressing kisses along the shell of your ear. 

”I’ve done this before,” you respond, pushing back into Logan’s fingers. 

”Someone’s fucked you?” Logan asks, his arm coming to wrap around your stomach, right above your hard cock.

”Just my fingers,” you respond quietly. 

“How many?” Logan asks, his fingers coming to a stop. 

“Four,” you grit out, clenching down on his fingers like you’re wordlessly trying to get him to continue. 

Logan lets out a dark chuckle. He lays his hand on top of yours, his big hand bigger than your own. He stretches his fingers out, showing you how they compare in size. “That’s nearly your whole fist,” he says, his fingers starting to move again. 

“Need more,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers. 

“Shh,” Logan coos, “I know,” he lets out a warm breath at the back of your neck, “I can’t fuck you,” he says, pulling his fingers free slowly, “not like this.”

”Please,” you whine, louder than the one before. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he responds, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck. You feel his weight on the couch shift once more as he spreads your thighs apart. It’s a tight squeeze trying to fit the both of you on the couch, but Logan makes it work. 

He pushes his cock between your thighs, right below your balls, already tight against your cock. He grips your hips tightly before he begins thrusting, only taking a few jerks of his hips before you push your thighs together around his cock. 

The sound of Logan’s groan behind you travels from his chest to your back, letting you feel how good you’re making him feel. ”Does that mean I was the first?” He asks, one of his hands moving to wrap around your cock. 

“What?” You asked, confused, your mind cloudy from the pleasure. 

“Am I the first to touch you like this?” Logan questions, his voice a low growl. His fingers are slick around your cock, gliding along the length. 

You nod quickly, too close to the edge and overtaken with pleasure to even say a single word. You cum to the feel of Logan’s hand around your cock, his teeth biting possessively into the skin of your shoulder, and his cock nudging your balls. Ropes of cum shoot from your cock, staining the couch in his office. You probably won’t be able to look at couches ever the same again. 

Logan’s hand shoots up to your mouth, covering your lips as you moan, overtaken by the pleasure of your orgasm. You rest against his palm, falling forward while at the same time tightening the slick valley of your thighs.

Logan muffles his moan in the crook of your sweaty neck when he cums. It nearly burns, making a bigger mess in your thighs and on the couch. 

In a blur, Logan gets you onto his chest, his back now resting on the couch, “you okay?” He questions, his hand running softly along the sweaty expanse of your back. 

“I don’t think I can move,” you respond, still riding the high of probably one of the best orgasms you’ve had. 

Logan laughs loud enough that your head shakes against his chest. Moments later, when you’re nearly lulled to sleep by the ticking of the clock in his office, Logan speaks, “I’m sorry for getting so frustrated with you,” he says softly. 

“What do you mean?” You question, craning your head to look up at the man.

“I see how smart you are,” he answers, his voice a low rumble, “it made me frustrated to see you not working up to your potential.”

“I said I was sorry,” you immediately respond, not sure if you should pout or roll your eyes.   

“I know, baby,” he says with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “I know,” he leans down to press your lips together softly, “I just wanted to explain myself.”

This time you did roll your eyes, too fucked-out to try and control your expression, “I’ll write a better paper next time,” you grumble, moving to lay your head down once more over his chest.  

[azzifuddfanpage]

A drunken confession by Azzi to Paige at Ted’s during a team gathering. Azzi sees Paige talking to this girl so out of jealousy, she downs multiple shots to get her mind off her. While downing them she doesn’t realize that Paige had came down to sit by her. So Azzi being really drunk couldn’t control her words so she confesses to Paige right there. "You know, I always look for you in every crowd. Even when I pretend I don’t care, I do. So much." And then they go back to the dorm room and (hehe smut)

Friends with Benefits 

This prompt combined with this other prompt: Pazzi fwb and one of them gets jealous and they argue and then they stop being dumb and they make up (make out) whatever you decide!

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2.5k words

Themes: fwb/ jealousy/ angst

Tw: smut/ swearing 

—-----

It was Azzi’s freshman year. She had chosen Uconn after a lot of serious thought, and hard convincing from Paige, but she was almost positive that it was the best school for her. 

Paige had done the majority of the convincing, making edit reels on Hudl, sending her merch, tweeting about it, when it came to Uconn, Paige had absolutely no shame. 

It was no secret that the girls had chemistry on the court, Geno didn't have to make a big decision on whether or not the girls would work well together. Slam even made an entire cover story solely on their friendship “one in a million”. 

But their chemistry didn't stop at just the court. All it took was one shared plane ride back to Minnesota from team USA and there was no denying it. 

—----

Azzi had been in love with paige ever since that flight, she knew paige loved her as a friend, but would never be able to tell if the feelings of love the way Azzi felt them, were mutual. 

In highschool, living 100s of miles apart, meant not being able to have anything permanent. Maybe that was what made Azzi feel so unsure of herself when it came to her relationship with Paige, what they really had, and how worth it was. 

—--

It all started when they shared their first kiss. 

Paige had flown down for Azzi’s 16th birthday. 

They spent the entire day sharing cake, laughs, and memories. 

By the end of the night it was just her and Paige. 

Aside from snapchats and long facetime calls, this was the first time they had seen eachother since team USA. 

There was obvious tension, neither of the girls could hide. 

Laying in Azzi’s bedroom both girls stared up at the ceiling, longing to break the loud silence between them. 

Neither of them would remember who moved first, all they could remember was somehow, someway, they ended up sharing their first kiss. 

Azzi would never forget that moment, and neither would Paige. 

—------

After that what followed just came natural, the first kiss led to a first make out, and even them losing their virginity to each other. 

Azzi’s feelings for Paige were unimaginable. Everytime she thought it might be different she was reminded that what they had was completely casual, and they were just friends. 

—----

—----

Paige picked her head up from between Azzi’s legs, wiping her mouth and putting her shirt back on. 

“Thanks for that!” Paige said cheerily standing up and walking over to fix her hair in the mirror. 

Azzi on the other hand had yet to recover from their little “excursion” and was still trying to catch her breath. 

Once she had regained her sanity and came back to earth, Azzi propped herself up on her elbows so she could have a better look at Paige. 

She cocked her head, “Hey why are you so dressed up, I thought we were just going to Ted's with the team?” Azzi asked as she watched Paige put on some of herrrr mascara, which was very out of character, seeing as how she had to literally use Azzi’s. 

“Dani is gonna be there, so i dunno just wanna look good i guess.” Paige shrugged her off. 

Azzi couldn't hide the way her heart dropped. How did she keep letting this happen? 

She has tried to stop it from happening, she knows this “friends with benefits” wasn't good for her, it clearly isn't working, and all it does is leave Azzi alone wanting Paige even more than she did before. 

“Oh-well you always look nice” Azzi said quietly while Paige just continued running around the room not even hearing her. 

Azzi sighed to herself, she was in for a long night. 

By the time they got to Ted's, Azzi and Paige were still for the most part attached to the hip. Azzi hated to admit it, but she just felt safer with Paige, it didn't matter how broken her heart got, she couldn't bear to be away from her. 

That was what she thought. 

Now here she was ordering a round of shots. 

Paige had gotten up and managed to run into Dani by the bar. 

“What kind of name is Dani anyway.” Azzi sneered at Amari as she threw another shot back, glowering over at the two girls. She hated the way Dani touches Paige's arm. Paige always hated when girls did that she would say it just felt, “Too obvious”. 

“Says you AZZZIIII” Amari teased, dragging out her name to highlight the irony. 

“Well I guess she has a theme.” Azzi said gruffly, turning her back so she didn't have to look at them anymore. 

“Damn Azzi pace yourself” Aubrey says coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“I'm fine,” Azzi replied shortly, trying to stand up. But in all honesty, she was far from fine. She hadn't drank too much but the amount she had in such a short period of time made all the blood rush to her head causing her to wobble.

“Yeah Azzi you don't look so good- sit back down I'm gonna go get you some ice water from the bar.” Amari added standing up and making her way over to the bar. 

Ugh the bar. Even the thought of it made Azzi feel even worse, and not because of the alcohol, but because of the idea that Paige was over their probably planning to fuck some random girl, and maybe even worse- ask her on a date. 

Azzi sat back down leaning her head against the table, letting the cool metal soothe the pounding headache she had. 

A few minutes later Amari had returned, setting the glass down next to her. Azzi’s face was buried in the table, and Amari was behind her, so she couldn't have seen that when Amari had gone to get the ice water, Paige had immediately noticed Azzi’s condition. 

Paige knew Azzi better than anyone. While Azzi had thought that Paige didn't care about Azzi, she thought wrong. Paige had been secretly watching her all night. When she saw Azzi begin to stubble, she had planned to rush over to her, but ran into Amari instead, who told her that Azzi was more of a light weight than she thought. 

So when Amari placed the glass on the table next to Azzi, it wasn't really Amari, but Paige instead. Her gentle hand came around to place a comforting nudge against her shoulder. 

Azzi sat up feeling the warming touch, she grabbed the water from the table and took a sip, the cool liquid coating the burning fire in her throat. 

“She got fucked like 45 minutes ago, how horny is she god.” Azzi said abruptly, startingaling Paige. 

“Are you talking about me silly girl?” Paige smirked, running a finger through Azzi’s thick dark curls. 

Azzi felt her body tense and release. She felt a new wave of boldness wave over her. Unsure of it was the alcohol, or if she had just finally had enough she decided to come clean- which she may or may not regret later. 

“Yes” Azzi said sternly, crossing her arms and jutting out her bottom lip into a pout. 

Paige's heart raced seeing her so open and honest. She watched as Azzi struggled to  find words to fill the silence. 

She paused for a moment not sure what to say next, the tension between them clear. 

“I just don't know how you were fucking me literally 45 minutes ago and you're already moved on to the next girl.  Like I act like I don't care, but I do. So much.” Azzi started,  her voice moving a mile a minute as her drunken confession spilled out of her.

Paige turned her to face her,  holding her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. 

“Why didn't you say something?”  Paige asked, running her fingers along Azzi’s shoulders. 

“You made it clear that you just wanted to be friends with benefits nothing more, we never put a label on it, I thought- I just thought that once I came to Uconn things would be different-but I don't know it's stupid…” Azzi trailed off,  bringing her gaze down to the floor. 

“Azzi-” Paige paused, using her finger to direct Azzi’s chin so she's looking back at her. “You've never just been a hook up to me, I just didn't want to hold you back. I thought that with college you would want to experiment and I didn't want to be the person that kept you from that.” Paige sighed looking for a response in Azzi’s eyes. 

“I care about you more than you know,  I  have wanted to be more than just friends with you  since the minute that I first saw you.” Paige continued reading her face. 

Azzi felt her heart flutter at Paige’s honesty. 

Without responding Azzi looks at Paige's lips, and before they knew it they were meeting in the middle,  lips connecting,  and their surroundings disappearing. 

 this time when they kissed it didn't feel like time was running out,  this time it felt like their time had just begun.  They weren't kissing as friends scared to go too far,  but they were kissing- exploring something new,  an unknown meaning of the relationship. 

 Paige slipped her tongue against Azzi’s lip, and maneuvered her hands so that they were grasping her ass.  Azzi let out a gentle moan and Paige took that as an opportunity to sneak her tongue into Azzi's mouth.  

As the kiss sped up, Paige would have taken Azzi right then and there if it weren't for Amari coming back and breaking it up. 

“All right, get a room, Jesus.”  Amari laughed, shoving them apart. 

Azzi was blushing looking over at Paige who was puffy-lipped, and had eyes that were hooded over with lust. 

The two escape the bar in a heap of giggles stealing kisses as they make their way back to the dorm. 

 They barely made it to Paige's bedroom with clothes on. 

Paige practically throws Azzi onto the bed before connecting their lips again. 

“ so fucking pretty”  Paige said admiring Azzi's naked body as she trailed her fingers along her abs. 

“Hey you fucked me earlier, its your turn now.” Azzi whined, flipping them over so she was on top. 

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Paige cooed. 

With Paige’s affirmative words, Azzi crept down, trailing a line of kisses from her sharp jawline to the peak of her pelvic bone. 

“So wet for me huh.” Azzi said, staring at the way her cunt glistened under Paige’s LED lights. 

“Yeah seeing how jealous you got about me with another girl really turned me on.” Paige smirked, watching as Azzi ran her fingers along her inner thigh, spreading her legs wider. 

Azzi simply looked up at her and smiled before leaning in and placing a few small slow kisses against her heat. 

Paige let out a deep inhale at the sudden contact. 

Azzi’s kisses turned into small kitten licks against her clit.

“Fuck Azzi” Paige moaned straining to keep her legs open as Azzi licked a long stripe from her hole back to her clit before going back in with more kitten licks. 

Now that Paige was a heap of breathy moans, and her wetness was dripping from her hole, Azzi inserted two fingers jabbing them upward and feeling against Paige’s walls. As she thrusted in and out, she continued to lick against her clit in patterns, alternating between figure eights and tight circles.  

Paige let out a sharp whine and Azzi began to suck and pull at her clit while simultaneously pounding her fingers in and out of her. 

“Fuck right there Azzi” Paige moaned, lacing her fingers in Azzi’s hair and pulling her, guiding her and pushing down on that sweet spot on her clit. 

Paige could feel her stomach tightening around Azzi's fingers. 

“Fuck dont stop im so close” she continued, shoving Azzi’s face deeper into her cunt. 

Azzi grunted against her, sending the vibrations into her core, and sending Paige over the edge, cumming all over Azzi’s fingers. 

As Azzi fucked her through it, paige reached up to play with her nipples, tugging at them and rubbing them under her fingers. 

“You're so perfect, did you know that?” Paige asked, her hands traveling down to where her pussy was. 

“Mmmm” Azzi moans, not agreeing but not disagreeing. Paige smirks. 

As Azzi pulls her fingers out of Paige, Paige takes them and sticks them in her mouth for her. She begins to lick around them, and flips them over, pulls out her fingers and shoves three of them that were dripping with spit and Paige's cum into Azzi’s tight pussy. 

Azzi moans from the unexpected pressure, her legs shaking as Paige tries to squeeze in all three of her fingers simultaneously. 

“Paige” Azzi moans loudly grabbing at Paige to get her to slow down. 

“Too fast, too much, I can't.” Azzi whines, feeling Paige's fingers start to hit her g spot. 

“You can, baby. Trust I have you. Let me do you right.” Paige says leaning down to blow against her clit. 

Azzi moans at the pressure on her clit and props herself up so she can watch her pussy suction against Paige's fingers. 

“She’s taking me so well.” Paige said basically to her cunt as she worked her thumb now against Azzi's clit. Azzi groaned at Paige’s words letting herself be carried away by the euphoric feeling. 

The sound of Azzi's wetness and Paige's fingers squelching against her gummy walls mixed with their moans. Paige grunted as she worked her fingers against her pussy. 

“Fuck im gonna come P.” Azzi started, leaning over as Paige used her other hand to press on her lower stomach, her fingers still pounding into her at an outrageous speed. 

Paige could feel Azzi’s walls clenching around her fingers, the tightness almost impossible for Paige to push them in and out. 

Paige used her other hand to ground herself and continued to fuck her through it, hearing her turn into a series of moans as her liquid began to spill from her pussy. Paige could feel her juices coating her hand. Paige bent over and connected her lips to her pussy as she removed her fingers from inside her, letting her cum pour out of her, and drinking up every last drop, not stopping until Azzi was pushing her head away from her. 

Paige lay down next to her. Both girls were breathing heavily, just staring up at the ceiling. 

Azzi turned towards Paige. 

“Paige” 

“Ya” 

“I love you” 

“I love you too baby” Paige said, reaching out and pulling Azzi into her, and spooning her from behind. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Try, Try, Try 2

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics including adultery and trying to conceive. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: husband!Andy Barber, friend!Thor

masterlist - to be added

Summary: your husband puts high expectations on you but you don’t think you’ll ever be enough for him.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re not entirely enthused for the cooking class. The taint of Andy’s intentions follows you down to the community centre, that echoing reminder that you’re inadequate. There is a part of you that cherishes the distraction, the moment outside the house when you’re not mopping or tittering around to make sure everything is perfect. Even so, it’s only to make sure that you don’t give your husband another reason to rant. 

As you enter, you’re greeted by the rather bouncy instructor. She introduces herself a Barb. She’s plump and her pixie cut is died a shade of purplish red. You give her your name and she checks you off the list. 

You look around as she sends you off to find a work station. You’re drawn to a familiar face. You smile and cross the room. 

“Hey, Porsha,” you approach your neighbour. “I thought you’d be home with the twins.” 

She turns to preen at you. Her perfectly highlighted hair ripples in soft waves and you wouldn’t guess that she’s three months postpartum. She greets you with a tilt of her head. 

“Oh, hi, how are you?” 

“Um, okay. How are you feeling? How are the boys?” You ask. 

“A lot. Timothy’s still on his business trip so the nanny’s with the tots. I needed a break,” she explains with a sigh. You see her live-in nanny often; dark-haired woman often dragging out the garbage or schlupping round the stroller. “Mandy’s on her way. We signed up together.” She looks behind her at the counter, “I’m saving her a spot.” 

You glance over and realise each station is made only for two. You take the hint with grace. Her and Mandy were always close. In fact, all the women in the neighbourhood knew each other better than you knew any of them. You’re still the new one and your family is still incomplete. 

“Right, well, I hope you enjoy the class,” you smile. 

“Oh yes, I pumped before I came so I can enjoy some wine. You get a glass to cook with,” she chimes. 

“Ah, that’s... cool. Well, I’ll go find a place,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb. 

You turn and a squeal erupts across the room. Mandy taps furiously over to Porscha, passing you without notice, and the two bounce and hug. You could use some of that wine but you’re not drinking. You promised Andy. 

You find a station in the corner, far from your neighbours. You feel left out even if they don’t mean to exclude you. It’s hard not to when every time you see them, you’re just sort of there and more interested in each other. 

Barb’s full voice fills the room as she welcomes the newcomers. You focus on the counter top, taking in the sink, the cooktop, and the various pieces set out for your work. You’re not so sure about this anymore. You’ll go home and try it on your own then prove to Andy that you will always be mediocre. 

“Pardon,” a thunderous timbre pulls you from your self-pity. You raise your chin as you bat your lashes at the rather large man at the corner of the counter. He smiles. He’s familiar but you don’t think he’s from the neighbourhood, “do you mind if I share? Barb says we should have a partner and my brother declined my invite.” 

“Oh, um,” you look around. The other stations are full. You shrug, “sure, that’s okay.” 

“Wonderful,” he booms in his boisterous voice. You narrow your eyes at him and tilt your head as you try to pluck out where you know him from. 

He’s tall and broad, blonde hair past his shoulders, the front strands pulled back into a runic clip, and he wears a button-up that threatens to split as the buttons strain over his chest. He turns to stand parallel to you and grabs the tongs, clacking them contently. 

You sense the attention of another. You lean to see around the man as Porscha and Mandy whisper behind their hands and stare. You frown and teeter on your toes. 

“Forgive me,” he snaps the tongs again. “I’ve not introduced myself. Thor.” 

“Thor...” you repeat then give your name as his snags in your head. “Thor... you’re not...” you squint at him. 

“Hm, I hoped I’d not draw suspicion,” he tries to make himself smaller in a rather comical way for someone so big. “It is I, yes.” 

“What...” 

“I found this place on a map. I thought perhaps somewhere smaller might afford me some discretion,” he turns his head as he continues to toy with the tongs and he glances around at those peeking at him. “Your planet is rather small and reputations do spread far and wide.” 

“Right, uh, well, yeah, it must be awkward.” 

“Mm, it is not something I’m unused to. I am known across the nine realms and beyond.” He turns back. “But, since I have chosen to reside here for a time, I thought I might learn the customs. The food. I’ve been eating a lot of pizza and well...” he looks down and pats his stomach, the fabric just as taut there. “It’s accumulated.” 

You can’t help but laugh, “mm, pizza. I haven’t had any in ages.” 

“No? In New York, it is everywhere. I find myself inundated.” He declares. “I understand we are to cook... alfr-ee-doo.” 

“Alfredo,” you correct him. “Looks like we’ll be making our own pasta too,” you point at the press. 

“Pasta. Mmm, yes, I do enjoy the dish.” He nods as he scratches his beard with the tongs. He can’t seem to stop his fidgeting. “And what brings the lady to the cookery?” 

“Oh, uh, my husband signed me up,” you say, tucking your hands behind you.  

“He did? And he did not accompany you?” He inquires. “How unfortunate. Were she still speaking to me, I’d have asked my... former acquaintance Jane, but she is far too busy and wise for me. I must admit I was hesitant to attend alone.” 

You nod, “I’m sorry. That’s too bad.” 

“Not very bad. I’ve met you. A lovely young lady,” he proclaims and gestures to you with the tongs. “I can already see you will be a partner preferable to my brother. He is not very skilled at collaboration. I would need to mind the knives.” 

You chuckle again. It feels good to laugh. You only realise then, how long it’s been since you’ve done so genuinely. 

[yellow-rose-embalmer]

Unceremoniously, Aesop drops to the ground, all but limp, mouth wide open as he gulps down breaths, chest heaving up and down in time with the hurried intake. His head still spins, his eyes are still unable to focus on anything when it all moves too fast.

Slowly, he is able to make things out once more. Slowly, he can recognize the face in front of (above?) him once again. The face of someone he had pushed to this point. The face of one he had shared the title of 'dear friend' with, even if too hastily.

If such a person hated him so much as to wish him dead... but then, why not go all the way? Why let him live when he flailed in a pathetic, selfish hope to live just a little longer? Why was that will to live, however faint... something desirable? If he had annoyed his friend to the point of a threat on his life, should it not be more desirable that he lies down and takes it, makes it easy? But... it all hurt too much. Quite honestly, his head still pounded, he could once again feel the still-present tears stinging at his eyes. It was all so embarrassing for someone like him. Going on and on about how death can be beautiful, and yet he fears when his time comes for he knows he will not be given kindness and a gentle ending.

Once Aesop's breath starts slowing down to a pace where he can properly speak, a hoarse voice leaves him, a confused voice, a slow and hesitant voice. "...I don't understand... Yes, it is true I do not feel... ready yet, but... if you truly wanted me dead, if I truly annoyed you so much... you were so close. Even if I do wonder what it is like to be preserved in motion, I... it is a change, and not one I know what I should expect from. If you never wanted me to die... I still don't... I should just accept my time when it comes, but if it hurts like that... I do not know if I will be able to." A pause, as the memories of how to get out of the worst trouble he'd faced prior, how to bend properly. "I'm sorry for making you do that, sir. It must have been something I said."

( @yellow-rose-embalmer )

Aesop arrives, holding himself upright as ever, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before properly approaching. "...I think enough time has passed." He decides not to mention that it has only been a few days since the last meeting. He also chooses to ignore that he did not fully understand the instructions he was given, to wait until he'd cleared his head somewhat. What he did do, was hand over a letter, carefully folded and sealed, handwriting clearly measured, as if the words were considered before writing them down. "I believe something with as much weight as what you had given me previously warrants a proper response... take as long as you need." Once the paper is taken, Aesop folds his hands in front of him and waits.

[Eternity is a long time to wait, I more than know that. Even if I have not existed within it, it is what I have learned to deal with. I will not pretend to know your situation, I will not pretend I do not wish for you to finally rest, but... not looking for allies, yet not wanting to be alone. It is hard for me to separate friends and allies, but... I suppose someone outside of everything you have would be pleasant.

I have learned of many belief systems, but... I personally struggle to see luck as much of a factor. We have much in common, yes, but... who is to say that is entirely good? I had to pause when you described me as 'disillusioned', but... it makes sense. Regrettably. Perhaps I thought that with how little I had known you and how I had been expected to act around those of your status, everything could be taken away easily. I was also too eager to receive the title of 'friend', with how little I had heard it, even if I knew nothing of what lay within.

I do not know if my head is as clear as you would like, but... I do not wish to make you wait forever. You said eternity is too long to spend alone, after all.]