#she wants attention. she wants a reaction.
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sierrale8ne · 3 days ago
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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SIXTEEN
thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…
pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc
taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch @ryywyd @lupinqs
warnings long chapter (9.3k words), sexual content (fucking filth, you’re welcome!)
kalena speakss 🪽! i’m so so sorry for the wait, i’ve been lazy and also interrupted multiple times while writing. anyways, there’s nothing i’ve enjoyed writing, more than paige and maraye’s story. so, i thank you guys for all the support since it’s dropped and all the interactions and comments and anons, y’all truly make me laugh. i have an epilogue and around two bonus chapters planned so be on the look out for those. i’d love some live reactions to this one if you guys are up for it! anyway enjoy the finale with my babies, i put pen to paper for this one!
July 2025 — Indianapolis, Indiana
“You can’t answer your phone now?”
“Pa—”
“My girl just treatin’ me like I’m chopped damn liver.”
“Pai—”
“Who you with?”
“Paige!” I finally cut in, shaking my head and tapping the FaceTime button on the screen. “Shut up for a second, and pick up.” I groan.
The sound of the call connecting, finally comes through, and I can’t help but press the photo button when I see her, all laid out on her hotel bed with an arm behind her head. Her face is flushed, hair slightly sweating from her first All-Star practice. A pout graces her lips and her eyes squint as she scowls.
“Hi.” I grin.
“What’s so important that you can’t answer my calls?” She asks again, staring at me intensely through the screen.
I roll my eyes at her eagerness. Our plane landed early that morning, and after getting checked in at our respective hotels, Paige had practice and I went out to do some shopping. “I’m tryna find an outfit for our date.” I explain, looking over at the girls next to me who attempt to help me out.
“You by yourself?” She asks. Her eyebrows furrow, and knowing Paige, I know she’s pissed that I didn’t ask her to come with me. 
I shake my head, panning the camera to reveal both Nika and Azzi next to me. I’m not sure how this came about, but a few texts and an invitation later the two were joining me at the mall. 
“You didn’t tell us that Raye looked this good in person!” Nika speaks into the phone. I cover the lower half of my face with my hand, an attempt to hide my growing blush. 
“And for good reason.” The blonde replies before turning her attention towards me. “Baby, you ignorin’ me to hang out with them? That’s how you feelin’?”
I’ve spent the last hour and a half understanding why Nika and Azzi were Paige’s best friends. They were involved, and not in that nagging annoying way, they cared. They cared about Paige and wanted to keep her happy. Which in turn, meant they cared about my business with the woman.
I laugh at Paige, my attention still not fully on her as I assume she’d want. “I’m not ignoring you. I need to find an outfit, blondie.”
“Y’know you could wear a trash bag and I’d still wanna take you out, right?”
“That’s what I said!” Azzi sings into my ear. “But I will say, this one is perfect.” The girl says. Azzi holds up one of the two-piece sets I was yet to try.
“Girl you gotta try it on. I like it too.” Nika affirms.
Suddenly my phone is an afterthought. “Really? It’s not too casual?”
“Lemme see.”
“It’s Indiana. I promise this isn’t casual.” Azzi explains.
“Hellooo?”
“Your ass would look perfect in this skirt tho’. Wear this one!” Nika shakes the outfit on the hanger a little more harshly.
“Ight now I really need to see it.”
I look back and forth between the two women, both outfits fitting completely different vibes. The denim co-ord in Azzi’s hands would accentuate my hips and my tits, which Paige simply would fall out over. The black set in Nika’s hands might stop us from going out to dinner all together.
“P, what’s the dress code?” I turn back, looking down at her astonished face on my screen. Her lips slightly parted eyes blown wide.
“So know you remember I exist?” She teases.
I give her a tilt of my head, enough to let her know I want her to shut up. “Dress code, please?”
“Uh-I-I dunno. Nothin’ too fancy, nothin’ too casual.” Paige shrugs.
“Well whatchu wearin’?” I ask.
I know my choice of words should’ve been picked a bit better because Nika snickers beside me and Paige lets out a laugh, sending me that smirk of hers that makes my knees go a little bit weak in the store. 
“Ayo?” Paige jokes, covering her mouth with her palm.
“Paige Madison.”
“I’m wearin’ jeans!” She finally answers when her laughter dies down. “Jeans and a black tee, maybe a jacket. I dunno yet.”
I huff, looking back at the options the three of us have picked out. Paige was right, what I put on didn’t really matter. At least not as much as I thought it did. But this is our first date, my first date with a girl, with Paige— who isn’t just any girl. 
So I pick up the set in Nika’s hands, the black fabric running through my fingers. It is perfect. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
Paige nods, her lips folding into a small grin. “Tonight.”
I run my hand anxiously down the side of my jeans, catching a glimpse of the white patchwork on the knees and taking a deep breath outside the door. I’m nervous. Which is a feeling I’m not very used to yet. 
In my entire 23 years of living, I think I’ve only ever been on three first dates. Two in high school and one in college with Nyla. Though, I don’t really think I could ever consider that a date.
Either way, the number was slim to none which left me with zero clue of what to expect tonight. Especially from Maraye.
She was unpredictable. Nothing about her ever completely the same. She kept me on my damn toes, which was great but also so confusing at the same time.
I knocked on the hotel door softly before digging my hands into the pockets of my Kith jacket. Along with my black baggy jeans, I threw on a simple black shirt and a jacket. She might’ve never said it out loud, but with the way she always looks at me when I wear it, I know that black is Raye’s favorite color on me. As is mine on her.
My fingers are decorated with silver rings. I have on two different chains, the first is a simple one with a cross and the second is my diamond 5 chain. I figured that a first date calls for pulling out all the stops. 
My stomach suddenly bubbles with anxiousness and my pulse is heard in my ears as I wait for her. This is it. Our first date, and the more I repeat it in my head, the more surreal it sounds.
I was right about not knowing what to expect with Raye, because I knew she’d look good but I wasn’t ready for her to look this damn good.
She wears this black two piece. The skirt is long and low waisted, giving me a view of the fine lines of her abdomen, a thin waist chain and a navel piercing, both gold that make my mouth water. The matching shirt falls off of her left shoulder, a velvet bunch of material that is ruched on her side. 
All Raye ever wears is gold, which doesn’t change now, her rings are thin bands, and there are bracelets adorning her wrists from Van Cleef and Louis Vuitton. She’s dripped down in it, and it makes her glow even more than normal. Her scent, Chanel no.5 as per usual, travels up to my nose and I swear I could pass out from getting my eyes on her alone.
“Goddamn, Miss Carter.”
“Gimme a second, sorry.” She laughs, a pure and bright laugh that makes my eyes go wide.
I clear my throat, nodding my head while shamelessly raking my eyes over her. “Got all dressed up for me, huh?” I say, taking Maraye’s invitation to enter her room, the door closing behind me.
She scoffs. “You fuckin’ wish.” And if it weren’t for the fact that I heard from her own mouth that this outfit was specifically for tonight, I would have believed her. “I look good tho’?”
I nod almost immediately, my head moving before I could really even process what she just asked me. Because she looks damn good. Not just her clothing, the fine lines of each of her tattoos are shown off by what she wears, and her hair is completely different from when I saw it just this morning. Her curls blown out and trailing down her shoulders. She looks like a fucking model.
“You look—fuck. Raye, are you serious? You look gorgeous, ma.” I say, still almost breathless. “Y’know, I actually brought sum for you.”
“Why?”
I laugh at her reaction. “I mean, your birthday was yesterday. I was supposed to give it to you at the house, but someone was tryna get in my pants all night.” Raye instantly breaks eye contact with me at that, eyes traveling to the ceiling.
I dig into my back pocket, grasping the thin box in my hand before showing it to her. It’s simple, a thin sleek white that looks perfect against her hands.
Maraye looks at me skeptically, her eyebrow raising before she darts her eyes down at the box. She pulls the lid off carefully and I watch her intensely. The way she pouts at the thin line of jewelry in the box. There’s a gold Angel pendant in the center. 
“Paige.” She starts, and her feet are moving in an instant. She brings an arm to my cheek cupping it before leaning into me and placing her lips on my other cheek. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah? You like it?” I can feel my skin get hot and I lick my lips.
“Mmhmm. Love it, blondie.” Maraye nods, a grin spreading across her cheeks and I swear I see her blush just a little. “Imma wear it tonight.”
I can’t even hide my face, completely taken aback. “Y-you don’t have to. Really, it ain’t a big deal. If y’ont like it—”
“No. I do like it and I am wearing it.” She reaches down for my wrist, pulling me further into the hotel room. “Help me put it on.” Raye smiles, and just like that all my nerves are gone. Because she’s here, just like I want her to be. She’s all dressed up, saying all the right things, and smiling that smile that makes me forget that we do have places to be. 
I take the gold chain in my hands, raising my hands over her head and taking my spot directly behind her in the full length mirror. I clasp it, looking at how that pendant sits perfectly on the glistening hollow between her collarbones. 
“It’s perfect.” My arms settle around her waist, my chin in the crook of her neck. I watch her watch the two of us in the mirror, her fingers tracing over where it decorates her neck in gold. “It’s a cute angel.”
I hum and press my lips against the column of her neck. “My angel, yeah?” And I know I live for the way her face blushed at it. Her ears visibly reddening and her eyes darting away from me in the mirror.
Raye’s head turns to meet mine, her glossed lips immediately catching my attention as they curl upwards into a smile. Then she nods. A simple fucking nod that makes my entire body feel hot. We’re inches apart, I can see the gears in her head turning. I just know Raye thinks she’s slick, but I catch the way her eyes move down to my lips anyway.
“C’mon. Let’s go.” She murmurs, breaking our intense gaze with a slight stutter. I peel my arms off her waist and step back. She reaches for her purse, tossing the black YSL bag onto her shoulder and doing one last look over the room before looking back at me. 
All of a sudden the resolve I’ve attempted to have over the last 24 hours is out of the window. All I can think about is taking her right here, I don’t care about dinner. I care about the face she’d make under me, my name off her tongue, how fucking good I know she’d taste on mine. She looks like a dream, that fabric hugging every curve of that perfect—
“We’re gonna be late.” 
I lick my lips for what feels like the 50th time since I’ve been here. Stalking over to her, I immediately wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her into me until I can feel her belly piercing pressing up against my abdomen.
“I’m makin’ you mine, the second dinner is over.” I mumble, my lips dangerously close to hers.
She’s enjoying this, the way I visibly go crazy for her. The way I stop holding back because frankly, I don’t think I have to anymore. Raye doesn’t have to say it, but the way she arches her body into mine and grips at my bicep lets me know it’s turning her on too. Or at least I’ll pretend it does.
“Coulda done it last night.” Raye shrugs. “Or this morning.” She says pointedly. Her other hand reaches for mine on her waist, tugging it off and pushing it to my side. She spins on her toes, placing one kitten heeled foot in front of the other as she reaches for the door. 
I don’t even wait a second before my hand meets her ass.
“Paige!”
“Ain’t no way you thought I wasn’t gonna do that at least once.” She frowns at me, stepping to the side of the open doorway and looking at me expectantly.
“Walk in front of me.”
“Ma—”
“In front. Go.” Raye grits through her teeth, and when she looks at me like that I know better than to ignore her. I step through the doorway, watching behind me as she shuts it behind her. “You’re so annoying.”
I don’t answer, rather sticking my hand, palm up, for her to take. And she does. It’s then when I know that this is where I’m supposed to be, with her holding my hand. It’s simple, but still I think it makes my body react like it never has before.
She interlocks her fingers with mine, the coolness of her rings press into the sides of my fingers. She’s smiling, again. I drag her behind me, trying to get used to the feeling of our hands together, but all it does is mess up my head more. 
“You look really pretty by the way.” She murmurs, her eyes are glued to the floor when I look at her. I know my hand is sweating as a reaction to her compliment, and I don’t know what to do besides muttering a ‘thank you’ with a cheeky smile. 
I know I’m fucked. All I’m thinking now is that I have to make it through dinner. That’s it.
Get through dinner.
When I look away from our waiter— who has just informed us that a mistake was made in the kitchen and that our appetizers would be on the house— and over at Paige, she’s rolling her eyes and taking a sip from the wine she hated, but still insisted on getting an entire bottle of. She did it to make me happy, of course, even though I insisted that it wasn’t an issue for her to get her beloved Shirley temple.
She’s kissing her teeth, setting down the wine glass before picking up a slice of focaccia bread and smearing it in butter. “We need a different waiter.”
I can’t help but laugh at her sudden statement. “You’re being dramatic.” I say, following suit in throwing some bread into my own mouth.
“He tryna fuck you.” She points at me. I find her jealousy and blatant vulgarity amusing, especially when our waiter had to be no older than 18 years old. 
I lick the crumb from the corner of my lips. “And how would you know that, Madison?”
“Bro was lookin’ at you how I look at you. And that’s sayin’ something.” She says loudly, as if it’s obvious. My eyes go wide as I attempt to get her to quiet down. Paige did a good job of getting us a secluded table. Throw in the soft jazz that played and the ambiance of the low light, she did wonderful at making dinner as romantic as she could.
But it was obvious that dealing with our waiter was not in her evening plans.
“Stop it, no he wasn’t.” I brush her off, reaching for my nearly empty first glass of wine. The scent travels through my nose, just barely adding to my growing tipsiness. 
“And you're just flirting back. Smilin’ all big and shit.” Paige groans. “Showing all 32 is crazy.”
Her adamant attitude makes me smile, “He works in service, I’m being nice!”
“Flirting.”
“That boy prolly hasn’t even graduated high school yet, Paige.” I roll my eyes.
“You’re flirting.”
“You just love arguing wimme, huh?” I ask, leaning on my elbows to peer into her eyes across the table. 
She grins, crossing her arms as she leans into me in the same way I am. “Were you not the one all hot and bothered by me yelling at you on the plane?”
I smirk at the memory. The way her eyes turned dark when I suggested she talk to me like that again. How she was so set on keeping her word but still fell victim to my antics on her lap. And I was so close to getting her how I wanted her if it hadn’t been for her fucking stubbornness.
“See that was me flirting.” I say, trying to get that event out of my head before I’m proving Paige right and getting all bothered again. 
She shakes her head at me, scratching at her top lip with her thumb. The blonde takes her attention off me when that waiter comes back with our food. My blackened salmon and shrimp glistened in the sauce it came with. Alongside Paige’s ribeye steak, mashed potatoes, and broccolini.
She took control of the conversation with ease, allowing him to set down our plates before refilling our glasses of wine. I didn’t even spare a glance at our waiter because in my head, I’m thinking that there isn’t a moment in the last few months where Paige has looked hotter to me than she does right now.
I’d like to think that her choice of all black was purposeful because she knows how I react to it, but everything else has me losing my train of thought every few seconds into our conversations and whatever else that boy is saying to the both of us. Her Rolex watch gleams in the light each time she moves, the same with the diamonds of her 5 chain and earrings. Paige’s hair is slicked back into a bun that, outside of her wearing it down, might be my favorite style of hers.
I watch her intently, each movement of her fingers and arms. The way she licks her lips. Even the fake smile she gives to the waiter. Her fingers wrap around her glass, raising it slightly and tipping it towards my own. It’s then when I realize I’ve been doing nothing but staring and that I should probably follow suit.
“Be more slick next time.” Paige chuckles, our glasses finally clinking together. Her lips are just slightly glossed, a mixture of a sheer pink that makes them look even more beautiful than they already are when they touch the glass.
I take a heady gulp of my wine before reaching for my fork and knife, collecting them in one hand and draping the black cloth they came in over my lap. “Says the one who been staring at my tits all night, thinkin’ I didn’t notice.”
Paige tries to hide the face she makes, she really does. But when mine finally meet her blues, she folds almost immediately, swiping a hand over her chin and licking her lips with a gentle laugh. 
“I dunno what you’re talking about.”
I look down at my plate while Paige does the same, my mouth heavily watering when I get a glimpse of my food, but even more when I see Paige’s plate.
“Madisonnnn.” I sing. My recent abuse of her middle name has made her smile all night, but this time she doesn’t. Mostly because she knows exactly what I’m asking for.
She shakes her head, preparing to cut her medium-rare steak, “absolutely not.”
“It’s my birthday.”
“Yeah, yesterday.”
“C’mon, just one bite.” I pout, hoping that it does what it normally does, and that is get her to crack.
She cuts a bite of the steak making sure to swipe it against the garlic butter on the plate before feeding it to herself. “You haven’t even tried your salmon yet, angel.”
On instinct I run my heel against her inner calf, moving it up higher until it’s up against her thigh. Paige’s eyes snapped to mine and I stuck out my lip, playfully batting my eyelashes at her. 
“Please, baby?” I murmur softly. The pet name feels foreign on my tongue, not just because It’s my first time saying it in reference to Paige. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I’ve used it at all.
She swallows her steak and I watch her hand travel under the table. Paige gives me that fucking smirk, gripping my ankle and holding it in place against her lap to stop my antic. “Try your food first.” 
I tug my ankle away from her and drop it to the floor, huffing before taking a bite of my perfectly seasoned salmon.
“How is it?” Paige asks, tapping a finger against the edge of the table.
I let the food melt on my tongue, “it’s amazing.” I mumble, following it with a sip of wine.
Paige nods in approval, cutting a piece of her steak as she did once before. She dangles the fork in my face like a dog with a toy. “C’mere, mama.”
I smile, not even bothering to hide it from her as I lean in some more, taking the bite she offered and letting the fork teasingly linger in my mouth. 
“Good?”
I dance in my seat. “Good. I think mine tastes better tho’.”
And Paige rolls her eyes. Scooting backwards from me and getting back to eating. Happily getting her own playful revenge on me as she does so.
“You were what?” I ask, nearly choking on air as I laugh.
I sit on the edge of my hotel bed, foot bouncing eagerly as I talk to Raye through the wall that separates the main room from the bathroom in which she entered the second I got the door open. I’m guessing the multiple glasses of wine was a bad idea for the both of us. Especially tonight, because I’m going crazy now that it’s just me and her.
I’m supposed to be all ears to our conversation, to her telling me about her nerdy high school endeavors. And I am finding amusement at every bit. 
Then, each time I blink, I’m thinking about her in that skirt. How her ass sits perfectly in it. The glistening glow of her waist chain on the perfectly defined abdomen, the curves of her hips. 
I can hear her groan over my laugh, before the water of the sink begins running. “Theater, Paige. I did theater. Quit laughing, you idiot!” She yells out.
“You were a thespian? Like for real?” 
The water cuts off, and her heels click against the bathroom tile before muffling against the carpet. Raye’s hips sway as she approaches me, 
“You were a lesbian jock. And you still are, so shut up.” The grits, slipping the heels off her feet and standing between my legs. Her words don’t even click in my head, all my attention is on her.
I reach my hands up to her thighs, gripping them through the fabric. “Put on a show for me then.”
“That was the best line you could come up with?” Raye asks, a laugh freeing itself from her throat. Her hands tugged mine off of her body, leaving my palms cold from her absence.
“You tellin’ me you got something better?”
“Mmhmm.”
When she steps back I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven. Slowly, Raye pulls that black top off of her head, showing off her gorgeous, navy, lace bra. It cups her tits just right, complementing the brown of her skin and the gold of her jewelry so good I wanna rip the rest of those clothes off.
“‘Member what you said last night? Teach you and you’ll teach me, or whatever?” She breathes. I just nod again, reaching forward for Raye’s hip. 
She smirks, sending my entire body into orbit. I’m soaked through my boxers and my jeans, completely enthralled by the way she looks before me. 
Raye bores those perfect brown eyes into mine while she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt. “Wanna teach me sum then?” She tells me. I should’ve known that we couldn’t go more than five minutes in this room together before I was wanting to fuck her raw. Slow and deep and carnal and fucking raw. Wanting to give her everything that she’s never had before. 
I shoot up to my feet, watching her skirt pool on the floor. She steps out of it, rolling her neck up to look at me through her lashes. 
My eyes gaze over her body once more, how the lace on her hips clings to them. Her hair, bombshell curls— that I still don’t think I really ever got over— flipped over to one side and tattoo’s that decorated her skin in that perfect ink. 
“I've been tryna take my time with you.” I groan, running a palm over my chin, “makin’ this shit so hard.”
She catches me by surprise when she throws her arms around my neck, arching her chest towards my face. The line of her cleavage is even more defined by the simple moment.
“Teach me.”
I take a breath. “On everything, I ain’t stopping when I start.”
“Teach. Me.”
I swear Paige is kissing me before I can even finish my words. Lips on my harsh and certain. The first time, she was so delicate; like she was trying to figure me out. The second time was desperate, and I’m sure if it wasn’t for us getting interrupted she would’ve turned me out in the studio that night. The third time was like a goodbye. Short and sweet, but full of everything we were yet to say.
This one? It’s like oxygen after drowning. Maybe it was all the strain we’ve been feeling since our fight, or all the sexual tension that we’ve been tiptoeing around over the last 24 hours. But I feel like I’m floating, like her hands that dig into my hips let me become one with the sky as her lips dance on mine.
Paige tastes like perfection. Not anything I can specifically point out except for the wine and the slight sweetness from our shared Oreo cheesecake. 
I pull back, breaking the suction of our lips. She eyes the line of saliva that connects us, and I know it turns her on because Paige doesn’t even bother licking it away. She just brings me back, sliding her hands to my ass and gripping it as she entangles our tongues.
I suck on her hers sloppily, feeling myself grow wetter when she moans into the kiss. My hands cup her jaw angling my head just right so I can get more of her, more of anything.
In a swift movement she’s throwing off her jacket, the sound of it crashing to the floor muffled by the sound of our kisses. She’s turning me over, backing me towards the bed until I hit the foot of it. Paige lays me down, her action so gentle compared to the way she digs into my hips. 
All of a sudden I’m hyper aware of it all. Of how I’m standing here in nothing but carefully picked lingerie, letting Paige fucking Bueckers kiss me within an inch of my life. How desperate I must seem for her, but she doesn’t care, equally as needy for me. 
“Mine all fuckin’ night.” She murmurs on my lips, pulling away to lick her own as we both catch our breath. The coolness of her chain drags against my clavicle, making me gasp into her. Paige shakes her head, looking at me like she can’t even believe I’m real, before tilting my head with her hand at my jaw. Her lips attached to the line of it. “Gon’ fuck you till you can’t take it.”
I’m nodding, cupping her head to hold her there. I search her hair for the hair tie that holds her bun together, finding it and tugging her locks free so it falls down her shoulders. Paige kisses her way down my neck, finding my sweet spot almost too easily. 
My other hand darts under her shirt to tug at the waistband of her jeans, moaning breathlessly when she sucks on that spot right where my neck meets the top of my chest. “Fuck.” I groan, deciding that the quicker I get these clothes off, the quicker I get to leave her bed a fucking mess. “Take this shit off, P. Now.”
I tug at the hem of her black shirt and Paige pulls back from me, lips swollen and wet, to ruck her shirt off and toss it on the floor. I trail my eyes over her body; muscular shoulders tanned from the sun of summer, sports bra clad to her chest, line of her abs and that obvious V that leads down into her pants.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
She cages me in with her arms, which flex at every subtle movement. Paige starts with the kissing again, first with a bite to my earlobe before she trails lower and lower. Over the tattoo down the side of my neck, until she meets my chest. “You so perfect, angel.”
I hum, feeling myself get wetter and wetter with each word she says. “Paige.”
“Mm?” She purrs, looking up at me with her lips attached to the swell of my breast.
“Been—mmph— been wantin’ you for months, baby. Stop teasing and fuck me.” I stutter, allowing my fingers to tangle in her long blonde locks. 
Paige curls her arm under my body, grounding my hips with one hand and unclipping my bra with the other. It comes easy for her, and my mind briefly travels to that place where I’m wondering how many girls she’s had to have done this to for it to be that simple. She peels my bra down my arms, tossing it behind her as well. The way she looks at me, like I’m prey, makes me realize I don’t fucking care. I can’t care, not when it’s just me and her.
“I gotchu, baby. I do, jus’ lay back.” Paige says. She licks up the center of my body before turning her head to lick at my nipple, swirling her tongue around it messily. She wraps her lips around it, sucking on my tit like it’s a pacifier. “So fine. Shit unreal.” 
She does the same to my other breast, squeezing the flesh in her hand, biting at my nipple. She’s nasty. As I expected her to be, with the way she’s been acting since I met her. But this, the worshiping of my body is something I’ve never had before. With anyone.
Paige trails sloppy kisses down my torso, leaving hickeys on my stomach that I know I’m going to have to cover up in order to wear my outfit tomorrow.
She gets settled between my legs, trailing her nose against the hem of my panties. “Need this pussy, ma. Needa taste you.” She bites at the lace, snapping it against my inner leg and I whimper.
Her thumb curls into them, being slow and gentle with the way she tugs the clothing down my legs. “This okay?”
“Yeah. It’s okay.” I nod, lifting my hips to aid her. “So okay.”
In response she grins at me, kissing across my pelvis down to my inner thighs. Her eyes glued to mine, blues dark with how wide her pupils have dilated, before they dart between my legs to my soaked cunt. “Fuck, Raye.” She groans, pressing her thumb to my clit.
“P, I need—”
“No fuckin’ way you been keepin’ this from me.” Paige shakes her head in disbelief, kissing my thigh softly. “Gonna make it mine, baby. I swear.” 
She’s leaning in at that, running her tongue up through my folds with the softest lick that makes my eyes roll instantly. I toss my head onto the pillows, letting her grip my inner thighs as she speeds up. 
“Pussy tastes fuckin’ incredible, mama. So sweet.” Paige groans, lapping at my cunt like she hasn’t eaten in ages. Her lips wrapping around my clit, tongue running on the underside of it. She’s a fucking pro, garnering reactions that I’ve never had before.
My fingers grip the sheets beside me, back arching off the bed. “God, P. F—uck!” I croak, my moans coming out louder and louder as she eats me dry. “Shit, baby.”
Paige’s free hand is reaching for mine, releasing the sheets from my grip and replacing it with her own. She interlaces my fingers and that’s when I shoot up, looking down at her with my jaw slack. 
I watch her, my wetness coating her mouth and the tip of her nose, her tongue licking up and down my folds and teeth nipping at my clit gently. It makes me mewl, her name and curses of pleasure the only thing I can give her. 
She was sloppy—messy and unrefined in a way that shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did. Paige’s mouth was nothing like the careful precision I had expected from her. Instead, it’s driven by pure want, a raw, desperate hunger that has my legs trembling around her head and my hips bucking into her mouth.
She has me feeling nothing but wanted. Wanted and wanted and wanted.
Paige pulls back for air, biting at her lips that are completely covered in my slick. She spits on me with nothing but filth. Watching as the trail slips past the folds of my cunt and past my asshole, she blows on it, the cool air making me shudder and squeeze her hand even harder. 
“Oh! Keep going, baby. I can take it.” I groan, pulling her closer to my throbbing pussy.
“Gon’ take it just for me?” 
“For you, P. Just for you.” 
She suckles on my clit once more, “could die eating you, baby. Just fuckin’ perfect, Raye.” She pants. 
“Fuck,” I breathe, my head tipping back as Paige nudges her teeth around my clit, sucking hard, pinning her palm to my hips to hold me steady. “Paige, you—oh my God—”
Paige hums against my pussy, and the vibration sends a jolt of pleasure through me that makes me cry out, my hips bucking again. 
I can’t decide which was more overwhelming—the relentless pressure of her mouth, her eyes staring up at me, or the sheer dedication she put into it, like nothing else in the world mattered but getting me off.
Then her warm tongue was dipping into me for a second, fucking into me with precision, curling up in search of my spot. My hand flies to her hair, tugging the soft locks between my fingers, holding her face between my legs for a second. My legs shake warningly, that knot in my abdomen feels like it’s seconds away from snapping.
“You’re so fuckin’ good at this,” I manage, my voice breaking on the words as Paige’s eyes flutter shut while she all but made out with my cunt. “How are you so—shit—so good at this?”
Her chuckle vibrates through me, and the blonde pulls back to apply pressure to my clit with her fingers, licking her lips clean. “Ion think you want me to answer that, ma.”
She doesn’t even look at me, simply scissoring my folds apart and diving back into me. She’s right, I don’t want to know, so I let myself fall into her skilled tongue. My control slips, the confident front I’ve been trying to keep all day slipping into vulnerability. 
I gasp, squeezing her hand as tight as I could. My eyes roll once again, “P, I’m gonna—”
“Cum in my mouth, pretty,” Paige moans into me, her voice muffled but insistent, large and veiny hand pressing into my hip to keep me in place.
The words sent me tumbling over the edge. My entire body tensing and back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure crashes over me, pulling a strangled moan from her lips. I swear the world went white for a moment, every nerve in my body alight with sensation. Paige laps it all up, my cum pooling on her tongue.
She fucks me through it, her tongue slowing down and sucking coming to a stop. When Paige looks at me, hair all mussed and lips swollen, chains and earrings still dancing in the light— I decide right there that this is actually the hottest she’s ever looked. All decorated in the aftermath of my sex. Looking like this for me.
She licks her lips clean before kissing from my thighs up my abdomen. She licks at my navel, tugging my piercing between her teeth. 
Paige continues up my body, suckling on the inside of my breast until another hickey forms, dark purple against the brown of my skin. “I’m gonna be livin’ between your legs from now on. Fuckin’ perfect.” She grins, leaning up to attach our lips.
I groan against her lips, pulling my hand away from hers to unbuckle the belt that holds her jeans. “You’re so good.” I praise, popping open the button on them. 
“Fuck you good?” She responds, helping me out and tugging down her jeans and her boxers simultaneously. “Needa feel you on me. Need that shit.”
I break the kiss, feeling my heart beat so harsh in my chest. I curl my fingers into the band of her bra, and Paige raises her arms to help me get it off. 
My eyes immediately fall to her chest, her supple tits and pink nipples. She’s breathtaking, and I want nothing more to wrap my lips around them and suck. I trail to her abs, practically shocked that a woman could look this fucking amazing in front of me. They dip even lower to her cunt which is positively soaked. 
I can’t help but grin because I know it’s all for me. “Come get it, baby.”
Before I know it Paige wraps her arms around my hips, mirroring my smile as she flips us over settling her back against the headboard as I straddle her.
It’s right then when I get to see all of her. Legs spread apart for me, so fucking wet that I swear we’re both about to leave this bed a dripping mess. Her thighs are so damn muscular.
I let my mind drift to what it would feel like riding them.
Paige grips my thighs, throwing my right leg over hers and slotting our legs together. My eyes go wide, watching my legs tremble with I don’t know what. Nervousness, excitement, arousal. 
“You okay? We don’t have to do anything else, I promise.” Paige looks up at me with crystalline blue eyes. Her hand running up and down my thigh, the other gripping my side and trailing her thumb over my rib tattoo.
“No, I want to.” I brush her off, looking down at how our cunts are slotted together, inches away from touching. 
Paige bites her lip, running a hand back to grip my ass and tug me closer. “Put that pussy on me then. Ride me, ma.” She instructs.
I’m nearly falling out at the raunchiness of her words. I’d be an idiot to not listen to her, especially when she looks at me like I’m a piece of meat.
I grip the edge of the headboard with one hand, the other gripping her shoulder as I roll my hips down to meet her cunt. I gasp at how fucking soaked she is against me. “Oh fuck, P.” I stutter, feeling her clit press up against me.
“You’re so damn pretty, Raye. Fuck— oh my God.” Paige’s head hits the headboard, a moan tumbling past her lips. Loud, and it’s easily the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard. “Look how fuckin’ wet you get for me, soakin’ me up, baby.”
Her hands grip my hips, forcing my hips back and forth against her, grinding my cunt against her in the exact rhythm she wants. 
“Oh. Oh—mmph—yeahhhh, baby. You feel so fucking good.” I whine, feeling that tension in my stomach, already overstimulated from my last orgasm.
Paige meets me halfway, bucking her hips up at me and I feel that inevitable connection that comes with the throb of her clit. “Shit. Shit, ma! This pussy fuckin’ perfect, baby.”
She’s matching my rhythm, fucking me back with fervent bucks of her hips. My nails dig into her shoulders, darting my head down to look at where we connected.
I’ve never in my life felt something this good before. It’s so intimate. The way she holds me and talks to me and feels every little thing that I’m feeling too. I don’t want to stop, I want to keep going, laying up with her all fucking night if I could.
“P—aige! ‘S so good, baby.” 
“Fuck!” She shouts. “So close. You’re doin’ fuckin’ amazing baby.” Paige encourages. She sends a slap to my ass and I keep going for that feeling. That look of euphoria and approval that makes me wanna ride her better and harder and faster. 
I’m louder than I’ve ever been before, growing closer and closer to that peak. “So wet, P.” I hiccup, my eyes glued to the wetness between the both of us, how I’m damn near slipping from how much she’s giving me.
“I know. Can hear it, angel.” Paige moans, digging her nails into the skin of my ass. “So messy, huh? Just creamin’ for me, Raye. Gonna make me cum.” 
“Baby.” I cry, throwing my head back as that same feeling from earlier returns. I think I might explode.
She reaches for my neck, squeezing her hand around my throat and I’m losing concentration. It’s so hard to stay focused when she’s choking me like that, pulling my attention back to her and her fucked out face. If it wasn’t for the pleasure I felt in my core I could’ve probably come from that alone.
“Gimme one.” She groans. “Cum with me, ma. Need that shit. Need that cum all over my pussy. We almost there, c’mon.”
“Oh my— fuck. Fuck!” A scream rips through my throat, and I’m following through, clutching my hand on hers around my neck. Paige’s mouth falls open, pretty, high pitched cries leaving her lips as we finish together. I think both of us saw stars.
I can’t even control the sounds that leave me, mewls and cries and curses that make me mimic a damn sailor. Between the both of us, I can only hope we don’t run into anyone else on her hotel floor because if they didn't hear me before, they definitely heard us just now. 
My legs shake and the second Paige releases my neck I’m trembling into her hold, feeling light-headed after drowning in pleasure like that. She wraps her arms around my waist, nestling her lips against my cheek as I catch my breath.
I can feel her heart beating against mine, her breathing mimicking my own. Her body is so warm against me, it’s a feeling that I never want to get rid of. I think I could spend the rest of forever like this, holding me and kissing me just like this.
I don’t even dare move my legs away from hers. Instead, I turn my head, kissing her in a suffocating kiss that she whimpers into before kissing me back, licking at my tongue and gripping my ass. 
“We’re doing that all the time, baby. Holy shit.” I sigh. Paige chuckles into my mouth, biting my lip and tugging it back.
She just knows exactly how to get me worked up, how to get my heart racing, my mind running in laps, and my cunt dripping for her. 
“Jus’ wait. Got so much more to teach you.”
“Swear, Imma knock you up one day.” I grumble in Raye’s ear, running my free hand over her tits and the hickeys I’ve made sure to leave there all night. She might have to wear a turtleneck to the All-Star game tomorrow night because there’s no way she’s gonna be able to cover them all.
She probably takes me for a joke. Which is fine. But in my head, if you got rid of all the anatomical inaccuracies that would make it physically impossible, I am certain that the way she’s been making me feel all night is more than enough for me to fuck her dumb and get her pregnant with my kid. That’s how fucking good she’s been.
“Prettiest fuckin’ tits. Swear.” I sigh in disbelief. Maraye is gorgeous. Has been since the second I laid eyes on her through the TV. Gorgeous in sweats and a stained t-shirt, in a floor length gown, in a mini skirt that gives so little to my imagination. But seeing her naked, like this, gets a reaction out of me that is anything but holy. 
Her back is hot and sweaty against my chest, soft groans escaping her mouth as my fingers toy with her clit from behind. 
The minute Raye stood in front of me, stripping her clothes and pushing her tits in my face. Her body glowing int the hotel light as she begged me to ‘teach her,’ I knew it was fucking game over.
I’ve made it my mission to make each experience worthwhile with everything I did to her tonight. Dragging her into the shower and letting her sink to her knees as she ate me out, I swear she was lying about having never done it before because she made me cum so hard I almost passed out. I took her again as soon as we got out, bending her over the sink and fucking my fingers so deep that she was squirting on the floor. 
She rode my abs when we got back in bed, covering them in her own cream and then shocking me by licking it all off. I decided then that I need her again and again and again, in every possible way that I could have her.
Which brings us to right now. I circle her clit over and over, splaying my other hand over her stomach and tucking my head into her neck to watch. Strings of her slick sticking to my fingertips that I pull back for her to see. 
“You been such a good girl for me tonight, takin’ everything I give you.” I coo against her skin. “My perfect angel.” I hum.
“Paige, just—mm— just like that.” I keep going, slow and deliberate circles because I know that anything else might send her thrashing against my body on the hotel chair.
“Yeah? You like that?” I whisper, kissing her neck in a much different manner than the one in which I’m touching her with. I spread her folds with my index and ring fingers, teasing her hole with my middle. “Don’t even need to get ‘em wet. You did it for me, ma.”
I sink my finger inside, relishing in the way she swallows up my whole finger and coats in arousal. Raye can take more, I know she can, I saw her take nearly my whole hand an hour ago. But I’m being gentle, so one is enough for now.
She tosses her head against my shoulder panting heavily, as if her throat won’t let her moan the way she wants to. She’s so damn soaked, the sound of my finger slowly sliding in and out bounces off the walls. I can feel it dripping out of her, down her ass and drenching my legs through my plaid boxers.
Raye curls her arm around my head, pulling me closer to her neck. I bite my lip, curling them deep inside into her spot. “Ah! Baby, baby! God, right there.” She squeals, digging her nails into my nape.
“You’re so damn beautiful, angel. Jus’ taking me so good.” I nod, holding her body as close as possible so I get that perfect look. That perfect view of her pretty cunt when I slip in a second finger.
That’s what gets her to thrash on my lap, attempting to shut her legs from me but I hold them open. Raye cries out my name, over and over and over again like a prayer. “Don’t fuckin’ stop. Please, m’ so close,” she moans.
“Stretchin’ you out so good, yeah? Gotta get you ready for me. Strap you so good when we get back. Do you so good, ma, I swear.” I speak gently.
I know her tells flawlessly now, how she lets her mouth fall open with nothing but choppy breaths passing into the air. How she grips on anything, eyes rolling into her skull. She’s close, about to make a mess on the last clean surface in the room but I don’t care.
Raye tips her head towards me, chasing my lips with her own. I let her, locking our lips in a slow kiss that feels just like the first time. Her tongue navigates my mouth, her teeth clashing with mine. She’s moaning haphazardly into my mouth, getting distracted by my fingers.
It fills me with a sense of pride I’ve never felt before.
“Wanna ruin it, Raye.” I groan, sucking her bottom lip before pulling back. “It’s mine, yeah?”
She nods rapidly, her legs shake and her moans make my ears ring. “Paige!” Maraye drags out my name, making me feel on top of the whole fucking world.
“This my pussy, ma? All me?”
“Shit. It’s y-yours. I promise.” I rut my fingers inside faster, attempting to ignore the sting in my arm. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” She hiccups. Her cunt squeezes me tight, and I know she’s right there.
“Gimme that shit, Raye. Make a mess for me, baby. I need that.” I murmur, “Y’know I’m right here. Just gimme that.” 
A cry tears through her mouth, the loudest she’s been all night. Raye’s eyes are glued shut and she’s coming again. I never want it to end, if it were up to me, I’d take her out on the balcony right now but I know her. She’s trembling.
I ease my fingers out slowly, wrapping my arm tighter around her waist and circling her clit to work her through it. 
When she finally comes down, her body trembling and her chest heaving, I don’t pull away immediately. I stay right where I am, gently kissing at her ear and mumbling sweet nothings. My touch softened as I helped Raye ride out the aftershocks.
“Fuck,” Raye finally breathes, her voice hoarse and unsteady. She lets out a breathless laugh, her hands falling to the sides of the armrests as she stares up at the ceiling in an attempt to find her thoughts again. “You ever fuck someone else like that, I swear to fucking God, I’ll kill you.”
I can’t help but grin against her skin. It’s completely Maraye, something only she could do after sex. She curls into hold, wrapping both arms around my neck and I let her, anything that lets me get her close like this. 
“You remember what I said about making you mine tonight?” I ask, tracing circles on her lower back.
She nods. “Is that not what you just did for the last four hours?” A breathy sigh escaping her mouth. 
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I laugh. Suddenly all the air in my lungs is missing, the words I want to say getting lodged in my throat. Raye has this way of making me forget that I’m probably the most confident person on the planet. “I—um, I want you to be my girlfriend. Just me and you, Raye.”
I watch her eyes go wide as she tugs her t-shirt back over her exposed upper body. “Wh- you don’t think it’s too soon?”
“Do you?”
“No! No, I just, are you sure?”
“Am I sure that I want you as my girlfriend? Are you kidding?” I adjust her position in my lap, helping her get settled on my lap with her face to mine. She presses her palms on my bare chest, those eyes glued to mine with the slightest smile. “Yes. I want you. Only you, Raye. I don’t care if it’s too soon, ‘cause I’ve spent the last two and a half months waiting for you to be mine. I’m making you my girl. Who gives a fuck if it’s too s—”
She cuts me off without hesitation, I think I might go drunk from how many times she’s kissed me tonight. Raye starts with soft pecks, each one causing a groan to slip past me. “Yeah.”
“Mm– yeah what, angel?” I ask, smiling all against her lips. “Gotta say it.”
She breaks the kiss, smiling right back, all teeth and gums and I think she looks fucking beautiful. “Yes, Paige. I’ll be your girlfriend.”
September 2025 — London, England, United Kingdom 
“So, what’s your type?” Amelia asks me, popping a fry into her mouth. She sits across from me in this booth at Morley’s Chicken, cameras surrounding the both of us. “Y’know, other than blonde and pretty with blue eyes.”
I have to hold back my giggle, because this is her thing. She flirts with all her guests while also seemingly trying to get little bits of information from my life. That’s why I know she’s describing herself, and not the girlfriend that waits for me at home in LA.
Home. A place where love is nurtured and bloomed, a place that I now can only ever associate with Paige. She’s perfect, patient, communicative, funny, slightly annoying but in a way that makes her comfortable and charming. She’s my home now.
“That’s exactly my type, actually.” I nod, wrapping my lips around the straw of my fruit punch juice box. “To a T.”
“Really?” Amelia’s accent sticks out to me immediately, making me giggle. “What’s funny?”
“I like your accent.” I say. “But yea, that’s exactly my type.” I repeat, trying my hardest to fight the growing smirk on my lips. When this episode is edited and Paige sees it, I just know she’s going to be all smiles.
Amelia nods, a posh grin and an adorable shrug of her shoulders being sent my way. “Well obviously. You wouldn’t be on a date with me then, I suppose. You are just seeing me right?” She continues with the bit.
“Of course.”
I let my mind wander off to Paige the minute I say that. It’s early here, which means she’s probably asleep back in LA. Cuddled under the covers of my bed that is slowly becoming our bed. At the apartment with my name on it but clothes and shoes and snacks that could only belong to Paige. She’d woven her way into my life, into my home, into my music. So that even now, when I’m countries away, and talking about my music career, she’s all I can think about. Because there was nothing like being with Paige. 
And I got to call her mine.
All mine.
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secretmaniacc · 1 day ago
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RIDE OR DIE
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Parings: The salesman x Fem!oc
Summary: Two fierce recruiters, locked in a heated rivalry over who can secure the most players, strike an unusual deal: whoever wins the next recruit gets to drag the other out to dinner. But when tempers flare and egos clash, their “game” turns into a battle of wits, slaps, and simmering tension. What starts as a simple challenge spirals into something far more unpredictable—because in their world, nothing ever goes as planned.
Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, dom!salesman x baddie oc, teasing, work rivals, kissing, fingering sex, mentions of blood, slapping, maybe something else that I don’t remember.
Wc: 5.4k
A/n: this is my first post and idk how do you use tumblr and I can’t even add warnings cuz idk what should I warn about but I hope y’all can enjoy wtv the hell I wrote, English isn’t my first language so no attacking. Not proofread. This is so bad ik.
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The dimly lit café hummed with quiet chatter, the occasional clatter of cups breaking the tension in the air. She adjusted her sunglasses, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned forward, her fingers tapping softly against the edge of the table. The man seated across from her was sweating through his cheap dress shirt, his eyes darting nervously to the plain white envelope she'd slid toward him just moments ago.
"Inside that envelope," she began, her voice calm but charged with intent, "is the answer to all your problems. Every overdue bill, every phone call you're dodging, every sleepless night. All gone."
He hesitated, staring at the envelope like it might bite him. "I don't know... I mean, this doesn't sound—"
"—legal?" she finished for him, leaning back casually. She tilted her head, the smirk widening. "You'd be right. It's not. But when has that ever stopped you before?"
His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Bingo, she thought, watching him flounder. That reaction told her everything she needed to know.
"Think about it," she pressed, her voice dropping an octave, almost a whisper. "A few games. A few hours. And then you walk away with enough money to start fresh. No more debt. No more hiding."
He reached for the envelope, his hand trembling. But just as his fingertips brushed the edge of it—
A familiar voice cut through the air. "Amateur move, don't you think?"
Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Only one person could manage to sound both smug and bored in the same sentence.
"Go away," she said flatly, her tone ice-cold.
But of course, he didn't.
"I mean, honestly," the salesman continued, sliding into the booth beside the man like he owned the place. "Laying it all out like that? Where's the finesse? The mystery? The intrigue?"
She finally turned her head, pushing her sunglasses down just enough to meet his eyes. "Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"
"Not when I'm right," he replied, flashing her that infuriatingly cocky smile.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, and gave him a sweet, fake smile in return. "Right about what? Annoying the hell out of me? Congratulations, you've mastered the art."
The man between them shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting from her to the salesman and back again. "Uh, I should probably—"
"You're not going anywhere," she said sharply, cutting him off. She reached for the envelope and slid it back toward the man with deliberate slowness, her gaze never leaving the salesman. "You want to talk about finesse? Fine. Let's talk about your pitch. What is it this time? Another mysterious slap game in the subway? Real creative."
He laughed, the sound low and easy, and leaned back in the booth. "What can I say? It works."
"Until it doesn't," she shot back.
"Why don't we let him decide?" he countered, gesturing to the man, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
She turned her attention back to her target, her expression softening. "You want to trust him? Go ahead. But let me ask you this: When he disappears into thin air after taking his cut, who's going to be there to clean up the mess? Not him."
The salesman's grin faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make her smirk.
"Fine," he said, standing abruptly and brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. "He's all yours. Let's see if your little sob story gets him to bite."
"Gladly," she replied, leaning back with a victorious gleam in her eyes.
But as he turned to leave, he leaned in close, just enough for his breath to brush against her ear. "Next time, sweetheart, try not to play so dirty. It's almost cute how hard you're trying to beat me."
She didn't flinch, didn't react, even as her grip tightened on the edge of the table. He chuckled softly and walked away, leaving her with the trembling man and the lingering scent of his cologne.
"You should take the deal," she said finally, sliding the envelope across the table one last time. "Before someone else comes along and makes it worse for you."
This time, he took it without hesitation.
As she left the café, she spotted the salesman leaning casually against a lamppost outside, twirling a coin between his fingers.
"You owe me," she called out, not breaking stride.
"For what?"
"For not strangling you in there."
His laugh followed her down the street, a sound that stuck in her head longer than she cared to admit.
Next day
She pushed the door to the briefing room open with a little more force than necessary, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. He was already there, of course, leaning back in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table like he owned the place. The sight made her want to turn around and walk right back out.
The office reeked of stale coffee and carried the faint metallic tang of the envelopes they used to seal people's fates. Spotting their shared desk, she sauntered over and dropped into her chair, leaning back with a casual air. Her red-tipped nails drummed a steady rhythm against the table, a small but deliberate sound to break the silence.
"So," she started, her voice smooth but sharp enough to cut, "how many desperate souls did you con into signing today?"
"You're late," he drawled, not even bothering to glance up from the notepad he was scribbling on, "I've already got a head start."
She ignored him, tossing her clipboard onto the table with a loud thwack. "Four recruits," she announced, while sitting in the chair across from him.
That got his attention. He arched an eyebrow, finally glancing up. "Four? That's cute."
Her lips twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. "Better than your three."
The smug grin he'd been wearing all evening faltered for a split second, and the sight was immensely satisfying. He quickly recovered, sitting up straighter and folding his arms over his chest. "Who says I only got three?"
"I saw you at the station earlier," she shot back. "Your guy ran off before you could even give him the envelope."
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "He came back. Took the bait. Easy money."
She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing. With him, it was impossible to tell. He could sell a lie as easily as breathing, and she hated how good he was at it.
"Let's see the proof, then," she said, gesturing to his notepad.
He hesitated, just long enough for her to pounce.
"Liar," she said smugly, leaning back in her chair.
"Fine," he admitted, tossing the notepad onto the table. "Three. But mine were quality recruits. You're probably scraping the bottom of the barrel as usual."
She bristled at that, her fingers curling into fists under the table. "Quality? The last guy you brought in was a drunk who passed out halfway through the first game."
"And he still made it further than your little college dropout," he countered.
"That dropout lasted three games," she snapped. "And he made us more money than any of your recruits ever have."
"Us?" He laughed, the sound low and mocking. "Sweetheart, there is no 'us.' This is a solo game, remember? And right now, you're losing."
The word sweetheart grated against her nerves, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn't about to let him see how much he was getting under her skin.
"Keep telling yourself that," she said coolly, pulling out a pen and jotting down the day's numbers on her clipboard. "Meanwhile, I'll be over here actually doing my job."
He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached across the table and snatched the clipboard out of her hands.
"Hey!" she protested, but he held it just out of her reach, flipping through the pages with a smug grin.
"Let's see... Ah, there it is," he said, tapping the page with the end of her pen. "Four names. Not bad. But you forgot to include the part where they all looked ready to bolt the second you left."
She lunged for the clipboard, but he pulled it back again, chuckling under his breath. "Careful now," he teased. "Wouldn't want to make a scene, would we?"
She glared at him, her jaw tightening. "Give it back."
"Say please."
"Go to hell."
He laughed again, but this time, he relented, sliding the clipboard across the table. She snatched it up, smoothing the crumpled pages with deliberate care.
"You're insufferable, you know that?" she muttered, not bothering to look at him.
"And yet, you keep coming back," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.
She bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose her composure. Instead, she focused on her clipboard, pretending he didn't exist.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he broke it.
"You know, you're lucky you have me as competition."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"
"Because I keep you on your toes," he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Admit it. If it weren't for me, this job would be boring as hell."
"Boring?" she repeated, her tone icy. "You think ruining people's lives is boring?"
"Don't get all self-righteous on me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "We both know you enjoy the thrill just as much as I do."
She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He wasn't wrong, and they both knew it.
"Speaking of thrill," he continued, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how about a little wager?"
She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of wager?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Next recruit wins."
"Wins what?" she asked warily.
He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Bragging rights. And dinner."
She snorted. "You think I'd let you take me to dinner?"
"Who said I'd be taking you?" he shot back, his grin widening. "You'd be taking me."
The audacity of it made her laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the sterile room.
"Fine," she said, standing up and smoothing her pencil skirt. "But don't cry when you lose."
"Don't worry about me, sweetheart," he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his tie. "Worry about yourself."
With that, she grabbed her clipboard and swept out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.
Later That Night
The neon lights of the city cast a harsh glow on the bustling streets, illuminating the restless hum of nightlife. Cars honked in the distance, their headlights cutting through the mist rising from sewer grates. She stood near the entrance of a seedy-looking diner, a faint flicker of its neon sign sputtering above her. The air smelled of fried food and rain-soaked pavement, but she didn't notice. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a predator hunting for its next meal.
She didn't need long to spot potential. It was always the same—the defeated ones, with slumped shoulders and darting eyes. They carried their desperation in their posture, wearing it like a beacon.
Her instincts honed in on a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit leaning against a lamppost. He clutched a briefcase to his chest like it was his last lifeline, his lips moving silently, perhaps rehearsing excuses or trying to summon courage to return home empty-handed.
Perfect.
Before she could move, a faint ripple of awareness prickled at the back of her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"Stalking me now?" she asked, her tone sharp but low enough to remain unnoticed.
"Just observing," came his smooth reply, closer than she expected. "Wouldn't want you accusing me of cheating."
Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she held it back. "You can't cheat at something you're already losing."
"Keep telling yourself that," he said, and she could feel the smirk in his voice without even glancing back.
She pushed his presence to the back of her mind, focusing instead on her target. With a subtle breath, she strode forward, heels clicking against the pavement, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the street. She approached the man with the kind of confidence that disarmed even the wariest prey.
"Rough night?" she asked, her voice soft and sympathetic, like the purr of a cat just before it strikes.
The man flinched slightly, his tired eyes meeting hers with a flicker of suspicion. "Something like that," he muttered, his voice hoarse and uncertain.
She tilted her head, her expression warm but unreadable. "Well," she said, slipping an envelope from her jacket pocket and holding it out to him, "what if I told you there's a way to turn your luck around?"
The man hesitated, his eyes flicking between her face and the envelope as if weighing the risks. Behind her, she felt his presence again, closer this time. The faintest shuffle of shoes on asphalt told her he was watching, and she resisted the urge to smirk. This one was as good as hers.
Just as the man reached out to take the envelope, a hand shot over her shoulder and plucked it from her grasp.
"Now, now," he said, stepping into view with that maddeningly smug grin, twirling the envelope between his fingers like a magician showing off a trick. "Let's not rush things."
Her jaw tightened, the air around her practically crackling with tension. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, her voice low and sharp.
"Just helping out," he replied, unfazed by her glare. With a deliberate slowness, he handed the envelope back to her, throwing in a playful wink that made her blood boil.
The man, caught in the crossfire, glanced between them, his confusion turning into hesitation. "Uh... Is this some kind of scam?"
"Not at all," he said quickly, his tone dripping with practiced reassurance. His smile widened, radiating a charm that seemed almost genuine. "We're just offering a little game. High stakes, high rewards. Interested?"
The man hesitated, his grip on the briefcase tightening. "What kind of game?"
"It's simple," he said, crouching and slamming the folded paper onto the pavement with a sharp snap. "You use your own tile and try to flip mine. If you win, you keep the envelope and some extra cash." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, fanning them out enticingly.
"And if I lose?"
He smirked, the gesture sharp and taunting. "Then I get to slap you. Fair trade, don't you think?"
The man recoiled, his skepticism deepening. "What kind of twisted game is this?"
"Just a little fun," the salesman said, his tone light but unyielding. "Besides, no one plays if they think they're going to lose. Are you scared you'll lose?"
She suppressed a groan. He always did this—pushing just hard enough to make them take the bait.
"Or, you take the envelope and walk away, no games required." She suggested.
Her rival's chuckle was low, almost teasing. "Where's the fun in that? And where's the money he so desperately needs, Let him decide."
The man glanced at the envelope, then at the money, and finally at the salesman's smirk. "Fine. I'll play."
Her rival's grin widened. "Excellent.", gesturing toward a nearby alleyway. "Let's make this quick."
She followed them into the dimly lit alley, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. He always turned everything into a game, always needed to prove he was one step ahead
He handed the man a folded paper tile, stepping back and gesturing for him to begin. The man crouched, his hand trembling slightly as he slapped his tile against the one on the ground. It barely budged.
"Not bad," the salesman said, picking up the tile. "But let me show you how it's done."
He crouched, his movements fluid and confident. With a sharp snap, his tile slammed down, flipping the man's effortlessly.
Without missing a beat, he straightened and grinned. "Looks like I win this round." He raised his hand, his smirk deepening.
The man flinched, bracing himself, but the salesman stopped short, hovering just close enough to make him sweat. Before delivering a slap that echoed through the alleyway like a gunshot. The man staggered back, holding his cheek with a mix of shock and indignation.
"Oh my—" she whispered, flinching
The salesman, unfazed and borderline proud, grinned down at the man. "another round?."
The man blinked, rubbing his face. "don't you think this was abit painful?"
"Wasn't this our deal?"
"Alright, I'll go again," the man exclaimed, determination etched on his face. He grabbed the colored tile with trembling fingers and slammed it down with force.
The tile on the ground barely budged.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
Minutes passed, and the man refused to give up, his voice hoarse as he repeatedly asked for another round. His face, now blotched with red and purpling bruises, told the story of his futile persistence.
Growing impatient with the drawn-out game and the waste of her time, she decided to intervene. Not only had her rival stolen her recruit, but he was also dragging this nonsense far longer than necessary.
"I'll go easy on you this time," she heard him say, his voice laced with mock compassion.
"Or," she interjected sharply, pulling a thick stack of cash from her pocket, "you let me take over and raise the stakes."
Her rival's brows lifted, amusement lighting up his face. "Feeling brave, are we?"
"I just like winning," she retorted, her tone clipped as she handed the cash and envelope to the bruised man. "I don't think you have a reason to continue this."
The man hesitated for only a moment before greed overtook him. He snatched the envelope and money from her outstretched hand, shoving them hastily into his pocket. "Thanks," he muttered, practically sprinting into the crowd and out of sight.
She turned, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto her rival. "Happy now? You scared him off."
He smirked, stepping closer, his movements deliberate and calculated. "Scared him? I think I made his night."
"Your ego is insufferable," she said, arms crossing over her chest.
"Is it?" he countered, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a maddeningly light touch. "Or is it just that you don't like losing?"
Her pulse quickened at the proximity, but she refused to show any sign of weakness. "I didn't lose. He took my deal."
His smirk deepened, his expression dripping with arrogance. "If that helps you sleep at night."
Before she could reply, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, velvety murmur. "The game's not over yet. Want to take his place?"
Her breath caught as his fingers grazed hers, sliding the blue tile into her palm before he pulled away. The motion was deliberate, calculated to unnerve her, but she refused to let him win that easily.
She exhaled sharply, tilting her chin upward as she crouched down. Focusing on the game, she slapped her tile against the ground with all the force she could muster.
The crack echoed through the narrow alley, but the result was disappointing—the tile barely shifted.
"Tough break," he quipped, crouching beside her, his voice a teasing whisper. "Maybe you should let me teach you a thing or two."
Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and unwavering. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, an electric crackle in the chilly air.
"I don't need your lessons," she bit out, rising to her feet and brushing past him, her jaw tight.
"Alright then," he said with infuriating ease. He crouched effortlessly, his movements smooth as silk. With a single, sharp slap, his tile flipped hers with almost mocking precision.
Standing, he turned toward her, a mock pout curving his lips. "I guess I'll have to slap that pretty face of yours now. May I?" he asked, his voice dripping with a false politeness that made her blood boil.
Her jaw tightened, and she nodded stiffly. Before she could brace herself, his hand connected sharply with her cheek. The slap rang out in the alleyway like a firecracker, her head snapping to the side with the force.
Pain bloomed hot and fast, her body recoiling slightly as she stumbled a step back. She could already feel the beginnings of a bruise forming, the sting radiating from her skin.
Her chest rose and fell as she steadied herself. "Again," she demanded, her voice steely.
This time, she took her turn, and with a fierce slap of her tile, she flipped his. A slow, triumphant grin spread across her face.
"Your turn," she said smoothly, stepping closer.
His smug grin never wavered, even as he leaned in for his next move. The sharp crack of his tile meeting her tile.
he missed.
His tile flipped awkwardly, tumbling off-course and skidding out of bounds. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but before he could recover, her palm came down with brutal precision. The slap echoed louder this time.
He staggered slightly, his face turning away as her hand left a bright, stinging imprint on his cheekbone. The smirk she wore grew darker, more dangerous. "Losing your touch?" she taunted, her voice mocking.
His jaw tensed, but he said nothing, merely resetting the tiles and motioning for the game to continue.
The game continued, the back-and-forth intensified, each slap a resounding echo through the narrow alleyway. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, thickening with every calculated strike. Her cheek throbbed, the sting from his earlier slap blooming into a vivid bruise, while his jawline reddened with the marks of her retaliation.
Then she missed.
Her tile spun wildly off-course, landing far from where it needed to be. The mistake was glaring, and he seized the moment without hesitation. His hand came down with brutal force, striking her cheek hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
The impact sent her staggering, and this time, a trickle of blood began to run from her nose. She stood frozen for a moment, her fingers brushing against her upper lip. Crimson streaks stained her pale skin, a sharp contrast that only seemed to embolden her defiance.
She tilted her head back slightly, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, smearing it rather than cleaning it. When she looked back at him, her smirk was intact, as sharp as ever.
"What's the matter?" she teased, her voice biting despite the blood. "that's all what you've got?"
For the first time, his confidence faltered. His hand, raised for the next strike, but then froze mid-air. Her face painted with blood hit harder than any slap, and the hesitation in his expression was palpable.
Before she could press further, he stepped forward abruptly, closing the distance between them in one smooth, deliberate motion. His hand dropped from the air to grip her arm firmly, and he pushed her back against the cold brick wall.
The impact stole the air from her lungs, the rough texture of the wall biting into her back. Yet her smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew sharper, her chin tilting upward as if daring him to try harder. His arms came up, caging her in, palms pressed against the wall on either side of her head. Her breath hitched at his closeness, but she refused to let him see her flinch.
His eyes flicked to her nose, catching the blood still trickling down. Slowly, with deliberate precision, he raised his hand.
She braced herself for another strike, but instead, his thumb brushed against her face. The unexpected gentleness of the motion sent a shiver down her spine, though she masked it well. His thumb wiped away the blood, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary.
He pulled his hand back, glancing at the crimson streak now staining his thumb. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and wiped it clean on her shirt, the motion casual but calculated.
"Better?" he asked, his tone mocking, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Her smirk dissolved into a sharp scowl, her voice snapping as she opened her mouth. "You—"
He cut her off without a word, his lips crashing against hers in a fiery, passionate kiss. The world around them faded as his hand ditched the wall completely, roaming over her body, pulling her impossibly closer.
For a moment, she pulled back, eyes wide with shock, breathless and taken aback as if the kiss had surged through her like electricity, igniting every nerve ending. What had just happened? How had everything shifted in the blink of an eye? But before she could fully process the intensity of her feelings, his grip tightened on her hips, anchoring her in place, and the heat radiating from him was undeniable, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
Her heart raced, a wild flutter in her chest that felt like it could lift her off the ground. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at her, a primal pull she could no longer resist. The air was thick with tension, charged with unspoken promises, and just when she thought she might pull away entirely, the fire in his gaze ignited something deep within her.
With a soft sigh of surrender, she leaned back into him, allowing herself to melt against his body. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek, as if memorizing the delicate curve of her features. And then his lips crashed into hers again, hungry and demanding, hungry as though he had been waiting for this moment forever. This time, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers in a slow, teasing rhythm that sent shivers down her spine.
She gasped at the sheer sensation, heat pooling in her core as every ounce of tension from earlier evaporated in an instant. The taste of him was intoxicating—warm, slightly sweet, and utterly captivating. Her hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him for more.
He pulled her closer still, his hands roaming over the small of her back, mapping every curve as if he were trying to memorize her with his touch, urging her to lift her legs around his waist. Instinctively, she obliged, feeling the strength of his body as he lifted her effortlessly. she wrapped her legs around his waist, instinctively urging him to lift her higher, to take her deeper into his embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly—two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match.
The world around them vanished, a blurred backdrop to this moment where only they existed. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down her jaw, throughout until he meets her neck, pausing to nibble at the sensitive skin just below her ear, igniting fire in her veins with each flick of his tongue and gentle bite. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her tightly as if he feared she might slip away. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her impossibly closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt electric.
When his lips began to trail again over her delicate skin, she hissed, "You can't leave more marks; they'll know."
He paused, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, a teasing light in his eyes. "How would they know it's me?" he murmured against her skin.
"The cameras," she whispered, referring to the implanted devices on both their jackets that monitored their work. But just as the words left her lips, she felt his mouth curl into a smirk against her neck.
"Then we might as well give them a show and leave as many marks as I want." He falls back into her skin, his lips teasing the flesh between his teeth as he moves to mark her as his own. His lips pause at one of the pulse points on her neck, noticing how her heartbeat quickens and flutters. Was this typical?
He wasn't sure, but he finds himself praying it's a good thing. A chuckle escapes him as her hands grow desperate, pulling at the back of his head, stifling a groan. "Easy, girl."
"Remember when you said you'd never kiss me? That I wasn't worth it?" she teases, a playful smile flickering on her lips.
"Fuck, did I really say that? I don't recall," he replies, feigning shock.
"Just saying that because you can't make me come," she laughs softly against him, and he can't help the way a small smile curves his lips. His fingers slip underneath her skirt, pushing past the hem of her panties. He finds her wetness already coating his fingers. "Can't make you come yet you're so wet for me, hm?"
She bites her lip, allowing her hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelops her thoughts. Though he's unsure of what exactly to do, he has overheard other men discussing this, and he hopes it delivers as much pleasure as they say when he dips a finger inside her. She's loose around him, wet, eagerly sucking him in. He quickly adds another finger, finding his rhythm almost immediately and growing bold. He dares to let his thumb tease the edges of her clit.
He notices the way her nails dig into his shoulders, biting her tongue so hard that crimson might seep forth at any moment.
The salesman had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, yet none had reacted the way she did. They were quick to show their responses, every emotion not hidden behind a curtain of embarrassment; yet now, despite the situation, she found herself shy about making noise. He allows another finger to push inside her, the pink velvet of her insides gripping him. He hears her gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. His thumb finds her clit again, and that's when her grip becomes lethal, biting her lip no longer serving as a guard for her moans.
"Please," she mumbles, whimpering.
"Please what, sweetheart?"
"I... I need you," she moans, surprising herself with her confessions to a man so dangerously psychotic, one who has killed and toyed with lives—this was something she swore she would never do. Yet here she was, becoming intimate with him, and his touch felt so gentle it was as if his past didn't exist. She can see the vein pulsing in his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes fixed on hers as he moves his hand to his mouth, savoring her taste.
Her pupils dilate at the sight, skin warming before she realizes she's replacing his fingers with her tongue, pressing her mouth against his again. His hand falls to her waist.
Now every kiss deepens, an intoxicating blend of urgency and desire. She feels each heartbeat echoing between them. Every brush of their lips sends sparks racing through her veins, igniting every part of her being. It's primal and raw, yet intimately tender, as if they were revealing hidden parts of themselves that only the other could see.
Their lips finally part after what feels like an eternity, both gasping for breath. Foreheads resting against each other, they feel the warmth radiating from their skin, their hearts racing in unison. His eyes flutter open to find her looking up at him, a soft, teasing smile spreading across her face.
"You can put me down now," she breathes, her eyes dancing with mischief.
He reluctantly lowers her to the ground, still holding her gaze, trying to steady himself.
But as soon as her feet touch the ground, she kneels right at his crotch. "That's for not giving me a warning," she laughs, her sound teasing and light.
He winces, a mixture of surprise and discomfort crossing his features as he stumbles back. "Fuck."
She turns with a gleaming smile, beginning to walk away, glancing over her shoulder. "And now... I win. Dinner is on you," she calls back, her laughter lingering in the air.
"We are not done yet!" he calls out one last time, holding himself in pain.
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yoonjae20 · 2 days ago
Text
5 Times people outside of the immediate Batfamily find out that B is married and the one time the world meets his husband [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]
Surprise, surprise! Due to immense positive reaction to the last Spirit Halloween Oneshot, I wrote another Oneshot interconnecting with the previous one. As you can see per the title it's a 5+1 Oneshot! Inspired by PaperPuffin's "Batman's Husband" over on ao3.
Read on ao3. Masterpost.
Previous.
1.
Barbara stretches her arms above her head and winces at the pop her joints make. It’s well into the early hours of the next day and it has been a long night – there had been an Arkham outbreak which needed all hands on the deck. After 5 stressful hours every Rogue was captured and back behind bars – all that remained were the reports they needed to fill out.
“I’ll head off for the night, I want to get at least a little bit of sleep before I have to go open the library,” Barbara announces over the comm.
“Thank you for your help today, Oracle,” Bruce grunts and Barbara is about to put down her headset when she hears paper getting shuffled around before the distinct sound of ceramic being settled down echoes through the comm.
“Thank you dear,” Bruce’s voice is surprisingly soft and Barbara wonders who brought the man tea – Cass perhaps? There’s some incomprehensible murmurs before Bruce hums thoughtfully. “I’ll probably be done in about 20 minutes or so – just need to finish this report. You can go ahead to bed – I’ll follow you in a bit.” Some more unclear mumbles, but distinctly male before Bruce snorts. Then there is the distinct sound of lips meeting each other. “Good Night, I love you.”
Barbara feels like she intruded on a very intimate moment and she quickly logs out of the comm system before she bursts the bubble Bruce seems to have settled in. 
She places her headset next to her keyboard before rolling backwards and only then she lets out the squeal she had been holding in. Since when has B been in a committed relationship? She’s so gonna milk Cass for the details – she needs to know everything. 
2.
“Where’s Bruce?” Steph asks as she meets the rest of the Batfamily in the manor for movie night.
Normally the man never skipped out on those unless on an out of world mission.
“On a date,” Tim says absentmindedly as he scrolls through their selection.
Steph’s face scrunches up.
“As in Brucie?”
Jason snorts.
“Actually no,” he says. “Do you remember Bruce’s ring?”
“Yes?” Steph answers, uncertain where Jason is going with this.
“Yeah, apparently he’s married.”
“Wait, what?” Steph doesn’t believe her ears. Bruce Wayne? As in - brooding, stoic Bruce Wayne, who goes out at night in a Furry Costume to fight crime? “For how long?”
Jason turns to Tim who startles with all the attention on him. 
“26 years,” Tim states and Steph almost chokes on her spit. 
“No way.” Steph shakes her head. “That would mean he’s been married since well before like either of us all knew him!”
“Believe me, we were also quite shocked,” Jason mutters, before adding something under his breath. “Should have known that even his taste in men is quite peculiar.” 
Tim starts their movie, but Steph can’t focus for a single second. What the hell is ‘peculiar’ supposed to mean? 
3.
Lois opens the door to see Bruce standing before it – along with a gift bag where a bottle of champagne is peeking out of it.
“Bruce!” Lois greets him warmly. “I’m glad you were able to make it!”
The man grunts before handing her the gift bag and following her into the house.
“Clark is doing a little errand, but he’ll be here soon enough.”
Bruce just nods and Lois settles down the gift bag on her kitchen counter, pulling the champagne bottle out. Her and Clark are celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary and the latter had wanted to invite Bruce to a simple, quiet dinner in their house in Smallville. 
“Where are the boys?” the man questions when he sees that their table is only set for three people.
“Jon said he had a hang-over with Damian and Kon is on a mission with the Teen Titans.”
Bruce hums and soon Clark arrives back from his errand and they sit down at the dinner table.
In the middle of the meal, Clark opens the Champagne bottle with a loud pop before filling three glasses. Clark raises his own glass as he clears his throat.
“To another 15 years!”
Lois echoes the sentiment while Bruce nods stoically. 
Their glasses clink as they toast to each other and then they finish their meal. Bruce still sips on his first glass of champagne when Clark broaches the topic.
“This would have been even better if you also had someone at your side, Bruce,” the man says. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”
Bruce raises an eyebrow and Clark coughs at the man’s deadpan expression.
“Just imagine if we could have celebrated your 15th anniversary too!” the man tries to save the conversation and Lois snorts at her husband fumbling. 
“What Clark wants to say is that we wish for your happiness and that we sometimes wonder if a partner would achieve that,” Lois helps out and Clark shoots her a relieved smile. “We've never really seen you date anyone – and those headlines about ‘Brucie Wayne’ don’t count, you know?”
“That might be because my 27th wedding anniversary is coming up,” Bruce says as if he is talking about the weather.
Clark sputters while Lois’ eyes widen. 
Bruce raises his right hand and Lois’ eyes focus on the ring on his ring finger – it only now really registering for Lois. It had almost become invisible over the years. Bruce’s lips twitch into a faint smirk.
“Or do you guys think of this as decoration?”
Lois' eyes twinkle as she suddenly pulls out her notepad. 
“Tell me everything.”
4.
A knock on his window makes Jim pause in his reading. The world outside is dark and Jim groans when he sees the time displayed in the corner of his screen. 03:57 am. He had been supposed to be home more than a few hours ago to eat dinner with his daughter.
His joints creak when he stands up from his seat — walking over to the window. He’s not surprised to find a looming shadow lingering behind it — quickly letting Batman in.
The man enters, landing softly and without a sound before he hands him a file. Jim purses through it — quickly recognizing it to be one of his recent murder cases.
“Red Robin made a breakthrough,” Batman explains gruffly. “He wanted you to receive this as quickly as possible.”
Jim nods before settling the file on his desk, before sinking back into his chair.
“I hope you are not planning on going back on patrol.” Jim rubs his tired eyes as he shuts down his computer. “While you may be a Cryptid, even you need your sleep.”
Batman’s soft snort surprises James.
“Actually I wasn’t,” the man claims. “My partner was very adamant about the fact that I would deliver this file and then go straight back to the Cave no matter what happens.”
Jim pauses. ‘My partner.’ The way the Batman had said it so casually surprises Jim. 
He barks out a laugh.
“Good that there’s someone other than Agent A looking out for you then,” he teases as he watches the computer turn black. “You need it.”
Batman huffs out a breath and that’s as good as a laugh for the man than anything. 
“Update me on the case,” the man says in lieu of a goodbye before disappearing out of the room with a swish of his cape.
Jim leans back in his seat, snorting. He never expected anyone to tame the Dark Knight — but apparently even the impossible is possible. 
5: Wayne Enterprises staff 
The Board Meeting dragged on. It was one of those rare times that Bruce actually attended them - normally he left those to Tim, but the boy hadn’t had time this time.
Once again Lucius applauds Bruce’s ability to stay patient even when Tiffany from HR drones on about unnecessary gossip — only smiling politely and nodding once here and then. 
They had gone over the new developments and their future goals already and were well into their allotted one hour time slot. Most of them knew by now that these meetings often overrun and could go well up to two hours if no one (most of the time either Tim or his assistant) cut it short.
Normally Bruce is well versed in being the picture perfect CEO - kind and never once complaining. However this time Lucius notices the man glancing at both the clock opposite to him and his watch that he is wearing multiple times as they near the one hour mark. Lucius can even hear the man audibly grit his teeth and his left eye twitching once Tiffany goes on another tirade.
It’s 10 minutes past their allotted time slot that Bruce seems to have enough — he cuts off Tiffany's rant about one of their engineers with a firm, “Well if that’s everything — I have to get going. My partner and I are celebrating our anniversary.”
Then he promptly leaves the room after dropping that bombshell. Not a millisecond later when the door closes the room erupts in hushed whispers. Lucius doesn’t doubt that by the end the entire building will know about the man’s “mysterious” partner. Lucius quietly schedules a press conference for the next day.
+1
The media gets wind of it by the next day — because of course they do. Each headline is more extreme than the next and Danny has fun teasing Bruce by reading each one out. 
The interview Lois had forced Bruce and Danny into would probably go up either tomorrow or today now that the cat was out of the bag so to speak, but he probably would still need to address the general public in the press conference. Bruce silently thanks Lucius for his foresightedness in scheduling a press conference for today – Bruce had been tired yesterday, the exhaustion loosening his lips. While he didn’t want to hide away Danny now that he was back, he had wished for more time to announce it on his own terms. 
Bruce stands in front of the mirror as he adjusts his tie and Danny stands behind him, chin on his shoulder and arms around his waist. 
“You’ll do fine,” Danny cheers up Bruce. “Just deflect to the fact that an exclusive interview is going up soon and keep it short and simple.”
“You are not one who has to address them,” Bruce grumbles. 
“Do you want me to?” Danny’s voice is uncharacteristically serious. 
Bruce turns to see the man instead of looking at him through the mirror. Danny runs a hand through Bruce’s styled hair before settling it on the man’s cheek. A finger brushes Bruce's lips before Danny pulls him in for a soft kiss.
“You know I would do everything for you, darling.”
Bruce huffs out a fond breath and settles his forehead against Danny’s.
“I know,” he confirms, before linking their hands. “Together?”
“Together,” Danny affirms with a grin. 
Danny changes into a nice dark blue suit – complementary to Bruce’s blue tie and together they step on the stage to address the news. Both of them smile as they wave at the flashes of the cameras.
“Hello Gotham,” Bruce greets. “This is my husband – Danny.”
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pbaz7 · 3 days ago
Text
AGAINST THE TIDE: PART EIGHT
paige x azzi
word count: 3.5k
A/N: I’m sorry 😔 it’s necessary for the plot. It’s also kinda all the other writers fault because they broke my heart too many times with their updates recently so I was being a masochist. Leave some live reactions and I’ll make it up to you before the weekend is over.
—————————————————————————
September 2022
It had been a whirlwind of a few months for Paige. Between tearing her ACL during a pickup game in August and spending weeks avoiding everyone—including Azzi—things had been rough. At first, Paige couldn’t stand to be around anyone, the weight of her injury crushing her spirit. She didn’t understand why this kept happening to her. The most she could manage was sitting silently on FaceTime with Azzi, who didn’t push, didn’t prod—just sat there on the other end, offering quiet support.
Eventually, Paige started to miss her. Not just the quiet presence on the phone, but Azzi herself. She missed her laugh, her teasing comments, and the way she always seemed to know when Paige needed someone to hold her together. She knew she wouldn’t get better by sulking, so she started physical therapy. Azzi, of course, was by her side every step of the way, cheering her on through the grueling sessions and sneaking in snacks when she thought the trainers weren’t looking. One day Paige even pointed out that Azzi didn’t have to sneak her snacks, she could just give them to her and Azzi shushed her saying it was no fun that way.
The connection between them was undeniable, and as soon as they were back to spending every moment together in person, they fell right back into their old habits—flirting, teasing, and, inevitably, sleeping together. They had been doing that a lot since that night in the Jeep.
Now, their situationship was as confusing as ever. Best friends, friends with benefits, something more—they didn’t bother defining it. What mattered to Azzi was that they were together in some way, even if it wasn’t official.
The team’s popularity had skyrocketed since their championship run, with Paige’s popularity growing right along with it. It seemed like every time they went out, someone stopped her for pictures or autographs. Paige always said yes, her natural charisma making her a magnet for attention. Azzi usually found it amusing—until recently.
She’d never considered herself a jealous person before, but watching people fawn over Paige had started to get under her skin in ways she didn’t want to admit. Paige always teased her about it when they got back to their room, whispering in her ear about how she only had eyes for Azzi. Those moments usually ended with clothes scattered across the floor and all frustration Azzi had prior completely gone.
Tonight, the team was at Ted’s, their usual hangout spot. Paige, still on crutches, sat at their table while Azzi headed to the bar to grab them drinks. Insisting that she didn’t want Paige hobbling across the crowded room.
While waiting for the bartender, Azzi glanced back toward the team’s table—and froze. Three random girls had surrounded Paige, their body language a little too friendly for her liking.
One of them leaned in, her hand brushing against Paige’s forearm as she laughed at something the blonde said. Another one tossed her hair over her shoulder, clearly trying to get Paige’s attention. The third girl just stood there, starry-eyed, hanging on Paige’s every word, though Paige wasn’t saying much.
Paige just smiled and nodded as they spoke, her natural charm working its magic even though she wasn’t meaning for it to.
Paige’s gaze suddenly shifted, locking with Azzi’s from across the room. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face as if she could feel the possessiveness simmering behind Azzi’s dark eyes. She winked, and Azzi’s jaw clenched.
Azzi grabbed their drinks from the bar, her grip tight around the glasses as she made her way back. When she reached the table, one of the girls noticed her approach and immediately lit up.
“Oh my god, you’re Azzi, right? Paige’s teammate?” she asked, her tone overly friendly.
Azzi raised an eyebrow, placing the drinks down. “Yeah. Teammate,” she replied coolly, slipping into the seat next to Paige—closer than necessary, her shoulder brushing Paige’s.
Paige looked over, biting back a smile at Azzi’s obvious claim of space. “Thanks, Az,” she said lightly, reaching for her drink.
The girls, undeterred, continued talking over one another, their eagerness to capture Paige’s attention almost comical. Paige didn’t lean into it, but she didn’t shut it down either, her polite demeanor keeping the conversation going.
“So, Paige,” one of the girls said, a playful edge to her voice. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
Before Paige could respond, Azzi froze beside her, her grip on her drink a little tight.
“No,” Paige said simply, her tone casual.
Azzi scoffed, the sound loud enough to draw Paige’s attention. Paige glanced at her briefly, her expression unreadable, before turning back to the girls. “Not really looking, though,” she added.
Azzi opened her mouth, ready to make a smart comment, but before she could, one of the girls leaned in closer to Paige. In her attempt to get Paige’s attention, the girl bumped Paige’s injured knee.
Paige winced, her hand immediately going to her leg. The sharp intake of breath she let out wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make Azzi snap.
“You need to be careful,” Azzi said, her voice a little tight, cutting through the noise around them.
The girls all froze, surprised by the sudden shift in Azzi’s tone. She glared at them, her usual calm replaced by an edge of irritation. “I think you guys should go,” she said, her voice low and laced with a little venom.
The three exchanged glances, murmuring awkward excuses and apologies to Paige as they shuffled away, leaving Paige and Azzi alone at the table.
“You didn’t have to scare them off,” Paige said, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she reached for her drink.
Azzi turned to her, her gaze softening as it dropped to Paige’s knee. “You okay?”
Paige nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m fine. Didn’t know you were so protective.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “Someone has to be, considering how much you clearly love the attention.”
Paige chuckled, leaning toward her. “Only yours,” she whispered, her voice teasing.
Azzi’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, her earlier anger melting away as Paige’s words settled between them.
The night continued with its usual buzz, but Paige and Azzi remained in their corner, the tension between them slowly dissolving as they sipped their drinks. They’d fallen into their familiar rhythm, laughing and leaning close as they talked about everything and nothing all at the same time.
That was, until another woman approached their table, her sights set squarely on Paige. Azzi noticed her immediately—the confident stride, the deliberate way she positioned herself in Paige’s line of sight, and the overly friendly smile she flashed.
“Hi,” the woman said, her voice smooth as she directed her attention toward Paige, completely ignoring Azzi. “I just wanted to say I’m a huge fan. You’re incredible on the court.”
Paige, immersed in her conversation with Azzi, looked up, her expression polite but distant. “Thank you,” she said, her tone kind but not inviting.
The woman didn’t take the hint, shifting closer as she spoke again. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but if you ever have time, I’d love to pick your brain about basketball. Maybe over some dinner sometime?”
Azzi’s jaw tightened, and Paige caught the subtle shift in her posture. Without missing a beat, Paige reached for her drink, her free hand brushing against Azzi’s under the table.
“Sorry, but I’m not really looking for anything these days,” Paige replied smoothly, her eyes flicking briefly to Azzi before settling back on the woman. “But I appreciate the support.”
The woman hesitated, clearly not expecting the polite rejection, before finally backing off with a forced smile. Once she was out of earshot, Paige let out a soft sigh and turned to Azzi.
“Alright, I think that’s our cue to call it a night,” Paige said, standing carefully and grabbing her crutches.
Azzi stood as well, her expression still unreadable, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “Yeah, before I have to fend off another one.”
Paige laughed, leaning on her crutches as they made their way out of Ted’s. The cool night air greeted them as they stepped outside, and Azzi stayed close, her hand lightly brushing Paige’s arm every so often as they walked to the car.
When they got back to Paige’s apartment, the teasing smile was back on her lips as she closed the door behind them. She turned to Azzi, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“You know,” Paige began, her voice low and playful, “I think it’s cute how jealous you always get.”
Azzi rolled her eyes, but the slight blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “I wasn’t jealous,” she said, her tone defensive but unconvincing.
Paige grinned, stepping closer until they were nearly chest to chest. “Really? Because it definitely felt like it when you tensed up anytime somebody looked at me.”
Azzi crossed her arms, though her resolve was clearly slipping. “I was just protecting my teammates space,” she said, though the way her eyes softened as she looked at Paige said otherwise.
Paige leaned in, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “I can show you why you don’t need to worry about nobody else.”
Azzi’s breath hitched, her arms falling to her sides as she looked at Paige, her expression caught between exasperation and anticipation.
“Fine,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “But you better make it convincing.”
Paige smirked, her eyes darkening as she pulled Azzi closer. “Oh, I will.”
The next morning Paige stood in Azzi's room, leaning on the edge of the dresser as she pulled on her shirt. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of fabric. She glanced at Azzi, who was seated on the bed scrolling through her phone, and decided to fill the silence with something she had been thinking about.
“I was thinking we could check out this spot downtown,” Paige began casually. “It’s got these cozy booths, good food—kinda intimate but not over the top. I think you’d like it.”
Azzi’s head looked up, her brow furrowing. “That sounds like a date, Paige.”
Paige shrugged as if the words didn’t sting. “Nah it doesn’t have to be a big deal. We can just grab some food.”
Azzi set her phone down, her voice a little firm. “Just because we don’t call it a date doesn’t mean it won’t feel like one.”
Paige’s jaw tightened, the easygoing front she tried to maintain cracking. “Is it the worst thing in the world for us to go on a date, Azzi?”
“Yes,” Azzi said immediately, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “Considering we aren’t dating.”
Paige let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Here we go with this again. So what is this then?” she asked, gesturing between them.
“It’s...complicated,” Azzi said, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair. “I really don’t want to argue about this today Paige.”
“No,” Paige said sharply, her voice rising. “It’s not complicated. We make it complicated. You make it complicated. God, Azzi, we spend every night together. You let me whisper all kinds of shit in your ear, you let me touch you—hell, you beg me to touch you—but you won’t let me take you to dinner? What the hell is that about?”
Azzi frowned, her frustration building. “You never get it, Paige. This isn’t just about us. I’ve told you that.”
“Then explain it to me,” Paige demanded, stepping away from the dresser, her crutches clacking against the hardwood floor.
Azzi sighed heavily, clearly reluctant to have this conversation. “You’ve already made a name for yourself. You could never play another game, and you’d still be drafted. Me? I’m still proving myself. I can’t afford distractions like that.”
Paige’s eyes narrowed, her voice tinged with anger. “Oh, so I’m a distraction now? Is that all I am to you?”
“That’s not what I said and you know it,” Azzi snapped.
“Then what are you saying, Azzi? Because honestly I’m getting a little sick of this half-in, half-out bullshit!” Paige’s voice was rising now, her emotions spilling over.
Azzi stood, pacing the room as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I’m saying this...this thing between us could complicate everything. The team, our careers—”
“So what, we'll just keep sneaking around forever in your mind?” Paige cuts her off, her tone incredulous as she says things she knows aren't true. “I’m good enough to sleep with but not good enough for you to actually be with. Is that what it is?”
“That’s not fair,” Azzi said, her voice tight.
“No, what’s not fair is what we’ve been doing!” Paige shot back. “You’ll scream my name all fucking night, let me do whatever I want to you, but God forbid I want hold your hand in public or call this what it is. Do you even hear yourself?”
Azzi stopped pacing, her face hardening. “You know it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like, Azzi?” Paige pressed, her voice cracking. “Because from where I’ve been standing, it looks like I don’t mean that much to you.”
Azzi’s expression softened for a moment, guilt flickering across her face. “You mean the world to me, Paige. You know that.”
Paige let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Do I? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it when you won’t even agree to a simple date with me.”
Azzi threw her hands up in frustration. “I’m not dating my fucking teammate, Paige! I’ve told you that so many times. It’s too messy, and it’s not worth the risk.”
“Not worth the risk?” Paige repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She grabbed her crutches, her movements sharp. “You’re unbelievable.”
Azzi stepped toward her, her voice softening. “Paige, don’t—”
“No,” Paige interrupted, her voice rising again. “You don’t want me to leave? Then stop treating me like I’m just some convenience for you. Because I’m not doing this anymore, Azzi. I’m not just some fuck toy for you to play with when it’s convenient. Find somebody else to fuck you if that’s all you want from me.”
“You know that’s not all I want!” Azzi protested, her voice desperate now.
“Then what the hell do you want, Azzi?” Paige asked, her voice a little raw.
“I don’t know!” Azzi yelled, the words hanging in the air.
Paige hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she fought against the lump in her throat. Finally, she looked Azzi in the eye, her voice quiet but trembling. “I love you, Azzi.”
The words hung in the air, heavy. Azzi froze, her expression unreadable as she stared at Paige not expecting her to say that in this moment. For a few agonizing seconds, she said nothing, and then softly, “Paige...I–”
The silence was all it took. Paige’s face hardened, her jaw tightening as she turned away. “Forget it,” she muttered, grabbing her crutches and heading for the door.
Azzi reached out, panic flashing across her face. “Paige, wait—it’s wet outside. Your crutches…You shouldn’t—”
“I really don’t want to look at you right now,” Paige cut her off, her voice icy. “I’ll be fine.”
With that, she walked out, the sound of the door slamming behind her echoing in the room. Azzi stood there, staring at the empty doorway, her chest tight as the weight of their argument settled over her. Azzi realized just how much she just fucked up and she didn’t know if she could fix it this time.
Azzi tried to give Paige some time to calm down so she left her alone for the rest of the day. But the next day after their fight, Azzi couldn’t stop thinking about her. She stared at her phone, her fingers flying across the screen as she sent text after text.
💗: Paige I’m sorry about yesterday, Can we please talk?
💗: I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you P.
💗: You mean everything to me, P.
💗: Please just let me fix this
💗: Paige, please…Just answer me
💗: Are you okay?
💗: How was physical therapy? Who took you?
💗: I thought about going but I figured you didn’t want me to.
💗: I hate how we left things
💗: I miss you P
💗: I know I messed up, please don’t shut me out.
By midday she had sent at least twenty messages and about a dozen phone calls to Paige, each one unanswered. She was about to give up for the day when her phone buzzed.
P 💗: ok.
That was it. Just two letters, but it was enough to send Azzi flying out the door.
Now Azzi was sitting in Paige’s room, the tension between them so suffocating it felt like the walls were closing in. They’d been talking for some time, exchanging quiet apologies for some of the harsh words they had thrown at each other the night before. But the heart of the issue still lingered, unspoken.
Azzi broke the silence, her voice soft but insistent. “I do love you, Paige.”
Paige’s breath caught for a moment before she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “No, Az. You don’t.”
Azzi frowned, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “How can you say that? You don’t know how I feel.”
Paige met her gaze, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. “Because if you loved me—really loved me—we wouldn’t be in this situation. You’d want to be with me, Az. Not just here, not just like this, but completely.”
Azzi’s eyes softened, her hands clasping together tightly in her lap. “Paige, it’s not that simple.”
“It is to me,” Paige said quietly, her voice breaking just slightly. “I love you Azzi. I love you so much I’d give up anything for you. Do you understand that? I’d leave this team, this school, all of our friends, my dream of winning a championship here... I’d walk away from all of it, because none of it matters to me as much as you do.”
Azzi’s eyes began to glisten, but she stayed silent, the weight of Paige’s words settling over her.
“I’m not saying you have to do that to prove you love me,” Paige continued, her tone soft but firm. “But I know you don’t love me the way I love you. Not yet. Not even if you won’t let us try to be together.”
Azzi blinked, a tear slipping down her cheek. “That’s not fair, Paige. Just because I’m scared doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
Paige’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening as she held back her own tears. “You might love the idea of me. Of us. Of what we have when no one else is looking. But love—real love—it’s more than that, Az and you know it. It’s being willing to take the risk, even when it’s scary. Even when it’s complicated.”
Azzi’s voice was a whisper. “It’s not just fear Paige I’ve told you that. You’ve already made a name for yourself. You could never play again and still be drafted. But me? I’m not there yet. I can’t afford to let anything get in the way of what I’ve been trying to build since I was a kid.”
Paige nodded slowly, her heart breaking even as she forced herself to stay composed. “I get it Az. I do. And I promise I’m not mad at you for it. I’ll keep supporting you But I can’t keep doing what we’re doing, Az. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with having only part of you when I want so much more.”
Azzi’s breath hitched, her tears now falling freely. “So that’s it? We’re just... done?”
Paige hesitated, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Yeah I think we have to be.”
Azzi reached out, her hand holding Paige’s as their fingers intertwined. “I love you so much, Paige. Maybe not the way you want me to yet, but I promise I do.”
Paige closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she shook her head. “I can’t do ‘maybe,’ Az. Not with you. Not right now”
The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging between them. After a moment, Azzi stood, her movements slow and reluctant.
At the door, she paused, glancing back at Paige. Her voice was barely audible. “You’re still my best friend, right?”
Paige gave her a small, sad smile. “Always, Azzi.”
Azzi nodded, her expression filled with sorrow as she whispered, “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want yet P.”
Before she stepped out, Azzi turned back one last time, her heart heavy with everything she felt like she couldn’t explain to the girl she loved more than anything. She moved toward Paige and, without a word, pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, her lips touching one of Paige’s tears, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Her lips whispered against her skin as she pulled away, her voice barely a breath.
“I promise this isn’t the end of our story P. I just need time.”
Paige’s breath caught in her throat, but Azzi was already turning to leave. The door clicked shut behind her with a finality that echoed in Paige’s heart. Alone now, she let out a shaky breath, her hands covering her face as she laid back and the tears finally came.
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mysunshinetemptress · 3 days ago
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Smarter
Smarter
Insight 1 Insight 2
Leah Williamson x ??
Warnings: family argument, rushed writing it’s 1am
Leah hadn’t seen any of her family in weeks, not since her granny had come to the house demanding her ring back but today was importation, today was Jacob’s day and she had promised to be there, you had promised to be there and so she found herself stood on the sidelines of her brothers champion ship final with his team. Her family stood on the other side, with no sign of you.
The match is a blur for everyone, for Leah, her family and her brother whose playing, her brother whose playing his championship match but all he can focus on is the tension between his family and his sister.
His sister who he has idolised since he was a little kid, who he wanted to be just like when he grew up.
Leah had walked down to the sidelines when the match had finished Jacob’s team coming out on top, “Jacob, Jacob, Oye Jacob.” Leah yelled across the field trying to get her younger brother’s attention only he ignored her, he couldn’t look at her, he felt sick to his stomach every time he did.
But it was Leah, and so he found him self stopping momentarily meters away from everyone else. That was all Leah needed to race towards him running up to the younger boy “Hey mate I’m talking to you.” Jacob rolled her “what do you want.” Leah can’t say she’s surprised by his reaction but it hurts her none the less “I just-well I wanted to see you-see how you were, to eh to congratulate you-it was great game mate.” Jacob shakes his head before turning.
Leah grabs his arm panic flaring within her at the thought of losing her younger brother too, “Jacob please.” Jacob harshly tugs his arm away from staring at her like she has caused him harm “no Leah, I-why-how could you” Leah shakes her head her mind racing “I-i don’t know, I can’t lie to you-I don’t know.”
Jacob scoffs “Bullshit, of course you know, this isn’t some one night mistake Leah, this has been going on for ages, and you-you have the nerve to say you don’t know, you don’t know why you cheated on a woman who loves you more than anything, a woman who has given you everything been there for everything, for everyone and asked for nothing in return, the woman you married” Jacob’s squared up to her now, taller now than he was when they first started to have arguments.
Leah feels her throat closing “ it-I made a mistake, but I don’t love her-it’s Y/n.” Jacob hates the way his heart breaks at the sight of tears welling in Leah’s eyes but he doesn’t stop “no it was, you’ve fucked it up, you cheated on your wife, your pregnant wife might I add.” Leah shakes her head “I-I didn’t know.” Jacob lets out a humourless laugh “why cause you would have stopped then.” Leah doesn’t say anything “oh my god, you would have stopped cheating on her, you wouldn’t have said anything, you would-you would have dumped that slag and gone on like you had done nothing wrong.” Leah tries to grab his hand as he begins to walk away again.
“Jacob please.” Jacob keeps walking as Leah chases him “Have you stopped seeing her.” Jacob hates that he’s asked such a question but he needs to know, and the silence is all it takes “She-she’s helping me get through this I-i have no one.” Jacob scoffs “I wonder why.”
Amanda watch’s from a distance her heart breaking at the sight of her kids fighting, at the sight of her youngest slowly starting to hate his favourite person in the world.
“I used to idolise you, I -I wanted to be you.” Jacob’s voice is quite as he admits it all to Leah, leah who wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, to put her out of her misery. “I used to sit and watch you both, watch how soft she made you, how loved up you both were and I used to wish to have that, I used to wish to be you.” Jacob shakes his head “I can’t believe I wasted all that time wishing, when you’ve become such an asshole so far up her own arse that she has destroyed the only thing she’s ever wanted, or at least the old version of her ever wanted.” Leah can’t say anything else can’t move as her heart breaks again like it has so many times recently.
But her phone lights up in her hand as the screen shows HER name and Jacob shakes his head, he’s not angry anymore just sad, disappointed and sad “She hasn’t stopped crying, I-I’m starting to think she might never stop, even-even when the baby comes.” Jacob doesn’t say anything else instead he just leaves her there standing in the middle of the pitch as he walks over to Amanda head, Leah doesn’t try anymore, she’s tired and soaked and her stupid phone won’t stop buzzing and all she wishes for in that moment is for you. But she’s lost you, lost them, lost everyone.
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sucodelaranja86 · 17 hours ago
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hyunju x reader hurtcomfort centered ples … like…nightmar or somethinh.. (bonus pointe if it’s like … OUT of the games lik at our very nice home with a white picket fence 😚) (OROR. somethinf with youngmi and hyunju … ok ghanks by e
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- hyun-ju nightmare comfort : ★
featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader
summary: your girlfriend comforts you after you woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare.
warnings: none.
genre: fluff + comfort
A/N: I didn't quite get if you wanted the reader to be comforted or hyun-ju. So i made the reader, hope i got it right. ;3
★ . ★ . ★ . ★
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➤ Your whole body is trembling with an agonizing and uncomfortable sensation. Your head aches with dolorous thumps, as if multiple disquieting drums were cramped at each side of your brain. An irritable sound echoed amongst your ears, alternating as if they were planning to purposefully drive you mad.
Your panted at the wearisome combination. Your body feeling like it didn't belong together, as if each one of your members had a disagreement and cogitated separating. Your hands and feet felt numb, and you couldn't help but wonder what had you done to deserve this?
You felt like screaming, but you throat felt tight, sore and dry. You tried wiggling around but an ardent sensation engulfed your entire being. You struggled and struggled until a soft soothing voice caught you attention, and the exact same feeling of finding an oasis in the middle of nowhere embraced you.
Before you could do anything else, your eyelids popped open as you jumped into consciousness, clutching desperately your chest and frantically panting like you just finished running a hellish marathon.
You fearfully checked your surroundings, you eyes gradually and slowly adjusting to the dark atmosphere of your room, the sight familiar but surprisingly comforting.
Before you could finish your desperate recognition, a soft voice called out your name. Her, although calm intonation, sounded equally alarmed as your body reactions. She then spoke apprehensively.
"My love, are you alright?"
You looked to your side and were met with the welcoming vision of your partner, who you must have woke up at some point. Her face held a concerned expression, meaning you must had been physically reacting before you woke up.
As your senses returned gradually, you could feel her soft hands on you. One was gently caressing your nape, while the other was tightly holding your hand. You could also feel the dried tears stains over your cheeks, causing you to realize the depth of your state.
"Hyun-ju?" you asked groggily, involuntarily moving closer to her.
"Yes, my dear, it's me. Are you alright? Were you having a nightmare?" she questioned while moving you to her lap, embracing you in her arms while tenderly laying your head in her neck. After you were properly settled in her arms, she began to slowly lay kisses on top of your head.
After not receiving a verbal response to her question from you, she took it as a 'yes' and began to quietly put you to sleep. You honestly felt like a child coming to their mother after getting scared to sleep alone, but you were so comfortably nested in her arms that you didn't even notice when you started to fell sleepy again.
Before you drifted off to sleep, the last thing you heard was her soft whispering voice close to your ear.
"We can talk about it tomorrow, ok? Goodnight, sweetheart."
And with that, you drifted off.
★ . ★ . ★ . ★
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A/N: AARGH HOW DO I MAKE MY FICS LONGER
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spirits-of-nature16 · 2 days ago
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It also got the Enchanted Lilies’ attention to watch Hook Hand’s musical number; their reactions were shocked by what he did to Hook Foot, his only brother, who can only dreamed of dancing, but due to how Hook Hand remarked to be lame. Lucius felt bad for Hook Foot, and Louisiana finds it kind of entertaining
“unbelievable, right? I mean, that’s not the Hook Hand we all know anymore” Bella joined in with Rapunzel and Hook Foot, the rest of the Lilies agreed that Hook Hand had become the big shot “I know, we’ve been famous adventurous performers and we’ve never been that selfish” Skyler shook her head in agreement
“hey! Big brother! I got a bone to pick with you” Hook Foot pulled his pants up and walk over, the girls and Lucius watches Hook Foot be direct towards Hook Hand “I never liked that nickname ‘Razzle Dazzle’, and another thing, I don’t like the way you made fun of my talents and interest growing up! and you know what else? I demand an apology!” Hook Foot continued
“Apologize? To you?” Hook Hand scoffed before he turned away from the reflection from his mirror and turned to his younger brother “get over it, Razzle Dazzle, it’s ancient history” it made Hook Foot feel worse before walking out the door and slammed it shut “if he wants to act like a baby, let him” Hook Hand shrugged and walked back to his mirror “I got a show to do and my patron does not like to be kept waiting, he can be a real jerk”
“I couldn’t agree more, Louisiana!” Lucius shouted at his twin sister after what just happened between the Hook Brothers “if calling me ‘Baby Brother’ is what you’ll always keep on doing over the years, even as adults, then how’d you like it if I can keep calling you ‘Little Mommy’ too, is that what you’ll be wanting to hear? Hm?” He finally told her off, but not waiting for her response, he now followed behind and found Hook Foot out the door “I’m in, Hook Foot, what’s the revenge plan?” Lucius grimaced
Louisiana just stood in the carriage, feeling shellshocked after how he spoke to her, because now finally seeing how Hook Hand making Hook Foot feel worse after, she frowned with a realization; it’s not just about how he borrowings her things, she doesn’t want feel more embarrassed to be his small parent if she keeps embarrassing her twin brother forever, not even as grown adults if it keeps going on
Continued from here
the next day in the kingdom of Corona, it was a typical normal day, until it ended when the stranger ran passed through the wanted poster that says 'Silent Striker'
"he went this way!" Stan shouted when he and Pete went after him, Mirage and Bella are being prepared to catch him too, the guard captain and the other guard got him surrounded
@muses-of-the-memory
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arcanarix · 19 hours ago
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f!sorcerer reader, dubcon, stalking, possessiveness, harassment (there will be a non sorcerer reader version)
bully!satosugu aren’t your average bullies. they aren’t bogged down each time you ignore their attempts at getting under your skin. they know you’re smart and know better… but so are they and they do too. and maybe they’re less interested in breaking you down more than simply getting to know you :)
(but they need to understand you aren’t your average target. you can and will stand up for yourself. you don’t show much interest in general and that just baffles them.)
bully!satosugu…who aren’t the kind to dominate the small world of jujutsu tech one because there’s no reason for that or anything to gain from it either but they are instead viewed as just two boys sharing the same brain cell. shoko and utahime tell you not to pay them any mind; they’re just two dumbasses with an overinflated sense of importance being speshul grades. nanami even reiterates the fact. plus they annoy everyone, so it’s not like you’re a special case here.
bully!satosugu who get all up in your space and in your business, ignoring your protests when they snatch your books and notes out of your hands and lap and geto’s scooping you into his strong hold instead.
“why’s a grade 3 sorcerer wasting her time? trust me, we have better things in mind for a pretty thing like you,” geto purrs.
“and besides, what use is a grade 3 in the field when the two strongest can just take care of everything? hmmmm?” gojo taunts while fiddling with a stray strand of your hair.
instead of seeming intimidated, you’re just annoyed that your work has been disrupted. you don’t give them an outward reaction, just a deadpan, “if you don’t let me go i’ll use my curse technique to castrate the two of you.”
that seems to work for now!
bully!satosugu who…for some reason hover over you like they’re your bodyguards yet you treat them as if they’re not there the entire time. even if gojo can usually annoy someone to the point of tears, you don’t react, instead you’re able to completely tune him AND geto out.
how… Unnerving! Perplexing?
bully!satosugu who HATE to see you divert your attention to anyone else be it nanami or haibara or even shoko and utahime. something sets them off when you giggle a little too hard at some off hand deadpan remark nanami makes, you keep making eyes at him like you like him and not them. what’s up with that? and then they see nanami resting his hand on your thigh……….
and shooting a glare their way, as if to ward them off of you or else? wha?
bully!satosugu who aren’t keen on the idea of you trying to have a life outside of them (you never wanted a life with them from the start, but you digress) so they corner you in one of the empty lecture halls. you tell them you don’t know what they mean. in fact you insist, because you really don’t understand (or really care either). you have no regard for them, but they seem to hold so much interest in you and they don’t like that you don’t appreciate their attention so you had to get it instead from fucking NANAMI.
setting your book on your lap, you meet their accusatory gazes with disinterest.
“i don’t have to entertain any of this,” you remark, “i’m not interested in engaging in something like this when we’re in an environment where we’re forced to coexist. i will acknowledge you as my peers but nothing more.”
thinking you have the last word, you get up and brush past them, but geto grabs your wrist and twists you around. you grunt.
“maybe we have to show her why she should want us by her side, satoru,” he suggests in a low, dangerous tone.
“will she actually learn this time, though?”
“oh, it doesn’t matter. we can always repeat the lesson until she understands,” geto yanks you toward him until your back hits his front, your breath hitching as you feel a growing erection through his baggy uniform.
“you both might find better payoff deepthroating each other,” you scoff.
geto’s nostrils flare at that.
“such a foul mouth,” he snarls, "better watch that tone with us."
“yeah,” satoru pitches in, inching closer with a little smirk. “maybe we ought to plug it up.”
TBC???
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trippinsorrows · 3 days ago
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wicked games + one
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authors note: here we go again. i have no excuse atp. none whatsoever. this is more a prologue than anything, because the following parts will show just we ended up here...
words: 4k
**gif belongs to @dejameflorecer
warnings: angst
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Her laughter haunts him.
Once an anodyne for any and all of his bad days, now the source of his bad days.
That same laughter echoes through the hotel room, radiates from the phone in his hand as he watches one of the many videos she took.
“I want to remember these moments,” she once told him as explanation for why she seemingly couldn’t go one date or outing without snapping a photo or recording a video of them together.
The video in question that serves as his punishment is one she took when they were at his place. One of the times where he didn’t take her somewhere special or have elaborate plans. He just wanted to be around her and vice versa.
Roman sees himself sitting back on the sofa, remote in hand, probably trying to decide between the options of movies she gave him.
She then shifts the focus back onto her, and he’s immediately moved by how she’s wearing only one of his shirts, signifying she’d spent the night.
Roman’s chest tightens.
He hasn't had a good night’s rest in months, the absence of her, in all the ways, chasing and overwhelming his every waking moment.
“Ro!” She giggles, moving around again, now on her knees on the sofa as she holds onto him from the side. “Can you at least smile for me? You look like I’m torturing you.”
Present Roman watches past Roman cast an irritated glance to the camera followed by a significantly relaxed one to her. “You know I’m not a camera person like that, Sol.”
She rolls her eyes. So big and pretty. Innocent. “Whatever.” Her dismissal is followed by her kissing his cheek and smiling wryly. “I know how to get your attention.”
A misunderstanding on her part, because she always had his attention. 
Still does.
More movement followed by music playing in the background. 
G-A-N-G baby, let me B-A-N-G, baby
Let me fuck some'
G-A-N-G baby, let me B-A-N-G, baby
Let me fuck some'
He’d heard the song before, played at the gym and club a couple of times, but the song is not the focus. She is. Always. He watches her her climb onto his lap, that sneaky look on her face replaced with a new angle.
The angle of her holding the phone so it’s focused on her ass as she twerks on top of him, cheeks and hips moving perfectly in sync to the beat of the song. 
If that ass fat, better shake that shit (Baow, baow)
Put a hand up if you take dick (Tryna fuck some')
Keep shit P, I'll never be a trick
But the way she fuck, make me spend that shit (Let me fuck some')
A viewing at a different time would probably evoke a different, more physical, carnal reaction from him, but present Roman is too focused on the sound of her laughter when past Roman slaps her ass and tugs her against him.
She bites on her bottom lip, focusing the video back on them as he whispers something in her ear that makes her eyes go wide.
She gasps, smiling and blushing as she turns to him, “Roman!”
The video stops, and the emptiness returns. 
Roman locks his phone, gripping it. His eyes shut, the memories crashing into him like waves of suffocation and devastation. 
He’s not sure why he continues to do this to himself. To torture himself with constant reminders of what will always be his biggest regret in this life. 
The same reason he’s unsure why he’s even doing this.
He needs to leave her alone. He promised he would leave her alone.
But, that was before. 
Before he was informed. Before it was told to him. Not a sure thing. Just a rumor. But a rumor, nonetheless, that resulted in him hopping on the jet and flying to Mexico. A rumor he needs to know is either just that—a rumor—or a secret that’s bound to change everything.
For better or worse remains to be seen. 
It takes another ten minutes for him to exit the vehicle, ten minutes of going back and forth if he should just get back in his car and drive straight to the airport. It’s tempting, but not enough.
He needs to know.
And that’s what he keeps reminding himself of as he makes his way through the mall strip, partially confused due to the fact that it’s all in Spanish. He keeps in mind, however, the name of the shop and the pictures she showed him. Pictures that included promises of him to come see it in person, for her to give him a personal tour of all of her home, one day.
Promises and dreams that lie in the wastelands of what could but will never be.
Bypassing a couple, the woman wearing a bright green bikini top and shorts brings him back to a memory.
She runs over to him, giggling, holding onto her chest, the thin straps of her lime green bikini top failing to properly secure those beautiful breast of hers.
Sitting and straddling his lap, she takes the phone from him. "Let me see."
He watches her eyes survey the photos he snapped, his hand moving to her hips, holding her. "They alright?"
Her eyes flicker up to him. She nods with a small smile, kissing his cheek. "They're perfect."
Roman says nothing but thinks the same.
She is perfect.
Placing the phone down on the towel that he sits on, she moves her arms around his neck. "Guess what I've been thinking about?"
He makes a sound, hands massaging the meat of her hips. "No idea. Tell me."
She bites on her bottom lip, answering in a giddy tone. "Us."
Funny. He thinks the of the same thing. More often than not.
Roman lifts his hand to her chin, gaze softening. "What about us?"
Her eyes alight with elation. "When we're married and have a house full of kids running around."
Her answer surprises him. To some extent. Not entirely. She's brought up marriage before. Voiced her desire for them to one day be wed, but it's always marred by the dark secrets he continues to sit on.
Continues to withhold from her.
Solana nods, moving her hands up and down his broad shoulders. "I want to get married back home in Mexico, but I want us to live here in the states." She explains, sighing in awe. "I want us to have a house in the country though."
He chuckles quietly. "The country, huh?"
Her smile is warm and loving as she leans forward, holding him, burying herself against his safety. "I want to be away from everyone. Just you. Me. Our kids." Solana sighs as he moves his hands up her back and kisses the top of her head. "Us.....that's all we need."
Detaching from distant times, Roman does his best to push away those uncomfortable feelings and heartbreaking memories to stay focused on the task at hand, his dedication eventually bringing him to his destination.
Dulce's.
He stands outside the building, recognizing the outside, the beautiful flower arrangements that line the window. It's all so her.
And for a second, he considers turning around once more. Fears this place of purity and sanctuary will be polluted by him, polluted by the stench of betrayal that follows him wherever he goes.
But, the desire, the almost need to have his question answered is overpowering. Is enough to take him to that next stop.
And Roman walks into the store.
“Buenos días!”
Months.
It’s been months since he’s heard her voice in real time, having to make do with archival footage. But hearing it now, after so long, the happiness in it, it’s….difficult, to say the least. Roman swallows, studying the back of her head as she stands behind the counter, clearly working on a bouquet, the seconds stretching to minutes in terms of how long it takes her to turn around. But, when she does, he’s wishing she didn’t “Cómo puedo ayudarle—”
Solana is silent the minute her eyes land on him, the terror and shock in her pretty brown hues filling him with all the shame. 
She’s far from pleased at the sight of him.
Her mouth parts slightly, and he swears he can see her chest gradually moving up and down, indication of panic. “Roman?” It’s been months since he’s heard his name on her mouth in real time, and it nearly kills him how horrified she sounds saying it. “Wh—what—how—”
Roman didn’t think of what exactly he was going to say when he was standing in front of her, didn’t think he needed to. Now, he realizes that wasn’t the smartest decision. Her very strong reaction to seeing him shouldn't surprise him, shouldn’t bother him. After all, what he did to her…the way he hurt her….he’s surprised the door isn’t slammed in his face.
“I—” Struggling with verbalization has never been a thing for him until this moment. “I needed to see you. We—we need to talk.”
For better or worse, his words seem to trigger her out of her state of shock. Her brows furrow slightly, her hands tightly gripping the counter. “How did you find me?” 
“Solana—”
“How—” Her voice is harder, a new emotion rising: anger. “did you find me?”
He straightens, jaw fixed. “I’ve always known where you were.”
And, it shouldn't come as a surprise. It only made sense after everything he did to her, the pain he caused her, that she would return to her safe space. Be around her family.
That she would go home.
Her expression seems to indicate she recognizes this as well. Recognizes that it was maybe unwise to think Roman, of all people, would not know where she disappeared to. “Well, you’ve wasted your time, because I have nothing to say to you.” 
It’s then that she tries to turn away from him, but he takes a step closer, hating how she leans back against the counter. It’s almost physically painful to see and feel her disgust towards him. “You don’t want to talk to me, I get that.”
Solana’s eyes widen, her voice harsh and unforgiving. “I don’t even want to see you, let alone speak to you.” She shakes her head, reaching and pointing to the door behind him. “Now, I won’t tell you again, get out.”
Roman does his best to shove away the emotions that only seem to come up when he’s with and around her. “Solana, please just—”
“Don’t you get it!” She snaps, gesturing again to the door. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Roman! I don’t want to think about you, I don’t want to remember you.” Emotion imbues her voice and face. “I’d give anything to be able to wipe you and the past year from my memory.”
A slap. Verbal. Painful.
He straightens, reminding himself of his objective. Reminding himself that everything she’s throwing at him is deserved, no matter how much it kills him to know just how she feels about him.
About them. 
“I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need—”
“You don’t get to need anything from me!”
Another fair statement. Understandable. But, it doesn’t negate the fact that he needs to talk to her about this. He needs to know. 
And, it’s only then that Roman allows himself to take her in. Her face and breast both look fuller, a certain glow to her she’s always had but seems….brighter. He’s also just now noticing the way she keeps adjusting her dress. 
Specifically around the stomach area.
He….he doesn’t know what or if anything to make of that. 
Solana, however, seems to notice his gaze that’s focused on her stomach area and clears her throat, moving past the counter to walk away. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to please lea—”
Roman knows being forceful isn’t the best move in this situation. However, he’s not even sure if there is a right thing to do, but what he does, whether right or wrong, manages to answer his question in the most unexpected way. 
His arm reaching across, serving as a barrier that prevents her from walking away. An effective barrier, but also a source of reveal. Because when Solana jumps back slightly, that movement causes the material of her dress to flatten against her stomach, revealing an unmistakable swell. 
A bump.
A baby bump.
There was already a million and one things going through his mind from the moment Jimmy mentioned to him that he overheard Bayley tell Naomi that Solana was pregnant. And normally, he wouldn’t think anything of it. Would try to come to peace with the fact that not only had Solana truly moved on, but she was starting a family with someone else. A quick turnaround time, but not anything he could judge. Not fairly, anyway.
But, this nagging, insistent voice in the back of the head wouldn’t leave him. Wouldn’t trickle away. Because he knows Solana.
Knows how major her letting him take her virginity was for her. Sacred. Special. 
He couldn’t envision a world where she could just fall in bed with someone else so soon and end up pregnant, at that. And, it’s all of that that led him to his suspicion that if Solana was in fact pregnant, it wasn’t by another man.
It was by him. 
An almost inconceivable thing he sat on for almost a week before feeling an almost requirement to fly down to Mexico and see for himself.
And seeing, he certainly is. 
“It’s true.” His voice is barely above a whisper, shock and a million other emotions swirling around his entire being. He doesn’t even really register the way her face turns red, undecipherable emotions coming over her. “You’re pregnant….”
Somehow, they both seem to snap back to a more logical state, Solana covering her body. “That’s none of your business.”
His eyes snap to hers, and for the first time since stepping foot into her shop, he’s hit with something else other than an insurmountable amount of regret.
He’s hit with anger.
“None of my business?” His voice is leveled and even. “You’re carrying my child, Solana. How the hell is that none of my business?”
“No, it’s my child,” she counters, voice just as firm as his as she reiterates, “my baby, who I will raise by myself. You don’t get to be in their life.”
Just like that, anger morphs into burning rage at her words. It’s one thing to keep him completely in the dark about the existence of his own child but to still think that she can keep him in the dark once the light is on is beyond him.
Roman knows he hurt her. Did her wrong. Broke her heart, and he’ll always live with the regret of that. But, their unborn child has nothing to do with what transpired between them, and it’s unfair to try to keep him away. 
And he responds as such, from that place of hurt.  “The hell I don’t. You’re crazy as hell if you think I’m gon’ let you keep me out of my child’s life.”
A poor choice of words, the wrong thing to say, clearly. 
“Roman….” Her name leaving his mouth is a thing of disbelief, like she’s incapable of comprehending just what she’s hearing. “In what world do you think you have any right to be involved in my child’s life?”
It’s the singular possessive word of ‘my’ that continues to grate his already paltry nerves. “Our child!”
“No!” She yells, jumping an octave and a level of vulnerability. “I won’t let you be in their life, Roman! I don’t care if I have to—if I have to move to do it. I’ll—I’ll go into hiding.”
Roman can’t deny the fear that creeps into him at her threat. Solana leaving and going home to Mexico is one thing, nothing really, because he knew where she was. But Solana disappearing and going off the radar, with their child, is something entirely different.
He won’t have that.
He can’t have that.
“I’ll find you,” a quiet, truthful vow. A promise. “I’ll always find you.”
She lifts her chin, reiterating, “then I’ll keep moving, keep running for as long as I have to to keep this baby away from you.” Her voice breaks, her jaw trembling, as she admits in a quiet voice, “I won’t let her hurt her the way you hurt me.”
His shoulder drop, anger melting away, incapable of remaining in the face of such hurt.
“Solana….”
He tries to step toward her only for her to jerk back, arms almost protectively wrapped around her stomach.
“Do you have any idea how empty I’ve felt?” A rhetorical question, he’s sure, but one that cuts him. Cuts him deep. “How I—how I cry myself to sleep most nights. How stupid I feel at believing you ever cared about me, ever loved me. How–how I try to not think about how this baby got here, the lies she was created from?"
“Solana, my love for you has never and will never be a lie.” And that has and will always be the God’s honest truth. “Baby, I love you.”
“Fuck you, Roman!” She yells, tears leaking down her face. “You don’t do what you did to me to people you claim to love! You don’t even know what love is! You’re not capable of it!”
He swallows. “Solana—”
“You are a heartless monster. You feel nothing for people. You use them for what you need, and then you throw them to the wayside like they’re trash. You broke me!” She looks away, covering her mouth to conceal the sob she’s doing her best to hold in. “You—you don’t deserve to be a father.”
Roman refuses to show her deep her words hit him, the pain she clearly still feels from how they ended, from what he did. He knows he deserves it, that he broke her heart, that he fucked with her head. But still, he never thought she’d be the type to hold their issues with each other against him when it came to a child.
Their child.
He swallows, doing his best to not allow the verbal daggers to consume him, because although deserved, it’s still a devastating, excruciatingly painful experience. One he wasn’t fully prepared for. 
Roman looks down, taking a breath, wanting, needing to be careful with what he says next. “Solana, I—”
“Hermana?”
A new voice introduced into the conversation. Male. Unfamiliar. Unwanted.
A scowl appears on Roman’s face as trepidation overtakes Solana.
“Wes….”
Roman’s scowl falters ever so slightly. Wes…..
He’s heard that name before. 
It takes a second or two for it to hit him. Wesley.
Solana’s brother.
Fuck.
She angles her body more toward him. “Wh—what are you—”
“Roman Reigns?” He’s clearly not listening to her, his suspecting, almost challenging gaze focused on Roman. “What the hell?”
Solana shakes her head, nervously twiddling with the material of her dress. “Wes, plea—”
“What the hell do you want with my sister?” Wesley’s angry question is directed toward an irritated Roman. He doesn’t have time for this shit. Wes takes a step closer. “Leave her the fuck alone.”
“Wesley, please,” Solana implores, her eyes pleading. “It’s not—”
“How do you even know her?” The questions are fair and ongoing but simultaneously increasing Roman’s irritation and Solana’s apprehension. “Why are you even here?”
“This doesn’t fucking concern you,” Roman snaps. To his credit, if it was anyone else, he’d have them unconscious. Or dead. But, this is Solana’s sibling, so he’s doing his best to remain calm. As calm as Roman Reigns is capable of being. 
“Anything concerning my little sister concerns me, motherfucker.” Roman has to smile, has to look away, jaw clenched and flexing. This son of a bitch truly doesn’t know who the fuck he’s dealing with.
Solana must detect as such, pleading with her brother once again, “Wesley, please, just—just give us a minute.”
Roman returns his gaze to the two of them, watching as Wes temporarily redirects his focus from the Head of the Table to the woman standing between them. 
“Solana, what’s going on?” A calmer delivery combined with a suspicious gaze. “How do you know him?”
Roman couldn’t give two shits about Solana’s brother right about now. Doesn’t care that even while carrying his child, she’s still keeping the truth about them, about their prior relationship, a secret. It was always something she preferred.
“I just want to enjoy us. Without all the opinions.”
A shared sentiment during nicer, happier, simpler times.
“I—” She’s clearly at a loss of words, unsure of how to handle said situation. “I—” But, a cardinal, betraying mistake is made the minute she, most likely unintentionally, tightens her grip around her belly. A protective, telling thing, because Roman is also very much aware of the second recognition dawns.
“No…..” Wes eyes widen from the disbelief that accompanies said recognition. “He’s the father, isn’t he?”
Solana sniffles, voice quiet, “I can explain, Wes—”
However, Wesley's attention is completely on the object of all his anger and rage.
Roman
“You son of a bitch!”
A verbal lashing accompanied by Wes charging for Roman who easily moves out the way. An active effort considering his first instinct is to lay this bastard out, because in what universe does he think he stands a chance one on one with Roman Reigns?
“Wesley, no!” Solana’s attempts to settle her brother are all in vain as he once again tries to swing at the Tribal Chief. “Stop!”
“She’s 24, you sick fuck!” And it’s up until this point Roman was doing a well enough job controlling himself, maintaining his composure, all things considered. But, it’s Wesley’s next accusation that all but snaps his self-control. “You fucking predator! You raped her!”
In that very moment, whatever hold Roman had on his temper is nonexistent. He’s blinded and consumed by anger, by rage, because Roman is a lot of things. But that has and never will be one of them.
Both hands formed into fists, Roman doesn’t try to dodge or even avoid Wesley as the shorter man once again attempts to come at him. He’s ready this time.
But so is Solana.
“No!” And just like that, she puts herself in between them, a hand on his chest and her brother’s. She says something in Spanish, rushed, pressured, aimed toward Wesley. And then she’s looking at Roman, eyes begging, switching back to English, “please leave.”
For a second, Roman considers it. Doesn’t want to cause her anymore stress—or pain—than he already has. But that fucking brother of hers twist the knife even more.
“You should be in jail, you rapist!”
“Stop calling him that, Wes!” Solana snaps, urgency and anger filling her voice. “He didn’t rape me! It was consensual!”
“You’re fucking 24, Solana! He’s almost 40! Nothing is consensual about that!” It’s not even the words and accusations as much as the fact that Wes is practically screaming at her that has Roman’s rage growing.
“Watch how you fucking speak to her,” Roman growls, mindful of Solana’s hand still on his chest. 
“Fuck you!” Wesley spats, hate in his eyes. “I should kill you for what you’ve done to her!"
“Wesley, please!”
“Shut up, Solana!” He screams, the volume and force of which make her jump, her eyes filled with shock. “Are you too stupid to even see—”
“What the fuck did you just call her?”
“I swear to God, if you say one more fucking thing to me—”
“What the fuck you gon’ do, huh?” Roman snaps, completely unhinged, seeing and feeling nothing but red. “You ain’t gon’ do shit!”
It all happens fast, so fast, too fast. Because one minute Solana is doing her best to separate two men she loves in two very different ways, and the next, an unconscious, unintentional act occurs. Unfocused, distracted gaze on the other person followed by a set of arms that push and shove her away. 
Solana’s balance is lost from the force of the push, her body stumbling backwards, a set of eyes—horrified, shocked, repentant—filled with abject horror and her name being called with matching said emotion, the last thing she sees before a brief, intense, painful thud against her head against the corner of the counter and the consumption of the dark abyss.
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cometblaster2070 · 1 day ago
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glinda is genuinely THE most disastrous queer person to ever grace the land of oz and I love her sm for it because this girl saw that fiyero and elphaba were having their own private moment about dr. dillamond and she went oh no my bf and gf aren't paying attention to me quick what do I do?
and then the first the foremost and the only thought to cross her mind is to change her fucking name like??? ZERO hesitation too it crosses her mind and she goes yes we are doing this fuck it.
immediately regrets it like 2 seconds later but hey at least she's committed yk.
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honeyhae-svt · 19 hours ago
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🎮One Between Two🎭
Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist
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⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: explicit content (18+): includes detailed smut, kissing, cuddling, soft domestic intimacy, polyamorous dynamic: reader x jeonghan x wonwoo in a consensual relationship, fluff overload: this is tooth-rottingly sweet, light teasing and humor between jeonghan and wonwoo, some light language (wonwoo’s deadpan sarcasm might slip in), and non-canon ending (i guess?) DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ smut warnings: kissing, threesome(?), oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional! not ideal IRL), rough sex (explicitly described thrusting, intense actions), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (fictional context), consent (implied and verbal), emotional vulnerability (expressed through intimacy), body worship and attention to physical details, breath play (heavy breathing, audible reactions), dirty talk, descriptive sexual acts (explicit descriptions of genital stimulation), post-coital intimacy (gentle moments after sex). wc: 15,655 ♪ playlist ♪: falling for you (SEVENTEEN), euphoria (jungkook - BTS), lover (taylor swift), candy (baekhyun), everything (michael bublé), day 1 (HONNE), love me like that (sam kim). a/n: we finally reach the story at its peak ! thankyou for everyone who has been with me 'til the very end ! please enjoy the last chapter of the story :]
07
You hadn't seen Jeonghan all day, and while the ache of his coldness still lingered, Wonwoo's quiet comfort had been a balm to your frayed nerves. He'd texted you after work, insisting on taking you out for dinner, just something casual to lighten your mood.
"Pick whatever you want," Wonwoo said, sliding the menu toward you. His easy smile was like sunlight filtering through a storm, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relax.
The two of you settled into a quiet rhythm—small jokes, a few shared laughs, and the soft buzz of the diner around you. It was nice. Normal. But that fragile calm was shattered the moment you looked up and saw Jeonghan walking in.
He wasn't alone.
The woman on his arm was stunning, her laugh bright and effortless as she whispered something to him. Jeonghan's hand rested lightly on her waist, and his smile—sharp, confident, devastating—was one you hadn't seen in days. It was like watching a master at work, except now, the charm wasn't aimed at you.
Your heart sank, and you didn't realize you were gripping your fork too tightly until Wonwoo's voice pulled you back.
"Hey," he said softly, leaning forward, his eyes flicking between you and the new arrival. "You okay?"
You nodded quickly, forcing a smile, but you knew it didn't reach your eyes. "Yeah. Totally fine."
Wonwoo glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Jeonghan and his date. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable. "We can leave if you want."
"No," you said firmly, your voice steadier than you felt. "We're staying."
It was a bold decision, one you regretted the second Jeonghan's gaze landed on you. His expression flickered for just a moment—surprise, maybe something else—but he quickly schooled his features into that same detached indifference you'd grown used to.
But what you hadn't prepared for was the deliberate way he led his date right past your table, pausing just long enough to acknowledge Wonwoo with a casual nod.
"Wonwoo," Jeonghan said smoothly, his voice like silk stretched too thin. His eyes didn't even glance your way. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Jeonghan," Wonwoo replied evenly, his tone polite but laced with tension.
The air between them crackled, an unspoken challenge hanging in the space between their words. You could feel it, thick and suffocating, but Jeonghan seemed utterly unfazed as he turned to his date with that same dazzling smile.
"Let's grab a seat," he said to her, his voice softening just enough to make your stomach twist.
You watched them walk away, your appetite vanishing as quickly as your resolve. Wonwoo's hand found yours under the table, his grip firm and reassuring, but it did little to soothe the storm brewing inside you.
Later That Night
Wonwoo insisted on walking you home, and for once, you didn't argue. The quiet streets were a welcome reprieve from the chaos in your head, but the tension between you and Wonwoo was impossible to ignore.
"You don't have to pretend," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence. "I know seeing him hurt."
You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Wonwoo's eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to lie to me," he said quietly. "I get it. I do. But you need to figure out what you really want—because this?" He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "I can't keep being your safe option."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. "That's not what this is," you protested, but even as you said it, doubt crept into your voice.
Wonwoo shook his head, his expression softening. "You don't have to explain. Just... think about it, okay?"
Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.
Jeonghan.
He stood a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his expression unreadable. For a moment, none of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on all of you.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Jeonghan said finally, his tone cool but not unkind. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safe."
Wonwoo's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything, his gaze flicking between you and Jeonghan.
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. The two men you cared about most in the world were standing in front of you, and for the first time, you realized just how impossible this situation had become.
Back in your apartment, the silence was deafening. You sat on the edge of your bed, your phone buzzing with unread messages, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at them.
Wonwoo had texted you first, something simple and kind: "Let me know if you're okay. I'll always be here."
Jeonghan's message came hours later, shorter and colder: "We need to talk."
You stared at the screen, your chest tight. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw your phone across the room and pretend none of this was happening. But instead, you just sat there, the weight of their words pulling you down like anchors.
The confrontation you'd been dreading didn't wait until the next morning. Jeonghan was waiting for you at your desk when you returned from a meeting, his suit jacket draped over the back of a chair, tie slightly loosened like he'd made himself at home.
You froze in the doorway, your hands tightening around the folder in your grip.
"Jeonghan," you said, unsure whether it was a greeting or a warning.
"Welcome back," he said smoothly, his smile disarming, but his eyes held that familiar glint of mischief. "Busy day?"
"Busy enough," you replied cautiously, stepping inside. "What are you doing here?"
He tilted his head, as if the answer was obvious. "Waiting for you, of course."
You set the folder down on the desk, keeping your movements deliberate. "If this is about work—"
"Close the door," he interrupted, his tone light yet leaving no room for argument.
You hesitated, but the weight of his gaze was enough to make you comply. The click of the latch sounded louder than it should have in the quiet room.
"I thought we didn't have anything to talk about," you said, forcing a casual tone even as your pulse quickened.
Jeonghan leaned back in the chair, his long fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "Oh, we don't. But I was curious about something."
"Curious about what?"
"About you." He stood then, crossing the room in a few leisurely steps until he was leaning against the edge of the desk, his body too close for comfort. "And Wonwoo."
Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral. "What about him?"
Jeonghan shrugged, his smile teasing but his eyes sharper than ever. "Just wondering why you get so defensive whenever he comes up."
"I'm not defensive," you said quickly—too quickly.
His smile widened, and he let out a soft laugh. "Sure you're not." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. "So if there's really nothing going on, how about this—you and me. Dinner. Tonight."
You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
Jeonghan straightened, feigning innocence as he smoothed his tie. "It's simple. If there's nothing between you and Wonwoo, then there's no reason you can't go out with me. Right?"
"Jeonghan..."
He held up a hand, cutting you off with a smile that was both charming and infuriating. "Relax, it's just a date. Unless..." His eyes sparkled with mock suspicion. "There is something you're not telling me?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The way he was looking at you—like he already knew the answer—made it impossible to find the right words.
Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're terrible at hiding things, you know that?"
His teasing tone stung more than you cared to admit. Before you could think, you blurted something out.
And before you knew it, you had said something you shouldn't have.
You hadn't planned to see Wonwoo that night. You hadn't planned anything, really—you just walked, trying to clear your head, until you found yourself at his door.
He opened it after the first knock, his brows furrowing in concern as he took in your disheveled state.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and steady, grounding you in a way nothing else could.
You nodded, even though it wasn't true. "Can I come in?"
He stepped aside without a word, letting you slip past him into the warmth of his apartment.
You sat on the couch, your hands twisting nervously in your lap as he joined you, sitting close enough for you to feel the heat of his body but not so close that it felt invasive.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
The words spilled out before you could stop them—a jumbled mess of apologies and explanations, of frustration and guilt and confusion. Wonwoo listened quietly, his expression unreadable, until you finally ran out of words.
When you looked at him, his gaze was steady, but there was something in his eyes that made your chest ache.
"You told him we're just... friends," he said slowly, his voice measured.
You froze, your stomach dropping. "Wonwoo, I didn't mean it like that—"
"But that's what you said," he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "Is that what you think we are?"
"No," you said quickly, the word tumbling out before you could stop it. "Of course not. I just... I panicked. I didn't know what else to say."
Wonwoo looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back, his arms resting on the back of the couch as he regarded you.
"Friends with benefits, huh?" he said, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips. "That's all this is to you?"
"No," you said again, your voice trembling. "It's more than that. You know it is."
"Do I?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because it doesn't feel like it when you can't even admit it to him. Or to yourself."
You didn't know what to say. The truth was messy and complicated, and you were terrified of what it might cost you.
Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. "Maybe that's all we should be," he said quietly. "If that's what you want."
His words felt like a punch to the gut, and you reached out instinctively, your hand brushing against his arm.
"Wonwoo, please," you whispered, your voice breaking.
He looked at you then, his gaze softening just enough to make your heart ache.
"Then tell me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what this is. What I am to you."
You stared at Wonwoo, the weight of his question pressing down on you like a vice. What was this? What were you to him? What was he to you? The answers tangled in your throat, too raw, too uncertain to speak.
But his eyes—god, his eyes—bore into yours, waiting, needing something real, something true.
"I—" you started, the words trembling on your lips. "You're..."
The pause stretched too long, and you saw the flicker of hurt cross his face before he masked it, leaning back just slightly, as if to protect himself.
"Forget it," he said, his voice quiet but firm, like a door closing.
"No," you said quickly, reaching for his hand before he could pull away completely. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out."
"Then say it," he said, his voice sharper now, frustration bleeding through. "Say something. Because I can't keep doing this—guessing how you feel, pretending I'm okay with whatever scraps you decide to give me."
His words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and exposed. He was right. You'd been selfish, hiding behind your fear, letting the safety of ambiguity shield you from making a choice. But that safety was gone now, stripped away by the raw honesty in his voice.
"I care about you," you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. "More than I should. More than I've let myself admit."
Wonwoo's expression softened, his eyes searching yours for the truth in your words.
"But I'm scared," you continued, the confession tumbling out like a broken dam. "I'm scared of what this means, of what I might lose. Of hurting you. Of hurting him."
The mention of Jeonghan made Wonwoo's jaw tighten, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his hand coming up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
"You're already hurting me," he said softly, his voice a painful mix of tenderness and resignation. "But I'd rather feel this than nothing at all."
Your breath hitched at his words, the weight of his vulnerability crashing into you.
"Wonwoo, I—"
He didn't let you finish. His lips were on yours before you could form another thought, the kiss fierce and desperate, like he was pouring all his frustration, all his longing, into you.
And you let him.
You kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, trying to bridge the gap that had always been there between you.
But the moment didn't fade.
Instead, it deepened.
Wonwoo's hands slid down your sides, his touch firm but deep, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. He pressed you against the couch, his body warm and solid against yours, and you gasped into his mouth as the heat between you ignited, consuming every shred of hesitation you'd been clinging to.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with restraint, even as his fingers ghosted over the hem of your shirt.
You didn't answer. Instead, you tugged him closer, your actions speaking louder than words ever could.
The shift in his demeanor was immediate. The hesitation melted away, replaced by a hunger that matched your own. He lifted you effortlessly, guiding you into his lap as his lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake.
"You drive me crazy," he breathed, his hands exploring your curves with a deep feeling that made your head spin. "You have no idea what you do to me."
Your fingers tightened in his hair, a soft whimper escaping you as he nipped at the sensitive skin of your collarbone. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a promise—a confession of everything he felt but couldn't say.
He lifted your shirt over your arms as he started nipping on your breast, his hand on the other. Pampering you with his affection so he can distract you from the mess you were dealing with. If that helps, then he'd do anything to get things off your mind—even if it's just temporary. This isn't like Wonwoo at all. 
It wasn't long until you're whimpering on his lap as his cock twitches inside of you. 
You were moving, with him helping you hump on him.
Wonwoo always had a way of getting you all breathless and... Naked.
You shifted, your arms around his neck as you kiss him. Not long, you got exhausted and Wonwoo had to take over. He took you to his room, cock stilled inside you as he drops you onto his bed—gently but urgent. He moved his hips to yours, kissing your lips all the way as his tongue brushes against your soft breasts. He can never get enough of you.
"Wonwoo," you whispered, his name a plea, a prayer, as your bodies moved in perfect synchronicity, the tension between you showing in the most intimate of ways.
"You're fucking perfect..." He muttered as he moved a little rougher than he intended to, his cock swarming in and out of your cunt. 
His hand supported the back of your head to make you feel less tired and assured as he kisses your lips. His kisses were possessive and fast as his tongue finds yours. 
When the two of you meet the ends of bliss, he cums all over you, painting your walls as you followed soon after, creaming all over his cock.
And for a moment, nothing else mattered.
Not the tangled web of emotions you'd woven, not the uncertainty of what came next.
It was just you and him, lost in a world of your own making, where every touch was a revelation, and every kiss was a declaration of the feelings you'd both been too afraid to voice.
Wonwoo had that soft spot that only showed when it came to you. He was never like this with anyone. You were simply too precious for him that he's suddenly afraid of losing you—scared of getting you off his hands. 
You had his heart locked up and you didn't even know it. 
But now, having you in his arms while the two of you just stay in the hot waters of the tub he had in his house, everything suddenly felt temporary—at least for him. 
You turned to face him with your face all steamy, and you looked breathtaking as ever. Your arms found his neck as you leaned closer to hug him. His heart almost melted.
He held you closer, as you whispered sweet nothings to him. But suddenly, he just couldn't find those sweet genuine smiles of yours. It was given as a reflection of how hard things have been going for you. And he'd die for you just so you can find yourself at peace again.
"Use me all you want," he broke the silence. "I'll always be here no matter what." 
You almost cried, biting your lips it almost bled. You hugged him tightly, too tightly that he pulled you even closer. He reached for your cheeks, cupping it before crashing his lips onto yours again. It was urgent, hectic, and was messy. But that didn't stop him from doing anything else.
Days have passed. It has been gloomy for you that even your viewers noticed whenever you were streaming. But their concern was making your heart a little lighter. 
Personal life has always been separated from your gaming life. But right now, your lips kept slipping, suddenly spilling a tea you shouldn't even say.
Recently, youve only been streaming with either Vernon, Seungkwan, Hoshi, or Mingyu. 
Who knew things would change just because of the stupid context "Love"? You blamed all the human feelings for eveything that has happened.
It was a Thursday afternoon when it finally broke. You were sitting at your desk, staring at the screen in front of you, but not really seeing it. Your thoughts kept spiraling back to Jeonghan and Wonwoo, to what you were doing, to what you wanted to do, but couldn't.
The door to your office creaked open, and your stomach flipped as Jeonghan stepped inside. He didn't bother knocking—he never did—but the way he closed the door behind him with deliberate care made your heart race.
"What now?" you asked, unable to keep the irritation out of your voice.
Jeonghan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing his arms and letting his gaze sweep over you like he was sizing you up. "You look stressed," he said finally, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I wonder why," you muttered, leaning back in your chair.
His smirk deepened. "Relax. I'm not here to scold you... much."
"Then why are you here?"
Jeonghan tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Oh, just wanted to see how my favorite coworker is doing."
You shot him a look, unimpressed. "Cut the small talk, Jeonghan. What do you want?"
He straightened, his playful demeanor softening into something more serious. "Fine. Let's skip to the point." He met your gaze, and there it was—that flicker of intensity that made it impossible to look away. "You and Wonwoo."
Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. "What about us?"
Jeonghan's eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone remained deceptively light. "You're not very good at hiding things, you know. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you... It's cute, really."
"Jeonghan—"
"Don't worry," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm not here to pry. In fact, I've got a proposal."
You blinked, caught off guard. "A proposal?"
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into that teasing, honeyed tone that always left you on edge. "If there's really nothing going on with him, how about you prove it?"
Your eyes narrowed. "Prove it how?"
"Go out with me."
The words hung in the air, and you stared at him like he'd just suggested robbing a bank. "What?"
Jeonghan grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. "You heard me. Dinner. Tonight."
"Jeonghan, this isn't—"
"Let me guess," he cut you off, his tone turning playfully accusatory. "You're about to come up with some excuse. Busy schedule? Too tired? Or maybe..." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "You're worried Wonwoo might not like it."
You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. His grin widened.
"Thought so," he said, stepping closer until he was leaning just slightly over you, his presence overwhelming. "So what's it going to be? Dinner with me, or another round of dodging questions you don't want to answer?"
You clenched your fists, your pride prickling at his audacity. "Fine," you snapped, standing abruptly. "Dinner it is. But only because I'm tired of you acting like you've got me all figured out."
Jeonghan's expression softened into something more genuine, though the smugness never fully left his face. "Looking forward to it." He stepped back, giving you space, but his voice turned teasing again as he reached for the door. "Oh, and wear something nice. I don't settle for half-effort, you know."
Before you could respond, he slipped out of the room, leaving you flustered, irritated, and strangely... intrigued.
The restaurant Jeonghan chose was exactly what you'd expect from him—classy but not overly extravagant, with dim lighting, soft music, and a menu that probably didn't have prices listed. You sat across from him, your fingers toying with the edge of your napkin as he ordered for the both of you, exuding the effortless charm that made people fall for him so easily.
"I could've ordered for myself, you know," you said, raising an eyebrow as the waiter walked away.
"I know," he replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "But I wanted to see if I got it right."
"And if you didn't?"
His lips curved into a sly smile. "Then I'd have something to tease you about for the rest of the night."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. The banter was easy, familiar, and you hated how quickly it chipped away at your defenses.
Dinner passed in a blur of conversation and subtle glances, the tension between you two growing with every lingering look and accidental brush of fingers. By the time you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool evening air felt charged, and you weren't sure if it was the wine or Jeonghan's presence that had your head spinning.
"You're quiet," Jeonghan said as he walked beside you, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.
"I'm just... thinking," you replied, looking ahead.
"Dangerous habit," he teased, bumping his shoulder against yours lightly. "What's on your mind?"
You hesitated, your gaze flickering to him. His expression was relaxed, but there was something in his eyes—something that told you he wasn't as nonchalant as he seemed.
"Why me?" you asked finally, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Jeonghan stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "What do you mean?"
"You could've asked anyone to dinner. You didn't have to..." You trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his intense gaze.
"I didn't have to what?" he prompted, his voice soft but insistent.
"Push this," you finished, gesturing between the two of you.
Jeonghan took a step closer, his hand brushing against yours. "Maybe I didn't want just anyone," he said simply.
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart racing. Then, as if sensing your hesitation, he tilted his head toward the street.
"Come on," he said, his voice lighter. "Let's go."
"To where?"
"You'll see."
Jeonghan's home was exactly what you'd imagined: clean, stylish, and a little too perfect, like it had been lifted straight from an interior design magazine. You've been to his house before, but this one, it's a different one. You barely had time to take it all in before he was leading you to the living room, his hand resting lightly on your back.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, motioning to the couch.
You sat down, feeling all the suddenly uncharacteristically out of place. The air between you was heavy, and you weren't sure if it was the wine, the dim lighting, or the way Jeonghan was looking at you that made your skin tingle.
"You okay?" he asked, sitting beside you, close enough that your knees brushed.
"I'm fine," you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.
Jeonghan didn't say anything at first. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, and it made your breath catch.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice low and rough.
You didn't. It always had to be like this.
The first kiss was soft, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, his hand cupped your cheek, and the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.
Before you knew it, you were pressed against the couch, his body hovering over yours as his hands roamed, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch, every kiss felt like a question, and your answers came in the way you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck.
"Yes," you breathed, the word slipping out without hesitation.
And with that, the tension that had been building between you for what felt like forever finally snapped. Jeonghan was everywhere—his touch, his scent, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. He took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction, until you were completely undone and naked beneath him.
Jeonghan had laid you gently on the soft, white mattress as his kisses to your neck become more heated, leaving his love bites all over the sensitive skin as if he knows what and where to kiss.
His hands did the same, gripping your breasts, thighs, name every sensitive spot you know, and he knows it.
He slipped two fingers in and was surprised—impressed it slipped in easily. He loves how wet and open you are for him. "So wet, for me?" Jeonghan teases as he pulls in and out with you squirming underneath him. He loves you, the way your vulnerable under him, looking pretty as he messes you up. 
You moan loudly, and that's how he loves it. Your hands grip his shirt too tightly he starts to unbutton and undress himself for you. 
He kisses your lips as if taking a shot full of love. The way he swallowed your muffled moans was intoxicating. He takes his time exploring you like he has before. Every touch, kiss felt wrong. But Jeonghan's touches were enough to blur your thoughts, sending you back to the bitter but sweetest reality.
"I can't lose you," was what he whispered, and it was enough to send you shivers down your spine. 
Jeonghan's fingers were dipped deep inside your cunt as you clench around him, and finally, you cum soak and hot through his fingers. He licks them before he aligns his cock on your pussy before entering you completely slowly but surely. 
He snaps his hips onto yours as you scream out his name. Jeonghan pins your arms over your head, his fingers intertwined with your as his head falls on your shoulders, his thrusts increasing its speed. 
You hold onto his hand, his cock entering you in and out in the most blissful way, enough to make you whimper his name. 
The room was filled with your lustful cries and skin-to-skin contacts, making the night long and... Loud but sweetly slow.
When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together on the couch, the room silent except for the sound of your breathing. Jeonghan's fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and for once, you didn't feel the weight of questions or doubts pressing down on you.
"You okay?" he asked again, his voice softer this time.
"Yeah," you replied, resting your head against his chest.
Jeonghan smiled, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
You hadn't expected things to move this fast, but when you woke up to a text from Wonwoo saying, "We need to talk. Tonight," your stomach twisted in anticipation. Wonwoo wasn't the type to be vague unless it really mattered.
The evening came too quickly. When you opened the door, Wonwoo stood there, hands in his pockets, wearing that casual but disarming look that always made your heart skip.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight you couldn't quite place.
You stepped aside, letting him in. The familiar scent of him wrapped around you as he passed by, but you noticed how he didn't meet your eyes right away.
"Talk," you said, leaning on the counter, trying to sound steady despite the knot in your chest.
Wonwoo hesitated, running a hand through his hair—a nervous habit you rarely saw. "I've been thinking a lot lately," he began, his voice lower than usual. "About streaming, about us... about everything."
You folded your arms, unsure where this was going. "And?"
He exhaled sharply, like he'd been holding it in for days. "I think I'm done with it. At least for now."
Your brows shot up in surprise. "Done? With streaming?"
"Yeah," he said with a shrug, but his tone was anything but casual. "I've never liked all the attention anyway. I just wanted to play games, have fun... but now it feels like it's not mine anymore. It's everyone else's." He glanced at you, his eyes softening. "And I don't want that for you either. You're caught in the middle of this mess—me, Jeonghan, the fans... all of it. It's not fair to you."
"Wonwoo..." Your voice trailed off, unsure of how to respond.
He took a step closer, his hands brushing against yours. "I'm not saying I'm giving it up forever. But right now, I want to be here for you. No distractions. No streams. Just... us."
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn't the teasing, sarcastic Wonwoo you were used to. This was him, raw and unfiltered, laying it all out.
"You don't have to do that," you whispered, your throat tight. "You've worked so hard for this."
He smiled faintly, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And I'm willing to work harder for what matters more."
You stared at him, speechless. There was no witty comeback, no sarcastic quip that could deflect the sincerity of his words. All you could do was nod, the lump in your throat refusing to go away.
Jeonghan wasn't distant. If anything, he was still Jeonghan—unpredictable, frustratingly charming, and always one step ahead. But he was careful, too. He knew how to give you space without making you feel abandoned. And somehow, that was worse.
He'd still show up at work with that easygoing smile, cracking jokes like nothing had changed. But his gaze lingered longer now, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.
So when he showed up unannounced one night, leaning against your doorway with his hands in his pockets, it shouldn't have surprised you. But it did.
"Jeonghan?" you asked, blinking.
He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Expecting someone else?"
You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let him in. "What do you want?"
He walked in like he owned the place, his usual air of confidence making your heart race for all the wrong reasons.
"I've been thinking," he said, his tone light, but there was an edge to it. "About us."
You froze. "Jeonghan, I don't think—"
He cut you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Relax. I'm not here to pick a fight. I just..." He trailed off, his expression softening as he looked at you. "I just want to understand."
"Understand what?" you asked quietly.
"This," he said, gesturing between you. "You and me. You and Wonwoo. You're acting like you have to choose, but... I don't think you even know what you want."
His words stung because they were true.
"Jeonghan, it's not that simple," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.
"It never is," he replied, stepping closer. "But I'm not going anywhere. I need you to know that. I'm here, whether you figure this out tomorrow, next week, or next year."
You stared at him, your chest tightening. "Why?"
He smiled then, that infuriatingly calm smile that made you want to scream and melt at the same time. "Because you're worth it."
His words hung between you, and for a moment, the world stopped. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. But Jeonghan didn't seem to mind. He just stood there, his presence a steady reminder that, no matter how messy things got, he wasn't giving up on you.
Not yet.
You weren't expecting the night to spiral the way it did. It started innocently enough—Seungkwan coaxed you into coming over with promises of a chill evening filled with karaoke and snacks, just like old times. But somewhere between the third glass of wine and a round of ill-advised shots, everything unraveled.
Seungkwan was tipsy but still his usual lively self, cracking jokes and commanding the mic. Hoshi, however, stayed seated off to the side, his eyes flicking to you every now and then with a quiet, worried intensity.
It wasn't like you to let loose this much. And Seungkwan wasn't one to miss the signs.
"Y/N," he called, his voice cutting through the haze of music and laughter. It was softer than usual, more serious. "What's going on? You've been... off lately. Talk to me."
You blinked at him, the alcohol buzzing in your veins making everything feel surreal. The words tumbled out before you could stop them.
"I'm falling apart, Seungkwan," you said, laughing bitterly. "And I don't think you even know half of it."
That got his attention. He leaned forward, setting his drink down as his playful expression melted into concern. "Then tell me," he urged. "We're not letting you sit there and spiral alone."
You hesitated, but the weight you'd been carrying was too much to hold back anymore.
"It's them," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Jeonghan and Wonwoo. One minute they act like I'm nothing, and the next, it's like I'm their whole world. I don't know how to keep up. I don't even know who I am anymore."
Seungkwan frowned, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. Hoshi, who had been silent until now, leaned in slightly, his sharp gaze softening.
"Then why are you letting them do this to you?" Seungkwan asked gently.
"I'm not letting them," you shot back, though your voice cracked. "I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if I even want to stop it. I—" You paused, shaking your head as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "I love them both. And it's tearing me apart."
The room fell into a heavy silence, save for the faint hum of the karaoke machine. Seungkwan exchanged a quick look with Hoshi, one of those unspoken conversations that only close friends could have.
"Alright," Seungkwan said, breaking the quiet. "Let's settle this."
You blinked at him, confused. "Settle what?"
"Let's see who actually cares," he said, pulling out his phone. "I'll call Jeonghan. Hoshi can text Wonwoo. We'll see who shows up first. No excuses, no games."
"What?" You stared at him, horrified. "You're not seriously going to—"
"Oh, I absolutely am," he interrupted with a smirk, though his eyes held an edge of seriousness. "If they're worth your time, they'll come. And if they don't? Well, then you have your answer."
Before you could protest, Seungkwan had already pressed dial, and Hoshi was tapping away on his phone. Your stomach churned, the weight of what they were doing sinking in.
The ten minutes that followed felt like an eternity. The alcohol in your system dulled the edges of your anxiety, but it couldn't erase it. And then, the doorbell rang.
Seungkwan's face lit up with mischief as he sprang to his feet. "Contestant number one," he announced, heading for the door.
When he opened it, Jeonghan was standing there, his expression unreadable. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and something flickered in his gaze—concern, maybe even guilt. He stepped inside without a word.
"Y/N," he said quietly, crossing the room to crouch in front of you. "What happened?"
Your throat tightened, and you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm fine," you mumbled, though your voice betrayed you.
"You're not," he said, his tone softer now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Talk to me."
Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again.
Hoshi grinned as he glanced at his phone. "Wonwoo," he said simply.
When Wonwoo stepped inside, his gaze immediately found yours. His brow furrowed as he took in your tear-streaked face and Jeonghan's presence by your side. The tension in the room thickened.
"I'm here," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but laced with urgency. "Are you okay?"
Jeonghan rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate as he turned to face Wonwoo. The air between them crackled with unspoken rivalry.
"She's fine," Jeonghan said coolly, though the way he hovered near you said otherwise.
Wonwoo's jaw tightened, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y/N, what's going on? Why are you like this?"
The weight of their stares was too much. You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you finally broke. "Because I love you both, okay? And I don't know what to do about it!"
The room fell deathly silent.
Jeonghan's usually composed demeanor faltered, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Wonwoo, on the other hand, looked like he'd been punched in the gut.
"I didn't want this," you continued, your voice trembling. "I didn't want to fall for both of you, but I did. And now I'm stuck. I don't know how to choose, and I'm scared—scared that if I pick one of you, I'll lose the other forever."
Jeonghan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N..." he began, but his voice trailed off. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.
Wonwoo stepped closer, his expression softening as he crouched beside you. "You don't have to figure this out tonight," he said quietly. "But you can't keep tearing yourself apart over this. Let us help you."
You looked between them, your heart aching. You wanted to believe his words, but deep down, you knew this was only the beginning.
Seungkwan and Hoshi stood off to the side, watching silently. For once, even Seungkwan didn't have a joke to lighten the mood.
The night had started with laughter, but it ended with a truth none of you were ready to face.
After the bombshell of your drunken confession, a heavy silence settles over the room, stretching between you, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo. Seungkwan and Hoshi exchange uneasy glances, clearly sensing the gravity of the situation, but they wisely retreat, leaving the three of you alone to navigate the emotional fallout. The weight of your words lingers in the air like a storm cloud, thick and impossible to ignore.
You're not sure when the idea began to form in your mind. Perhaps it's the alcohol still coursing through your veins, or maybe it's the stark realization that you can't choose. You can't bear the thought of losing either Jeonghan or Wonwoo—not now, not ever. Deep down, your heart knows what you've been avoiding all along: it doesn't have to be just one.
Despite the tension crackling between the three of you, you somehow end up outside in the cool night air. Jeonghan leans casually against his car, his eyes closed as he takes a slow, measured breath. Wonwoo stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set in quiet thought. None of you speak at first, the silence stretching painfully long.
It's Wonwoo who finally breaks it, his voice quieter than usual but firm. "We need to figure this out."
Jeonghan's eyes flicker open, locking onto Wonwoo's. There's something unreadable in his gaze—hesitation, confusion, maybe even anger. But there's also a flicker of something dangerous, something bold. "I agree," Jeonghan says evenly. "But we're not treating this like a game."
Wonwoo's lips twitch into a smirk, though it carries a dark edge. "So what, then? We leave her alone to figure it out on her own? Pretend like none of this matters?"
Jeonghan's jaw tightens, and his voice sharpens. "That's not what I said. But I'm not rushing into something that could hurt her even more. She's confused—"
You take a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm not confused," you interject, your voice trembling but resolute. "I'm scared. But I know what I want."
Both men turn to you, their gazes intense, waiting. The words catch in your throat, but you force them out. "I want you both. I can't pick. I'm sorry, but I can't."
Jeonghan pushes off the car, exhaling sharply. He glances at Wonwoo, a hint of disbelief coloring his features. "So, what now? Are you seriously suggesting we share her?"
Wonwoo doesn't flinch. "Why not?" he says simply. "You and I both care about her. She's not some prize to fight over, Jeonghan. She's part of both our lives, and we've been acting like we don't know it."
Jeonghan stares at him, his expression shifting from shock to something more thoughtful. A humorless chuckle escapes him. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
Wonwoo's gaze doesn't waver. "I've been serious for a while. We've been dancing around this, and I'm tired of pretending. She wants us both, and I'm not going to act like that's not real."
For a moment, Jeonghan says nothing, his attention drifting to you. His gaze softens, though his words remain cautious. "This isn't how I imagined things... but maybe you're right. It's messy, but what choice do we have?"
The tentative understanding between the two men feels fragile, like a thread stretched too thin. But it's there, and for the first time, the tension seems to ease.
Jeonghan turns to you fully, his eyes sharp but tinged with vulnerability. "You really want this? Both of us?"
You nod, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you. "Yes. I know it's not fair, and it's not simple, but I want both of you. I can't choose. I won't."
Wonwoo steps closer, his voice dropping lower. "Then we need to make this work, but it has to be real. No more games, Y/N. No lies. We have to be honest with each other, all of us."
Jeonghan joins him, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence. "This isn't some fantasy," he says, his tone serious. "It's not going to be perfect. But if we're doing this, we're all in. No second-guessing, no turning back."
You swallow hard but nod. Relief washes over you, mingled with fear and hope. "I'm in this with you both. But I need to know... that you're both okay with this. That you're not doing it because you feel sorry for me."
Jeonghan's lips curve into a faint smirk, his familiar teasing edge returning. "What do you think, Wonwoo?"
Wonwoo's gaze doesn't waver as he looks at you, his expression dark and unreadable. "I'm in," he says softly. "For you, Y/N. I'm all in."
Jeonghan places a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm yet gentle. "Then we'll figure this out together. It won't be easy, but we'll make it work. Just... no more running, alright?"
You nod, tears pricking your eyes as a strange, fragile hope takes root in your chest. This wasn't what you had expected, but somehow, it feels like the start of something real—messy, complicated, and raw, but undeniably yours.
You wake up groggy but surprisingly refreshed. The events of last night come rushing back, and you half expect to be greeted with awkward silence or heavy stares. But instead, when you shuffle into the living room, still in Seungkwan's borrowed sweatshirt, you're met with the smell of coffee and the sight of Jeonghan and Wonwoo quietly talking.
Jeonghan looks up first, his smile soft but mischievous. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."
Wonwoo snorts, sliding a cup of coffee across the table toward you. "You were out like a light. We almost thought you'd never wake up."
You groan, plopping down onto the couch and cradling the mug. "Don't remind me. I'm never drinking that much again."
Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "You say that every time, though."
You shoot him a look but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Shut up, Hannie."
Wonwoo leans back in his seat, his expression softer than usual. "We should talk," he says, his tone calm but sincere.
Your stomach flips, but before you can spiral into panic, Jeonghan chimes in, his voice surprisingly light. "Don't worry, no drama this time. We just want to make sure we're all... on the same page."
You nod slowly, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. "Okay," you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.
Wonwoo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We meant what we said last night. About making this work. But we also realized..." He hesitates, glancing at Jeonghan for support.
Jeonghan picks up where he left off, his voice unusually gentle. "We realized we haven't been making things any easier for you. If anything, we've been selfish—fighting over you instead of being there for you. And we want to change that."
You blink, your chest tightening at their words. "I... I don't know what to say," you admit.
Jeonghan smiles, that familiar spark of teasing returning to his eyes. "You don't have to say anything. Just... maybe don't get drunk and confess your love for us in front of Seungkwan and Hoshi again."
You groan, burying your face in your hands as Wonwoo chuckles quietly. "Oh my god, I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
"Absolutely not," Jeonghan says, his grin widening.
Wonwoo's expression softens again, his voice lowering. "But seriously... we're here for you. No matter what."
You peek out from behind your hands, meeting their gazes. For the first time in what feels like forever, the tension is gone, replaced by something lighter. Something warmer.
And as the three of you sit there, laughing and teasing like old times, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope. It's not going to be easy, but maybe—just maybe—you can make this work after all.
It started innocently enough. Or so you thought.
When Seungkwan invited you over for a "relaxing game night," you foolishly believed him. Of course, he conveniently forgot to mention that Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon would also be there. By the time you arrived at his place, Hoshi was already setting up snacks, and the two men you were desperately trying not to think about were seated on opposite sides of the couch, a safe but glaringly obvious distance apart. Mingyu was lounging on the armchair, flipping through a magazine with the kind of carefree attitude only he could pull off. And Vernon? Well, he was eating snacks in the corner, casually looking like he had nothing to do with the chaos about to unfold.
"Ah, you're here!" Seungkwan beamed, practically dragging you inside. "Now the fun can really start."
You hesitated at the doorway, your gaze flickering between Jeonghan's easy smile and Wonwoo's quiet nod of acknowledgment. Something about their presence together felt... combustible, but you pushed the thought aside. You were here to have fun. Totally chill, non-dramatic fun. Right?
"Sit, sit!" Seungkwan ushered you onto the couch—right in the middle of Jeonghan and Wonwoo. You froze, hyperaware of how close their knees were to brushing yours.
Mingyu, sensing the awkward energy in the room, chimed in from his chair. "If you need a distraction, I've got a full buffet of snacks over here."
You gave him a grateful look, but it didn't help. You were already sitting too close to the two men who made your heart race in completely different ways.
Hoshi, sensing the awkward energy in the room, clapped his hands together. "Alright, first game: Charades!"
Charades started out harmless enough, with Hoshi miming a bird and Seungkwan pretending to be a dramatic fainting prince. But then Seungkwan upped the ante.
"Jeonghan, your turn!" he said, his grin far too mischievous for comfort. He handed Jeonghan a card, and you watched as the older man's eyes lit up with amusement.
Jeonghan stood, rolling his shoulders like an actor preparing for a big scene. Then he got down on one knee, placed a hand over his chest, and—with exaggerated flair—pretended to confess his love.
The room erupted in laughter, but your face burned as Jeonghan's gaze lingered on you just a second too long. "Did I nail it?" he asked, smirking as he returned to his seat.
"A little too convincing," Hoshi teased, elbowing you. "What do you think?"
You sputtered, "I-I mean, it was fine!"
Mingyu looked entirely too entertained. "Yeah, I think Jeonghan might've just volunteered for 'Best Actor.'"
Wonwoo, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. "Fine? I think he overdid it."
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Overdid it? Or are you just jealous you didn't get the card?"
"Jealous?" Wonwoo scoffed, leaning back with an infuriatingly calm expression. "Not really my style."
Vernon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, jumped in from his snack corner. "Oh, please. We all know Jeonghan would do anything for the spotlight."
Seungkwan clapped his hands before things could escalate further. "Okay, okay! Next round! Wonwoo, you're up!"
If Jeonghan's over-the-top confession wasn't bad enough, Seungkwan somehow convinced Wonwoo to serenade the group during Truth or Dare. And not just any song. A love song.
"Oh, come on," Wonwoo protested, but Seungkwan's relentless enthusiasm won out. Grumbling, Wonwoo picked up Hoshi's acoustic guitar and strummed a few hesitant chords before starting to sing. His voice, low and rich, filled the room, and you couldn't stop the shiver that ran down your spine.
It was intimate, almost too much, as if the song was meant for you and you alone. By the time he finished, the room was dead silent.
"Well, damn," Jeonghan finally said, breaking the tension with a low whistle. "Didn't know you had it in you."
Vernon leaned in and whispered to Mingyu, "What do you think? Do we need to hire him for the next concert?"
Mingyu grinned. "I vote yes. But only if I get backup dancer status."
Wonwoo shrugged, his gaze flicking to you briefly before he set the guitar down. "It's just a song."
Just a song, sure. But the way your heart was pounding said otherwise.
The night wore on, filled with more games and Seungkwan's relentless teasing. But the final blow came when Seungkwan, clearly buzzed on soda and his own chaos, leaned forward and grinned wickedly.
"So," he said, his tone far too casual, "who's the better kisser? Jeonghan or Wonwoo?"
You choked on your drink, coughing violently as Hoshi burst out laughing. "Seungkwan, what the hell?!"
Jeonghan's eyes sparkled with amusement, while Wonwoo's expression darkened. "Really, Seungkwan?"
"What? It's a valid question!" Seungkwan said, feigning innocence. "We're all friends here, right?"
You buried your face in your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. "I am not answering that."
Jeonghan, ever the instigator, leaned closer. "You don't have to say it. I think we all know the answer."
Wonwoo's jaw tightened. "Do we? Because I'm pretty sure we don't."
Vernon, with his usual deadpan humor, spoke up. "Honestly, I think everyone just needs a cold shower."
Mingyu practically snorted from his chair. "You're not wrong, man."
Hoshi, practically in tears from laughing, waved his hands. "Okay, okay! Let's call it a night before someone actually dies."
You groaned, vowing to never let Seungkwan plan anything ever again. But as you glanced between Jeonghan and Wonwoo, both of whom were now glaring at each other, you couldn't help but wonder: how the hell did your life get this complicated?
That evening, after everyone had left you alone with both Jeonghan and Wonwoo, the atmosphere shifts. It's quieter, more intimate, as the three of you settle on the couch. You're sandwiched between them, their presence comforting but charged with unspoken tension.
Jeonghan's hand brushes against yours, his fingers lingering before he takes your hand fully. You glance up, meeting his eyes. They're soft but searching, as if he's trying to read every thought running through your mind.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your breath catches, but you nod. His lips are warm and familiar, moving against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. When he pulls back, you're left staring at him, your thoughts a whirlwind.
Then, you feel Wonwoo's hand on your back, steady and grounding. You turn to him, and his gaze holds a quiet intensity. He doesn't ask, but his hesitation is clear, giving you the choice. When you lean toward him, his lips meet yours in a kiss that's different but no less meaningful. It's slower, deeper, like he's pouring every unspoken word into it.
When you pull back, you realize you're holding both their hands. The moment is electric, filled with a newfound understanding. They're not competing anymore. Instead, they're focused entirely on you.
Jeonghan's arms are steady as he lifts you off the sofa, cradling you effortlessly. His gaze never leaves yours, a quiet intensity in his eyes as he carries you toward the bedroom. You barely notice Wonwoo following behind until you feel his hands on you, tugging at the hem of your shirt as soon as Jeonghan sets you down on the edge of the bed.
"Wonwoo," Jeonghan murmurs, his tone half a warning and half amusement, but he doesn't stop him.
Wonwoo works with quiet precision, pulling your shirt over your head in one swift motion, leaving you bare to their hungry eyes. You shiver under the weight of their attention, but before you can feel self-conscious, Jeonghan is there, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your lips.
"You're perfect," he whispers against your mouth, his voice low and reverent, as if every word is a vow.
Wonwoo's hands glide over your shoulders, down your sides, his touch firmer, more deliberate. His lips trail along your neck, sending a jolt of heat through your body. "You're ours," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and possessive, making your pulse race.
Jeonghan pulls back just enough to catch your dazed expression, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Do you want this?" he asks, his voice gentle but edged with a raw need.
You nod, breathless, your hands finding their way to Jeonghan's hair and Wonwoo's arm, pulling them closer. "Yes," you manage to say, the word barely above a whisper, but it's all they need.
Jeonghan smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips, before he leans in again, kissing you deeply. Meanwhile, Wonwoo's hands make quick work of the waistband of your pants, sliding them down with agonizing slowness, his fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake.
The bed dips as Jeonghan pushes you gently back, his lips never leaving yours, while Wonwoo's hands and lips continue their exploration. Every touch, every kiss is unhurried, as if they're taking their time memorizing every inch of you.
"You're stunning," Wonwoo murmurs, his voice thick with admiration, as he shifts to press kisses lower, his hands spreading warmth wherever they touch.
Jeonghan's hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, drawing a gasp from your lips. "She's perfect," Jeonghan agrees, his voice soft but filled with awe as he glances at Wonwoo, a rare moment of unity passing between them.
Wonwoo was already eating you out, Jeonghan swallowing every moan coming out from those pretty lips of yours. Wonwoo's tongue entered you and it made you arche your back just a little until Jeonghan puts you in place. You were practically breathless as Jeonghan's lips travel to your neck to leave more marks on you.
Never in your life would you have expected such an outcome like this. But before you could even process anything, Wonwoo was overstimulating you. You squirmed, but Jeonghan made sure to keep you in place.
"W- wait..." You cried out as you squirt for the second time. But Wonwoo doesn't stop. Your head fell on the pillow behind you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you whine and whimper.
They work in tandem, their movements coordinated and seamless, as if they've silently agreed to worship every part of you together. Jeonghan's lips claim yours again, his kiss slow and consuming, while Wonwoo's mouth and hands draw moans from you, the tension in the room thick and electric.
When Wonwoo finally pulls away from your soaked cunt, he puts his fingers in before you can even have any time to catch your breath. Jeonghan pulls away and watches the younger mess you up and do all the work. With your swollen lips, messy hair, and having Wonwoo mess you up was quite the sight for him. He wouldn't imagine anyone else do you like this, but why is he rock hard on seeing you in a state like this. 
Wonwoo wasn't very different from Jeonghan, you looked too hot and pretty being all vulnerable for them like this. It makes him want to give the whole world to you. 
You pant as Wonwoo's fingers enter you in and out fast, Jeonghan smirks beside you, holding your hands and watching your every reaction. It didn't matter if you looked pathetic being watched, it was this moment that had you distracted from everything.
Wonwoo was first to have his dick inside of your cunt, with your back facing him, whimpering as he humps himself into you. You were arched down on the bed, Jeonghan's thumb grazed your lips as you opened your mouth for him. He slowly shoves his cock in you until it reached your throat, almost making you gag, but with Wonwoo's hard thrusts behind you, your moans vibrated on Jeonghan's cock, making him grunt to the feeling. 
"Shit... She's fucking... Tight.." Wonwoo grunts as he feels your pussy clench around his cock. Jeonghan has his hand through your soft flocks, guiding your head, having you bob over him. 
"Are you gonna cum?" Jeonghan manages to let out. Wonwoo huffed, muttered a messy 'yes' as he blows a one final thrust before cumming, painting your walls beautifully with his hot load mixing with yours. 
Jeonghan follows right after, cumming into your mouth. You swallowed everything before falling down onto the bed, covering yourself up with the blanket nearby. Jeonghan holds his hand out to your head, brushing your hair with his fingers while Wonwoo grabbed a wet towel nearby. 
The older tugged at the blanket you were holding but you were holding onto it too tight as if your life had depended on it. "Oh come on, princess, come out, we'll just clean you up."
Wonwoo smiled before sitting at your side. "Are you alright, Y/N?" It's his tone that made you want to be eaten by the bed right then and there.
You shifted, catching your breath before replying a stubborn "I'll clean myself."
Jeonghan sighs softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, his touch featherlight as he watches you bury your face in the pillow. "Alright, princess, take your time," he murmurs, his tone gentle, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the room moments ago. He doesn't push you, instead shifting to sit beside you while Wonwoo presses a damp towel against your shoulder, the warmth grounding you.
The silence between the three of you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with hesitation. Wonwoo leans down, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers, "We'll take care of you. You don't have to do anything else."
His words, so quiet and sincere, stir something deep inside you. Slowly, you loosen your grip on the blanket, letting it slip down as Jeonghan and Wonwoo exchange soft smiles. They aren't in a hurry—there's no rush to shatter the fragile, vulnerable intimacy that lingers in the room.
Jeonghan is the first to move, his hands gently guiding you to sit up. He wraps the blanket loosely around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth before leaning in to press his lips to your forehead. "You're beautiful like this," he whispers, his eyes soft and tender as they meet yours.
Wonwoo nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving your face. "We'll make this night unforgettable for you," he promises, his voice steady and full of conviction.
They take their time, helping you clean up and settle against the pillows before climbing into bed on either side of you. Jeonghan props himself up on one elbow, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm, while Wonwoo presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder, his warmth seeping into you.
"I think we broke her," Jeonghan teases lightly, his voice tinged with humor as he nudges you gently. The corners of his mouth curve into a smirk, but his eyes remain soft, a quiet adoration evident in his expression.
You manage a small laugh, the sound easing the tension in your chest. "You think?" you reply, your voice hoarse but laced with a teasing edge.
Wonwoo chuckles, his fingers finding yours and lacing them together. "Maybe we should slow down," he says, his tone warm and full of affection.
But Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath against your cheek. "Not unless she tells us to," he murmurs, his lips brushing over the corner of your mouth in a ghost of a kiss.
You take a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest, but not in a suffocating way. It's grounding, like they're anchoring you to them. You nod slowly, meeting their eyes. "I don't want this to end," you admit, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them.
Wonwoo smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It won't," he promises softly.
Jeonghan presses a kiss to your temple, his voice a low murmur against your skin. "Then let us show you just how much you mean to us."
The night unfolds in a blur of soft whispers and lingering touches, their movements unhurried, as if they're memorizing every detail of this moment. There's no rush, no urgency—only the quiet, steady rhythm of shared breaths and the warmth of their bodies pressed against yours.
They take turns holding you, their touches soothing and reverent, as if you're something precious, too delicate to be rushed. Jeonghan's lips trace over your collarbone, his hands warm against your skin, while Wonwoo's fingers weave through your hair, his voice low and steady as he murmurs sweet nothings that make your heart ache in the best way.
Hours pass, but it doesn't feel like enough. By the time exhaustion pulls at you, your body relaxed and your mind hazy, you're nestled between them, their arms wrapped protectively around you. Jeonghan presses a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "Sleep, princess," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room.
Wonwoo's hand rests over yours, his thumb brushing idly against your skin. "We're not going anywhere," he promises, his voice a soothing balm that eases you into sleep.
As you drift off, cocooned in their warmth, you realize that something has shifted—not just between them, but within you. There's no going back, but in this moment, you're not sure you'd want to.
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The faint sound of keyboard clicks filled the cozy apartment, punctuated by the occasional hum of the game loading screen. You sat cross-legged on the couch, cradling a mug of tea as you watched Wonwoo focus intently on his monitor. His glasses rested low on his nose, and his hoodie sleeves were slightly pushed up, revealing the veins in his arms.
“Are you almost done?” you asked, your voice soft but impatient.
Wonwoo smirked without looking back. “Five minutes. I’m almost at the save point.”
You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the cushions. “You’ve been ‘almost done’ for the last twenty minutes. If you’d told me this was going to turn into a date with your PC, I’d have stayed home.”
That earned a laugh from him, low and warm. “You are home,” he countered. “And besides, I remember someone saying they like watching me play.”
“I said I like playing with you,” you shot back. “Not being the third wheel to your Overwatch teammates.”
His head turned, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your stomach flip. “You know I can’t stream you. You’re too competitive. They’d think I was getting bullied live.”
You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it mid-air, laughing as he finally shut his game down. Wonwoo stretched, his movements unhurried as he made his way to the couch. He slouched beside you, his head resting on your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You want to play?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
“No,” you replied, setting your mug down. “I want your undivided attention, gamer boy.”
“Undivided, huh?” He chuckled and shifted, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. “You’re demanding tonight.”
“I get you for six hours tops,” you teased, though there was no bite in your tone. “I have to make the most of it before Jeonghan steals me away again tomorrow.”
Wonwoo’s smile softened at the mention of Jeonghan, but there was no jealousy in his eyes—just a quiet understanding. “That’s fair,” he murmured. “But for now, I’m not letting you go.”
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The next morning, Jeonghan was already dressed and sipping his coffee when you arrived at his office. He glanced up from his phone, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.
“You’re late,” he said, setting the phone down.
“I’m on time,” you corrected, placing the takeout bag on his desk. “And I brought breakfast, so maybe don’t start the day with complaints.”
Jeonghan opened the bag, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the pastries. “Fancy. Did Wonwoo pick these out?”
You sighed, crossing your arms. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s his favorite bakery,” Jeonghan replied with a shrug, biting into the croissant. “He’s got good taste. I can’t fault him for that.”
The playful edge in his tone made you squint at him. “What? No snarky comment about me spending the night there?”
“Why would I?” He leaned back in his chair, a casual air about him. “I got you all day. I’m not greedy.”
You raised a skeptical brow. “Not greedy? You called me three times yesterday to ‘check in.’”
Jeonghan’s grin widened, unrepentant. “What can I say? I miss you when you’re gone.” He reached across the desk, his fingers brushing yours. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
Later that evening, as you headed home, you were caught off guard by Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s playful conversation in the group chat.
Jeonghan: She didn’t text me back last night, so I assume you hogged her attention? Wonwoo: You got her all day. Don’t be greedy, hyung. Jeonghan: Touché. But I did buy her coffee yesterday. So, you owe me. Wonwoo: I’ll send you my leftover ramen.
You couldn’t help but laugh as you read their messages. Despite their differences, there was an unspoken balance between the three of you—a connection that somehow worked without tipping into chaos
The hum of Jeonghan’s suitcase wheels rolling across the marble floor broke the silence in the apartment. He paused at the doorway, turning back to you with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” he asked, adjusting the cuff of his blazer with meticulous care. His tone was calm, almost nonchalant, but the faint crease between his brows betrayed his unease.
You crossed the room to him, your hands deftly straightening his tie. “I’ll be fine, Jeonghan. It’s just a couple of days. Plus, Wonwoo’s around, so I won’t be lonely.”
Jeonghan chuckled softly, though his gaze lingered on yours. “I’m not worried about that,” he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of you before the distance set in. “I just hate leaving when things are good.”
“You act like you’re gone for months.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but the look in his eyes made your chest tighten.
“Sometimes a few days is enough to miss what matters,” he replied softly. His words hung in the air, laced with meaning.
Your smile faltered for a moment before you pressed a kiss to his cheek, grounding the moment. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on your meetings, and I’ll focus on making sure Wonwoo doesn’t eat ramen every night.”
Jeonghan huffed a laugh, the crease in his brow finally easing. “Good luck with that. He’s stubborn.” He rolled his suitcase toward the door but stopped one last time, turning to face you.
“I’ll make it up to you when I’m back,” he promised, his voice quieter now, like he was speaking to himself as much as to you.
“Deal,” you said, watching as the door clicked shut behind him.
The apartment felt emptier in the silence that followed, the faint scent of Jeonghan’s cologne lingering in the air. You exhaled, pressing your palm to the closed door as a bittersweet ache settled in your chest. It wasn’t unusual for Jeonghan to leave, but the gaps he left behind always felt bigger than you expected.
The sound of your phone buzzing snapped you out of your thoughts. You grabbed it off the counter, smiling when Wonwoo’s name flashed on the screen.
Wonwoo: What time should I come over? You: now. i could use some company Wonwoo: On my way. Bring snacks? You: Obviously.
Half an hour later, you were curled up on the couch, a bag of chips balanced precariously between you and Wonwoo as he flipped through movie options on the TV.
“So,” he said, settling on an action flick, “Jeonghan’s off to be CEO of the year again?”
You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “It’s just a couple of days.”
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t like being away from you. Not that I blame him.”
The casual way he said it sent a flutter through your chest, but you rolled your eyes to play it off. “You’re not going to get all sentimental on me, are you?”
Wonwoo smirked, reaching over to steal a chip. “Not my style.”
For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the movie filling the room. But as the night wore on, you found yourself leaning into Wonwoo’s shoulder, his warmth seeping into you like a quiet reassurance.
“You know,” he said after a while, his voice low, “he’s lucky I’m not the jealous type.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, your lips quirking into a smile. “And why’s that?”
Wonwoo glanced down at you, his dark eyes holding a glimmer of something unreadable. “Because sharing isn’t easy. But I think it’s worth it—for you.”
Your breath hitched for a second, and you quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. Wonwoo didn’t push the moment, though. He simply adjusted the blanket over your legs and went back to watching the movie, leaving you to sit with the weight of his words.
A few nights later, the soft click of keys echoed through Wonwoo’s small office. He was seated at his desk, his brows furrowed in concentration, the faint glow of his monitor illuminating his sharp features. The sight of him, so absorbed in his work, was oddly comforting—and yet you couldn’t help but feel the distance it created.
Leaning against the doorway, you crossed your arms with a playful smirk. “You know, I could’ve gone home if you were going to work all night.”
Wonwoo didn’t look up right away, his fingers still typing as he replied. “And let Jeonghan win? Not a chance.”
You laughed, stepping into the room. “It’s not a competition, Wonwoo.”
Finally, he glanced up, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Maybe not for you. But he gets you all day, and now I’m stuck with deadlines. Feels like the universe is playing favorites.”
Shaking your head, you placed a steaming cup of coffee next to his keyboard. “You’ll survive,” you teased, leaning down to press a light kiss to his forehead. “But since you’re so busy, maybe I should let Jeonghan take the next night shift.”
Wonwoo groaned, his hands darting out to grab your waist before you could escape. “Not so fast,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with mischief. In one fluid motion, he pulled you onto his lap, his arms locking firmly around you.
“Wonwoo!” you gasped, startled, but a laugh bubbled out as you found yourself face-to-face with him.
His dark eyes glimmered with amusement as he tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. “If I’m losing time to work, at least let me make the most of the time I do get.”
The warmth in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands instinctively rested on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.
“And yet, you’re still here,” he countered, his voice softening as his fingers traced gentle circles against your lower back.
Your cheeks warmed under his attention, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your nose against his before capturing his lips in a tender kiss.
The first touch was light, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened as his hands tightened their hold on you. He kissed you like he’d been waiting all night for this moment—slow, deliberate, and unyielding.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, earning a quiet hum of approval from him. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet hum of his computer and the warmth of his embrace.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were slightly breathless. Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on you, his lips quirking into that familiar, shy smile that always made your heart flutter.
“Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
You rested your forehead against his, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “I was planning to,” you murmured, a playful grin tugging at the corner of your lips.
“Good,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Because Jeonghan’s already winning too much.”
You laughed softly, settling into his embrace as his arms wrapped around you securely. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” he teased, the exhaustion in his expression melting away as he held you close.
For the rest of the night, neither of you mentioned work, deadlines, or Jeonghan. Instead, you stayed curled up together, savoring the quiet moments that belonged only to the two of you.
The following night, Jeonghan returned from a late meeting, his steps heavy with exhaustion. As he entered the dimly lit apartment, the sight of you curled up on the couch instantly melted away the day’s stress. A soft blanket was pulled around your shoulders, your head resting against the cushions as the faint glow of the TV flickered across your peaceful face.
For a moment, Jeonghan simply stood in the doorway, his tie slightly loosened and his briefcase still in hand. His gaze softened as he took in the scene, his lips curving into the faintest smile.
Quietly, he set his briefcase down and slipped off his jacket, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. He walked toward you, his footsteps light, and knelt beside you. Reaching out, his fingers brushed against your cheek, feather-light, as if afraid to wake you.
“You didn’t have to wait up,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with affection.
Your eyes fluttered open at his touch, and a sleepy smile graced your lips. “You work too much,” you murmured, your voice groggy yet teasing. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the couch.
Jeonghan sighed as he sat down beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, his scent familiar and grounding. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “It’s not forever,” he promised in a quiet murmur. “Just a busy week. But I’m glad you’re here. It makes coming home… easier.”
You nestled closer against his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Wonwoo said the same thing last night,” you muttered sleepily, your words muffled against him.
Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he gently ran his fingers through your hair. “That guy gets you all night and still complains about deadlines.”
“He doesn’t complain,” you countered with a small laugh, your hand sliding across his chest to playfully nudge him. “He just… misses me.”
Jeonghan’s arms tightened around you slightly, his voice dropping to a low, tender murmur. “So do I.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing against your skin as he added, “But seeing you happy makes it worth it. Even if it means sharing.”
You tilted your head up, your nose brushing his cheek as you gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”
“Sweet?” Jeonghan echoed, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Don’t tell Wonwoo that. He already thinks I’m too soft.”
You laughed softly, your fingers reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. “I like you soft,” you murmured, leaning in to press your lips against his.
The kiss was gentle at first, slow and unhurried, but it quickly deepened as Jeonghan’s hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. His other hand rested on your waist, his touch firm yet tender. He kissed you as if he were pouring all the words he couldn’t say into the moment—his longing, his gratitude, and the way you made him feel complete even after the longest of days.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing softly, your foreheads resting against each other. Jeonghan’s hand slid down to intertwine with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“Stay like this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
You smiled, your fingers squeezing his hand lightly. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
Jeonghan sighed in contentment, pulling the blanket around the both of you as he leaned back against the couch. With you in his arms, the weight of the day seemed to disappear, replaced by the quiet, undeniable joy of having you by his side.
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Despite their contrasting schedules, both Jeonghan and Wonwoo seemed to adapt effortlessly to the arrangement. When Jeonghan’s workload picked up, he would send short but thoughtful texts throughout the day to remind you he was thinking of you.
Jeonghan (text): Boardroom’s a nightmare. I hope Wonwoo’s treating you right tonight. You (reply): he ordered pizza and fell asleep halfway through the movie. typical. Jeonghan: Figures. Save the fun stuff for me when I’m back.
On the other hand, when Wonwoo was busy with work or projects, he had his own ways of showing affection. Whether it was a handwritten note on the fridge saying, “Missed you today. Eat something before your stream.” or a curated playlist of cozy tracks for your downtime, he always found a way to make you smile.
Sometimes, he’d include you in his streams—just not as Kitsunya. Instead, you’d appear off-camera or only partially revealed, sparking curiosity among his fans.
Wonwoo (on stream): “So… I have a guest tonight. She’s helping me test out this co-op game. Don’t judge her skills too harshly.” Chat: OMG IS THAT HER??? IS THAT KITSUNYA? You (off-camera, laughing): “Don’t hype me up. I’m just here to lose gracefully.” Chat: She sounds adorable! SHOW HER FACE PLS!!! Wonwoo (grinning): “Relax, guys. She’s shy. And she’s definitely not Kitsunya. Nope. Not at all.”
The stream would continue with playful banter between the two of you, while the chat exploded with speculation. You’d intentionally play poorly at the game just to hear Wonwoo’s deadpan remarks.
You: “Did I just fall into the same trap again?” Wonwoo: “Twice, actually. Impressive consistency.” You: “I’m just giving the monsters a chance.” Chat: THE CHEMISTRY OMG
Little did his fans know, the so-called “guest” was indeed Kitsunya. But neither of you confirmed it, leaving the internet buzzing with theories and fan edits of your clipped voice interactions.
And when both Jeonghan and Wonwoo were free? Those moments felt like a rare treat. Jeonghan would whisk you away for a rooftop dinner under the stars, taking his time to make you feel like the center of his world. Meanwhile, Wonwoo would spend an entire night curled up with you, teaching you how to play his favorite game—and stealing kisses whenever you "accidentally" paused.
In one particularly heart-fluttering moment, Wonwoo pulled you onto his lap mid-stream after you jokingly complained about how bad you were at his game.
You (laughing): “I give up. I’m hopeless. Just leave me here to fail in peace.” Wonwoo (pulling you closer): “Hopeless? Never. Just distracted.” His voice softened, meant only for your ears, as he pressed a kiss to your temple.
His viewers, of course, went wild.
Chat: DID HE JUST—??? WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Wonwoo (smirking at the camera): “Alright, enough distractions for tonight. Back to the game.”
Later, when the stream ended, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, his kisses slower and deeper as he murmured against your lips, “You’re my favorite player, no matter how bad you think you are.”
Jeonghan, ever the charmer, never seemed to mind the nights you spent with Wonwoo. He’d tease about it during the day when he wasn’t buried in meetings or reviewing contracts.
Jeonghan (texting): He didn’t hog you all night, did he? You need beauty sleep for our rooftop plans tomorrow. You: define “hog.” we mightve shared pizza and stayed up too late gaming Jeonghan: Tsk. I’ll forgive you this time. But only because you’re cute.
The balance wasn’t always perfect, but the unspoken understanding between the three of you made it work. For Jeonghan and Wonwoo, seeing you happy—whether laughing during a rooftop dinner or snuggled up during a co-op game—was worth every compromise.
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While Jeonghan’s schedule often kept him busy, he made up for it with the most thoughtful and deliberate gestures. To him, every moment with you was an opportunity to make you feel cherished, whether it was during work or on your precious dates together.
When Jeonghan had a free afternoon, he would whisk you away from the office for lunch, insisting on a charming café tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. He always pulled out your chair, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he leaned down to murmur, “Don’t tell anyone, but this is the highlight of my day.”
After a few bites, his foot would nudge yours playfully under the table, and his eyes would soften as he watched you sip your drink.
“You’ve got something here,” he’d say with a teasing smile, pointing to the corner of his lips. Before you could react, he’d reach over to gently swipe his thumb along your bottom lip, his touch featherlight. “Got it,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a tone that sent shivers down your spine.
Jeonghan was also a master of quiet intimacy. On days when the office workload wasn’t too demanding, he’d make excuses to linger near your desk. “I just need to review this,” he’d claim, pulling up a chair beside you. But the truth was, he simply liked being close to you, sneaking glances at your face when you were focused.
Sometimes, when no one was around, he’d lean in and press a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re too pretty to be working this hard,” he’d tease, brushing your hair back with a fond smile.
When Jeonghan planned a date, it was always an event. He’d show up to your place dressed impeccably, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and press a kiss to your cheek as he handed them to you.
“For the prettiest girl I know,” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes brimming with adoration.
That evening, he’d take you to a rooftop restaurant, the city lights twinkling below as soft music played in the background. Jeonghan’s attention was wholly on you, his phone tucked away, as he leaned forward on his elbows, his gaze never leaving your face.
“Tell me everything about your day,” he’d urge, his voice warm and inviting. And when you spoke, he’d listen intently, his smile growing with every word.
At some point during dinner, he’d reach across the table to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You know,” he’d begin, his voice taking on a teasing lilt, “I think I’m a little jealous of Wonwoo.”
You blinked, surprised. “Why?”
“He gets to keep you all to himself at night,” Jeonghan murmured, his smile softening. “Meanwhile, I have to share you with the rest of the world during the day. Not very fair, is it?”
But there was no bitterness in his tone—only gentle affection and a touch of playful possessiveness.
Every now and then, when Jeonghan wasn’t swamped with meetings or traveling for work, he’d invite you over to his place for a quiet evening. Those nights felt like a bubble of warmth and safety, just the two of you curled up on the couch.
Jeonghan would insist on cooking dinner, even though his skills were… questionable at best.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked, peeking into the kitchen.
He turned to you with a wooden spoon in hand, a smudge of sauce on his cheek. “Absolutely not. You sit there and look pretty. This is my time to shine.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, but when dinner was finally ready, it turned out to be surprisingly delicious. Jeonghan smirked as you took a bite, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Told you I’m full of surprises.”
After dinner, he pulled you onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around both of you as he scrolled through movie options. But halfway through the film, he turned to you, his hand gently cradling your face.
“I’m not watching a single second of this,” he admitted, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “You’re too distracting.”
Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a kiss so sweet and lingering it made your heart race. He pulled you closer, his hands tangling in your hair as he whispered between kisses, “You’re my favorite part of every day, you know that?”
Later, when you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, Jeonghan pressed his lips to the top of your head.
“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice soft and drowsy. “I’ll make us breakfast in the morning… or attempt to, at least.”
Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him until you were nestled comfortably against his chest. His hands found your waist, gently guiding you to straddle his lap.
“You look so perfect like this,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. His eyes were soft as they roamed your face, lingering on your lips. “I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or just stare at you forever.”
Your cheeks flushed, and before you could respond, Jeonghan leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours. It started sweet and slow, his hands resting gently on your waist, grounding you in the moment. But as you kissed him back, his grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer.
His fingers trailed up your back, leaving a warmth in their wake, until one hand found its way to your hair. He tilted your head just enough to deepen the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate tenderness that made your heart race.
When you pulled back slightly to catch your breath, Jeonghan’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttering open. His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “You make me forget about everything else—meetings, work, the world. It’s just you.”
You couldn’t help but smile, cupping his face in your hands. “Good,” you teased, running your thumb along his jawline. “You deserve a break from being Yoon Jeonghan, the ever-busy CEO.”
Jeonghan chuckled softly, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rest against your lower back, his touch warm and soothing. “And you deserve all my attention,” he murmured, kissing you again, this time with a little more urgency.
His lips moved against yours like he was savoring every second, his hands exploring your back in soft, languid strokes. When you shifted in his lap, you felt him smile against your mouth.
“Careful,” he teased, his voice playful but laced with something deeper. “You’re making it hard to focus on being a gentleman right now.”
You laughed softly, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. “When have you ever been a gentleman?”
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I’m always a gentleman.” But the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I’ll prove it,” he said, lifting you effortlessly as he stood up.
“Jeonghan!” you squealed, clinging to his shoulders.
He carried you to the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed before crawling in beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he pressed a kiss to your temple.
“You know I’m completely whipped for you, right?” he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.
You smiled, burying your face in his chest. “I might have noticed.”
Jeonghan chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as you both settled into the comfort of each other’s presence. The kisses continued, each one sweet and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world.
And in that moment, with Jeonghan’s arms around you and his lips brushing against yours, it felt like you truly did.
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of something… burning. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and followed the noise coming from the kitchen.
Jeonghan stood at the stove, wearing an apron over his pajama pants, waving a dish towel at a slightly charred pancake.
“I told you I’d make breakfast,” he said sheepishly when he noticed you. “I didn’t say it would be edible.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, walking over to wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
Jeonghan turned in your arms, his smile as bright as the morning sun. “And you’re lucky I’m hopelessly in love with you,” he replied, stealing a quick kiss before you could roll your eyes at him.
Jeonghan leaned casually against the kitchen counter, phone in hand as he scrolled through his contacts. You were perched on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, flipping through a magazine, completely unaware of his plan.
“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan said with a smirk as the call connected, “what are you doing tonight?”
On the other end, Wonwoo’s voice was as calm and steady as ever. “Nothing much. Just reading. Why?”
“Come over,” Jeonghan said smoothly, glancing at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve got someone here who’s been missing you.”
You looked up at him, furrowing your brows. “Who are you calling?”
Jeonghan gave you an innocent smile. “Oh, just someone who deserves to see you as much as I do.”
The knock on the door was soft, almost hesitant. Jeonghan opened it to reveal Wonwoo standing there, his usual calm demeanor masking the slight confusion on his face.
“You didn’t tell me she was here,” Wonwoo said, stepping inside and slipping off his coat.
Jeonghan smirked. “I thought I’d surprise you. Go on, she’s in the living room.”
When Wonwoo walked in, you froze for a second before your face lit up. “Wonwoo!” you said, scrambling off the couch to greet him.
He opened his arms just in time for you to crash into his chest, laughing softly as he wrapped you in a warm hug. “I missed you too,” he murmured, resting his chin on your head.
Jeonghan watched from the doorway, arms crossed and a fond smile on his lips. “Alright, don’t hog her all to yourself,” he teased, walking over to join you both.
Wonwoo chuckled, reluctantly letting you go. “I didn’t realize this was a group cuddle invitation.”
“Always is,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, pulling you back into his arms as he sat on the couch. “Now sit. We’re having a cozy night, and you’re not getting out of it.”
Oh my gosh, the perfect conclusion! Let’s make it as heart-melting as possible—soft, cozy, and full of love. 🥹 Here’s how it unfolds:
The three of you ended up tangled together on the couch, a big fluffy blanket draped over all of you. Jeonghan was leaning against the armrest with you curled up against his side, while Wonwoo sat at the other end, your legs draped over his lap.
The room was filled with quiet laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Jeonghan playfully poked at Wonwoo’s serious expression, and Wonwoo fired back with dry humor that made you giggle uncontrollably.
“Why do I feel like I’m the third wheel here?” Wonwoo teased, glancing at you and Jeonghan.
“Third wheel? Please,” Jeonghan said, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. “We’re a perfectly balanced triangle.”
Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but his lips curved into a small smile. “If you say so, hyung.”
You looked between the two of them, your heart swelling with warmth. “I think it’s perfect,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of all the love you felt for them both.
Wonwoo’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently take your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Yeah, it is.”
Jeonghan leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “Couldn’t agree more.”
At some point during the night, the teasing subsided, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Wonwoo’s hand rested on your ankle as Jeonghan’s arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, both of them relaxed and at ease.
You tilted your head up to look at Jeonghan, who met your gaze with a soft smile before leaning down to kiss you gently. The kiss was slow and tender, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.
When you pulled away, you turned to Wonwoo, who was watching with a quiet intensity. He reached for you, his fingers brushing your jaw as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips were warm and firm, his touch grounding you as your heart fluttered.
Jeonghan chuckled softly when you broke the kiss. “Alright, don’t get too carried away,” he said, though there was no jealousy in his tone—just a playful fondness.
You laughed, resting your head on Jeonghan’s chest as you reached out to take Wonwoo’s hand again. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you two,” you said quietly.
“Actually,” Wonwoo said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “we’re the lucky ones.”
Jeonghan hummed in agreement, his lips pressing against your hair. “Yeah. You’re the best thing that ever happened to us.”
And with that, the three of you stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the love you shared filling every corner of the room.
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a/n: wtf !!! lol writing this, my heart actually melted. lmao this took me months to finish and i guess i can say im just overly proud of myself for reaching the conclusion. honestly, i didnt know what and how to make them all end up together (since that's what the majority wants) but i've actually done it and i've never been prouder. maybe i'm going to make a bonus chapter if you guys like it. what makes you happy makes me happy as well :].
taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896
@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere
@lovrchl @codeinebelle @httpnamu-u @httpnamjoonie94 @6nadia9
@jjonghaniee @ateez-atiny380 @squishysquishjimin @jeonghaniya @thelost-soul
@foulcolorclodoaf-blog @133456789000000000000 @sunshinewonu @forsoonie @fyvubub
@soleihea @seuncheolcherrybaby @sigxx123 @hjs953012 @caratochan
@smileflawerr @indianmiss @kunfused0101 @jades-archive @i69flora
@whore-anghae @fyvubub @bemysolaces @09yyeol @kaepjjangiya
@fairyhyunggu @hophophlop @itsjustmeagurlthatsveryinlove @kddddddddddddd @wonsivq
@readingcucumber @yueqai @yangtyunhannie @butterflydemons
@yoongznme @cookiearmy
thankyou for sticking with me 'til the end. iloveyouguyss :)) <3
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blackmissfrizzle · 2 days ago
Text
Dracarys
Pairings: Dragon Shifter!Terry Richmond x black!reader
Summary: The reader just wants to be a dragon rider for a bit and Terry is not up for it.
Warnings: None really. This might be the most PG thing I've written. Its fluff and right now the reader and Terry are not in a relationship, just friends.
A/N: This is part of a series of one-shots, rather than a linear series. Some fics will be multiple parts and some will not. This one might have a part 2.
Check out my old ass work here -> My Masterlist
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“No, absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I respect myself.”
“I respect you too.”
“Not if you’re asking me to do that.”
“Don’t you love me? Your bestest friend in the whole wide world.”
“Bestest is not a word.”
Terry Richmond was absolutely infuriating. First, he wouldn’t let you ride him and scream dracarys and now he’s correcting your grammar. This is what you get for being friends with an old ass dragon shifter. Where was the YN dragons at?
“Shut the fuck up, Terry.” You stomped behind him, not catching the little smirk that graced his face.
“Oooh, such unladylike language. You know what your mama would do if she caught you cussing like that.”
“Good thing, my mama ain’t here!” How did you, the kinda silly, bend a couple of rules kind of girl end with the strait-laced, strict boy best friend? Probably had to do with him being a couple of centuries old. He must’ve been really lonely. Now he was never getting rid of you.
It took a slow jog for you to catch up to him and smack him behind his head. Terry whipped his head towards you and instead of those stormy green eyes you were met by black slits. “That stopped scaring me months ago. Try something new.” You waved him off, unaffected by his reptilian eyes.
Terry grunted and kept walking. “Why is this so important to you?”
“Because it would be cool, and I can be like Danerys or Rhaynera. But the black version of them.”
The only change in his face was a slightly raised eyebrow. If you didn’t know Terry well, you wouldn’t be able to decipher his expression. Right now, this was, ‘I’m gonna correct her ass’ face. “Isn’t there a couple of black Targaryrens in the show?”
You jumped up and down in his face. “I knew you liked watching House of the Dragon! Yeah, they’re from Corlys’ line.”
“The old dread head that never listens to  his snow bunny?”
“THE QUEEN THAT NEVER WAS! RIP to a real one. Nigga, you really do be paying attention.” You were tickled pink. Every Sunday night when you drugged Terry to watch HOTD, the man always acted like he had something better to do.
A minute quirk of his mouth let you know he was amused and not really annoyed with you. “It’s one of the more accurate depictions of dragons, Personality wise at least.” The reactions and commentary of Seasmoke toying with that knight was the best. Terry did have to agree that dragons and cats has similar temperament to a degree,
“I thought of you more like Smaug, greedy and grumpy.”
The low rumble let you know to get your knees to your chest or duck. More than on one occasion, Terry blew fire in your direction. He literally lit a fire under your ass. “Okay, maybe not Smaug. Maybe more like Toothless.” You couldn’t help yourself and egged him on.
“A cartoon dragon?!” He roared.
A huge grin appeared as you ducked under the stream of fire. Haha! A reaction, finally!
“Now, I’m never letting you ride me.” He crossed his arms, making his muscles just *pop*.  God, dragon God, whatever higher power really took their time with this man. What a shame he wasn’t interested. The man or dragon was searching for his mate and that was not you.
“Your loss, big boy.” You patted his chest. “I could’ve rocked your world!” You whined your hips to the music in your head.
A charge of heart and maybe head (lower head), made Terry give in. “Fine,” He sighed, shifting into his dragon. The North Carolian mountains provided the perfect cover. He could cruise the sky without being detected. Also, if needed he possessed the ability to become invisible. A gift from helping a witch long ago.
Giggles and a huge smile consumed you. “I knew you couldn’t tell me no. Now don’t be going fast or trying to throw me off. I know how you like to play too much.” You kissed a scale on his neck.
Of course, he couldn’t tell you no. You were his mate after all and he would do anything to make you happy, even if he felt like a fool.
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acknowledge-reigns · 3 days ago
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Learning To Fly | Roman Reigns x Black Reader | SMUT! 18+
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Not my gif
Based on this anon someone sent to @lov3rla03
Special thanks to @reignseclipse for helping me come up with the title and @acute-crashout-jeyuso for suggesting I fulfil the request!
My masterlist can be found here.
18! MDNI
Warnings: Teasing, Dom/sub, Degradation, Choking, Brat Taming, Bratting, Dirty talk, P in V, Manhandling, honorifics, rough sex,
Roman sat in his chair, his eyes fixed on Y/N as she walked into the room. She was wearing a short, tight dress that clung to her curves in all the right places. It was clear that she was trying to get a reaction out of him, and it was working.
He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he fought to maintain his composure. The sight of her in that dress was driving him wild, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
"Damn, Uce. I'ma need the link to that dress so I can order one for Naomi." Jimmy spoke up. The jaws of the entirety of the bloodline locker room were on the ground in honesty.
Roman shot Jimmy a warning look, his eyes flashing with annoyance. He didn't appreciate the other man commenting on Y/N's appearance, especially in front of the entire locker room, even if it was his cousin. He was lucky Roman didn't have the energy to pick a fight. Jey looked relieved to see Jimmy wasn't going to be on the receiving end of too much of the tribal chief's wrath.
Y/N smiled at the attention, knowing exactly what she was doing to Roman. She swayed her hips as she walked, giving him a full view of her curves as she moved closer to him.
Y/N stopped in front of Roman, her eyes locking with his. She could see the fire in his gaze, the desire and possessiveness that was barely contained. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered. "Hello, daddy."
Roman's breath hitched at her words, a low growl escaping his throat. He couldn't resist reaching out to grab her hips, pulling her down onto his lap so that she was straddling him.
Roman's eyes never left Y/N as he addressed the room. "Everyone out. Now."
The locker room quickly emptied, the door closing behind the last person. Now it was just Roman and Y/N, alone together.
Roman's hands slid up her thighs, his fingers tracing the edges of her dress. He could feel her warmth through the thin material, his touch becoming more possessive with each passing moment.
Roman's hands move quickly, pulling off his own clothes before moving to hers. He's impatient, his desire for her too strong to wait any longer. The dress is practically ripped off her body, and he throws it to the side without a second thought.
As he pulls her dress off, he realizes that she isn't wearing any underwear. He groans at the realization, his eyes darkening with lust.
"You little fucking slut" he says.
He chuckles, wrapping a hand around her throat.
"Were you hoping for this, babygirl? Hoping to tease me until I snapped and fucked your bratty ass senseless?"
She lets out a small whimper, her body arching against his. She knows exactly what she's doing to him, and she loves every second of it.
He tightens his grip on her throat, his other hand sliding down to cup her ass. He squeezes her firmly, pulling her closer to him so that their bodies are pressed together.
He leans in, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks in a low, commanding tone.
"You wanted to drive me crazy, didn't you? Wanted to make me lose control and take you right here, right now."
Roman lifts her up effortlessly, his muscles flexing as he holds her in the air, his body pressing against hers as he enters her with a single thrust.
He growls in pleasure, his grip on her tightening as he begins to move. He pounds into her with a relentless pace, his desire for her overpowering any semblance of control he had left.
Y/N clings to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he drives into her. Her head falls back, a series of gasps and moans escaping her lips as he hits all the right spots inside her.
Roman's breathing becomes ragged, his muscles straining as he continues to hold her up and thrust into her. He can feel his release building, the pleasure almost unbearable.
As he nears his peak, Roman's dirty talk becomes more intense, his words filled with a mixture of dominance and degradation.
"That's right, babygirl. You're nothing but a filthy little slut, aren't you? Yeah.. you wanted to get manhandled by your tribal chief.. See how easy it is for me to turn you into a needy fucking mess?" Roman says.
She whimpers in response, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure consumes her. Her body trembles in his grip, her muscles clenching around him as she gets closer to her own release.
Roman can feel her tightening around him, and he knows she's close. He speeds up his pace, determined to make her come before he does.
"Go ahead, babygirl. Cum for your tribal chief, now."
His command sends her over the edge, her body convulsing in his arms as she reaches her climax. Her nails dig into his shoulders even harder, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as she screams his name.
Roman follows her over the edge a moment later, his own release spilling inside her. He holds her tight as he comes, his grip on her almost possessive as he rides out the waves of pleasure.
As the aftershocks subside, Roman slowly lowers her to the ground, his arms still holding her up as he catches his breath.
"Fuck, babygirl... You're going to be the death of me."
He leans down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. He pulls her close, their bodies still pressed together as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers.
She melts into the kiss, her body molding against his as she responds with equal fervor. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she lets out a soft moan against his lips.
Roman carries her to the showers, his arms still strong and steady despite their recent exertions. He steps into the stall, turning on the water and letting the warm spray cascade over their bodies.
He stands under the showerhead, holding her close as the water washes away the sweat and other fluids from their bodies. He lets the water flow over them, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his as they both bask in the afterglow of their intense encounter.
As they stand under the shower, she leans against him, her head resting on his chest. She sighs contentedly, her body feeling relaxed and satisfied after their passionate encounter.
"That was... amazing." She murmurs, her voice slightly hoarse from all the moaning and screaming.
Roman chuckles, his arms wrapping around her waist as he holds her close. He places a gentle kiss on the top of her head, a soft smile on his face.
"Yeah, it was." He agrees, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're always amazing, babygirl."
She looks up at him, a small smirk playing on her lips.
"You know, you're not so bad yourself, my tribal chief." She teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Roman grins at her, his hands sliding down to her hips as he pulls her closer. He leans down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispers in a low, husky voice.
"Careful, babygirl. Keep teasing me and I might just have to take you again right here, right now."
She shivers at his words, her body responding to his threat with a renewed wave of desire. She looks up at him, her eyes darkening with lust as she speaks in a soft, sultry tone.
"Is that a promise, Daddy?"
Roman's eyes darken with desire as he hears her call him 'Daddy'. He growls low in his throat, his grip on her hips tightening as he pulls her flush against him.
"Oh, babygirl, you're damn right it is."
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echo-riot · 1 day ago
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Power with a hint of passion Passion
|| Ambessa Medarda x reader ||
The grand chambers of Ambessa Medarda’s estate radiated opulence. A roaring fireplace cast a golden glow across the room, dancing over polished wood and deep red velvet. You stood near the window, gazing out at the distant city lights of Piltover, but your attention was stolen by the presence behind you.
Ambessa entered, her commanding stride filling the space. She was dressed in her usual armor, though the chest plate was unfastened, revealing the sculpted curves of her collarbone and a hint of her cleavage. Her sharp golden eyes raked over you, assessing, as if you were both her conquest and her prize.
“I thought I told you to wait for me,” she said, her voice deep and smooth, tinged with amusement. She placed her gauntlets on a nearby table with a deliberate clang, each motion intentional.
“I didn’t realize I needed permission to admire the view,” you replied, your voice steady, though her presence always made your heart race.
Ambessa smirked, the corner of her lips curling upward. “Careful, darling. I don’t tolerate insubordination.” She closed the distance between you, her towering frame casting a shadow as her fingers brushed your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze.
Her touch was deceptively gentle, but the power behind it was undeniable. “You challenge me in ways no one else dares,” she murmured, her voice low, almost a growl. “It’s infuriating. And intoxicating.”
Her other hand rested on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothes. The heat of her palm seeped into your skin, igniting a spark of anticipation.
“You should know by now,” she continued, leaning in until her breath ghosted over your ear, “I always get what I want.”
You shivered, caught between the urge to defy her and the desire to give in completely. Ambessa chuckled softly, clearly savoring your reaction. She was in no rush—control was her domain, and she wielded it effortlessly.
When she finally kissed you, it was anything but tender. Her lips claimed yours with a fervor that left no room for doubt. Her hands moved with precision, one sliding to the small of your back to pull you closer, the other brushing over your jaw to keep you exactly where she wanted you.
As the kiss deepened, you felt the cool press of her armor against your chest, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from her body. It was a reminder of her duality—both warrior and lover, steel and fire.
When she finally pulled away, her eyes were alight with triumph. “Let me make one thing clear,” she said, her voice a husky whisper as her thumb brushed over your lower lip. “You’re mine. Always.”
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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 days ago
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Okay but wouldn't it be hilarious if Callie went to intern!Lena about being gay. Like "sooooooo.... how did you know you liked girls? Like. In a gay way."
And Lena kinda looks at her with a cocked eyebrow, clearly bemused. "I wanted to make my girlfriend come so hard she saw stars. Never had a single shred of desire to do the same for a man."
Lena snaps the chart in her hands shut, and turns more fully towards Callie. "I don't suppose this has anything to do with Dr Hahn?"
"What?!" Callie exclaims, scoffing dramatically. "No. Why would you think that?"
"Oh please," Lena drawls. "You two have been flirting around each other for months."
"What-- no we haven't! Wait... two? You mean... Erica's gay?"
Lena rolls her eyes.
"How do you know?"
"Support group," Lena drawls laconically.
Callie blinks. "You all have a support group?"
"Oh, yeah," Lena croons, "we meet every full moon for a monthly orgy."
Callie flushes. "I didn't mean..."
"I know what you meant," Lena says, softening a little. She steps a little bit closer, lowering her voice. "Look. You two like each other. As friends, at the very least. That's a good place to start. Just... tell her how you feel, and see if she wants to try things out."
Uncertainty steals over Callie at the thought. "But..."
Lena tilts her head. "But what? What's the worst that could happen?"
"She thinks I'm insane. Or a creep trying to take advantage of our friendship--"
"Don't do that," Lena says sharply. "Don't do Hahn the disservice of assuming that will be her default reaction. You know her better than that. She knows *you* better than that."
Callie looks at her. "You think?"
"Would you be attracted to her if you didn't?"
Finally, Callie's anxiety eases. She sighs, and some of the tension bleeds away. "No."
"Give yourselves both the benefit of being honest," Lena says, taking a step back. She shrugs. "Who knows... you might just find some happiness at the end of the rainbow."
Callie watches Lena depart, and catches the way Lexie joins her with a bump of the shoulder. When they turn the next corner, Callie spots Erica in the corridor beyond, talking to Bailey.
The nerves return swiftly, only to spike even further when Hahn's gaze lifts and meets Callie's. The smile Callie offers is thin and hesitant, but Erica's answering grin of acknowledgement is bright.
When Bailey takes her leave, Erica makes her way to Callie. "Joe's tonight?" she asks.
Callie almost declines, but the echo of Lena's rarely soft voice changes her mind at the last second. "Sure."
"Want me to see if Sloan wants to join?"
"No," Callie blurts sharply. "No. There's, uh.... There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about, later. After shift."
Erica nods. "Okay. I look forward to it. See you then."
And then she moves on, leaving Callie feeling like a deer in the headlights. What the hell is she doing? But then she sees Lena and Lexie in her minds eye, and where before she had seen something cute, adorable like watching two kids marry on the playground, she sees something she suddenly wants for herself.
There's only one question that niggles at Callie as the day descends into evening, and the chaos of the OR turns into a raucous evening at Joe's. While waiting for Erica, Callie flags Lena's attention on her way to the bar.
"So, did you?" Callie asks.
Lena shoots her a wry glance. "Did I what?"
"Make her see stars?"
It takes a moment for the reference to click, and when it does Lena's lips twist into the smuggest of smirks.
"Every single time."
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mochimochimona · 2 hours ago
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Rewatching Arcane Only For Viktor and Jayce, analyzing for storytelling purposes as an artist* -S1 EP:4 or Viktors staring is sus
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I loved that scene, where Jayce firstly implies Viktor to keep sitting so he doesn't need to crawl up and also for taking the blame completly.
A little disclaimer here because it might be confusing why I am doing this analyzis (?)...sss english is not my native language sorry - so I am an artist and Arcane is a huge inspiration for me and I wondered what the animators did to imply Jayce and Viktor being really close to each other, even having feelings for each other. And I do get the impression Viktor always had feelings for Jayce because he acts different in a lot of interactions with him. Body language is also an implication, so I will take a closer look on that as well. So I am going through scenes of them together and asking myself what makes me think they wanted to imply something more than lab partners, what makes me think that and HOW I would have done it differently to AVOID that. Also I want to know if I misinterpreted Jayce's behavior and read too much into it. So, here we go. It's actually part #3 already, I will put a post on tumblr with all of my guesses later. If you wanna share your thoughts, please do so!
Knowing what will happen and how sick Viktor gets, seeing it (really, seeing it because I can pay attention) and Jayce not noticing because he is so caught up in playing political figure hurts. Really hurts. And also I am sure now that Mel used Jayce most of the time to get what she wants (not in an evil way, honestly, she does take a liking to him later one, but I will say not as much as we get the feeling Jayce and Viktor care for each other) and she makes advances to Jayce, using his insecurity and jearning for acknoledgment.
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I mean how can Jayce not tell that Viktor is immensly sick? I mean those two were working their asses of in the lab I get that, but I think it started right then and there that Jayce lost their dream, really, and the fact that Viktor is his best buddie (or whatever) and it got worse after he holds the speech.
And Viktor is clearly more devastated, which might even shocked Jayce too, than Jayce was, I mean the reaction:
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Jayce really was surprised Viktor was so desperate. Viktor knew he was gonna die sooner or later so I think he thought with studying hextech he might find a cure for himself in the process. He didn't touch him, though, so Viktor wasn't shy, just shocked.
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This scene made me laugh and choke, I have flashbacks of Jayce being in the Future but instead of seeing Mel and Viktor through the fire, we see him. Interesting choice to make the appearance of Jayce like that. Is that...is that foreshadowing again???? This makes my brain hurt.
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Why am I doing this to myself again?
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LOOK HOW HE LOOKS. WHY IS NO ONE ADRESSING THIS. Why am I doing this to myself, SEND HELP? Viktor was confidently asking "where have you been, they asked me to do the speech (or whatever)" but when Jayce touched him, said they were partners, he got a bit shy and even stuttered a bit. Okay so IF you are fine with your homie....anyway, the next thing:
"Not in front of" - there is a pause, his look:
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"...all of them" and then THE STARE. Why would you do that? I am an artist myself and when it comes to visual storytelling, I am always asking myself what I want to tell people with frames and panels (if you make comics), so I am really wondering from a storytelling point of view: what did they wanted to make a point about? Apart from highlighting Viktor in this situation, to imply that he isn't comfortable in speaking to others okay. But his pause. Looking at Jayce...?
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Because clearly Viktor is staring. Honestly, if they didn't want to make it read as longing, or something similiar/else, you would have took a different shot after he told "not for all of them", because if you did that, you wouldn't imply that he would have done it maybe in front of everyone, but not with Jayce staying there because it made him nervous being in front of him. ALSO really important thing I noticed here: when he interacts with Jayce in close proximity and out of context of research, he gets shy but he usually is a confident person.
And again, you could have approached Viktor not wanting to perform in front of a huge audience differently, if your only goal was to make that clear. Ya know, him being touched by Jayce on the shoulder, saying "You are my partner" and keeping a wide shot, making him gesticulate that he isn't comfortable, "in front of all those people" (he would do it in front of Jayce though). DOES ANYONE GETS WHAT I MEAN?
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Still staring, or paying a lot of close attention to your lab partner.
And then he says "you - pause", AGAIN WITH THE CLOSE SHOT. I HOPE for the love of god that some people from the Studio will be at the Art Department in Berlin because I really want to ask about this. And I hope I won't get spooked so I ask lol. Because that's really what is interesting about this.
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And then comes a really interesting thing, I guess. Sky approaches and she looks at Viktor. A short, acknowledging look from Viktor and he gets back to Jayce. So I was wondering why they made the shot like that again and showing she has interest in Viktor, but Viktor is just respectful.
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And right back to Jayce but the next shot is a perfect masterpiece, I laughed so hard.
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Replacing Vikor with the mug, where Jayces "Man of Progress" can be seen is, again, peak foreshadowing and storytelling. Again, you could have showed it differently, but every scene has a message and wants to convey something, so this is an important shot. Man, these guys from Fortiche are madmen. Stopping here or the post will get too long.
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