#i need to make a separate tumblr for my angst

[earthtooz]

second chance romance with sae. write it.

x : WITH(OUT) :*+ﾟ

in which: after a messy breakup with sae, you find yourself waking up next to him two weeks later, this time just more in love.

warnings: 1.8k words, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, SFW, gn!reader, tooth-rotting fluff with quite a bit of angst, a lot of metaphors here and there i apologise if they don't make sense get on my brainwave (nicely), ooc!sae perhaps uhh lol, bad writing, reblogs appreciated!!

a/n: lets see if tumblr community labels this post... sigh. rip first version u were a champ. this is my official claim to become tumblr's sfw itoshi brothers (separate) writer. i've made progress with rin, it's time to show some (reluctant) love to sae!! i literally only wrote this bc @limitlesshq and i had an agreement.

you wake up due to the rustling beside you, the movement rousing you from your slumber as the world becomes ever so clearer with each millisecond, the drowsy haze wearing off you as you take in your surroundings.

there’s a white ceiling overhead, the mattress beneath you feels like a cloud, and you can’t remember when your sheets turned a shade of gray. no- scratch that, you can’t remember when your mattress became this soft. 

hold on.

this wasn’t your room and the mop of magenta hair lying atop your chest is an indicator of such.

you’re in bed with a soccer star who just so happens to be the ex you messily broke up with two weeks ago. he’s wrapped around you like nothing had ever happened; as if you two were still in love and devoted to one another and hadn’t shouted at each other to the point that your throats were sore for a days afterwards. 

you needed to get out of here which was something easier said than done. especially when you had itoshi sae lying on top of you, wrapping you in a vice grip as he sunk further and further into your warmth, chest methodically rising up and down. you want to slap him for being so peaceful in this very moment. that should be you but instead, you’re panicking and trying to avoid another messy scene with your ex. 

the fact that said-ex was itoshi sae too… goodness what have you gotten yourself into. you should get out of here before it’s too late.

slowly, you begin to shuffle away, trying to pull yourself away from sae’s grasp. 

you��re halfway out when you hear the magenta-haired whine quietly, the sound causing you to turn your head and look at him. it’s to your horror that you’re greeted by a pair of hazy, turquoise eyes, still groggily waking up as sae tries to adjust to his bearings. he blinks a few times, waking up a little more with each flutter.

“where are you going?” he asks, voice hoarse from unuse. his arm tightens ever so slightly around you, pulling you back towards him and completely ruining your efforts.

you’re stunned, unsure of how to respond as sae tucks himself into your chest, breathing you in.

you hate the way you feel your heart lurch in your chest, rapidly beating with the urge to be as close as possible to him. this feels like a life you once knew, especially when his fingers start running up and down your spine, nimbly finding their way under your shirt. 

“sae,” you breathe out and his ministrations stop, diverting all of his attention upon you. “i have to go.”

he groans his protest, shaking his head. “why?”

“i just have to.”

“no.”

“what?”

“stay.”

“what?”

“did you not hear me? i said stay.”

just to prove his point a little more, he puts even more of his weight on you, tangling his legs with yours as if rooting you to his mattress. ever so demanding, he is.

the breakup was disastrous and entirely hurtful, wrecking you from the inside out when you woke up the next morning registering the previous night. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so heartbroken and it hurt even more with every trace of sae that remained in your apartment. looking back, perhaps it was a little naive to believe that he was the one for you, that he was your endgame and not simply another lesson to heal from. all that time spent in a relationship, crumbled thanks to an argument that lasted for three hours and ended with a decisive slam of his door. 

yet just when you thought you were making process on the journey away from him, sae finds a way to pull you back in.

“i can’t stay,” you whisper, voice already a little shaky.

the magenta-haired looks up at you, apathetic eyes boring into yours. “but why?”

“i just- i just can’t. thank you for letting me stay over but i’m going to go home now-”

fingers thread through yours and sae’s hand pulls yours closer towards him. a pair of warm lips press themself to your skin and linger there as if burning and branding you- all of you, as his. 

he then kisses each of your fingers delicately and softly. “don’t go,” he mutters between pecks.

you feel a little breathless. like he’s punched your gut with every piece of gentle affection he plants, twisting the knife he had stabbed in your chest two weeks ago deeper and deeper, reopening the raw wound of hurt and pain with unmatched love.

you need to leave before anything else can happen, before you begin breaking down in front of him. 

quickly shuffling away from the athlete, you abruptly pull your hand out of his, throwing the covers off of you. however quick you may have been though, sae is undeniably faster, his hands crossing the distance to pull you back. his strength forces you to sit down once more and you bounce a little from the soft impact. he drapes himself around you again, chin resting on your shoulder. 

“let me go,” you plead, putting your hands over his wrists as if trying to pry them off but you feel too much for sae to truly try and resist him. his spell, no matter how hard you try to fight back, is just as potent. 

you fear that you may never be immune to his poison. 

he begins trailing kisses along your skin, uncharacteristically affectionate. “i can’t,” he begins, voice wavering uncharacteristically, traces of heartbreak evident in his tone. this display of emotion shocks you endlessly and you stop fighting against him, freezing when you feel his breath shudder against your skin.

your heart is thumping heavily, causing your chest to clench.

"stop messing around, we-"

"i'm not messing around just stay," he hushes gently, "please."

you feel the world stop for a second. sae? pleading? he knew how to do that? the prospect of sae beseeching for anything was incredibly unfamiliar and the fact that his voice cracked merely proves how entirely unfamiliar the word was in his vocabulary. 

the love you feel for him will choke you before heartache does. unbeknownst to you, a tear begins sliding down your cheek and you don’t feel it until it’s halfway down.

“hey, hey, hey,” the magenta-haired mumbles, catching the tear with his thumb. “don’t cry.” 

he sounds so tender and doting it hurts. there’s so much love in the way he’s holding you, pressing himself closer to you with each minute as if he hates the idea of being too far away from you, as if he was trying to make sure that you were still the same love of his life from before he hurt you tremendously, as if he was committing you to memory before he does lose you forever.

but he doesn’t want that. he wants to stay with you. sae doesn’t think he can handle another day without you, that’s why he’s so stubborn to keep you here; to put you under his spell again so that you could feel an ounce of the love he has stored for you. so that this love has somewhere to go before it inevitably ruins him, punishing him for being so stupid. 

“i’m sorry,” whispers sae hurriedly. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry pretty, don’t cry.”

glancing away from him, you wipe away any remaining tears, inhaling deeply as to try and collect yourself with whatever willpower you had left.

"i need to leave," you murmur, not entirely meaning it.

"no you don't," he answers, entirely meaning it. "just stay until breakfast or something."

wordlessly, you fall back in his grasp, leaning into the athlete when you feel rapid beating against your arm. that’s when you realise that it wasn’t your racing heart… it was his. 

giving in to his desires, you tuck your legs back up on the bed and he manoeuvres you, practically cradling you whilst you find solace in his neck with your arms wrapped around his torso. here, you feel whole again. 

you’ve lived life with sae and without sae and you now know well enough to prefer the former. something tells you he feels the same too. 

“are you going to stay for breakfast?” he asks after a few minutes of simply soaking up the other’s presence. glancing up at him, his expression remains beautifully neutral, illuminated perfectly by the bright morning light that seeps through his windows. he’s radiant, gorgeous as ever. 

you hum against his skin. “i’m not too sure. i was going to leave before breakfast.”

“let’s go back to sleep then. i’m not hungry anymore.”

amused by his request, you agree nonetheless and sae is able to move the both of you around to the same positions you had woken up in with you on your back and him on top of you. the soccer player then pulls you closer and throws his leg over your hips- something he does to keep you in your spot so you won’t slip away from him again.

you won’t. you don’t want to leave and live a life without him. 

“are we back together?” you hesitantly ask. the question floats into the tranquil air, afraid to break whatever quiet, ecstatic haze you were both in but you need to know.

“will you take me back?” the soccer player counters, surprisingly shy and unsure, so unlike the arrogant sae you’re used to. he’s putting all the cards on your table despite knowing what he wants because although he wants to be with you for eternity and a little longer after that, it’s up to you to decide whether or not he deserves such a paradise.

sae can only hope you’re merciful. 

“i want to. i miss ‘us’, i miss you.” 

he immediately feels a heavy weight lift itself off and the exhale the magenta-haired lets out communicates his magnitude of relief. fate has saved him today. 

“good.” is all he says as your hands rise to the nape of his neck, playing with the hair there. “be here when i wake up.”

“so demanding,” you joke with a smile, “but okay.” 

as sae dozes off once more, you take the time to scan around his room once more whilst trying to lull yourself into dreamland as well. 

his decor had always been rather plain and it didn’t change until you started dating. remnants of you have been lingering around his place and you’re surprised he didn’t get rid of them the night you left out of rage. a little nanodroid that you gave him of a character from an anime you both like sits on his shelf, there’s that little fake plant on his desk, and there are still photos of you two on his dresser. 

he used to only have one pillow and the only reason he bought more was so you could sleep over comfortably. you don’t think too hard about the lingering smell of sae’s shampoo on the pillows that you had previously claimed as ‘yours’.

shifting a little so that you were comfortable, you gaze up at sae’s ceilings once more. a gentle smile makes its way to your face before you doze off peacefully knowing that two hearts have found their way back home. 

#tumblr will di3 by my blade. #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock

[highvern]

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives. 

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?” 

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.” 

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary. 

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand 

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :) 

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s. 

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.” 

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically. 

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?” 

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time. 

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.” 

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?” 

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.” 

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?” 

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again. 

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect. 

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company. 

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.” 

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them. 

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter. 

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television. 

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body. 

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation. 

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again. 

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel. 

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between.. 

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm. 

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure. 

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in. 

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it. 

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge. 

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your  underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again. 

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover. 

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered. 

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough. 

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence. 

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine. 

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut. 

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts  into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing. 

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight. 

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing. 

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day. 

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door. 

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live. 

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat. 

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior  drowsiness transforms into irritation. 

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

 It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man. 

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.” 

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.” 

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra. 

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head. 

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came. 

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair. 

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago. 

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway. 

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet. 

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently. 

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.” 

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes. 

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy. 

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch. 

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up. 

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you. 

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.” 

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath. 

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones. 

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back. 

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt. 

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want. 

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place. 

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action. 

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start. 

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate. 

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls. 

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?” 

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples. 

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue. 

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own. 

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half. 

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper. 

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance. 

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught. 

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again. 

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you. 

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips. 

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” 

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing. 

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.” 

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy. 

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole. 

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant. 

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care. 

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #🫡 highvern

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (with benefits)

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count : 1,489

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: smut, p0rn with plot, a LOT of plot, angst, name calling (bitch, slut, etc.), p in v, rough x, mentions of safe word (not used), rude/cold!Chris, degration, friend with benefits, awkward, (implied) RichKid!reader, no love (😔), unprotected, creampie, no after care, no use of y/n, no oc

(A/N: this is my first ever fanfic that I’ve posted on tumblr. So ya, I’m shitting bricks. Please give me feat back on my writing, and what I can improve. Also English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Hope you like it!! :D)

PT1 PT2

Ever since I can remember, I’ve known the triplets. The sturniolo’s and my family were always really close. And ever since I can remember, I’ve hated Chris.

Now, enemies was a harsh word. A bit of an exaggeration. It wasn’t like we were at war for opposing countries. We were more like rivals. In every aspect.

Sometimes it felt like the only reason Chris studied for school, was to beat my grade. He wasn’t really stupid, but he was definitely not book smart.

The problem wasn’t that. We’ve always lived normally, simply hating and avoiding each other. After all he was my longtime nemesis.

Until that one fateful night where we’d been at my house. My parents have a big business so they’d frequently be on business trips. And it just so happened that that night my younger siblings were not home, both of them being at their separate sleepovers with friends.

We’d been paired for some project. And naive me thought, that it’d be fine. We could be civil for a few hours. But I thought wrong. The hatred was too strong and the tension was too thick in the air.

Seemingly everything I did made him agitated. And vise versa.

Until he finally snapped and we got into a full fledged argument, wich turned into a yelling match. However it all went quiet when he crashed his lips onto mine.

Breathing heavily I had kissed back, hard. It was easier to battle about with a kiss, rather than screaming. And like hell was I gonna be dominated by Christopher fucking sturniolo.

So the night progressed. He had me, my face buried in the sheets babbling out nonsense and screaming his name. But not in anger like I usually would.

It had been months since that happened, and it still haunted me. The idea that it even happened. That his lips had been on mine, his dick literally inside of me, that I was literally under him, disgusts me to my core. But it didn’t matter. It was one of many times.

Sometimes it was a quickie, sometimes an all nighter. Sometimes Chris was dominant other times he was not. Sometimes it was at my place other times at his.

And it wasn’t like those cliché stories of friends with benefits where one fell in love. This felt more like an urge. Like neither of us wanted to actually hook up but we were irking to. This was better than having a yelling match. And on the rare occasions I was dominant it felt great making him shut up and take it. It felt equivalent to winning an argument. The whole point was to teach a lesson, and express annoyance and anger without directly doing that.

“Chris-“ I let out a sharp cry, even the pillow that my face was buried in didn’t really make the scream sound quieter.

His hips keep drilling into my core hitting all the right spots to make me weak in the knees.

Sex with him, objectively, felt good. In the moment. He knew how to please a woman. But he also knew that he was pushing it right now.

“Don’t fucking tell me to slow down.” He snaps his tone, and words as harsh as his breathing. “You have a safe word. Use it if you need to. And other wise, shut, the fuck, up.”

I only let out a sharp whine when he seems to pick up pace even more. He’s made a mess of me. We’ve been at this for hours. Literally.

I’ve come more times than I can count and Chris wasn’t showing any sign of stoping anytime soon.

My back arches perfectly, but I’ve been in this position for too long for it to be comfortable. Him leaning over my back occasionally leaving harsh slaps on my ass while his other hand stayed firmly im my hair.

His hand being tangled in my hair as he was both pulling it, but also pressing me down into the pillow under me.

I feel the ache in my cunt subside again, as a knot starts to form. I’m close, again, and I don’t know if I can keep going after.

“Chris” I scream his name loudly panting and moaning. “I’m- close” I can barely form a sentence. His thrust are hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs every time.

“Oh ya?” He harshly slaps my ass causing me to moan loudly. “How much more you think this pussy can take?” He huffs his tone ever so cocky.

He always did this. He liked being dominant and absolutely wrecking me as much as he can. And he knows I’m close to breaking, and that’s what makes it worse. I just know he gets a wired satisfaction out of exerting me.. using me, like this.

His hand stays firmly in my hair tugging harder. His other hand trailing from my ass to my clit as he starts to rub on it harshly.

I clench instinctively, my whining and moaning getting even louder. “I’m gonna-“ a harsh slap on my clit catches me off guard.

Chris keeps going. “Fucking slut. You like getting destroyed like this?” he mocks, his tone condescending as his pace doesn’t let up.

“Go on bitch, cum on my cock. Come again.” He urges. And the rubbing of his fingers on my clit and the relentless torture to my cunt is threatening to push me over the edge.

“Can I come in that pussy again?” He asks his voice coming out strained and harsh from the pleasure.

“Yes-“ I’m cut off, again. As i am physically not able to speak with the pace he’s going at.

And the combined pressure of everything pushes me over the edge. Suddenly the knot in my stomach snaps and my body goes limp after loud moans. He goes for a few more thrusts before I feel the familiar hot liquid fill my cunt.

After a minute where we catch our breaths he slowly starts to massage my scalp knowing he’s been pulling on it for at least half an hour straight.

He pulls out not really gently, but not harshly either.

Hook ups with Chris always felt like one night stands, when they were really regular.

I let my body fall limp fully laying on my stomach as I sigh, content in my position, not attempting to move.

I can practically feel Chris watching me.

Normally I wouldn’t be this much of a mess. But than again normally we didn’t go for hours. Normally Chris used a condom. But today was not one of those days.

Sometimes chris had enough common sense to at least pretend to care.

But right now he was just staring.

“You okay?” He asks his tone gentler and more quiet than usual. He knew he was pushing it, but did he really care tho?

I shiver as I feel his hand start to rub over my back. Ever so gently pinching the skin to ease some tension.

“Ya”

My breath is short as I’m still calming down not doing or saying anything else.

After a while I turn around slightly, wincing as I lay on my back. My back hurt from the previous uncomfortable position I was in.

I opened my tired eyes, looking up at him, my eyes meeting his. I knew I probably looked like a wreck right now. My hair a mess because of all the moving and position changes as well as his pulling. My face having dried mascara and tear stains on it from when I’d been crying.

I was too tired to even hide my body. I just turned around not bothering to hide my chest as I did, I was too fucked out to care.

His lips pursed, looking over my face. But he wasn’t concerned. But rather disgusted at the sight. He was glad he made me look like shit, but I could see in his eyes that he would much rather be anywhere else right now.

After sex was the worst for us.

The arguments leading up to it were normal. The sex itself was great. But afterwards…

Usually he’d leave. But today he had gone far. He’s done worse before. But every time he did he felt like he should give me proper after care. But I can see the annoyance radiating off of him, and I just know he does not want to be here.

And as harsh as it sounds, he couldn’t really care less what state he left me in. He’s told me multiple times.

“You can leave.” I mumble sighing. My throat felt horse from all the screaming, crying and moaning, that I’d been doing. I’ll need to get a water soon.

He gives me a simple nod, quickly changing, then going to my bathroom to fix his appearance.

And than he leaves.

The room is quiet. Nothing to be heard, nothing to be said.

Masterlist

A/N: hope you liked it, this was literally my first time writing smut🫣 also I don’t have a taglist yet, so i just added my moots. Tell me if u wanna be added, or removed :D

Taglist : @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns

#sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x y/n #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x you #sturniolo smut #Spotify #smut

[disjointed-art]

Catch my breath part 3 pages 30 & 31

Eddie forgot about El

🌸🌸🌸

I cannot believe we only have 2 updates after this. We only have 4 more pages! What the fuck! I’m kinda loosing it over here don’t mind me already getting excited to make the epilogue because it’s so fucking cute!

Thank god we reached the happy zone, I’ve reached my angst quota for the recent days feeling mentally lost and sad because of my body. Idk I’ve been in a headspace and need some happy right now so thank fuck it’s happy comic time!

Tumblr posts here

And kofi has all the parts in nice separate galleries for free here (tips are appreciated but not required 😘

Cheers to the final countdown of this beautiful chaos being competed! 🌸🌸🌸

#fanart #fanartist #illustration #digital artist #stranger things fanart #steddie #steddie fanart #illustrator #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie hanahaki au #hanahaki #steddie hanahaki comic #stranger things hanahaki au #steddie hanahaki #steanger things #steddie fan comic #steddie fan hanahaki comic #steve hanahaki #hanahaki illness #steddie comic #hanahaki comic #stranger things fan comic #my comic #digital fanart #fan comic

[smileyerim]

lifestyles of the rich and famous

Your coworkers are really tired of hearing you pine over a guy who doesn’t want you, so they decide it’s finally time to do something about it. Thankfully the hot young son of the country club’s owner just walked in the door and sat at your bar.

main pairing: rich boy!johnny suh x bartender!reader

minor pairing: fuckboy!jaehyun x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, slight angst !!MDNI!!

length: 8k

warnings: adults having sex, smoking weed, drinking alcohol, vaping, jaehyun is a lying fuckboy

net tags: @kflixnet @neowritingsnet

if you repost or translate my work i’ll feed you to the metaphorical sharks (aka angry tumblr writers)

You’re a simple girl with simple desires, you like to think. You’re not demanding, nor are your dating requirements long or difficult to meet.

So when the guy you’ve been seeing for a couple of weeks decides that now of all times is the most appropriate time to begin speaking to you with short responses and leave you on read for hours on end, you’re pissed.

So much so that you feel validated enough in your desire to tell him off to your friends/coworkers but they seem to have differing opinions.

“I mean, he’s not your boyfriend Y/N.” Doyoung, always too blunt for his own good, says and it makes a groan escape your chest as you let your head fall onto Yerim’s shoulder in a painful thud.

“Thanks, Doyoung.” You say, speech mumbled against Yerim’s cotton polo uniform.

“You need a rebound. Let this inconsistent and slimy motherfucker go.” Yerim says and you hum in response, still leaning into her shoulder from your position behind her back.

“I don’t want another guy, I want Jaehyun.”

You’re startled into standing up straight by the reverberating banging sound of a hand coming into contact with the metal table separating you two from Doyoung.

“Too bad,” Doyoung says, looking directly into your eyes “He’s not yours so just let it go!”

You stare back with wide eyes and Yerim interjects, turning to lean against the table behind her and face you.

“He’s right, babe. It’s time to let him go. You don’t deserve to be led on like this.” Yerim says with her usual gentle tone of voice and you frown, looking down at the ugly shoes your boss forces you to wear behind the bar.

“You’re right. You’re both right.” You say, turning to give Doyoung your scariest look, “You’re incredibly cruel about it, but you’re right.”

—

Sure, your friends may have been right about your need to leave Jaehyun in the dust and move on to bigger and better things but you’re weak and never claimed not to be.

That’s why you choose to spend the last five minutes of your thirty minute break in the corner of the staff restroom taking and then deleting what feels like fifty Snapchat pictures.

Emerging from the restroom you’re immediately faced with Yerim with her arms crossed across her chest, staring you down in the way that communicates that she knows exactly what you were just getting up to.

“Either you just took the fattest shit of your life, or you were just texting Jaehyun.”

You don’t respond, brushing your shoulder on hers to pass her and clock back in.

—

With your last customer served her jack and coke, you decide it’s finally time to check your phone again. Forty five minutes is enough time for a man to come to his senses, open your Snapchat, and respond with an overly enthusiastic compliment and apology for being so unavailable, right?

Before you can even allow your phone to scan your face, it’s being snatched out of your hand.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim, hand chasing Yerim’s in an unattractive and unsuccessful flail.

“No, you aren’t doing this.” She chastises with one finger pointing at you. She’s somehow slipped your phone to somewhere you can’t spot it with a quick scan of your eyes up and down her now apron-clad body.

“You can have it back after your shift.” She says and you roll your eyes at her, leaning your hip uncomfortably into the short fridge behind the bar.

“Come on Yerim, that’s in three hours. What if he responds and asks me to hangout? That won’t be nearly enough time to get ready and by then he will have made other plans and-“ you ramble your embarrassing train of thought.

“Hush, you’re embarrassing yourself in front of a cute guy.”

You frown, arms crossing your chest as you follow Yerim’s line of sight to a bar stool behind you currently taken by oh- an extremely attractive guy with long brown hair tucked behind his ears. He’s waiting patiently for... well, you.

“Go serve him.” She says once you whip your head back over to face her again.

“Fuck.” You groan, grabbing your sanitizing towel and pretending to wipe down the bar in an act of stubborn defiance to Yerim and procrastination.

You know him, you’d be a fool if you didn’t. He’s what some would call a country club celebrity with how he’s gained recognition for being the best singles tennis player and for his last name being on the front of the building. His family photos are littering the hallways, a particularly precious photo of him as a kid with a half melted ice cream cone is situated on the front door of the child care center.

His father owns the country club, and he is much cuter in person than he is in his old family photos. He doesn’t visit your bar ever, so you’re intrigued to know why he’s here.

“Oh,” Yerim says stepping into your bubble and combing her fingers through your knotted hair, “go fix your hair first.” She says and you roll your eyes, hand blindly grasping at your back pocket in search of your cell phone.

“Here,” she says, handing you her bulky iPhone with some Sanrio phone case, “go in the back.” You roll your eyes again at her mistrust of you before following her orders, quickly rushing into the kitchen and pulling up her front camera to inspect your appearance.

Emerging from the kitchen, you feel a pair of eyes on you immediately and you look right back, making unexpected eye contact with the handsome man who’s been waiting. You flash him your brightest customer service smile before rushing over to stand across from him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he waves you off in dismissal of your apology before smiling at you, “what can I get for you?”

He’s still smiling a very polite smile, his eyes shining with kindness and it makes you weak in the knees. Working at a country club comes with a lot of perks, but those perks were bought with a price. The price being dealing with the type of people that belong to a country club, the rudest and most stuck up wealthy people in your town. You don’t meet people like him so often, genuinely kind people.

“I’ll take a vodka soda with extra lime whenever you find the time.” He smiles at you again and you actually feel your knees buckling at his kindness.

“Premium or well?” You respond out of habit, your brain fogging with his presence. He shoots you an unbelievable look that makes you both laugh. Forgoing an immediate response, you shake your head and scoff at yourself when you grab a glass to pour ice into.

“Top shelf, duh, sorry again.” You apologize as you press the sparkling water button on your soda gun.

“Stop apologizing so much!” He says and you look up from his drink to catch his kind eyes staring back at you in a way that makes you want to blush.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You say, now in front of him situating the lime wedge on the side of his glass.

He takes a sip before responding. “I just know how understaffed you are.”

You lean an elbow up on the bar, “I didn’t know it was that obvious.” Your cheeks flare up with another blush.

“It isn’t!” He clarifies, hand coming down to grab at your forearm in reassurance. You ignore sparks that shoot from his contact with your skin.

“I just-“ He says, removing his hand to play with the branded cocktail napkin under his glass, “sometimes they actually put me to work around here and I know how small your staff is.”

You hum, pensive frown on your face as you look around. You are short staffed.

“So what work do they make you do?” You tease, not really wanting this conversation to end.

“Dad tries to put my accounting degree to work by making me do our books every once in a while, but more recently he’s got me planning for the new garden. As if I would know anything about landscaping.”

You laugh at his charming joke, taking a moment just to steal a quick once over his appearance. He’s wearing a blue polo with some brands insignia stitched onto the breast pocket, a watch you’re assuming is very expensive from a luxury brand on his right wrist, and a tennis racket cover placed on the barstool next to him. He’s handsome, of course, with his kind eyes and long brown hair tucked behind his surprisingly pierced ears.

“Well I’ve been a bartender since college. So I wish I could be of more assistance, but I can’t offer any help.” You quip with a sigh and he smiles back.

“You have your degree, huh? What’re you doing here?” You find it charming that he’s actually engaging you in conversation.

“All I said was that I was in college, not that I finished.” You say, slight embarrassment lacing your voice.

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t finish.” He says and you shoot him a look urging him on to explain further.

He smirks at your offense before continuing, “We wouldn’t have met if you didn’t work here, and I don’t know about you, but I’m quite enjoying your company.”

A blush creeps it’s way up your neck, a coy expression on your face as your head drops down to stare at the sanitization bucket behind the bar.

“Gotta go, I have a tennis lesson in fifteen.” He says, standing and taking another sip of his drink.

“See you around.” He says with a final look and you nod, waving him off.

No more than 30 seconds after you watch his tall figure leave the restaurant, you see him slowly jogging back towards the bar.

“What’s your name?” He says, wrist resting on the back of the barstool opposite of you.

With a grin you tell him your name and he replies with a warm smile.

“I’m Johnny.”

“Nice to meet you, Johnny.” Your voice light with affection.

He nods at you, reaching into his wallet and digging out a five dollar bill, throwing it on the bar and ignoring your shouts of protest as he leaves the restaurant for the final time.

Later that evening when you check your phone after Yerim slides it at you from across the bar, you notice that Jaehyun still hasn’t opened your photo.

Surprisingly, though, you don’t care nearly as much as you expected to; with the thoughts of a very tall and handsome tennis player in the back of your mind.

—

Johnny comes by a lot more often after your first interaction, and you’re just a little too aware to pretend like you don’t know what for. He comes in, same bashful smile on his face as always, sits down, waits patiently for your attention, spends at least an hour or two chatting with you, and then leaving a five dollar bill on the bar.

Today’s no different, except that it’s been 98 hours since Jaehyun last spoke to you and you’re feeling antsy for attention.

“Johnny, hi!” You chirp out, leaping up out of your stool to walk over to the same section of the bar he always sits at.

“Someone’s a happy girl.” He snickers as he sits down.

“Yes she is, how did you know?” You tease, teeth sinking into your top lip.

“So what’s the good news? What’s got you so happy?” He says, smile painting his face. He thinks you’re cute.

“My favorite customer walked in.” You say, cheeky smile on your face as you look dead into his eyes from beneath your eyelashes.

He pretends to be touched, as his hand flies up to press against his chest in an overly dramatic way that makes you laugh and drop your flirty act.

“I have a proposal for you.” He leans in, eyes sparkling.

“What is it?” You blush.

“Let’s go swimming tonight!” He whisper shouts.

You tilt your head in confusion when you look up at him, “the pool closed at 4.”

“Not when you fucking own the pool, Y/N!” He leans in, eyes anticipating.

He’s so cute this way, and it feels really nice to be wanted when you’ve been getting ignored so obviously by the man you think you want.

It’s a no brainer.

“Let’s go!” You say after rolling your eyes and Johnny stands up on the foot bar of the stool, hands up in the air in victory.

You giggle as you swat a dry towel at his now exposed lower torso to encourage him to sit back down. Once he’s sat, he clears his throat and looks around with wide eyes in fake suspicion, and it just makes you laugh harder. For a moment your eyes meet as you two laugh, and it forces the butterflies in your belly to awaken and flutter in their cage.

He seems to have felt the moment shift too, as his smile falters for a second before going back to his wide grin.

“I’ll be back when you’re done.” Johnny says, grabbing his drink, tossing a five dollar bill on the bar, winking, and then quickly exiting the bar.

Two hours later, the bar is absolutely dead with zero customers in sight. You still have ten minutes to go of your shift, yet you’ve already completed all of your closing duties, just sitting by and waiting.

“Damn, what did you do to everyone?” The familiar voice shouts from the entrance of the bar and you smile. Finally, you think.

“You’re early, I still have a couple minutes to go.” You pout as he approaches the bar.

“Seriously? But nobody’s here. Let’s just go.” He draws out the ‘o’ sound, leaning his tall body over the bar to get in your face.

“Johnny, I’m not breaking two staff rules tonight.” You wave him off and he lets out a humph sound as he sits.

A mischievous smile then moves over his face as he opens a wallet, and hands you a twenty dollar bill.

You grab it between your pointer and middle finger and eye him suspiciously, “What’s this for?”

He smiles even wider, he’d wanted you to ask. “I wanna buy my favorite bartender a drink on the last ten minutes of her shift. Is that okay?”

You smile, waltzing over to the cash register and opening a tab. If Johnny wants you to enjoy your evening, who are you to stop him from making that happen?

Forty minutes and two more drinks downed, the two of you are finally tip toeing down the cobblestone path to the pool deck.

Johnny looks over his shoulder at you with a playful glint in his eyes as he hushes you.

“Whatever happened to ‘there is no closing time, I own the place!’?” You chastise, weak fists coming in contact to the back of his shoulder.

“I- oh shit,” he says, arm flying out to stop you in your tracks, but of course you drunkenly stumble right into his arm anyways.

He’s got a focused look on his face, and his chin is tilted up as if he’s listening out for someone. The coast is clear, obviously, when Johnny begins walking now with you two side by side.

“I may have fibbed about the no rules thing.” You roll your eyes at him in the dark. Of course he lied about it, you wouldn’t be here sneaking around after sundown if he wasn’t.

“No fucking shit.” you snap, but quickly dissolve into drunk giggles when he makes an offended face at you. He’s been doing that a lot lately, making you laugh uncontrollably and feel giddy like a little girl with a crush.

“Gimme your jacket.” Johnny says and you frown, immediately shaking your head no. The evening breeze is just a little too cold for your liking.

“Come on, I gotta get the gate open.” He whines, gesturing towards the locked gate in front of you.

With another frown on your drunk face, you shimmy your athletic jacket off your shoulders and hand it to Johnny, who quickly grabs the jacket by the two arm holes creating a makeshift hook. He uses his height to his advantage (and frankly, for your visual enjoyment) to lean over the gate and Macgyver the door to open with one swift pull of the jacket over the stem of the door handle.

The view is great, you must add. His t-shirt has ridden up a bit exposing a small sliver of his midriff and seeing him use his height so smoothly is making you feel weak in the knees. You can’t help it, you’re drunk and a very attractive man is being just so manly in front of your eyes.

When the door pops open, you let out a squeal of excitement and he laughs, pushing the door open for you to step in before him.

“So that tiny fib about no rules really was a big fib, huh?” You tease as you strip off the oversized tee shirt you were using as a coverup.

It takes him a moment to respond, he’s a little distracted by the sight of your body to have heard your teasing remark.

“I— uh, sorry?” He says, bashful smile on his face as he strips out of his own tank top, and approaches you with a flirty smile on his face.

He’s close enough to touch you, but he doesn’t, and that makes your breath catch in your throat. He’s got a look on his face that you don’t recognize, and that bothers you a bit, but you brush it off.

You’re the first to run away and plunge into the deep end of the pool, your ears filling with the roaring sound of your body splitting the previously still water. Before you even have the chance to notice the cool water causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, Johnny’s jumping in after you, sending suffocating waves in your direction.

You squeal again, swatting the water towards him when he resurfaces, and running away towards the shallow end so you can stand on your flat feet.

He follows you, of course he does, and soon enough he’s standing in front of you with his whole upper body exposed above the water. You aren’t sure how you’ve never taken long enough to notice his height before, but it’s definitely on your radar now.

“Hey.” He smiles down at you, droplets of water dripping down from where they had collected on the end of his long dark hair.

“Hi,” you whisper up at him. The tension from before is here again as you stare up at him. Like before, he’s close enough to touch you, and you desperately want to feel his hands on your waist, but he doesn’t. Too afraid of what this would mean, of where you are now and where things may be going.

Fuck, you think, you might like Johnny.

You’re a simple girl with simple emotions and simple responses to those emotions. So what do you do at this realization?

Well, you splash him right in his stupid handsome face, of course.

He retaliates almost immediately by stepping back and splashing you with far more aggression than you did with him.

“Hey, you’re not playing fair!” You scream as you swat blindly at the water, too afraid to open your eyes and get water in them. You’ve already got a mouth full of chlorine from the laughing you’re doing, you don’t want the stinging feeling in your eyes too.

“You started it!” He shouts from the other side of the pool, not letting up, even for a moment, for you to breathe.

“Truce! Truce!” You call out over the noise, stumbling over your own feet below the water, gently floating back until your upper back is resting against the cold and hard concrete edge of the pool.

He begins to laugh when he sees your panicked face, moving in closer to you to tease you up close.

“Man, you fucking destroyed me. How can someone be good at splashing water?” You exclaim, defeated.

A smile is still on his face as he slowly takes a couple extra steps into your space.

“Tennis, baby.” He says, exaggerating his point by mimicking a down swing, hand dipping below the water and splashing up at you again.

You let out a screech, “I called a truce!”

He just chuckles, hands coming up in defense as he steps in closer with a playful look on his face. His eyes dip down to the cleavage exposed by your bikini top, only for a moment, before flicking up to look into your (still panicked) eyes.

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his destination, toes almost touching below the water. His hands come up on either side of you to rest on the edge of the pool, your faces nearly inches apart. If the cold water of the pool hadn’t cooled you off so much, you’d be blushing like crazy. Your heartbeat does pick up again as he looks down at you.

Is he about to kiss you? He looks like he wants to, and you aren’t sure if you’d have the willpower to stop him if he tried.

Jaehyun crosses your mind at that moment. Sure, you aren’t official, but you think you'd like to be. How would he feel knowing you’re having a late night crime date with the wealthy son of your boss?

With the unmistakable look of want that flashes across Johnny’s eyes, you feel yourself begin to crumble. If you had wanted your brain to go back to Jaehyun in this moment you aren’t sure you’d be able to, too entranced under Johnny's spell. How can you still smell his woody cologne even after he got wet? Maybe that’s just his natural scent. The prospect of that being true sparks a fire of desire in your belly.

He’s leaning in now, figuring he had given you enough opportunities to push him off and away from you.

Of course, as if the universe is sending you a message, you hear another voice pierce through and pop the bubble you’ve created with Johnny.

“Hey, what’s going on in there!”

—

You haven’t been able to get last night off your mind, pulling all of your best distraction techniques out.

You tried to speak to Doyoung, but he had told you that your credits for emotional support friend had run out for the month, so that was a bust. You had tried to focus on work, but today was slow with the weekend just around the corner. You had even resorted to scrolling on Instagram, but then an ad for a pool cleaning company had come up, and your brain went straight back to the almost-kiss that you and Johnny nearly shared.

You hadn’t tried one thing though, but you think it would be a pretty shitty method.

Fuck it, you think, Johnny had left you wanting the company of a warm body and you know just the person to text.

Y/N: hey

Y/N: its been a min

You sit anxiously, biting at your freshly done manicure. This was one way to get your mind off of him, overwhelming anxiety and anticipation.

Jaehyun: ik lol sorry. u kno how work gets

Thank God, you think as you type out your next message.

Y/N: can i come over tn? i wanna hang out.

He responds almost immediately. He knew exactly what you were asking him for.

Jaehyun: ya. see u then ;)

Having the plans solidified with Jaehyun doesn’t feel the way you had originally thought they would, a sneaking feeling of guilt coming up over you.

What’s gotten into you? It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten who you’re pursuing.

It’s still Jaehyun, right?

It must be, since he’s the guy who you’ve been going out with for weeks, and have cried endless tears over. Johnny is just a friend. A friend who almost kissed you last night, but ultimately just a friend. You shouldn’t feel guilty for continuing to pursue Jaehyun, he’s the guy you want.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

—

The sky is dark when you finally pull up to parallel park in front of Jaehyun’s house. You’re nervous for some reason, your palms slick against your steering wheel. It’s even more embarrassing that you didn’t have time after work to change, so you’re sitting in your usual white tennis skirt and club branded polo shirt.

You can hear shouts when you first approach the door, the noise startling you so bad you question if going inside is even the right choice. You decide the best call is to just text him that you’ve arrived.

Almost immediately after you hit send, you hear a loud hushing sound and a voice whisper-shout, “Shut the fuck up! Haechan, shut the fuck up. I have someone at the door.” and then a chorus of teasing “ooh”’s from the other voices.

It makes you smile at the boyish charm of Jaehyun caring, and that’s how he finds you when he opens the door. He’s barefoot and wearing grey sweatpants and a white tee shirt with a stretched out neckline from years of wear. His hair is wet, and his eyes are drooping like he had been smoking.

“Hey, babe.” He says and invites you into the now quiet home. You follow him down the dark hallway until you finally see on your left is a living room full of 6 men, all splayed out on different mismatched pieces of furniture, some MMA fight playing on the TV. The stale scent of marijuana lingers in the air, reinforced by the big blue and green water marble design bong on the coffee table.

“We’ll be in my room.” Jaehyun addresses the crowd, and a loud response of ooh’s and laughter get thrown in your direction. Jaehyun pushes you gently towards the hallway to the right of you, and you hear snickering from Jaehyun and more hushed whispers.

“Ignore them, they’re fucking weird.” Jaehyun whispers in your ear from behind. You can’t help but agree, but wonder if he has the self awareness to know that he’s acting just as weird as they are.

His room looks exactly how you expected it to, with a king sized mattress sitting atop a tall box spring on the floor directly adjacent to the door, a dresser across from the bed with some Netflix show quietly playing on the large TV. There’s purple LED lights stuck unevenly to the perimeter of the walls.

From the moment that the door is shut and locked, his hands are low on your hips. Your heartbeat picks up in speed at the contact, turning around to face him.

“Hi.” He says, smug smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you. It’s a gentle peck, and it makes a blush creep up and land on your cheeks. You hope the dim lighting hides your color.

“Hey, it’s been a while huh?” You jab, hands coming up to rest the palms of your hands against his firm pecs. You can feel his heartbeat through your left hand, it’s steady and slow cadence contrasting to your fast and hard heartbeat.

He raises one eyebrow at you, his hand trailing down to grab at your ass, “Come on baby,” he growls out before nudging his way into your neck to press a warm kiss to the space next to your carotid artery. “Don’t be like that. You know I’m busy.”

You melt at the feeling of his tongue poking out and licking a small stripe up your neck, sucking in the skin immediately after.

Confusingly, Johnny crosses your mind, and the idea of him seeing you with a hickey on your neck embarrasses you so bad that you tell Jaehyun not to mark you.

“Boring, but okay.” Is all he says before grabbing you by your hand and leading you to lie down on his bed.

You’re putty in his hands the moment he has you both naked. His skillful hands, mouth, and dick take you down like you’ve never been taken before. You’ve never moaned that loud or experienced such pleasure at the hands of a man. It’s so good, it makes you wonder why you didn’t do this earlier, but then you remember that he’s never invited you over before.

He’s never wanted you here before now. That must mean something, right? That he waited until after you had already gotten to know one another before having sex with you?

That means he likes you and wants to take you seriously, right?

In the afterglow of your orgasm, your head lies uncomfortably on Jaehyun’s bare chest. You make quiet and unfamiliar chit chat with Jaehyun until you’ve both caught your breaths.

Although you just had the best orgasm of your life, the post-nut clarity is hitting you like a bus, his hands feeling too foreign around your body, now suddenly hyper aware of the smeared remains of cum on your back drying down.

“Hey, uh, I hate to be that guy but I have a really early meeting at work tomorrow so,” he says, cold hands tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh,” is all you say, suddenly feeling far too embarrassed of your naked body in front of the man, “do you want me to leave?”

He just frowns and takes a moment to read the look between your eyes before sighing loudly and looking away, his focus now taken by Money Heist playing on the TV near the foot of his bed.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he lies and you can see right through it with the way his arms are slowly letting go of you, and how he won’t look you in the eyes.

“I just have work, baby. You get it right?” He says, and you have no choice but to nod silently, ignoring the deep sting in your chest and the tightness in your throat. It’s odd that although the one thing you want to do is run, him asking you to leave makes it hurt.

You get dressed quickly and awkwardly as he lies on the bed, fishing a vape out from his bedside table drawer and taking a few big hits, eyes staring straight ahead at the TV.

“I’m gonna go now.” You whisper, one hand on the door in a silent beg that he would hurry up and get dressed to walk you to the door.

He looks over at you, charming smile on his face as he sits up and awkwardly crawls across his bed to sit on the edge in front of you, his soft dick on display. You’d find him pathetic if you weren’t under him five minutes ago.

He leans in and places a hard and emotionless kiss to your lips. His kisses now feel nothing like they did earlier today, and you wonder if post-nut clarity could really be this powerful.

“I’ll see you.” He says, eyes scanning your body up and down.

You roll your eyes the moment you’re not facing him, and walk straight out his front door, ignoring the whoops and hollers from his roommates who definitely heard you and Jaehyun.

None of them seem to mind that you’re unaccompanied, or as if they were expecting anything different. Then again, why should they care? Jaehyun never introduced you to them.

When you finally slide into the drivers side of your car, and your cold and wet panties make uncomfortable contact with the inside of your upper left thigh, the sensation alone is enough to make you burst into hot tears.

Later that evening when you’re lying in bed after a long, hot shower and a motivational phone call with Yerim, you send him a text.

Y/N: we shouldn’t see each other anymore.

Read: 2:46AM

—

Johnny finds you the next day crouching behind the bar with your forehead in your hands. You didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night, and you’re feeling hungover after the whirlwind of confusing emotions you’ve felt over the last couple of days.

“Tough shift?” He says, eyes glimmering with amusement as he looks down at you hiding behind the bar.

“The worst.” You say, standing up straight and grabbing a glass to make him his usual drink.

“Wait,” he says, hand grabbing your wrist as you go to pour the soda in the iced glass.

“I have something that might chill you out. Wanna join me when your shift is up?” He says and you smile, reading right through his invitation and nodding with an appreciative smile on your face.

The “thing”, of course, is a perfectly rolled joint. You can’t help yourself but smile at his playful look as he presents it to you as you both sit in the front seat of some random golf cart overlooking the sunset as it falls down over the man-made lake that is central to the entire property.

He sparks it up for you in the way only a gentleman does, laughing at your antics when you pinch your fingers in a silly way to urge him to pass the joint onto you.

After a couple of passes back and forth in silence, only the whooshing sound of the breeze and the occasional tapping sound in the background as golfers across the way tee off, Johnny opens the conversation.

“So, miss Y/N,” you ignore the butterflies that erupt when he says your name in that way, “what made today so difficult?”

Ah, that. Your fuzzy brain thinks. You aren’t quite sure yet if you’re ready to divulge the details of your failed fling to your blooming crush, but you know what they say, intoxicated words are sober thoughts. And he’s right here offering to listen in a way that your friends are too fed up with you to listen to anymore, so you decide to tell him.

“I broke things off with a guy I’ve been seeing for a while.” You decide to keep it short and leave out all the embarrassing details.

“Ah,” he says as he stretches out, his arm coming to rest on the seat back behind you, deciding to let the joint die out. His arm is not around your shoulder, but a part of you really wishes it was.

“He sounds like an idiot.” He says, eyes drooping as he gives you a silly high smile.

You scoff, “He’s not an idiot for not wanting me.” He’s an idiot for other reasons, but you aren’t willing to share that just yet.

Johnny looks away from you and back out to the sunset, “Nah, he really really is. You’re a catch.”

The butterflies in your belly erupt as you swallow, staring at the side of his face with no thoughts of what to say next crossing your mind.

“Thanks.” Is what you finally croak out, reaching for the dead joint sitting on the short dashboard in front of you. When you lean back to light the joint, there’s something blocking your back from hitting the seat.

You look over at Johnny, your shoulders brushing his elbow and forearm from behind you. He smirks and gives you a side eye before snaking his arm up so that it rests across your shoulder. You don’t say anything at the new warmth and weight of his arm on you, so you just smile into the joint as you bring the lighter up to the end.

Johnny clearly isn’t reconciled with your conversation, so he continues with his compliments. He's hoping with everything in him that you pick up on his hints so he doesn’t need to continue to be so bold.

“You deserve a guy that’s gonna stick around.” He says, grabbing the newly lit joint from your fingers.

You scoff once more, scooting over to be a little closer to him on the seat as he takes a long drag, letting the slight spring breeze carry the smoke away out of his lips as he exhales.

“Try just a guy to stick.” You say with a dry chuckle, “we weren’t even official.”

Johnny hums and nods his head in understanding, passing the joint back to you.

“You fuck him?” He asks, and you choke on your hit. Coughing out the smoke in an unattractive spittle.

“What did you say?” You ask, now facing Johnny fully in the seat, staring between his pink and spacey eyes.

“I asked if you had slept with him.” Johnny nods, speaking slower than before. He looks as if this comment is no big deal to him, like this is casual conversation between you two.

Before you even think about it, you feel the flirty words leave your lips, “And if I did?”

His eyebrows raise as he grins at you, suppressing a laugh. He had gotten exactly what he wanted, “Was it good?”

You break eye contact this time, looking over the lake, “Maybe.” You shrug.

“See that explains why a stunning girl like you would stay with a loser like him.”

You say nothing in response, choosing to stare ahead at the golfers across the lake, the oldest gentleman of the pack teeing up his very poor shot.

Johnny takes a pause before speaking an unwelcome comment, “You need a guy that’ll stick around and dick you down.”

You scoff out another laugh, looking at him again with a disbelieving stare.

“Oh yeah? Where would I find that.” You spit the last word with bitterness, head falling to look at the hangnail you had been picking at between passes of the joint.

“Here, actually.” You stare at him in shock before he clarifies further,

“Like... me. I’m offering myself up. Only if you want, I mean.”

It takes you a minute to process what he says before it finally hits you, and it hits you hard.

You’re usually the overthinking type, if that wasn’t obvious enough, but for the first time in your life you decide to finally make an impulsive decision. You owe it to yourself and your vagina, you figure.

When your lips hit his, it takes him a moment to process what you had just done, but soon enough he’s kissing you back with a passion that makes you moan embarrassingly against his lips. He’s a soft, yet passionate kisser, allowing you to show him the ropes before taking the lead and kissing you exactly how he likes.

He’s also a surprisingly dry kisser, choosing to wait longer than you usually would to use his tongue on you. Even after a couple of flirty swipes of your tongue across his bottom lip he doesn’t give in, choosing to show you his softer side first with the slow and meaningful passes of his lips over yours.

It’s like a switch gets flipped when he does finally decide to allow your tongue to enter his mouth. He grabs you instantly by the back of your neck and waist, and pull you closer into him as your tongues dance. You moan, feeling like putty already in his hold. You’re far too overwhelmed by the feeling of the best kiss you’ve ever been given to be even tempted to touch him yet, your hands sitting prettily around his neck, allowing the pressure and the closeness to be decided by him.

His hands fumble a moment before they find your hips, moving gently over your ass to grab a hold of the back of your upper thighs to situate you on his lap. The change in position gives you an opportunity to lean back and steal a look at the man beneath you.

When you had first met Johnny you had initially only recognized his handsomeness and not much else. That’s how it began, attraction and nothing more. Overtime, however, you’ve gotten to actually know more about Johnny than his regular drink order at the bar, and what began as a simple attraction slowly grew into genuine interest. So by being here, in the lap of the man that you’re interested in, aren’t you repeating same old mistakes?

Are you repeating the same mistakes you made with Jaehyun?

“Baby,” Johnny says, reading your expression after you had stared at him for a little too long.

You hum in response, still a bit caught up in your head.

“I’m not just trying to hook up here. Do you know that?” He says, hands leaving your ass to rest gently on your waist. You frown in response, shaking your head ‘no’ to his question.

“I told you before, you need a guy who can dick you down and stick around. I wanna stick around.” He says, an embarrassed smile resting on his pink cheeks.

“What?” You say in response, and he just lets his head fall back against the seat in frustration.

“I like you, okay?” Your jaw drops, “and I also want to fuck you right now. So can we do that?” You laugh in response, fingers threading to hold him by the back of his neck, leaning him slightly into you.

“We can definitely go do that.” You giggle and he quickly smiles, leaning up to press a quick peck to your lips before swiftly (and awkwardly) moving you off of him so he can start up the golf cart and drive you both, as quickly as possible, back to the lobby of the country club.

—

Johnny doesn't give you long to take in the sight of his luxury apartment before his lips are on yours again. He has the same passion from before, but slightly elevated. Like he had worked himself up on the drive over.

When he picks you up, and tosses you lightly down on his plush leather sofa, you notice something. The absence of purple lights. When Johnny later picks you up and carries you to his bedroom, you make another note. A bed with a bed frame and headboard.

When you both reach your peaks of pleasure, you don't feel regretful and dirty, you feel alive. When you step into the granite tiled shower, you don't feel gross, you feel giddy when he joins you. When you fall asleep with your head on his chest, you don't dream of Jaehyun, you see flashes of Johnny.

—

The next morning when Johnny walks you out to your car, kisses you on the forehead, and tells you to text him when you get home, an unmistakable feeling washes over you. 

The overwhelming feeling of something very big, and important beginning. 

Jaehyun’s reaction to finding out about Johnny and Y/N

a/n: sorry there’s no actual smut, I decided at the last minute to drop both sex scenes for the overall plot and flow. if you’d like me to post the sex scenes as one shots lmk and I’ll get on it! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated :)

taglist: @dazzlingsya @oopstoshi @neolovely @hopefulchick @thysrs @oimqrks @lydinews @xiaomeilovespizza @got-sum-badhabits @inbluehour @shiningnono @soonnypeach @onlyrosyjohnny @reader221 @matchahyuck @9763vill @svntdream @johnbananaa-blogg @multifandombtvhh @jeonwonuniverse @justineasian

#kflixnet #neowritingsnet #nct 127 #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #nct fluff #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #Johnny suh #Johnny imagines #Johnny fluff #Johnny smut #Johnny angst #Johnny scenarios #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #autumn writes Johnny #autum writes jaehyun

[myillicitaffair]

One of your girls part two | Carlos Sainz Jr

Summary: after a fateful outcome, Carlos wants to fix what he unintentionally broke.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, angst, alcohol consumption, dirty dancing, small description of throwing up, cheating, mentions of sex, messed up dynamics, slight swearing.

Notes: second part of this fic. i also wanted to say i’m currently taking request, to anyone who might be interested xx.

Credits: the gif used belongs to @neymarhamilton ‘s tumblr account, so all credits belong to them. this part, just like the one before, is inspired by the song “one of your girls” by Troye Sivan.

1.8k

SIX MONTHS AGO:

A chilly night welcomes my friend group as we make our way through a prestigious and crowded restaurant situated in the heart of Madrid.

Being born and raised in Spain´s capital city, the girls now walking into the facilities have been by my side my whole life; faith brought us together our first day of school, just three frightened little kids trying to survive elementary.

I like to believe that we complement each other, even if we hadn´t met all those years ago, life would have found a way to connect us.

A girl’s night out is a rare occurrence between us; always being on the shy side, we very much prefer staying in, drowning ourselves in sweet treats while marathoning our comfort romcoms.

The reason why we´re summoned tonight is quite simple… my very first broken heart.

You see, in an attempt to lighten the mood, my friends brought us to an extremely exclusive eatery, one where we clearly didn´t fit in. The difference was quite notorious, surrounded by leggy models and their handsome companions, I quite frankly begin to wonder why I ever agreed.

With a deep breath, I straighten my back and let the hostess remove my coat. “In for a penny, in for a pound” I think with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.

As we´re carried to our spot, I try and take the essence of the place in. I start noticing its eccentric décor, dim lights brightening the burgundy walls, leather booths scattered all over the classy tile floor.

What makes an ordinary dinner such a big success? Its bizarre modality.

Our table is filled with strangers, completely engulfed in their different conversations. The main reason for my friends to take us to this unconventional location was exactly this; the inexorable need to engage in conversations with foreign people.

The first round of dirty martinis arrives as the last costumers take their places next to me, with a lousy cheer I pour the drink down my throat, feeling its pleasant burning down my body, warming me up, making me forget.

“Easy there tiger”- the man sited by my side chuckles, gesturing towards my empty glass.

I take a moment to wander across his features. Thick eyebrows, big brown eyes, plump lips. Definitely attractive, exactly what I need.

A smile creeps up my face, the wires in my brain getting to work.

I notice an elegantly worn designer shirt hugging his chest, his forearms resting against the wooden surface, his attentive stare trying to read my thoughts.

“And you are?”- I condescendingly tease him.

“Carlos”- his hand travels to mine, embracing me with his warm- “Carlos Sainz.”

The subtle body hair covering his fist tickling my naked skin, igniting a fire deep inside me.

And in that moment, I simply knew there was no getting out, not anybody else as long as he kept staring at me like this, eating me raw with his gaze.

That was the first night I ever came back home with him.

————

FOUR MONTHS AGO:

Carlos is away for the weekend, oceans separating us, palpable distance every time he races through my mind.

I try convincing myself It’s the sex I miss, the obvious physical attraction, the invisible force that pulls us towards the other, the feeling of his warm skin being impossibly closer to mine.

Truth being told, I’m sitting immovable on my bed, nervously waiting for a call.

I can’t help but recall his soft locks intertwined with my fingers, his tongue inching towards my neck, how he never fails to make my blood boil with a simple grin.

My phone brings me out of my daydreams, screaming for attention as a call enters it. His name glistening on the screen, filling me with pure bliss and forcing me to hold my giggles.

Acting like a schoolgirl with a crush while being a full-grown adult… how pathetic!

Two rings go by before i pick up, bitting my bottom lip to keep my voice calm as if I wasn’t desperately clinging to it seconds ago.

“Gorgeous, you got a minute to spare?”- he asks, clear amusement in his tone, abusing the charm he knows he has.

“That depends, Carlos, who’s asking?”

I’m gobsmacked at how composed I sound, nowhere near how I actually feel.

My knuckles turn white from grasping my sheets.

“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you miss me”- his smile visible through his speech.

My heart skips a beat, can his words be revealing my true feelings?

“Oh honey, keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night…”

I’m met with his scandalous laugh filling the line, raising my pulse until it’s beating on my ears.

Everything stops, everything keeps going.

I close my eyes in acknowledgement, being forced to admit what i’ve been denying ever since I met him.

Oh, how screwed I am!

———

TWO MONTHS AGO:

The music rumbles at the disco, throbbing on my skin with its intensity.

Being dragged to a hip party, my friends and I are bundled up in the comfort of our own group, dancing between ourselves.

As I rock my body to meet the pulsating rhythm, I embrace Carlos’s presence behind me, tightly grabbing my waggling hips.

He presses himself into me and I rub against his growing erection, purposely torturing him. His kisses start straying while sucking visible red marks into my neck.

His penetrating cologne invades my nostrils, clinging into my bare skin like a golden tattoo.

The mix of the alcohol I insisted on chugging and his hands shaping my whole body becoming intoxicating.

A foreign touch on my shoulder makes me open my eyes, leaving me to face my friend staring at me like i’ve grown a second head.

“You’re coming with me”- she pronounces as she drags me away from Carlos, who snorts in disbelief.

“What? Why?”- I ask as i’m forced to take a seat at the bar.

“Have you gone mad? You two were literally dry humping each other in the middle of the crowd!”- She hisses worriedly, forcing me to drink the water bottle she bought for me.

As she sits next to me, I prepare myself for the lecture she’s about to impart me, letting my eyes wonder across the dance floor.

I catch a glimpse of Carlos standing against a wall, hemmed by complete darkness, sometimes interrupted by one of the dj's lights.

When the spotlight lands on him, I start noticing the delicate hands hugging his broad shoulders, the almost nonexistent distance between him and the blonde caressing his cheeks.

Bile climbs up my throat, threatening to be ejected thanks to the scene before me.

Her lips all over his neck, staining the collar of his white shirt with lipstick.

Realizing i’m not paying an iota of attention to her, my friends follows my gaze stumbling across the sequence.

Effortlessly, she yanks me away from the enclosed space and into the garden.

Without being able to stop myself, I empty the contents of my stomach into the ground, constantly replaying the flashbacks of their sensual dance.

“Everything’s okay now, love”- My friend states while caressing my tangled up hair. Her fingertips come into contact with my cheeks, brushing my tears away.

Sobs are quick to scape my lungs, becoming more and more erratic as I imagine the second by second unfolding inside the disco.

———

PRESENT:

After running away from Carlos’s house, in the middle of a Madrilenian night, I’m fast to hide into the loneliness of my apartment.

I can’t even find comfort in blaming him as I was the one to agree with our “no exclusivity policy”, believing I could make it work.

How stupid of me to think I would be capable of not being trapped into his nets.

Clearly the only solution I can possibly come up with is crying it out, and that’s how I found myself in this situation; puffy eyes, completely ruined mascara, quivering eyes from shedding way too many tears.

Could I have been more stupid? I can’t even resonate one good reason why I would ever accept what he’s willing to offer me while wanting him in his entirety.

My determination is easily devastated as desperate fists bang against my door.

“Please, open up”- A too familiar voice implores from outside the apartment.

“I don’t ever wanna see you again”- I manage to scream through whimpers.

“I beg of you, please let me in! I swear I can explain.”

Standing right on the other side of the door, I feel my hand toying with the doorknob, trying to determinate whether or not to listen to his pleas.

“There’s nothing to explain, Carlos!”- I say, above a whisper, my voice to fragile for anything else.

“There’s been a while since i’ve been with anyone else, alright? Not since all I could think about was you!”

An unbreakable silence fills the hallways of the building, only the sound of his pantings and heavy breathing interrupting the stillness.

Without much hesitation, I open the hinges separating us.

Clearly, I was nowhere near prepared for the view before me; his full brown eyes now shimmering with unshed orbs, accumulated in his tear ducts.

“How about the girl from the voicemail?”- I ask, almost scared to find out this is all a product of my imagination.

“I know what that seemed like, but I promise you it’s not what you think!”- he says, piercing me with his gaze- “That was my ex girlfriend. She has a hard time letting go of me, even though there’s been more than a year since we’ve last been together. I never answer her calls and that’s why she’s getting more and more desesperate.”

Everything around me stops just to listen to his next words, my heart betting so out of control he might even hear it.

“Back at my apartment you told me you were enamored by me, well, there’s no use in trying to deny i’m in love with you”- he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear- “so much it’s physically painful, it’s all I can think about.”

My brain turned into mush as his confession sinks in. I almost want to laugh at how ridiculous the idea seems to me; the man I love, probably the only one i’ll ever love, stating that my feelings are reciprocate.

A sigh leaves my parted lips as a quiet tear runs down my face.

“I know i’ve made my mistakes and believe me when I say i’ll regret them every minute i’m on this earth, but I promise you, that if you give me the chance, i’ll make it up to you until my dying breath”- his voice sounds shaky, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of him.

I don’t think I ever reacted as fast as now, jumping into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. Little giggles leave both of our mouths at the ridiculous situation.

“I love you”- He murmurs, muffled by the kisses he’s pressing against my checks.

“I love you too”- I answer back, with our bodies still entwined.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz f1 #argentina #ferrari #red bull f1 #red bull racing #mercedes benz #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #max verstappen #lando norris #charles leclerc x reader #españa #madrid #romance #fanfic #angst with a happy ending #light angst #formula 1 #formula one

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-thirteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Okay, it's all fixed now! Sorry about the confusion. ENJOY!

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart

READER

The sun’s warms rays blasted through the large window and warmed my back as I snuggled deeper into the bed, holding the sheet closer to my bare chest. A familiar scent filled my senses while a familiar heartbeat pounded against my cheek as I slowly woke, realizing I was lying on a chest. A tattoo of flowers and a portrait of a skeleton and women were the first thing I saw once the sleep haze faded. The chest rose and fell with each deep breath it took. Arms wrapped around me, keeping me locked in place; those arms were lanky but building muscle, slowly but surely.

I looked up at his sleeping face, feeling calm and settled for the first time in a very long time.

Opening one eye, he grinned then pulled me in closer to leave soft, pepper like kisses across my forehead, cheeks, nose, and lastly lips; my giggles echoing throughout my bedroom. The thin sheet laid loosely around our naked, tangled forms, and he hooked my leg over his waist.

“This was the only thing I wanted to wake up to.” He said, his voice deep and husky with sleep.

“I’m glad you stayed till morning, Noah.” I breathed across his lips as I propped myself up to kiss him. I

He brushed away my sleep tousled hair to hook his fingers behind my neck, closing the distance.

My eyes snapped open as my phone rang loudly, my seven a.m alarm shocking me to my bones, and I rolled over in the empty side of the bed to silence it. I groaned into the pillow, wanting so desperately to slip back into the dream. It felt so real to have Noah in bed with me, his bare skin against mine. It brought back memories of our night together in that hotel room and my pussy clenched with the need to feel that same release.

Ignoring it, I checked my phone, like I did every morning, and sucked in a breath when I saw a new text from Noah; mind immediately going back to the dream. After our workout, we went our separate ways, and I was busy last night with my art class and writing that I never realized he texted me around eleven in the evening last night.

“Oh, shit,” I sat up straight in bed when the new selfie stared back at me.

It was nice seeing you again, angel. I had fun tonight.

I analyzed the fuck out of that picture. His hair was messy, pouty lips, and his dark hooded eyes gazed down at me. His cheeks were flushed with a red hue and it could have been my already aroused state, but I knew what he did before sending this picture. It was clear.

“Fuck it,” I sighed while tossing my phone on the other end of the bed to lean over the side of it, pulling out the small box underneath my bed.

I rummaged through a variety of different toys until eventually deciding on my favorite. Double checking to make sure the door was closed, I shimmed out of my shorts and panties to lay straight back on the bed. My breathing was labored as my heart raced with the image of Noah’s selfie and my dream. All of my senses were heightened as I pressed the pink vibrator against my clit, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout my entire body.

I shut my eyes and worked; I saw Noah so clearly as I continued to let my mind wander. I kept shifting back to that night we shared, but also to something new. I fantasized Noah was in bed with me again.

“Turn over” he commands, moving out the way to give me space.

I do, quickly, and Noah reached down to pull the sheet completely off me, watching me with starving eyes the whole time. He hovered over me as he pushed my legs apart to lean down and kiss between my breasts, and slowly makes his way down. As I continued to fantasize, all I could see was him, and my vibrator was going off in different speeds; I imagined I might just die then and there.

I see him smile, it almost feels so real-too real-into my thigh, and he looks up to me through lashes.

“Say it.” he demanded.

“Say what?” My voice was wrecked, breathless, as my orgasm built low in my belly.

Noah’s teeth grazed the inside of my thigh. “Say it angel, say what you want from me.”

“I want you to make me cum. Please, I need it.”

A soft kiss to the inside of my thigh, across the tattoo of the Greek Gods. “Always, angel.”

Noah grinned, his eyes locking with mine as he kept contact, tilting his head down and licking my clit softly.

Some ungodly noise came out of me as continued to see him. My brain was so fuzzy, the vibrator must have been going off for atleast 10 minutes, I couldn’t stop. I saw his inches of hair, I could almost feel it tickle my thighs and could feel the warm heat of his mouth licking, sucking, biting.

“Oh, fuck Noah!” I puffed out. I didn’t mean to say it so vocally.

Fuck, Malcolm and Chase; if they were awake, they probably heard. But I didn’t care, I was so close. My knees shook and back arched up off the bed as my mouth fell open.

I took my free hand and scrunched it into a fist, almost like I was grasping his imaginary hair. I imagined him looking up at me, mouth over my clit with dark brown eyes gazing up at me. Rings over his fingers as his hand pressed down on my stomach to keep me in place. That sight did it for me just at the right time my vibrator send me tipping over the edge.

“Noah. Noah. NOAH!” I yelled while running a hand over my face, to bit into my palm.

Realizing how overstimulated I was, I noticed I came all over my sheets.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Whatever this is, it has to be chemicals that make me cling to you.”

Twenty minutes later, I cleaned myself up and dressed in another pair of lounge day clothes before stalking down the long hallway towards the living room where Chase and Malcolm were nursing their coffees.

“Do you guys want to hear this song I’ve been working on?” I asked while walking over to the attached kitchen to pour myself some coffee.

Malcolm smirked. “I think we already did.”

I raised a brow. “How? I just came up with it.”

“Noah, Noah, Noah,” Chase mocked with a high-pitched voice.

The blood drained from my face as I stared at them, mouth agape. I didn’t think I was that loud.

Right?

“Fuck you,” I pushed his shoulder as I stood behind the couch.

Chase ignored me and continued to mock Noah’s name in my voice.

“Right there, yes Noah!” Malcolm teased now.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I grabbed a pillow off the couch and smacked both of them behind their heads.

READER

Sitting on my bed with my laptop perched on my lap, my fingers worked hastily as they typed away the new song that kept replaying in my mind.

I know it's chemicals that make me cling to you And I need a miracle to get away from you I know it's chemicals and I need a miracle And I'm not spiritual But please stay 'Cause I think you're a saint and I think you're an angel.

I was so engrossed in the writing aspect that I almost didn’t realize the buzzing from my phone right next to me.

2:30.

“Shit,” I cursed while setting my laptop aside so I could answer my phone, my heart hammering hard in my chest.

It happened every day knowing what I was about to see.

Noah’s bright smile came through the screen before the richness of his voice danced on my ears.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hey yourself,” I smirked when I realized he was shirtless. “Noah, you realize it’s on 45 degrees outside, right? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

He taped a thumb over his chest while raising a brow at me. “My body runs hot so I’m more comfortable without a shirt. Does it bother you?”

Quite the opposite, actually.

The suggestive tone in his voice told me everything I needed to know about his motives. With the selfie he sent me last night and now this? Noah wanted to tease me, well two can play at that game.

“I understand that. Malcolm has the heat set to 72 and I’m dying,” I sighed while unzipping my sweater, tossing it onto the floor.

The strap of my tank top slid down my shoulder, exposing the skin of my collarbone, and I saw the way Noah’s eyes darkened, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even through the phone, the tension was thick and when I thought back to what happened this morning, my skin set ablaze.

I cleared my throat. “So, uh. How’s your day been?”

“Good,” Noah shifted on his bed, most likely to get comfortable. “I just got back from the studio a bit ago. Might take a nap or stream. I haven’t decided yet.”

I pulled a pillow from behind me to lie down on my stomach, propping myself up on it. “How’s it going? The writing?”

The corner of his lips curled up. “Really good. How about you?”

I turned my phone towards my laptop briefly before setting it back to my face. “My mind is all over the place. I think I’m writing three different songs at once.”

Noah chuckled before a serious expression crossed his features. “How have you been, really? I know the last few months haven’t been easy for either of us, and I just-I just want to make sure you’re good, that, we’re good.”

“Can I be honest?” I bit my lip.

“With me, angel? Always.”

I let out a deep, steady breath, ready to fill Noah in on a part of me; one that I was worried for him to find out.

“I didn’t do well for a little. I was in a really dark place that Chase and Malcolm were afraid they wouldn’t be able to pull me out of. I kept playing Eiley on repeat.”

Noah stiffened. “I had Sympathy on repeat.”

“You did?” I asked with scrunched brows.

“Yeah. I even talked with Keaton. He-uh-gave me a great sign.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to tell him that Keaton gave me a sign as well.

“Being able to talk to you, to see you, has lifted a huge weight off My shoulders, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to not even send you a dumb meme. I’m-.” I stammered over my next few words. “I’m glad we’ve been able to start over. That means so much.”

I could have gone on and on, but was too afraid. I didn’t want him to jump to conclusions and didn’t want him to know why I was holding back; not yet atleast. I needed his hand on my shoulder atleast for now, until from what the dark side of my mind believed, Noah would pull away. I couldn’t risk losing him.

Not again.

“Well, I’m happy to agree with you. Things haven’t been easy for me, typically I would turn heel. But having you in my life makes me at ease. So I’m glad too. It means a lot to me, as well.”

We gazed at each other with our own dopey smiles for what felt like hours but in reality, was less than a minute until Noah cleared his throat while scratching his face.

“Do you want to meet up for brunch Tuesday? Bottomless mimosas?”

My heart fluttered at the excitement in his voice.

“Sounds great,” I smiled but then cursed. “Shit. Tuesday? Ah, I can’t, I have an appointment that day. Rain check? Cause we need to get mimosas. The orange juice Malcom’s been buying lately isn’t my standard.”

“Of course, anytime.”

Noah wanted to ask about the appointment, I saw it all over his face. He didn’t-he respected my boundaries.

“I like our little 2:30 pm routine,” I admitted.

“Me too, angel, me too,” his eyes sparkled.

READER

“Thank you for telling me your story, Y/N. I imagine it’s a lot to process within a short amount of time. Now that it’s laid out in front of us today, how does it make you feel? Are you sad?”

I stared at the women sitting across from me, my knee bouncing with anticipation? Nerves? I wasn’t sure. I had been rambling on the last ten minutes and wanted her to give me an inclination about how she was feeling.

“I’m not sad. Not like I was mere weeks ago.” I explained to her, “But, somehow I can’t help crying. Although things happened quickly, I can’t help but continue to feel guilt yet also ambivalent.”

The therapist, Dr. Poulos, sat straighter in her chair. “Okay. Let’s dig a little deeper. You chose the word ambivalence. That suggests strong feelings-in opposition.”

I played with the rings on my fingers, keeping my gaze on anything but her face. “I’m not good enough for him or anyone else and there’s a lot of weight I carry for that. Trey explained that to me enough, not to mention the other traumas I probably have hidden within me. I have guilt.”

“Why do you feel guilty? Why would it warrant guilt? You said yourself he forgave you, quickly at that. Does that concern you? Do you still feel as if you can’t be honest with him or honest with yourself?”

Fuck, she kept pounding out those questions.

I paused and stared at the plant she had on the left side of her dresser. A bit fuzzy because of the connection between phone lines.

“Y/N,” her voice snapped me out of my deep thoughts.

I sighed and began. “When I first got my diagnosis, it didn’t sound serious, but after a while it became more ominous than other people’s. I imagined my character as desolate as a shirt that had been manufactured incorrectly and was therefore useless.”

She tilted her head and smiled at me, gently. “You’re valid for feeling those things, it’s easy to look at your flaws and say, alright, this isn’t worth the trouble. It’s easy to believe you’re incapable of getting the love you deserve. However, I think deep down you don’t trust yourself, as much as you don’t trust anyone else. I think you’ve been running with nowhere to go.”

She got me there.

I didn’t appreciate the call out effect although I suppose I needed to hear it. But that didn’t stop me from getting defensive.

“Running from what?” I wondered while crossing one leg over the other.

“Running from a love you believe you don’t deserve, seems like Noah hasn’t done anything to misplace your trust in him.”

“Thanks, I already know that- just make me feel worse, I guess.” I shrugged.

“Y/n it’s not about feeling worse, it’s about the fact you’re a runner. You sabotaged the things you love the most. Camouflaging being self composed.”

I was numb in the chest; I wanted to close the blinds. I felt like it split me into so many parts. It was never my intention to run from him, I just couldn’t drag him down. Due to my continuation of silence Dr. Poulos kept talking.

“I’m going to be completely honest with the way I perceive everything.”

I snorted. “You haven’t already?”

“You go on the road one more time and leave your flaws at home. If you go into this relationship, you don’t leave the trauma from the other behind. You don’t communicate properly due to fear. It seems like Noah stopped you dead in your tracks, he’s a mirror almost, he sees you from the inside and that scares the hell out of you doesn’t it?”

I stopped her right then. “I wouldn’t say that, I just don’t want to hurt him more than I have or myself.”

I was stubborn as a mule. I wasn’t admitting shit. However, it seemed like Dr. Poulos already knew.

“That’s understandable, Y/N. However, I would say that just your mannerisms alone tell me you’re harboring such deep feelings but not allowing yourself to feel them due to fear of rejection, unhappiness-.”

With her hesitation, I felt uncomfortable yet also strangely calm. It felt like my guts were being ripped open and placed in front of me. Forcing me to look at them first hand.

“I think you need a rest.”

“Okay, I’ll go home and take a nap,” I retorted with a smart smirk.

“No no,” she chuckled. “A genuine rest! The bans are better with going out of the country right now. I think it would be good for you to go see your father. Talk to him, get another perspective. A father is a daughter’s first introduction to the shadow of men, and it seems like you have a good relationship. Communicate with him, enjoy yourself for a little while. When you come home, we’ll reevaluate things and see how you feel from there.”

I had to admit, going to see my dad had been on my mind heavily the last few weeks. I truly missed him and felt that some time away from everything would help ease the dark thoughts that continued to linger at the back of my mind.

“So, do Tuesday’s work for you?” Dr. Poulos spoke while opening up her schedule book.

“Yeah. But if we can keep it in the mornings? I already have something scheduled at 2:30 I can’t miss.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

READER

“Fuck, angel. I can’t believe you’re going to Japan without me,” Noah pouted out his bottom lip in a playful sadness.

I giggled while holding the phone as I sat on the couch in the living room. It was our typical 2:30 FaceTime call, and I took it in the living room with Chase and Malcolm, who were playing a video game.

“I’m so excited. When I brought up the idea to my dad, he immediately bought me a plane ticket and already is planning our week together. There’s so many different places he wants to take me. I don’t think he expected Chase and Malcolm to tag along but nonetheless, he’s happy.”

“I’m happy for you. It will be good for you, mentally, to take a break. You deserve it.”

"Which reminds me; do you think you or one of the guys could come check on Salem for me? Just to make sure he has food and water while we're gone?" I bit my lip, hoping the action would make Noah agree.

He licked his lips, voice turning dark. "Yeah, of course. We'll take care of him."

I rested my chin on my palm as I propped my elbow on the back of the couch. “I’ll have to cancel our gym sessions and might miss a few Facetime calls.”

He placed a hand over his chest, faux betrayal on the soft features of his face. “How will I ever go on?”

Chase snorted and pushed his face into the camera of my phone. “Dude, we’ll miss you too. No need to cry over us, though.”

Noah glared while flipping them off.

For once, Noah was actually wearing clothes, admittedly much to my dismay, a read sweater. He sat at his desk with his headphones hanging loosely around his neck as he worked on a Rubik’s cube. While I loved our daily FaceTime calls, there was this deep lingering feeling that it would only hurt in the end when it stopped.

Not if it had to. When it had to because like everything else in my life, good things never lasted long.

I pushed Chase back on his end of the couch. “I hate those things.”

Noah motioned towards the cube in his hands, and I nodded. “I never could get them right. I’d get aggravated so fast and toss it in the garbage.”

“Take’s patience, angel. I have a lot of it.”

I blinked, almost as if I had been slapped at hearing his words; memories from that night crawling back to my subconscious.

“I’m known for having a lot of fucking patience. I will wait."

“Angel?”

Noah’s concerned voice snapped me out of my haze, and I hummed. “Did you say something?”

“When’s your flight?” He asked.

“Sunday.”

“That’s in two days,” Noah’s shoulders fell.

I somberly nodded. “I know. Like I said, my dad’s excited to see me.”

With the look on his face, I knew Noah wanted to see me one more time before leaving but he wouldn’t come out right and say it. Instead, he changed the subject slightly.

“What about you?” He clicked something on the keyboard of his computer, eyes only leaving the phone for a few seconds before giving his attention once again. “Are you excited?”

A large grin pulled at my lips while I shifted my position on the couch, now facing the television, Malcolm winning in whatever game him and Chase were playing.

“I haven’t been in so long, I have this dream-,” the words died on my tongue, not wanting to go into it with Noah.

I already thought it was silly. I didn’t need Noah to think that as well.

“Dream about what?” He wondered.

“Nothing, it’s way to girly, way to out there. You don’t want to hear that shit,” I laughed while casting my eyes away from the screen.

“Well, excuse me then. Just pretend I’m your girliest friend,” Noah changed the pitch of his voice to be higher. “Come on; I want to know. Your dreams are important, to me.”

I broke out in laughter “You’re an idiot Noah Sebastian.”

“I’m cool with that, angel,” he shrugged. “Tell me!”

With a hesitant sigh, I nodded. “Japan is just such an important place to me, for several reasons. I have this little fantasy that I’d run off and get married there. It’s so peaceful and quiet with my closet friends and family. One and done romance type shit.”

Noah stiffened while scratching his chin.

“What? I freak you out, girlfriend?” I joked with a teasing smirk.

He chuckled nervously. “No. I- uh, who’s the groom?”

“I don’t know, never got that far. It’s always been the small child in me’s dream.”

Why the fuck would you bring up marriage, you idiot! His face went white, and he changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Hmm.” Noah adjusted the headphones on his head. “Well, it’s going to be a lot of fun seeing your dad. I also have a list of shit I’d like for you to find me, please.”

“Okay, hang on let me get a pen,” I giggled while rolling off the couch to head into my room where I knew one was.

READER

“Y/N, dear, have you seen my-?”

I smiled while holding up my dad's wallet as he patted down every pocket of his jacket and pants. “Wallet?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of my head as he took the wallet, sticking it in his back pocket. “I’m almost ready to go. I’m so excited to show you guys the local market. I get all of my mochi’s from there.”

My heart skidded to a rapid pace, an image of Noah popping in my mind.

Chase walked out of the guest bedroom with Malcolm following close behind, tying his long hair back into a bun. “We really appreciate you letting us stay with you, Mr. Y/L/N.”

My dad waved Chase off. “You two have become like sons to me and everything you did to help, Y/N. It means a lot.”

I wrapped my arms around my dad, letting the familiar comfort and warmth of his presence radiate around me. It’s been years since I seen him but from the second he picked us up from the airport a few hours ago, my dad and I picked up right where we left off. The only difference were the wrinkles next to his eyes and the graying hair.

Just as I was about to open my lips to speak, my phone buzzed in my hand. My dad noticed and peered down at the screen with confused eyes.

“Mochi? You have your own mochi delivery service? Who’s the guy in the picture?”

Embarrassment filled me as my cheeks reddened with undeniable heat. Malcolm looked at the watch on his wrist and whistled low.

“Even with the time difference, Noah is spot on with their FaceTime calls,” he said.

Chase raised a finger. “Wait, is his contact name Mochi?”

“Noah, why is that name familiar?” My dad rubbed his chin. “Oh, he’s the guy that filled in no your last tour.”

“Yep,” I said popping the ‘P’.

“Does he have braids in that picture?” Malcolm tried to reach for my phone, that kept buzzing from the call, but I slipped away from him.

Now a few feet away from them, I answered the call with a small smile. Noah was bundled up in a variety of blankets, the orange glow of his neon lights shining from behind his bed.

“Hey, it’s kind of early there, no?” I said.

He yawned while rubbing his eyes. “7:30 in the morning. But it’s 2:30 your time, and I wanted to make sure you landed safely.”

I couldn’t ignore the way my heart fluttered with the concern in his voice and even though it was early morning in Los Angeles, he still made our 2:3o phone call; no matter how exhausted he looked.

“Did you set an alarm?” I questioned.

“Yep, even googled the time difference so I knew when to wake up.”

“Wow,” I stuttered. “You really-uh-you didn’t have to wake up so early just for our phone call, Noah.”

“Angel,” he readjusted his position in bed to lay one hand under his cheek. “I’d stop whatever I’m doing for these phone calls. They mean a lot to me.”

I swallowed the happy tears that burned in my throat. “Me too.”

“Mochi!” Malcolm popped up from behind me to make his face appear on the screen.

Noah rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Malcolm.”

“Oh, Mochi. We miss you! Do you miss us?” Chase now appeared on the other side of me.

“I fucking hate you guys,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes.

Pushing them away from me, I stepped into a quieter area of my dad's apartment. “Sorry. They say the contact name and the picture of you in the braids.”

Something unreadable flashed in Noah’s eyes but I couldn’t read into it; it was gone that quickly.

“My contact name in your phone is Mochi?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I bet mine is Angel.”

His silence was the answer I needed.

“You know,” Noah began. “I miss you already and proud of you, angel.”

“Proud of what?” I raised a brow while leaning against the wall with my shoulder.

“Doing something for you, not holding back.”

My heart continued to beat at a rapid pace while the butterflies burned low in my stomach. “Thank you, Mochi, that means a lot to me. Coming from you, truly.”

“Always angel,” He yawned with a smile. “Anyway, I know you’re busy so I won’t keep you. But maybe-uh-when you’re back we can go out.”

“Go out?” I said the two words carefully, making sure I heard him correctly. The pounding in my ears made it difficult.

“Like hang after our class or something.”

If he was nervous to ask me that, Noah gave no indication. He was his typical suave self; with messy bed head, tired eyes, and deep voice laced with exhaustion. The entire sight made my core burn with desire and I had to clench my thighs together.

“I’d love that, Noah,” I finally said after a few beats of silence.

“Alright cool,” he grinned.

“Cool.”

Even though now, we stayed so far from each other, I’d keep him in my mind, until eventually our lonely limbs connected again.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

[ginnsbaker]

In Flames I Sleep Soundly (1/2)

Summary: What do you do when you find out that person you trust the most is a liar? Or the Unfaithful AU that I've been wanting to read for a while.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), Cheating/Adultery, Implied Het Sexual Content

Author’s Note: I was thinking about making a separate tumblr for fics (since I primarily post fanarts), but I’m too scatterbrained two maintain more than one account. I recently saw Unfaithful (2002) again and thought about doing an AU based on that movie. The title of this fic are lyrics from "Wedding Song" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs. No betas. And I won't apologize for how imperfect this monster is. I haven't written in more than a decade, so let's all suck it up.  

AO3 / Part Two / Masterlist

--

Part One

Summer arrives in Westview, New Jersey in a fairly conspicuous manner. Its parks have been repainted with various shades of green, and the oversized trench coats on the streets that its residents are so fond of during the cold months are nowhere to be found.

Despite these observations, Westview remains a sleepy town. At least it is to you, but that's probably because you’ve spent half of your life in Manhattan. You and Wanda moved to New Jersey a few months ago after you were promoted to branch manager. The salary that came with it was enough to pay off your student loans including Wanda's, so it was easy to accept the offer despite the trade-off of having to move to a relatively unknown and rural town.

"It's only temporary," you told Wanda when you broke the news. "My supervisor said that if I can prove myself there, I can come back as a regional manager."

Wanda had assured you that you had her full support. At the time, she was working part-time at a small gallery for up-and-coming artists in the state, and while she needed to start somewhere to realize her dream of becoming an art dealer, she figured it wouldn't derail her career so much if she could learn art trading online.

Everything happened in a blur after that. In two weeks, you were driving to Westview with nothing but two suitcases and your dog, Sparky, on Wanda's lap. You held her hand while she slept throughout the entire trip and you faced the unknown roads that led to your new life.

The house they picked for you and your family exceeded your expectations. Granted, you had to subsidize a percentage of the move-in fee, it was a small price to pay to have so much space. The bathroom alone is larger than the guestroom of your previous two-bedroom apartment in Yorkville. On the first day, Wanda had explored the house with a childlike wonder, while Sparky tried to cover every inch of its ostensibly boundless backyard. That night, with only a blanket laid out on the floor, you made love to Wanda and then some more on the kitchen counter and the bathtub upstairs, inside the master's bedroom.

You've been married to her for five years, but a fresh start gave you two the sexual appetite of newly weds. It didn’t take 48 hours to christen every room in the house.

By now, a routine has been established: you wake up at five in the morning to go out for a run, back at home by six, and then showered and dressed for work before seven. Wanda, on the other hand, would try to get up before you're done with your ceremonies to prepare breakfast. She's not always successful–sometimes waking up long after you've gone to work.

"You want some coffee?" Wanda wakes you out of your stupor. She's still in her nightgown, holding two cups of freshly brewed coffee. Her auburn hair is up in a messy bun and she is, after all these years, a sight to behold.

You look at her and then at your left wrist to check the time on the Rolex she gave you as a wedding gift. You still have a few minutes, but there's an urgent staff meeting that you're a little anxious about.

"And maybe some omelet?" Wanda suggests when you don't answer, already cracking some eggs in a bowl.

"Sorry, babe, got to run." You shake your head apologetically before walking over to her and kissing the back of her head. Wanda merely continues whisking the eggs for a while before commenting, "Until when are you going to have these early meetings?"

"I don't know. Maybe the end of the month?"

"You're the boss. Can't you just call them off? Maybe schedule them during actual office hours?"

You shrug and say nothing, unwilling to engage in an argument so early in the day. Wanda exhales heavily at your lack of reaction, which compels you to reach for her hand and stroke it. Seeing how she’s not pulling away from your touch, you move to hug her from behind.

"I'll try to be home early tonight, okay? I miss you too." You say softly and kiss her cheek.

"I didn't say I miss you." Wanda deadpans, but she's already turning around in your arms for a proper embrace. You kiss her forehead and let her hold you for a few beats. She buries her nose in your neck and inhales deeply. “I told you to stop wearing this perfume. It makes you unbearably enticing.” Wanda admonishes you with a hungry look.

It’s embarrassing how easily your wife can turn you into a bashful teenager with a little flirting.

“Well, maybe you should do something about it.” You playfully taunt her.

“Maybe I will.” Wanda says in a low voice, and she’s close enough for you to notice the total lack of green in her eyes.

As much as you want to rip her silky lingerie and take her right then and there, the fact is you are already going to miss the first few minutes of the meeting–and then maybe a quarter of it if you don’t leave soon.

"I really have to go. But first things first," You grab one of the two cups of joe and Wanda starts giggling when you drink from it in one go. "Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a cafe business."

"Idiot." Wanda taps your nose affectionately, before shoving you towards the door.

Later, you arrive home just a few minutes shy of midnight. The house is deathly silent, even your dog could not be bothered greeting you at the door. You go straight to the bedroom, making as little sound as possible, to find Wanda asleep on her side, facing away from you. You get rid of your clothes and climb into bed. You carefully inch towards her and press your front against her back, spooning her. You hear her breath hitch, but before you can start thinking of an apology, you fall fast into a dreamless sleep.

***

It’s two months later and on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when Wanda breaks the news that she’s been offered a temporary position at Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences. You’ve watched your wife gradually grow restless each week, having a difficult time adjusting to life in the suburbs. Wanda interviewing for a job wasn’t as forthcoming as her asking you to move back to the city. Taking the job would mean integrating with the community in a semi-permanent way. So it’s a surprise that Wanda would even consider it.

"Assistant professor?" you ask distractedly, not looking up from the Jonathan Tropper novel on your lap. Wanda’s perched on one of the barstools of the breakfast counter, waiting for her banana bread to be done in the oven. Sparky lays at her feet, also waiting for the banana bread.

"What do you think?" Wanda muses and drums her fingers on the table.

You regard your restless wife for a moment, before closing the book and tapping the spot next to you on the couch. “C’mere.”

Wanda does as she’s told and Sparky follows after her.

"I think it’s a great opportunity and experience to have. But I thought you're getting a lot of projects from Upwork."

You try not to sound too partial to the idea of her working in the university. However, if you’re being totally honest, it would essentially solve the problem of your wife’s mild existential crisis– and your guilt of probably causing it.

"It’s just a side-hustle,” Wanda argues. “Besides, they’re going to need me only three times a week and they offered me a full-time pay.”

“Sounds too perfect to be true.”

Wanda shakes her head. “I don’t think so. It’s not unheard of that there’s a huge demand for educators in small-town institutions.”

“So you’ll take it?”

Wanda nods with a smile and then says, “Only if you’ll drive me in the morning.”

“Of course, baby.” You say almost instantly and give her a quick peck on the lips. It doesn’t even matter that Wanda has her own car since she hates driving with a passion.

"Professor Maximoff." Her potential designation rolls off your tongue coolly. You’ve never really pictured Wanda in academe before, and now you can’t get rid of the image of her in a perfectly tailored suit.

The corners of Wanda’s mouth quirk up in a dreamy smile. "Kinda has a ring to it, huh?"

"A very sexy ring to it, professor."

Wanda giggles as you go ahead and think of ways to sneak into one of her classes some time in the near future.

"I'd tell you I've gotten a job at Baskin' Robbins and you'd say I look hot in their uniform." she points out.

"I bet you're hotter with all your clothes off."

Suddenly, the oven dings and Sparky starts barking at Wanda.

“And you’ve got a one-track mind,” she mutters with an undercurrent of mirth, before getting up to return to her baking. “Ten points from Hufflepuff!”

You burst into a fit of laughter. “Can’t blame me for having a hot wife. Also, I’m a Gryffindor you vexing Slytherin!”

Wanda can be the biggest dork at times, and it only makes you fall for her a little harder in these moments.

She sticks her tongue out at you. “Dream on, Badger Queen.”

***

It’s some kind of Hollywood domestic bliss.

You still wake up at five to go out for a run, but now Wanda’s your running buddy and you’re always trying to catch up with her pace.

“I can’t believe this gives you more energy than coffee.” she said the first time she laced up and she finished her run a minute faster than you. You thought it’s ludicrous that Wanda was a natural athlete on top of her good looks, but you figured it was an organic truth given that her brother played professional soccer for a couple of years before he got into the business side of sports.

Most days, you’d let Wanda clean up first while you cook breakfast. On one occasion that you joined her in the shower, Wanda turned up so late in class some of the students were already preparing to leave.

“That can’t happen again.” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

You’d been married to her long enough to know that Wanda often broke her own rules. Historically, you’d watch her do so with satisfaction just because it’s usually an unspoken challenge between married people. And maybe because it reminded you that she’s human. Imperfect as much as you were.

“Just be careful, Y/N,” your best friend, Natasha, told you a month into dating Wanda Maximoff. “Mistakes and disappointments are inevitable. Hell, even I will let you down at some point in the future.”

“You have. Many times.” you said jokingly.

“Is that right? Look, all I’m saying is it’s also not fair to Wanda if you put her on such a high pedestal.”

Natasha was right. However, it wasn’t like you could change who you were and how you loved. The night you met Wanda at freshman orientation, you knew she was the one. You loved her through college as her closest friend as much as you did when she began to see you in a new light thereafter.

And even now, as you stare at her sneaking a nap on the drive to her workplace, nothing has changed. It’s a cherished moment, no matter how mundane.

Your hopeless crush on Wanda never really went away.

You feel very lucky that she feels the same way.

***

You’re about ten feet from the door of your house when you hear scratches from behind it, followed by Sparky’s incessant barking. Quickly, you fish out your keys from your backpack and open the door.

Sparky jumps at you as soon as the door swings open, and then starts licking at your pants.

“What’s up?” you say, scratching behind his ears until he calms down.

You look around the empty living room and notice for the first time that Wanda’s not home.

You send a text to her asking where she is. Sparky is making whiny noises, while pushing his empty bowl towards you with his tiny paw.

“Sorry, bud. Let’s get you your dinner.” You say, picking up the bowl and bringing it to where you store his food. You open the cupboard to find a mostly empty bag of Merrick. Sparky patiently waits for you, wagging his tail. Wanda was supposed to get some groceries this afternoon.

You check your phone and find no new messages.

“Looks like you’re coming with me for a quick run to the grocery store.” You tell Sparky with a sigh.

Sparky tilts his head at you in confusion. You send another text to Wanda telling her you went out and ask if she’s already eaten, before heading out to your car once again.  

You don’t hear back from Wanda long after you’ve had dinner by yourself and it’s almost midnight. Your anxiety levels are at an all-time high, and you’re about to call the cops when you hear her car approaching the garage.

You’re waiting by the door, so at the very second she slips inside the house, you hoist her into a desperate embrace like a mad woman.

“Where were you?” You exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard. “I’ve been worried sick and you went dark on me.”

Wanda winces at you, gently prying your fingers from her. “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t do that again. You couldn’t have borrowed someone’s cell or call from the school?”

“Like I said, I was working,” Wanda rolls her eyes, just a tad snidely. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

It’s not that you’ve never heard your wife curse before, but you can’t help but flinch given the context at which she’s said it.

“Fine,” You clench your jaw, stepping out of her way. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Sure.” Wanda says stoically.

You don't talk about it in the morning. Or at all.

***

The forecast is you’re not going to hit this quarter’s targets. You’ll be two to three percent short, and everyone is telling you there’s not enough time to pull off a new campaign and drum up enough business to meet the numbers.

Your stubborn nature beseeches you to try anyway. It is, of course, at the cost of being stuck in front of your laptop in the dead of night.

Wanda approaches you to see if you need anything before she goes to bed without you. You smile at the sweet gesture but shake your head no.

“I’m good,” you say.

“Are you sure? I’ve got us fresh tea bags.”

“Positive.”

“Okay, good night.” she offers you a faint smile and starts to leave the room.

“Wands?” you utter abruptly.

She pauses and leans against the door frame. “Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course, I love you,” Wanda drags her feet back to you. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” You let out a mirthless laugh. “We’re still working.”

Wanda nods solemnly but doesn’t speak. You can’t see her eyes with just a lamp lit on your desk and you're oddly grateful for that.

“I just miss you.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, uhm,” you fidget, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

***

You wake up to wet kisses all over your face, only to be sorely disappointed to find out it's just Sparky, while Wanda looks at you softly as she waits for you to shake off the residues of sleep.

“Baby, I need a favor.” Wanda says.

"Good morning to you too." You reply good-naturedly.

Wanda ducks her head sheepishly. "Sorry, I've been waiting for you to wake up. I've said ‘good morning’ in my head, like, a hundred times." she tells you.

You silently brush a lock of hair from her face, before scooting closer to her and pressing a small kiss on her forehead.

"How can I be of service, m'lady?" you ask.

Wanda gets to it immediately. “There’s this painting I need from where I used to work. I need to bring it tomorrow, but I can’t take the day off. There’s no substitute because, well, I’m supposedly the substitute.”

“Sure, I’ll drop by there after work.”

Wanda makes a bashful noise of disapproval. “They’re only open until three-thirty.”

It’s a bad time to be missing work these days, but Wanda rarely asks for your help with anything. She’d sooner ask a stranger than her partner. There's one ex-boyfriend of hers you actually got to talk to in the past long before you and Wanda happened. The conversation was short, with mostly him talking–or rather ranting about how Wanda never made him feel needed. He went as far as claiming that she emasculated him in many ways. You never agreed with his insinuations of it being Wanda's flaw, and that it contributed to the downfall of their relationship. You like that Wanda is not a damsel in distress and that she carries herself with an air of confidence that only a truly independent woman can exude.

Although it does feel good to be needed sometimes.

“I’ll take care of it.” You assure her.

“Thank you,” Wanda says, and then proceeds to give you a tight but fleeting hug. "Alright, I'm gonna go get ready."  

You plop back on the bed with a huff. You haven't gone out on a proper date with Wanda for months, and you don't know how much longer you can survive this routine of late nights and rush hours. Maybe a vacation isn't too improbable by the end of August. Wanda's always wanted to visit Maui and, but you've kept deferring it until next year. A year has turned into two, three, and you don't realize it until just now that she's stopped mentioning it to you.

You make a mental note to search for discount flights later. Or maybe you can start with something more feasible like, say, lunch?

"Wands?"

The noise of the running shower drowns out your call, so you lumber from the bed and towards the bathroom.

Your mouth goes dry at the view of Wanda's soaked body, nostrils flaring at her stupid rule of no sex before work.

Wanda turns around and your eyes drop lower.

"Jesus, Y/N!" she gasps, then lets out a breathy laugh.

"Sorry," you lie, smirking at her nakedness. "Should we go out for lunch later?"

"I'd love to," Wanda says. "But I've got a lunch meeting with the dean."

"I see." you say and linger by the door. The crestfallen look on your face doesn't go unnoticed by your wife.

"We can have dinner," Wanda proposes tentatively. "Maybe drive to the city for some steaks and a dive bar after?"

Your eyes light up at her suggestion, heart brimming with repose.

"I'll pick you up at seven," you say. "It's a date."

Wanda throws a wink in your direction before turning back around to lather herself with your favorite soap.

-

Finding a parking space in Soho is almost next to impossible. You've only been living out of Manhattan for a couple of months, but it already feels like the population has doubled since. You're thinking about just leaving the car somewhere near the island and using the subway, when a woman enters your view and you step on the break as fast as you could. There's a loud screeching sound to be heard before the woman is rushing to your door with every intent to pulverize you on the spot.

As soon as you roll your window half-way through, a string of profanities welcome your ears like a gunshot. What you don't count on is hearing them from a spectacularly familiar voice.

"You almost got me killed you fucking asshole –"

You tilt your head towards your assailant. There's no mistaking that pair of green eyes.

“Yelena?"

Natasha's younger sister stares at you wide-eyed before her face breaks into the brightest smile.

"Y/N?"

"I almost didn't recognize you. I'm glad you still remember my name." you say. The last time you saw each other was right before Yelena went to an English university that you’ve forgotten the name of(it rhymes with ‘weed’) and you were a freshman in college. Yelena was a brunette then; she used to wear thick-rimmed glasses and her hair was always up in a low ponytail. The Yelena in front of you has blonde hair, a nose-piercing, and a cherry blossom tattoo on her chest that trails down and disappears into the collar of her blouse.

"How could I forget the only friend of my sister who was ever nice to me?" she quips with a toothy grin.

You blush at the fond memory of tutoring Yelena and treating her often to street shawarma.

"That's not true. Bruce was friendly with you as well."

"That's because he was dating my sister and wanted to get on my good side. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Looking for somewhere to park. Do you happen to know any in the area?"

"I've got one if you want. It's just down the street, second corner to your right."

"You're renting a parking space in Manhattan? I'm absolutely impressed."

“Oh, no!” she exclaims. Then adds, "It's my roommate, Kate's. She's loaded."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

Yelena nods and you thank her as she lets herself in your car.

The parking turns out to be too narrow, and so Yelena has to get out before you slot your car in the spot securely. Afterwards, she asks you where you’re off to, and you tell her that you’re picking up a painting for your wife. You ask her to come with you when she expresses an interest in the gallery.

You reacquaint yourselves with each other on the long walk to Wanda’s previous workplace. The conversation is, for lack of a better term, enjoyable. Yelena has always been an easy person to talk to–a remarkable contrast to Wanda who is often a challenge.

“When did you come home?” you ask suddenly after a while of talking about your work and recent settlement at Westview.

“Two years ago.”

You’re taken aback by her answer, feeling a bit hurt as you process the new information. Yelena’s been here all this time. Why didn’t she try to contact you?

“My cell didn’t ring either, you know.” Yelena tells you as if she can read your mind.

“Nat didn’t mention anything. I assumed you were still in London.”

“Leeds. The British are right about us not knowing any other city in the UK.” Yelena chuckles. “I told Nat to keep her mouth shut about my affairs.”

Before you could reply, Wanda’s ex-colleague, Agatha, comes out with the painting in hand. Yelena saunters off to observe the artworks on display.

“Thank you, Ms. Harkness.” you say, accepting the piece that was about the size of Mona Lisa.

“Welcome, dear. Whoever bought this must be made with money.”

The painting is wrapped in manila paper and it makes you curious who it is for. It must be someone who held a high position at Wanda’s university.

You excuse yourself with a polite nod, unaware of the look of suspicion she directs at Yelena, as your companion trails behind you on the way outside.

“Someone’s got a crush on you.” Yelena bumps your shoulder with hers.

“Wanda seems to think so too. Though I bet she’s just a nice old lady.”

Yelena laughs and slaps your arm this time. “Dude, she’s not old, old !”

“Someone’s got a crush,” you tease her back. Then, as if on cue, a reckless motorist speeds through a puddle, causing a wave of wastewater to splash all over your shirt.

“Shit,” you hiss, frowning at the ruined fabric of your white button-down. Yelena takes out her handkerchief and proceeds to wipe the specks of grease from your neck and face.

“Come on, we have a washer in the apartment.”

-

"Sorry I couldn't come to your wedding."

The hot coffee you just sipped refuses to come down your throat.

Yelena snickers at the dumb look on your face and says, "I'm just messing with you."

Your veins pulse in your temple as you force yourself to swallow. Yelena’s having a field day with you, poking fun at you on every opportunity.

"I'm so sorry for not extending an invite. It happened pretty quick. It was just your sister and Clint, and then Wanda's brother, Pietro. Our reception was at a pub in Brooklyn, and just getting absolutely shitfaced." you rush out, toying with the sleeves of Yelena’s sweater you borrowed. It’s cozy despite the hot weather. And undeniably smells like her.

"I know, Nat told me. Hey, I'm not offended. Besides, getting a wedding invitation from you would've been weird because,” Yelena pauses, and then sadly says, “We haven't connected in a long time."

"Yeah," you agree with a rueful smile. You haven't spoken to or thought about Yelena since you met Wanda.

“What’s she like?”

“Wanda? She’s…” It dawns on you that it’s not easy to translate your regular daydreams of her into a description you’d share with someone else.

“Exquisite,” you say, after going over various adjectives in your head. “And driven and smart. A glass half-empty to my glass half-full.”  

“I’m happy for you,” Yelena mutters over her glass of Merlot.

“And Kate? How did you meet her?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Who are living together,” you point out.

“Best friends then.” Yelena says, unperturbed.

You smirk. “If you say so.”

“I’ve dated around, but I never really found someone who could replace–” Yelena bites her lower lip to stop herself.

Except, she didn’t have to because you know.

You’re both quiet for a while, before you break the silence with, “Anyway, thanks for the parking and saving my shirt.”

"You did take my virginity. That's something I can never repay you for."

You’re too shocked to react–she is too, at her brazenness–that for a while you just stare at her with your mouth agape.

Placing the coffee mug on the table, you get up on shaky feet.

“Sorry, that was a bad joke. I–”

“You know what, I should go."

"Oh," Yelena gets on her feet as well. "But your shirt?” she asks weakly.  

"I'll just continue drying it at home. And then," you look down at the sweater you borrowed from her. "I'll mail this to you."

"Don't worry about that, I haven't worn that in ages."

"I promise to return it."

"Okay."

"Alright, so," Not quite knowing how to say good-bye, you jerk your thumb towards the door. "I'm gonna head out now."  

Yelena closes the distance to give you a hug, which she keeps short when you go rigid at the proximity of her body and yours.

"Bye, Y/N."

***

Wanda cancels dinner at the last minute. You’re surprisingly amenable and just text her when she’ll be home. You decide to cook for Wanda and try to convince yourself it’s not because you just need to keep busy and not think about what happened earlier with Yelena.

***

It’s Wanda’s day-off and she’s overslept. You watch your wife sleep soundly on her stomach, without a care in the world. Like this, the years fall away from her face and she looks like the girl you strongly want to protect for the rest of your days. Your eyes scan the room, until they fall onto the chair beside the bed. Hanging over it is a newly-bought lingerie with its tags still attached to it.

“Can you stop being a morning person just for today?”

You avert your gaze from the piece of clothing upon hearing Wanda’s voice still thick with sleep.

“Hi,” you greet your wife, twisting your wedding ring on your finger.

“Hi.” Wanda greets back, peeking at you from the comforter.

“I made breakfast, who’d you like to join me?”

“Sure, just give me a minute.”

You think about telling her you’ll wait until she’s ready and you can go together, but there’s an air of unfamiliarity and awkwardness hanging over your head–even worse is you don’t know where these feelings are coming from.

You don’t mean to count but it takes Wanda roughly twenty minutes to meet you at the breakfast table. It’s easy to force down your irritation when she looks immaculate and very put together.

Together, you eat in silence. You try to make conversation but in the end, Wanda’s responses are clipped and unfocused, so you just concentrate on finishing your oatmeal.

"You and I had a pretty crazy schedule recently, so I thought I'd take the day off and do something together." you say after waiting for Wanda to finish her meal.

"That's great, baby," Wanda smiles at you, before getting up to take the dishes to the sink.

Sneaking up behind her, you gently place your hands on the curve of her waist, and your lips just beside her left ear. For a while, you massage the flesh beneath your palms, feeling firm muscles instead of softness you're used to. Wanda's body has transformed right under your nose, and while you appreciate her more toned figure, you hope she's not being too restrictive with her diet.

"Leave them, baby. I'll do the dishes later..." You press an open-mouthed kiss to the skin just beneath her lobe. "...after I do you."

She squirms in your embrace, and you interpret it as a sign that she's getting turned on from your advances.

"Y/N–" Wanda doesn't get to finish her sentence as you twist her around and gently capture her lips. While she kisses you back with her hand coming up to wrap around your neck, she doesn't make a move to deepen it, seemingly satisfied with lazy pecks that end sooner than you'd like.

"Can I take you back to bed?" You inhale her scent soundly as you nose the length of her stupidly perfect jawline.

"I actually have to uhm–the laundry won't take care of itself." Wanda reasons, but doesn't really pull away from your hold. You take this opportunity to slide your hands up her back, beneath her shirt, and you can feel her goosebumps from your eager ministrations. Only now, being this close to her, have you realized how much you missed your wife.

Ignoring her excuses to thwart your affections, your fingers find the hook of her bra with ease. You snap it free and hastily move to grab both of her breasts, squeezing them tightly. "God, the things they do to me." You groan. She gasps at that, and by now, she should be pushing her chest towards you for more, but she remains slack as ever, like an obedient ragdoll under your whims.

Something's not right, you thought to yourself. You pull back just enough to check, and what you find has you swiftly stepping back to give her some space.

The expression alone on your wife's face could send you to jail.

"Shit, are you alright?" You rasp, overwhelmed with self-disgust at the thought of causing Wanda the slightest discomfort. Were you just about to take advantage of your wife without her consent?

Wanda looks at you with regret that you couldn't quite understand.

"D-Did I hurt you?" You dread the possible answer, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

Wanda quickly closes the distance between the two of you and envelops you into a hug.

"Oh, baby, no you didn't. I'm so sorry I made you think that." She coos, rubbing your back in soothing circles. You sigh against her shoulder, carefully keeping your hold on her hips loose.

"I just missed you so bad these past few weeks, and I thought you wanted to… it's okay if you don’t. I'm sorry."

It breaks Wanda's heart that you're taking the blame for this. She feels annoyed and guilty at the same time, at how apologetic and sensitive you are to her feelings, as if they matter more than yours do.

"It's not your fault. There's just so much to do and I can't get in the mood until I tick off everything on my to-do list."

"I know. I’m sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Wanda chastises and it comes out harsher than she intended. "You're perfect. I'm sorry. I miss you too. So bad."

"I love you." You tell her, burying your face into her hair to seek more of the lavender scent of her shampoo. It used to frighten you how much the little details about Wanda affects you in big ways. But that fear has turned into comfort, and you've grown to trust her enough to be happily vulnerable around her.

It doesn't worry you at all when she says she loves you back after a long, mysterious pause.

***

Wanda starts driving herself to work and attributes it to her inconsistent hours at the university for the rest of the term. Sparky’s in the dog daycare now more frequently than he is at home.

***

Wanda has gone up to take a shower before bedtime.

You just finished scrubbing the kitchen clean after having dinner together, and you're buzzing with the prospect of getting laid tonight. Your tactic to get your wife to sleep with you is to offer her a massage after witnessing firsthand how hard she's been working lately. In a way, you also want to show your appreciation for everything she still continues to do in the household. And although she accidentally burned the lasagna, she outdone herself with the roasted chicken.

It still amazes you to this day that you’re married to Wanda Maximoff.

Making as little sound as possible, you climb the stairs and towards the bathroom. You can hear the sound of water hitting the floor, and you can't help but imagine Wanda's naked body, lathered in soap, her brunette hair sticking to her clavicle. Your mouth waters at the prospect of taking her, pressing her against the wall and reminding her what you've both been missing for weeks. And just like that, your earlier tactic is out the window.

With practiced ease, you wrap your hand around the doorknob and twist it as gently as you can.

But something unexpected happens.

Wanda's locked the door. "That's odd." You mumble to yourself.

You decide to knock instead. "Baby?" You call out.

No reply comes for several seconds, and as you were going to leave, thinking she didn't hear you, Wanda's breathless response echoes through, "I'll just be a minute! Did you need something?"

"Hey! Uh, no. I was just going to–" You suddenly feel like an idiot wanting to sneak in for some surprise sex. "Never mind. You locked the door?"

"Oh, did I?"

"Yeah! It's fine, I'll just use the toilet downstairs."

She doesn't say anything else to that and you awkwardly turn on your heel to actually use the toilet downstairs.

***

You google ‘ how busy are part-time assistant professors’ on the second straight-week Wanda’s been going home later than The Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon.

***

Your best friend finally comes around and visits you in Westview. Although you wish it weren't on pitiful circumstances that warranted her special skills of exposing people and their secrets. Even to this second, you're still unsure if you really want her help. You can't even be sure of your own sanity. The only thing you know is that you feel more like yourself now that Natasha's here with you. You've made new friends in your new neighborhood and at work, been invited to weekend barbeques and the local cycling community. But the sense of being alone has never been this strong as when you were living in the city, barely keeping any sort of acquaintanceship and let alone a meaningful friendship.

“You know I don’t do this anymore.” Natasha claims with a huff. "And typically, consultation alone will cost you a grand."

“And I never thought I’d ever ask you to do this.” You shake your head apologetically as you help her deposit her luggage in the trunk of your old Mercedes Coupe.

“I still think you’re just overreacting.” Natasha says as she settles in the passenger seat. It's what you want to hear, but instead of pacifying you, they urge you more to dig for the truth of it all.

"Weren't you always telling me in college that Wanda's too boy-crazy to really be with me?"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Yup. But then she married you, and I lost ten bucks to a wager with Clint."

"You wagered on the most important event of my life?" It's the first time you're hearing that two of your closest friends gambled on your critical life choices. You're not exactly surprised per se, but it makes you curious about what made them choose which side of the coin.

"Well, no," she answers nonchalantly. "We wagered on almost everything. Like who would you lose your virginity to: Carol or Maria. Two beautiful women who had been throwing themselves at you for a whole semester."

"Who won that bet then?"

"Nobody. Remember when we bought you drinks after you finally slept with Wanda? That's where all the stakes went. We both lost."

"So after my marriage, what else did you put your money on?"

Natasha smiles. "None. That was the last of it. It's not right to give odds beyond a happy ever-after."

If she notices your deathly grip on the steering wheel, she doesn't comment on it.

***

Wanda's serving you the cold-shoulder for not giving her a heads-up about Natasha. You try to ask her why it's such a big deal, and she begins ranting about dinner portions and the “chaos” in the living room: some skewed pillows and a bundle of her students' reaction papers on the center table. Natasha is outside, waiting, so you try to help Wanda straighten the room but she merely dismisses you and asks you to drive for take-out.

"If it's too much trouble for you, we'll just get dinner somewhere." you say.

Wanda narrows her eyes at you murderously, as if you've just made things much worse.

"Fine," Wanda says with finality as she walks up the stairs. "Give my regards to Nat."

And then she's gone, but not before slamming the door of the guest bedroom shut.

You're absolutely fuming when you go back to the car and Natasha peers at you questioningly from the passenger’s seat.

"You in the mood for pizza?" you ask instead of explaining why you can’t still invite her in.

Natasha scrunches her nose in disgust. "Pizza in New Jersey? No, thanks. How about Chinese?"

"Sure." you nod in agreement, having already lost your appetite anyway. You toss the car keys at her. "You drive."

-

You're laying on your back, staring at the ceiling. Wanda hasn't uttered a single word to you ever since you got home from dinner with Natasha.

"She used to spend the night every week at our apartment." you whisper in the darkness.

"What?" Wanda mumbles and shifts onto her back as well with an arm draped over her eyes.

"Natasha," You clarify. "So it didn't cross my mind to inform you that she's visiting. It's just how it's always been."

Beside you, Wanda is mute as a statue. She does this sometimes–tune you out. Wanda claims it's her way of circumventing her anger and saying something she might regret.

For all you know, she could be telling the truth. But to you, it just feels like you're being punished.  

"Wands?" you try. She rolls to her side with her back to you.

You're in hell every time you fight with Wanda. Returning to normal is not an option unless you fix it. You wonder if it's the same for her, or if it's something as trivial as running out of toilet paper or an expired carton of milk left in the fridge.

"Baby?" you try again. It seems like it's all you ever do these days. "Please?"

You hear Wanda release a ragged sigh.

"We're fine, Y/N. Let's just go to sleep."

You nod to yourself and finally let go of the tears you've been holding back. Subsequently, Wanda's cold hand reaches for yours and locks your fingers together. It makes you cry harder, but you can't let her know.

***

Natasha is still radio silent a week after you’ve asked her to spy on your wife.

It's not like her to be slow with the results. You take the lack of news as good news.

***

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Wanda's side of the bed empty.

"Wanda?"

"Hey, baby."

You rub the sleepiness off your eyes at the sight of Wanda’s puffy eyes.

“Are you crying?"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head. "Sorry, I was watching this movie. You know how I get."

You grin at that. "My big crybaby." You sit beside her on the couch and she snuggles to you.

For a while you stay that way, your fingers playing with her hair, and Wanda, palming your cheek affectionately. It brings you back to years before, when she was merely a close friend who would lay her head on your shoulder while she cried about some guy who didn’t deserve her. Like this, Wanda seems so small and vulnerable. You’ve come to realize a long time ago that whatever she’s done, or is to do, you will always feel the need to protect her at all cost. That was the last strip of armor you had given up when you decided to love her until the end.

Then all of a sudden, you see a flash of brown and you end up on your back as Wanda straddles your hips, her eyes darker than you've ever seen them.

"Take off your shorts." She commands in a rush, her own hips already starting a rhythm. You do as she says, but you only manage to move down your shorts and underwear past your ass, when you feel a finger swipe at your wet slit.

"Fuck. Patience, baby." you moan, feeling yourself get slicker.

"Don't have any," Wanda rasps and she sucks the very same finger into her mouth before taking over your undergarments and sliding them all the way down to your ankles. You've barely kicked them off before she spreads your legs and doesn't waste any time tracing your intimacy with her tongue. Her patience comes back eventually, but you're about to lose yours when she doesn't do anything else other than softly brush the tip of her tongue from your tight hole to the underside of your clit. She does this over and over and over, until your legs begin to tremble from being spread out like an eagle for what seems like an eternity.

You clench your core and try to come just from what she's doing, but it's not enough.

"Please, I need more." You manage a whisper although you're unsure if Wanda heard you.

"I've missed you so much, Y/N." You feel her say against your pussy. "I've missed making you feel good. Missed feeling this way with you..."

What way? You want to ask, but your brain is too muddled with lust to care.

You could only grunt in reply, before Wanda is pulling away in order to arrange your position on the sofa. You've almost forgotten how physically strong she is, and it turns you on so much, you nearly peak. Wanda grabs both of your ankles and pushes them back, until they're on either side of your head, near your ears. Heat spreads across your face and down to your neck for being exposed like this. Wanda takes a moment to appreciate the mess she's made between your legs, her teeth digging at her lower lip. You can't bring yourself to watch her watch you, and you stare at the same spot before you feel her lift your chin to kiss you in the most delicate way.

"I love you." She murmurs against your lips. Every fiber of your being is ablaze as you take in the smallest details of this moment: your taste that you two shared in a kiss, the mingling scent of your arousal and hers, the endearing sweat on Wanda's brow that's making her more desirable than any lingerie could ever. You'd never admit it to Wanda, but sex was something you only learned to want and need when you fell in love with her.

You smile up at her. "I love you. More than you could ever know."

Her face crumples in an aching manner, but before you can register what that means, Wanda has crawled back to the source of your pleasure and takes your clit in between her lips. She starts sucking at it gently, while her hands work their way to your buttocks and then spread your ass cheeks. In this way, both of your holes are exposed to the air, sending a chill down your spine and threatening to make you come any time soon.

A finger experimentally prods at your other entrance, making you whimper as your slick continues to brim in your cunt hole.

"Wands, gonna cum," you moan as you hold onto the edge of the sofa for dear life. Wanda ignores your warning and continues rubbing at your crimp hole, while her tongue quickens its laps against your clit. It doesn't take a few more seconds before you're bursting, and Wanda plunges her tongue into your pussy at precisely the second you start to come so you don't clench around nothing.

Soon enough, the tremors subside and Wanda wipes her mouth before she gives you a searing kiss.

You're still catching your breath when Wanda lays her head on your chest so innocently, as if she hasn't just given you the best orgasm of your life. You wait a few more seconds for your heart rate to go back to normal, and once they do, it’s only then that you notice that Wanda's still in her pajamas, fully clothed.

That needs to be rectified. Immediately.

Without a word, you get up with Wanda still on top of you. You make her wrap her arms tighter around your shoulders as you bring yourself into a standing position while she clings to you like a koala. Wanda laughs at your attempt to hold her up steadily, simultaneously impressed that you actually can.

"I've been going to the gym whenever my lovely wife's stuck at professoring ." You snicker at your own terrible wordplay, as you plant your feet firmly on the floor.

You miss the shadow of guilt that passes over her fleetingly. "I can see that," she says, biting her lip as she feels your straining biceps. You grin up at her, before carrying her upstairs as steadily as you can while she distracts you with kittenish nibs at your earlobe.

Once in the bedroom, you lay Wanda gently on the bed, your movements slow and delicate as if one wrong move could ruin everything. You start to undo the buttons of her silky top, holding her gaze with a look of adoration typically reserved to deities. It's only fitting because Wanda Maximoff is your religion.

"Wait, can you–" she glances at the night table to your right, and you understand right away what she wants. You quickly retrieve the flesh-colored strap-on at the bottom most drawer. And as you start putting on the harness, Wanda leans forward to capture a dusky nipple, effectively sidetracking you from the task at hand.

"Baby, just a sec..." You chuckle at her apparent neediness. Between the two of you, it's Wanda that's been more in-touch and expressive with her carnal needs. More exciting. More daring. More adventurous. She's always been more in everything, and you sometimes wonder if she's weary of leading the wallflower to the dancefloor all these years.

"Hurry." Wanda whines, her teeth nipping hard enough to play the line between pain and pleasure.

As soon as the harness is secured around your hips, you push Wanda back onto the mattress. You hook one of her creamy thighs over your shoulder, holding it firmly while your other hand aligns the tip of the toy to her slit. Pressing a languid kiss to her knee, you start moving your hips to brush your cock along the length of her drenched sex. Wanda moans lowly and unabashedly, and you feel yourself getting wet again.

"Fuck, baby, inside..." Wanda mewls, her hands traveling downwards to massage her own clit. You grunt in protest and seize her hand, interlacing your fingers together to prevent her from touching herself. Increasing the rhythm of your hips but still not entering her, you give her a warning, “ I make you cum.” It’s not like you to engage in any sort of powerplay in the bedroom, and yet you couldn’t help but let out some of the resentment that has built over the last few weeks through the sex you’re having with her now.

Besides, Wanda seems to love it. You look down just in time to see her wetness trickle down to the sheets. You groan loudly from the visual and roughly position her to lie sideways. You keep the thigh over your shoulder secured, while you straddle the other one. Moisture begins to form at the back of your neck, muscles straining to hold this position. Wanda’s face reddens as you stare at her weeping cunt, before her eyes roll to the back of her head as you unceremoniously enter her in one, powerful thrust.

“Fuck!” Wanda cries through gritted teeth, her French-manicured nails digging painfully between your knuckles. Unlacing your bruised fingers from her, you then wrap them around her throat. You’ve never done anything like this in bed before, and you watch in twisted satisfaction as Wanda’s lust-filled eyes widen in shock and slight panic. The way you're grinding into her is viciously savage, callously chasing your own high. Wanda tips her head back as far as she could, her chin pointing to the heavens as she experiences an other-worldly kind of pleasure.  Your thighs grow slicker from your shared arousal, the stench from it filling your nostrils. Her hips try to match your tempo and an animalistic sound rips from your throat as your movements become more and more frantic.

"Shit, baby, I think I'm gonna–"

"No." You lightly squeeze around her neck.

"Please," Wanda sobs in frustration, staving off her impending release. You pay no heed to her request as you slow down your motion to keep her on the edge.

"Say it again." You demand.

"W-what?"

"Say you love me."

"L-love you..." The length of your spine curves as you bend forwards, pushing Wanda's thigh back in the process and opening her up even further.

Wanda whimpers at the new angle you're fucking her with wild abandon. "Jesus, Y/N. I can't-"

"One more time. Say it." You plead against her mouth, increasing the speed of your thrusts again, but this time you’re determined to finish her off.

With a sharp cry, Wanda clenches around your cock and comes, screaming those three fated words that are simultaneously your salvation and your undoing. You try to prolong her orgasm, alternately pausing and then jogging your hips, studiously watching her facial reactions and loving the subtle twitch of muscle in her jaw. A couple of tears run down her cheeks, and you lick them gently from her face. Letting go of her delicate neck, you run a free hand across her back, gathering beads of sweat along the way. Without pulling out of her, you drop her thigh on your shoulder with great care, before pressing your lower body down so that your pelvis is snug against hers. Wanda grabs your face with both hands and pulls you down for a searing kiss.

You release her lower lip with a wet pop and then like an eager puppy, starts peppering her face with featherlight kisses, making Wanda laugh and squirm in your arms. "You're cute," You tell her. "And so damn hot. How is that possible?"

Wanda blushes, overwhelmed by the ferocity in your words and in your eyes. She starts jogging her hips as your kisses become more insistent, but then an idea hits you. Embarrassingly, you've never done this with Wanda before, but this time feels as good as any to finally try it. Wanda shivers as you unsheathe your cock from her pussy, leaving a thread of wetness across her inner thighs. Afterwards, you remove the harness and place the drenched toy somewhere on the floor. Wanda pulls you back on top of her, a sleepy and satisfied grin on her face. She's prepared to call it a night when she feels your hand wandering back to the still feverish spot between her legs.

"What are you doing?" She asks coyly.

Instead of replying, you merely continue to trail south until your fingers find her slippery nub. Wanda gasps, back arching and eager for more. "Lie on your stomach and stick your ass up in the air for me." You whisper in her ear, and she obeys without a second thought. Abandoning her clit for a second, you crawl towards the foot of the bed, until your nose is a trifling inch from your wife's firm buttocks.

"Are you ready?" You husk, planting your chin at the base of her spine.

Wanda is almost convulsing in anticipation, and barely manages a nod. Heart beating wildly in your chest, you spread Wanda's cheeks with your thumb to reveal her puckered entrance. When Wanda finally understands what you’re about to do, her head whips over to look at you, but she doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Y/N?” Her voice is muffled by the pillow, small and unsure. You massage the back of her thighs to calm her down.

“I want to if you do.” You tell her sincerely. Wanda appreciates your touches staying in safe zones, making her feel safe and secured.

“It’s just… it’s been hours ago since I showered, it's dirty and I don't want to gross you out-”

“That’ll never happen,” You promise. “Whenever you were snotty from crying over your exes, all I could think about then was kissing you. I'd never not want you, Wanda.”

“Okay.” Wanda murmurs softly, shifting back closer to you. “I’m ready.”

“Good girl.”

You place a pillow beneath her stomach so she can comfortably prop herself up. Wanda’s breathing picks up when you part her cheeks again. This time, there’s no hesitation or wasted second as you lick a stripe from the entrance of her cunt to the rim of her backdoor.

“Да, да, детка!” Wanda yelps in her native language, impossibly turning you on even more. You could count on one hand the few occasions you’d been able to reduce her to a Sokovian mess, making her feel so good she forgets her English. Wanda's flavor there is different, more pungent and oh-so delectable.

"детка, I need-"

Wanda doesn't get to finish her sentence. Knowing exactly what she needs, you plunge your middle and ring fingers inside her wet heat. You feel her anus contract against your tongue, and you take it as a cue to enter her with it. Wanda thrashes violently on the bed and tries to move away from the intense pleasure that's bordering on pain. Eventually, you find the perfect cadence of plunging your tongue into her tight crevice every time you withdraw your finger from her pussy and vice-versa. Wanda, on the other hand, finds herself wantonly humping the pillow, practically grazing her tumescent nub.

All of it lasts a few more seconds before you feel Wanda's imminent little death. You stop moving your fingers to allow her to take over her own release, until finally, Wanda collapses on her stomach. You lick your fingers clean before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You pull the blankets up to cover both of your aching bodies, before settling beside your wife. Wanda automatically lays her head on your breast and throws an arm over your stomach. You kiss her sweaty forehead, and right before you are about to close your eyes, something wet hits your flushed skin.

"Wanda, hey," You search her face, your eyebrows creasing in worry. "Are you alright?"

She smiles through her tears, nodding. “I am now.”

Your own eyes glisten, a wave of relief passing over you. Right now, with the way Wanda's looking at you, it's like you're finally waking up from a long, terrible dream.

***

When Natasha finally calls, you’ve practically forgotten about hiring her to investigate Wanda.

You’ve had a perfect week with your wife. Things weren’t just back to normal, they were even better not only in the sexual aspect of things (though insatiable doesn’t even begin to describe Wanda nowadays), but you’ve been talking and doing things together more than ever.

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha’s rough voice comes through.

“New phone, who’s this?” You try to joke.

“Hilarious, Y/N,” you hear her try to lighten up her tone, but for someone who used to work for the secret service, she’s terrible at hiding her emotions from you. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to call you since early this week. I just didn’t have the time…”

You’ve known Natasha longer than anyone in your life who’s not your parents. Wanda’s the love of your life, but Natasha’s your person. You understand each other beyond words and actions.

“Nat, what’s going on?” you ask.

“I saw them, Y/N. T-Two days after you asked me to… they went for a movie at a worn-down theater 3 miles from the university. I waited for them to leave and when they did–” Natasha hesitates to tell you how she’s seen them together. “I can’t tell if there’s–if she’s… I can just show you the photos.”

You don’t say anything for almost a minute, and Natasha waits for you quietly.

And then, “Is that all?”

Natasha draws in a long breath. “No.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming. And then, like a man on trial waiting for their verdict, you nod to yourself and square your shoulders.

“Alright. Tell me everything.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #category: angst #category: smut #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maxmoff x y/n #my writing #marvel

[whumpcember]

Introducing Whumpcember 2022!

Everyone's heard of Whumptober or Febuwhump, Angstpril or Sicktember, but get ready for Whumpcember! Whumpcember is pretty much exactly like Whumptober or Febuwhump, except in December.

Whumpcember is born out of a love of monthly whump challenges but with zero time to complete them. I also want to complete these challenges, but never have the time! So I came to realize that, from an American perspective, December is the month I get the most time off. So, I decided to create this event for people who have too much time in December, but so little across the other 12 months. Of course, this is most definitely an American experience and not universal; so if you don't have free time during December it is still perfectly alright to participate! This event was just made to cure my December boredom, and anyone else's.

Now after that ramble, onto the actual rules:

Prompts should be answered with whump as the main focus (i'll let angst slide though, since it's similar enough to whump)

Fanfic! Gif! Text post! Fanart! Fan video! Any piece of media that you can possibly make that has whump counts!

You can use the prompts any time! Don't feel the need to rush

Though, prompts answered during December will most likely be reblogged

Post anywhere! AO3, Wattapad, Tumblr, or even Fanfic.Net! So as long as you make a Tumblr post with a link to the answered prompt it may be reblogged.

When posting onto Tumblr you can either @/ the blog or tag with #whumpcember2022 and the day's tag, such as #whumpcember2022 day1

Don't forget to add any warnings necessary, such as NSFW or sexual content

At the end of the month a masterpost will go out to all participants and a badge you can save stating that you are either a participant or completionist. In order to be on the masterpost though, you will have to fill out a google form at the end of month; don't worry it'll take two minutes!

I hope everyone has a fun time during the event! And if you have any questions shoot me an ask through the ask box!

(this is also my first year running this event, expect a hiccup or two)

Written Prompt List Below

-Main Prompts-

Day 1: Hypothermia

Day 2: Avalanche

Day 3: Storm

Day 4: Shortness of Breath

Day 5: “I hate you!”

Day 6: Separated

Day 7: Scars

Day 8: Faked Death

Day 9: Sacrifice

Day 10: “I won’t leave you”

Day 11: Clothing That Doesn’t Fit

Day 12: Broken Bone

Day 13: Fear of the Unknown

Day 14: Shaking

Day 15: “You’re A Monster”

Day 16: Bad Luck

Day 17: Icy Deep

Day 18: Betrayal

Day 19: Electricity

Day 20: “It’s Too Late”

Day 21: Self-Hate

Day 22: Closing In

Day 23: Stumbling

Day 24: Anticipation

Day 25: “Shouldn’t You Be Happy?”

Day 26: Free Falling

Day 27: Crash Landing

Day 28: Explosion

Day 29: Failure

Day 30: The End Is Nigh

Day 31: Slow Healing

-Alts-

Alt 1. Nightmares

Alt 2. Desperation

Alt 3. Deal With The Devil

Alt 4. Accidental Injury

Alt 5. “I Won’t Help You”

Alt 6. Revenge

Alt 7. Lashing Out

Alt 8. Secrets

Alt 9. On The Run

Alt 10. “I Would Die For You”

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember2022 prompt list #whumpcember #whump #prompts

[poraphia]

I saw some of your posts about Tommyinnit’s clinic for supervillains and I had never heard of it and now I’ve finished it in a day lol. Could you do a hero reader x siren where the hero reader knows Wilbur and siren knows the civillian reader and one day they’re in a battle and realisation and emotional shit goes on. I’ll leave you to decide what happens and whether someone dies :)

"Slow Your Breathing, Look At Me."

pairing • clinic!villain!wilbur x hero!reader 1958 words • 9.24.23 containing • depictions of weapons, deep wounds, broken ribs, angst, wilbur and reader are heartbroken my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr

"Tell me you're not Siren. Tell me I'm not just some hero that fell in love with a supervillain."

♡♡♡

“WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT LET THEM GET AWAY!” Dream growled. Before he could utter another word, he used his telekinesis to throw a car at the flying Zephyrus.

The Syndicate had robbed the most successful and popularly known bank in L’manburg. Not only was it the bank thousands of citizens used, but it was also where most heroes got their paychecks. Meaning that there was the risk of the supervillains knowing the heroes’ identities. This caused headquarters to send out what Heroes we had available to fight against the Syndicate. Funnily enough, we were only fighting against the grand trio: Siren, Blade, and Zephyrus. The other heroes were on the hunt to find the other runaway supervillains who were previously on the scene.

I dodged through Blade’s sharp attacks, using my power of slowing down time to know exactly where his edges would land.

“Haste! I need your help!” I whipped my head around to find Rewind on the concrete. His leg was bleeding out from a nasty slice that nearly ripped to his bones.

“I got you!” I exclaimed. I sped past through the battles and bloodshed, narrowly dodging the flap of feathers and the muffled sound of a honey voice. The world around me was blurry, and I could only make out the figure of Rewind’s body heaving on the pavement. Once I was close enough, I picked up Rewind, holding him close, before carefully speeding past through the fighting yet again. I burst through the doors of a nearby building before running up the stairs as swiftly as I could. In a matter of seconds, we were by Supreme’s side. Supreme patted on the laid-out cushion he had set out before I placed Rewind down.

“Agh, I’m never going to get used to that…” He groaned, softly chuckling. I plopped down next to him as Supreme proceeded with his healing process.

“Pff, you’re going to be okay,” I reassured. He turned to me, a curious tilt turning his head.

“Hey, Haste, how do you control your powers anyway? If that isn’t a complicated answer—” He hissed in pain, feeling the alcohol sting his skin as Supreme cleaned his wound.

“Sorry!” Supreme quickly apologized.

“N-No worries—!” Rewind said through gritted teeth. I softly chuckled at his antics.

“Well, it was kind of a hard process. It took a lot of training to individually control my own speed separate from the world’s speed.” I explained. “It used to be ‘Oh I’m slow and everyone slow!’ or vice versa. But now it’s like… The whole world can be slow and I’m super speed! And if I’m ever holding someone, they can see what I’m seeing too!” I shrugged.

“Wow, I didn’t know it worked like that!” Rewind exclaimed, excitement seeping into his voice. I smiled, flattered that he took an interest in my powers.

“You’re all patched up Rewind! Be more careful next time.” Supreme said, dusting off his hands. We both looked down, not even realizing that the wound was already fully healed. “Thanks for sticking around to talk to him again, Haste. You know how squirmish Rewind can get when he’s not distracted.”

“Hey! Not true—!”

A loud crash interrupted Rewind’s banter. I stumbled over to the edge of the tower, only to see 404 throwing blades at Dream whilst Flame zapped fire under his feet. “Fuck!” I exclaimed. I sped down the stairs in a blurry haze before running across the street to tackle 404 down. “What was the command?!” I nearly demanded out of 404.

“It was only for me and Flame! He told us to take down Dream!” He explained briefly, but before he could say anymore, he pushed me off and his focus regained on Dream. Blade’s swords nearly slammed against me as I was about to get up. With speed, I was able to narrowly dodge my guts being spilled. I stumbled back onto my feet, running toward 404 and Flame. I looked behind me, realizing that Blade and Zephyrus were escaping. From the rooftops, I saw Rewind and Felis chasing after them. Turning back around, I realized that Dream was locked onto Siren, who was attempting to make his escape.

“Dream! I’ll cover for you, just get Siren!” I shouted, drawing out my shield. I swiftly ran in front of them, blocking both of them. Flame created a fire in his palms before nearly engulfing me in his creations. I pushed through the heat with my shield, only to be welcomed with daggers flying at me left and right. I slowed down time, carefully taking in how each dagger flew before brushing past each source of danger. I returned time to normal, waiting for their next moves.

A loud thud and a yelp of pain could be heard behind me. As I turned around, I noticed that Dream had Siren pinned against a building. Dream’s hand was raised as he pushed Siren’s body against the concrete, creating cracks surrounding him. I briefly looked back again to clear my way out of 404 and Flame’s attacks but I returned my gaze to the supervillain and hero. Dream was now close to him, a finger etching under his blindfold.

In one quick moment, Dream ripped the blindfold off of his face, and without realizing it, I was slowing down the world to near its max.

No.

No.

No…

I stood in the middle of the street, paralyzed.

The man I had met only a few months ago at a coffee shop.

The man who sat at my table one chilly autumn day after being relentlessly teased by his brother.

The man who I started developing a crush on and would blush when he would order my coffee for me.

He was here,

And he was Siren.

I felt my body charge up with speed, and without thinking, I was running at Dream and Wilbur headfirst. I tackled Dream down, making him lose his power over Wilbur before grabbing Wil and running with him in my arms. Despite the man being nearly double my height, the adrenaline told me I could bench fifty more of him if I had to. I eventually found an empty alleyway to hide in for the time being. As I stumbled into the space, the energy started to drain out of me. Time resumed back to normal as I carefully placed down Wil. I sat myself down in front of him, nearly collapsing. He only groaned in pain, weakly clutching at his ribs.

“Please… Wilbur…” I mumbled through heaving breaths. “Tell me you’re not in front of me right now…”

He didn’t speak. That action alone felt like taking my heartstrings and wrapping them around my neck. My head raced with a thousand thoughts at once, and barely any of them were comprehensive. I just wanted to know what holy being up there in the sky decided that this was my fate. That I had to be a hero in love with a supervillain. I felt sick to my stomach. Without a word, I got up, towering over the frail man. I raised a fist, causing Siren to instinctively start echoing his demand.

“Haste, go—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Wilbur!” I angrily ripped off my mask, throwing it down on the ground. “It’s fucking me! It’s (y/n), you piece of shit!” I felt the tears threatening to spill out, and for once, I let them. Gradually, they cascaded down my cheek and onto the concrete near where Wil’s foot rested.

“(y-y/n)..?” He asked, barely mustering the courage to go above a whisper. I nodded, my eyes refusing to leave his giant, glossy ones. My heart was pounding against my chest as if it threatened to break out and punch Wilbur in his stupid face.

I didn’t know how to feel. I felt anger, shock, heartache, confusion, and distress all at once. As I was absorbed in my head, I didn’t realize his hand was etching toward mine, quietly wrapping his hand around my index finger as he sooth my knuckles with his thumb. I shook my head and looked at him.

“I— I didn’t know this would happen. I’m sorry— I didn’t know either. Oh God, this is all my fault.” He stumbled through his own trembling words. “Dream is probably on the lookout for you now. Y-You need to kill me! I don’t want you to get in trouble!” He cried. I stepped back, shocked at his pleas.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Wil?! I don’t care that I’m in trouble right now, I need to get you to safety!” I yelled back, frustrated. “Contact your healer— Apollo, was it? I-I could hold back Dream I just need you to make it out here alive.” I drew out my shield again, causing Wil to nearly lunge at my legs. He only groaned in pain as he landed near my feet, but he held on tight to my ankles.

“No, (y/n)! He already saw you save me. He’s going to hurt you—!” Wil clutched at his chest again, hissing out swears. “Please, I’m not going to lose you!” He cried. I looked down at him. My chest tightened at the sight of him desperately pleading for my life, despite his broken ribs and body. I crouched down in front of him to stroke his untamed hair. His heaving slowed down as my fingers soothed him ever so slightly.

I sighed, looking at him. “Consider this my resignation from the Heroes of L’manburg. If I have to be put up against someone that I consider one of my closest friends, then call me a villain or weak, but I would never take your life under any circumstances.”

Wilbur paused in his movements. His grip on me started to loosen as I stepped back. “Again, Wil, contact your healer.” He lifted his head up to face me. Tears were running down his face with the expression of a puppy who got kicked in the stomach. I smiled at him reassuringly. “I’ll see you at the coffee shop next week, okay? I…”

I wanted to say the three words. The words I had been begging to say the moment I realized that I could imagine a future with this man. Instead, I bit my lip and exited out of the alleyway and onto the street.

“Oh, Dream~!” I sang out. “Guess who’s fucking resigning!” I twirled on one foot, flaunting myself as the ultimate distraction. I gritted my teeth and inhaled sharply, finally letting the anger boiling inside of me out.

“COME AT ME YOU SMILEY BITCH!”

Wilbur was sprawled out in the alleyway. His hand shook as he reached to click on his earpiece. Immediately he was met by the worried voice of his brother.

“Siren! Siren, where the fuck are you?!” Apollo shouted.

“I’m in an alleyway a few blocks from where the fight originally was. Dream crushed my ribs and nearly saw my identity.” Wil gasped out.

“Oh, for fucks sake man,” Apollo mumbled. “Okay, I’m turning back around! I’ll see you in a moment!”

“W-Wait,” Wil stuttered. “Get the others too. We’re going to need them.”

“Huh, why?” Apollo asked, concern glossing in his voice. Wil, in turn, chuckled as he flipped his body over. His eyes were fixated on the stars twinkling in the night sky.

“Let’s just say, we have a new supervillain we’ll need help smuggling in.”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ hey hey heyyy hope you guys enjoyed this little angsty thing. i've been writing a lot of angst haven't i? oh well. i am flying through these requests! notes of all kind are super duper appreciated!!

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #clinic!wilbur #clinic!wilbur x reader #siren x reader #siren wilbur soot #self insert #will gold

[yukiokami]

my tears ricochet

treech x female 7th district reader

warnings: no use of y/n, third-person narrative, angst, headcanons (9th hunger games winner, treech's family), l-bombs, violence, deaths.

summary: she did everything to prevent him from losing her too, eventually losing him herself.

word count: 859

author's note: my first time writing on tumblr, i had a huge wave of inspiration after listening to sad songs and watching edits of treech. english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes. this is a songfic to my tears ricochet by taylor swift. enjoy, loves.

her name was pulled. among hundreds of others. everything around her is in slow motion, she doesn't hear anything, doesn't see her mother's frightened eyes. she only notices treech's hand rising, he is now ready to volunteer, so she wouldn't be taken to the games. she manages to grab him with both hands and whispers, calming herself rather than him.

"it's going to be okay, i'll be fine, treech."

he shakes his head in disbelief. she can't leave him, leave her mom. die.

and she doesn't understand how she can cope. this is not a self-preservation instinct. it's an instinct to save those she cares about.

"listen, aspen is going to be with me. you can't come with me, please, i can't stand it if you die."

"i can't stand it if you die!" he repeats after her. "i can't lose you!" treech breaks down, despite the huge crowd.

burning tears flow down her cheeks, blurring the dirt on her face, and leaving long streaks.

"that's why i'm not going to die," she looks at him, reassuring. "i'm not going to die, treech. please take care of mom," she says when the peacekeepers grab her when they hold on to each other with the last of their strength.

cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

till my dying day

"i love you, okay? forever," their hands separate and soldiers drag the girl to the stage.

"let her go!" treech hisses, trying to fight the soldiers who are holding him tightly from running after her.

the doors close and she hears him scream.

we gather here, we line up,

weepin' in a sunlit room

when the counter counts down the seconds before the games begin, she can't think, there's a white noise in her head. there are no places to hide in the huge arena. here you can only fight and try to survive. she needs to survive because they are waiting for her at home. treech has no one but her. his parents died in a forest fire, as did her father.

and if I'm on fire,

you'll be made of ashes, too

she starts running towards the center with all her strength and grabs an axe, while two tributes attack two more. they die in seconds. she backs away and a guy from district 4 grazes her arm with a sword, trying to pierce it. she turns around and stabs him in the head with an axe.

the games lasted for several hours, the remaining three tributes, including her, are sitting on opposite sides of the arena, exhausted. aspen was killed by a girl from district 9.

and she's just waiting for the attack.

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

this is not a victory, but a simple accident. but it doesn't matter now, because she's going home.

we gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

they are sitting by a small lake, throwing stones into it, which leaves circles, a month after the hunger games. they devote all their time to each other, and treech is insanely happy that she is with him, that she is alive. she didn't leave him.

"soon I'll earn a lot of money and buy us a house, and we will live there. just the two of us. and then I'll buy you a diamond ring and we'll get married," treech often voiced his thoughts, to which she always laughed and said that they would have to work very hard.

and when you can't sleep at night

(you hear my stolen lullabies)

at night, she was tormented by terrible nightmares that she was back in the arena, she was shaking and nothing could help but funny songs sung to her by her beloved lumberjack in a hat, wrapping her in a warm blanket by his embrace and words about how brave she is.

when his name is pulled at the next reaping, she can't breathe. this just can't be happening. they've been through so much together that they've been torn apart again. she's broken up by games. killed by the reaping. at that carefree time, treech guessed that such an outcome could take place, so he was ready. as much as it was possible.

"you were able to come back to me, and i will do everything to come back to you," he strokes her cheek with one hand, and with the other he puts a ring in her deathly cold ones. "i love you."

the peacekeepers take him away.

she falls to her knees and a frantic scream pierces the entire square.

when the neighbors talk about tributes returning, she joyfully runs to meet treech, confident of his victory. there are two coffins at the square, in one of which lies lamina, and in the other her brave beautiful boy. he didn't come back to her.

you know I didn't want to have to haunt you

but what a ghostly scene

you wear the same jewels that I gave you

as you bury me

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas x reader #treech x reader #treech tbosas #treech fanfiction

[itsmealaiah]

Always be there

TW: angst, fighting, separation, ignorance, AFAB reader, handjob, riding sub bill, dirty talk, pet names, sweet bill, profanity, a little sweet fluffy into smutty fic

A/N: hey so my school blocked tumblr when i hook up to they wifi, so no more daytime updates ��

Request: 2006 bill and female reader have a little fight because yn misses him but he's so busy with the band. To make things up he comes home earlier, cooks dinner and cuddles later with a cute movie in tge background. She starts teasing with a hand job which leads to lovemaking session

Rating: 18+, mdni

WC: 1.8k

bill had been gone for days, practicing with the band, trying to get their latest song just right. It was important to him, and he knew he needed to put in the time. But it left you feeling a little neglected, even though you knew it wasn't personal. She missed his presence, the way he smelled when he came home, the feel of his skin against yours. Tonight, though, she decided you'd had enough. You wanted him home, wanted to see him, to feel him. So you sent him a message, telling him you loved him and that you needed him.

No answer.

You felt a pang of hurt in your chest as you checked your phone, but you tried not to let it show. You busied yourself with chores even though your stomach was in knots, wondering why he wasn't responding. You had sent him a clear message, told him exactly how you felt. Why wasn't that enough?

Time seemed to drag on, and you could feel yourself getting more and more agitated. You wanted to talk to him, to see his face and hear his voice. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the ache in your heart. Maybe if you gave him a little more space, he'd come around.

Late that evening, just as you were about to crawl into bed, there was a knock at the door. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you hurried to answer it. There he was, looking sheepish, holding a large bouquet of flowers. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice rough from whatever had been keeping him away. "I'm so sorry I didn't reply earlier. We were just practicing and-" you cut him off, a slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really bill?" you shook your head as you laughed harshly.

He looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on his face. "Oh… you were missing me." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "I'm sorry, I should have realized. I shouldn't have ignored your message." He handed you the flowers, and you took them reluctantly. "I wanted to come home earlier, but I didn't want to let the guys down. I should have found a way."

You took his hand, leading him inside. "It's okay," you said softly. "I understand." You knew how important the band was to him, how much they meant to him. "I just wanted you to know how I felt."

He followed you into the living room and sat down on the couch beside you. "I do know," he said, running a hand through your hair, smoothing out any knots. "And I'm so sorry baby. I should have made more of an effort to see you."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his face for any hint of sincerity. He met your gaze, his expression serious. "I love you so much," he continued, "and I don't want to do anything that would make you feel neglected or unloved. You're the most important person in my life, and I need you to know that."

You couldn't help but smile at his words. "I do know that, Bill. And I know how much the band means to you. It's just… I miss you." You paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I want us to find a balance, okay? Between the band and us. I want us to be happy together."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I do too, baby. I promise I'll try harder. And I want you to know that I'm here for you now. I'm not going anywhere." He leaned in, kissing you softly on the lips, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

The next day, you woke up to a note on your bedside table. "Had to go to band practice, see you soon" signed bill.

Your heart dropped as you felt your eyes form glossy shades.

You knew what this meant. You knew that he had to go back to the band, that they were his first priority. But it didn't make it any easier to swallow. You forced a smile on your face, trying to be strong for him, for the both of you. You didn't want to see how much it hurt you, how much you missed him already.

But as you walked downstairs, you saw a surprise. It was bill, sitting on the couch with a matching pj set for the both of you and so many snacks and candy that you gasped. "Bill! You didn't have to do this!" You exclaimed, rushing over to the couch and hugging him tightly, collapsing onto his body and nuzzling your face into his neck.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. "Of course I did. I wanted to make it up to you for being such a jerk last night." He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair. "I missed you so much, baby. I hate being away from you."

You sighed contentedly, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace. You were about to say something, but then you noticed the food on the table. Your mouth watered as you took in the sight of the assortment of candy and snacks. "You didn't have to do this, really," you murmured, leaning back to look at him.

He grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Of course I did. I wanted to make you feel special." He paused, studying your face for a moment before continuing. "And I wanted to make up for how things went last night. I should have been more considerate."

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. "You were right, I should have been more understanding. It's just… I miss you so much when you're gone."

He kissed you softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I miss you too, baby. I promise I'll try to be home more often. And when I am here, I'll make sure to give you all my attention."

You smiled up at him, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Okay," you replied, leaning in to kiss him back. "Thank you for understanding."

You spent the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch with Bill, watching movies and eating the snacks. There was a comfortable silence between you, interrupted only by occasional laughter or a stolen kiss. It was the perfect day, and it made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

As the sun began to set, you both cleaned up the living room and got ready for bed. You climbed under the covers, feeling the familiar warmth of your bed and the lingering scent of his cologne. Bill joined you a few minutes later, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

"I love you so much, Bill," you whispered, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of being in his arms.

He kissed your shoulder gently before responding. "I love you too, my sweet girl. Always and forever." You kissed his neck calmly, before slipping your hand into his pants, hearing his breath hitch.

"Baby.,, what are you doing?" he rasped out, his mind clearly racing with thoughts of what was to come.

You smiled into the crook of his neck, enjoying the feel of his muscles tensing under your touch. "I'm just showing you how much I love you." You slid your hand further down, feeling him grow harder in response. "And how much I miss you when you're not here."

Your fingers danced over his length, learning his rhythm and responding to his gasps. The sound of his pleasure filled the room, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of power and desire course through you. You watched as his eyes drifted shut, his jaw clenched, and his hips bucked into your touch.

The air in the room seemed to thicken, the anticipation building with every stroke of your hand. You could feel the energy between you, the connection that bound you together, and you knew that this moment, right here, was everything.

As his climax approached, you quickened your pace, urging him towards release. His moans grew louder, more desperate, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside him. With one final thrust, he let out a hoarse cry and came in your hand, his body going limp against yours.

You smiled, feeling satisfied and in control as you continued to stroke him gently, milking him of every last drop. He lay panting beneath you, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

"That's it, baby," you whispered, leaning down to kiss his neck. "Let it all out."

As he recovered, you moved off of him and straddled his hips, guiding his still-hard length back to you. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin as he thrust upwards to meet you. The sensation of being so completely joined with him sent shivers down your spine, and you arched your back, pressing closer.

You began to ride him slowly, lost in the rhythm of your bodies moving together. His hands found your hips, guiding you up and down, and you could feel the heat building between your legs. You leaned forward, bracing yourself on his chest, and looked down at him as you moved. His eyes met yours, filled with desire and adoration, and it was all you could do not to lose yourself in the depths of his gaze. "F-fuck! right there!" you screamed, riding his hips even harder now, and he let his mouth hang open in a silent scream, his eyes hazy with pleasure, just as yours were.

The friction between your bodies grew more intense, the air in the room thick with desire. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building inside you, and you knew that he was too. His hands slid up your back, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your shirt, and you arched into the touch, moaning his name. "Oh God, Bill… I'm gonna…!" you gasped, your hips bucking wildly as your orgasm crashed over you in a wave of heat and pleasure.

He followed you over the edge, his body tensing beneath yours as he cried out your name. The sound of his release filled the room, echoing off the walls and intensifying the intimacy between you. You collapsed onto his chest, spent and satisfied, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as your heart rate slowed and your breathing returned to normal.

After a few moments, you sat up and looked down at him, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "fuck me like that more often," you said, tracing a finger along his jaw. He laughed softly, his breath hot against your touch. "I'll try."

Taglist: @madzandmore @20doozers

© Itsmealaiah 2024. All of the following works are fictional and belong to me. Please do not copy, edit, or steal any of my content.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader smut #billskeis #itsmealaiah

[rthko]

I see a controversial old post of mine on gender that I "deleted" is still making its rounds, but long story short most people are on my side and I appreciate that. That's the main thing I want to say.

When I described my gender expression (do people still use that term?), I got a lot of comments telling me I was reducing gender to stereotypes and that "clothing is not gender." This was particularly frustrating to me because my clothing, my mannerisms, my way of speaking, the pitch of my voice, are factors I have to some degree deliberately taken control over to change how I am seen and how I relate to the world. If there's one reason I don't consider myself trans, it's because nomenclature does not factor into the equation. If I'm called a man, I don't consider it offensive or even inaccurate. That word just doesn't mean as much to me anymore, except with a prefix like "gay" or "queer." This outlook worked for me, but it does not work for everyone nor should it. There are specific experiences to asserting one's self as a discrete gender that was not assigned to them at birth that I do not relate to (or perhaps, not anymore).

I wanted to check on an old post of mine on queer gender identities, like mine, that are not strictly speaking trans. I couldn't find it first, and searching words like "nonbinary" on my blog I instead found posts from my teenage self about how repulsive I found it to be viewed as a man, and my anxieties about growing up and being gendered in new ways that come with adulthood. I found, basically, diary entries agonizing over what I should call myself and the deep-down immutable essence I hadn't yet discovered. As I get older I believe, taking inspiration from trans perspectives on the subject, that I did not have a solid answer and that I didn't need one. I could go on about my gender angst over the years, but I already have, sometimes on my own terms and sometimes pried out of me by bad faith harassers.

I just blocked one commenter who told me of my "immense privilege;" that I am "marginalized based on sexuality but not gender." It's not that I don't have privilege in many ways, but this point of view reifies an ahistorical assimilationist view of gayness. Gays and lesbians must be uncomplicated paradigms of manhood and womanhood, respectively. Their distinct gender identities and the means by which they express them are actually just stereotypes. If you're mistreated because of these factors, this is only based on sexuality and not gender. Many cis gay people are content with this understanding, and use it to declare trans people separate and not worth including. From the first attempts to describe homosexuality as a thing you could BE and not just a category of criminal, the homosexual was said to have characteristics of the "opposite" sex. Before we were gay men we were inverts, Uranians, a "third sex," queer.

I have so much to say on this but Tumblr is just not the platform. Maybe if I had fewer followers, or if simple narratives weren't the most convenient in times of crisis. But while negative interactions stand out more, most people have been on some level receptive to my words on the subject. Thank you for listening and, perhaps, relating.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Masterlist ✨

Angst: 🌑 Fluff/Fun: 🌕 Both: 🌓 1K Notes: ✨

Welcome to my masterlist! I currently only write for Bucky Barnes. I’m also in college, so apologies if I don’t post regularly…because I’m 93.2% likely not to 👌 This is really just a fun lil thing I do. I'm definitely not the best, but I try.

Unless otherwise specified, happy endings only here. Real life is sad enough lmao

(headers by me, dividers by @firefly-graphics)

Make the Wave 🌓 (Complete) ✔️

Pairing: BestFriend!Bucky x f!Reader Summary: You invite both your best friend and your boyfriend to a three-day weekend getaway at a beach resort. This trip was meant to be relaxing, but tensions and jealousies rise as both Miles and Bucky fight for your attention. 

Coming Soon To A Tumblr Near You:

Nothing! lol, but Honey pt. 2 is in the works

In order of most recent to least:

Honey 🌓

Summary: Bucky notices you've been acting really strange lately... like, really strange. And flirty? What happened to you, and are your eyes... glowing?

Solitary Confinement 🌑

Summary: Bucky finds you locked up. (Febuwhump Prompt Day 2)

The Swan and the Soldier 🌔

Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer. 

I Like You (A Lot) 🌔

Summary: You can't help but notice the way Bucky becomes uncomfortable around you, and you help him find peace in your touch.

Who the Hell is Daryl? 🌓✨

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pulse 🌕

Summary: Bucky can hear your heartbeat through the wall, and he can tell everything isn’t alright.

Bucky vs. Book 🌔✨

Summary: Bucky rushes to your aid when he finds out you’re upset. He’s never seen you this distraught before.

Stuck (2)gether 🌕

Summary: A continuation of Stuck Together, Bucky deals with the aftermath of now knowing what it’s like to be so close to you. He misses it. He’s scared of it. He needs it.

Stuck Together 🌕 + Part 2 is above!

Summary: Bug Boy and Big Man get into an argument. Luckily, you’re there to save the day! Until you find yourself in a sticky situation. Things get a little too close for comfort.

Give Me A Sign 🌑

Summary: Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

The Signal 🌓✨

Summary: You and Bucky get separated from the team after an unfortunate mishap, of which Bucky blames you. Except you’re not at fault! You thought… you aren’t too sure anymore.

Maced 🌕

Summary: You think someone’s following you and you mace them. Turns out it’s just Bucky. 

Thank you for being here, thank you for reading, thank you for responding. All my love, Cadence 💖

#bucky barnes masterlist #lostgirlmuseum's masterlist #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky fic

[mamapyjama]

Thought I ought to bring this over here for the Tumblr crew since it’s making a little buzz in the other place and I want to gather all my thoughts in one place.

So, back in 2022 I was in my feelings about Izuku (when am I not?) and wrote the following little sad headcanon on twt:

Made myself sad thinking about how the original Japanese word for Quirk is ‘kosei’, which means ‘individuality’ or the unique part of a personality. It’s no wonder Deku thought he was plain and useless. Everyone has literally been telling him since he was 4. 😓 Like, there’s no way at that age he could separate people talking about his lack of meta-ability from his own unique value as a person when they’re using the same damn word. That’s the kind of stuff that’s going to stick with you. 🥺

Sad to imagine, eh?

Fast forward to 2024 and chapter 412, and as always, I was browsing the jp fandom tweets for reactions after the official release. They often pick up on things we miss like Katsuki’s childlike language, the NTR implications of the kudoichi plot etc.

As I scrolled, I realised there was a HUGE disconnect between what we in “The West” were experiencing (mostly rage at yet another translation ‘choice’) and the existential questioning that was occurring among Japanese readers.

This is just a tiny glimpse, but you should know that every single one I saw was doing the tweet equivalent of staring into the middle distance with a haunted look.

It’s all about the panel below, which was mentioned by the incomparable Pikahlua, as it is unusual in writing ‘mukosei’ without the speechmarks that signify ‘quirkless’ (to use the English term) rather than ‘lacking individuality’.

Horikoshi always uses speechmarks around “Kosei” when talking about quirks, so the implication here is that Izuku never believed he had actual individuality/personality.

Using this interpretation, Kudou observed that Izuku held the hope that even people who were detestable (Katsuki) and those who had no individuality (Izuku) still had human hearts.

Read that again. Izuku hoped that both he and Kacchan, despite their shortcomings, had human hearts. He thinks his only worth is as a vessel, a holder of OFA, and without that he’s barely human.

Ever noticed how some parts of the fandom complain that Deku is a boring MC, that he’s just ‘nice’, and we never get his opinions on things? Yeah.

Remember how hard he cried when All Might said he could be a hero? That was the first time in his life that someone acknowledged him as someone with potential, with worth. (In ch2 he also says “I have no reason to refuse!!” when offered OFA, which always struck me as slightly anticlimactic but makes way more sense now).

And remember how he cried in a similar way when Ochako told the world that he wasn’t special but that he had a special power? She couldn’t have known she was reinforcing his deepest held insecurity, and for a moment his mask slipped. Or maybe he was touched by her assertion that he was just a ‘regular high school kid’? We don’t know, but it’s worth taking a look at these moments in this new light.

You staring into the middle distance with a haunted look too yet? I know I am.

If you’re interested in the bright side (I needed this, I hope it helps):

Narratively speaking, this is the angst section that will lead to Midoriya Izuku: Rising and the happy ending they all deserve.

And the person most likely to disavow him of this sense of inherent worthlessness is the one person who added to it the most in their childhoods.

✨KACCHAN!!✨

No one else can reassure Izuku that he is special, that he’s worthwhile and—crucially—that he always has been, because he’s the only one who knew that all along.

If you need more reassurance, remember that their Origin and Rising chapters so far have all involved each other and have mirrored the emotional journey they’re both on.

Bakugou Katsuki: Origin: Katsuki struggles to accept Izuku and work as a team to battle All Might. Eventually does the bare minimum to cooperate by lending him his gauntlet.

Bakugou Katsuki: Rising: Katsuki coordinates the pro heroes and sacrifices himself to save Izuku. His body ‘moved on its own.’

Midoriya Izuku: Origin: Izuku is bullied by Katsuki, tries to save Katsuki from a villain—his body ‘moved on its own’, and is consequently told he can be a hero by All Might.

It isn’t a reach at all to pretty safely assume that Izuku’s Rising chapter will also be intrinsically linked to Katsuki, and it is his cooperation, faith and love (however you interpret it) that will finally save Izuku from his own sense of worthlessness. Closing the circle.

So yeah, this bit could be rough for the next few chapters, but I have faith that Horikoshi will wrap it up in a way that will be so rewarding and satisfying.

I’m gonna stop now because I’m ill and I need to rest my head, thanks for reading! 😮‍💨

#mha 412 #deku #please someone hug this boy asap #midoriya izuku #bakugou #mha #bnha #bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk canon #Pyj obsesses #my head hurts

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi my dearest

any fics that are based on a movie? or good alternative meeting ones?

Hi Lovely!

I've got a TONNE of Movie-inspired fics! What a grand excuse to post the next part of my Crossovers list! Hope you enjoy all of these!! I've also gone through my MFL list to pad out this list a bit more, hee hee.

If anyone has some more to add that isn't on one of my numerous movie / TV-related lists, please do!

And finally, I actually ALSO had WiPs on this list but I had to remove them because Tumblr has a link limit, so if you guys want me to post a separate 2.5 list with those on it, just let me know! I've about 20 MORE fics I could add here :P

MOVIE / BOOK / TV CROSSOVERS and FUSIONS Pt 2

See also:

Crossovers & Fusions Pt 1

Crossovers & Fusions Pt 1.5 (MFL)

Fairy Tales and Fantasy

TV, Movies, and Books AU (Fantasy Pt. 2)

Wonderful Life AU

Sherlock / Hannibal Crossovers

Science Fiction / Fantasy

Urban / Modern Fantasy

Disney-esque Fics

Moulin Rouge AU

TV Show AU

Sherlock x  Good Omens Crossovers (Updated Apr 2022)

Hogwarts / Wizarding World AU (MFLs) (Potterlock)

BOOKMARKS

In The End by whitchry9 (K+, 9,677 w., 17 Ch. || Memento Fusion || Amnesia, Growing Old, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Heavy Angst) – When a brain injury leaves Sherlock unable to make new memories, John wonders how Sherlock will cope, and what it will mean for The Work and their life. Because after all, how can you live if you can't feel time passing?

Domestic Matters by ohlooktheresabee (M, 29,404 w., 6 Ch. || Fantasy AU || First Meetings, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, BAMF Sherlock, BAMF John, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Supernatural Elements, Implied / Referenced Child Abuse, Elf Sherlock, Human/Elf Politics, Emotional Abuse, Possessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Buddy Greg) – All flatmates need to work out domestic matters between them - who does the dishes, who takes out the rubbish, how often does the carpet need to be vacuumed - these are part and parcel of sharing a living space together. However, when you’re an elf and your flatmate is going to be a human you just met, this rather complicates things…Very loosely inspired by 'The Elves and The Shoemaker' by The Brothers Grimm.

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Past Soldier John, Panic Attacks, POV Alternating Present Tense, Anxious John, Canon Adjacent, Deductions, Obsessive Sherlock,, Travelling, Sherlock’s Family, Jealous Sherlock, Mind Palace John, Awkward Flirting, Batting Cage, Kidnapped/Abducted John, Semi-Reverse Reichenbach, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Hospital, Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma John, Forehead Touching, Hand Holding, Drinking/Bars, Past Jolto) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

MARKED FOR LATER

Asteroidea by etothepii (T, 1,769 w., 1 Ch. || His Dark Materials Fusion || Daemon Sherlock) – In the pocket of his trousers, next to his phone, Mycroft carries the standard-issue steel capsule meant for protecting arthropod daemons. When people ask about it, he smiles and tells them she's not fond of the light, or of people other than himself. This is a lie.  [TRANSLATION: Русский] Part 1 of Asteroidea

Have we met before? by avalanching effect (G, 2,013 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock and Co. Crossover || Crack / Humour, Holding Hands, Banter, POV John) – "Uhm, we got an anonymous tip about some suspicious activity that would be happening in Regent's park today, thank you anonymous tip giver. It said— actually I don't know what it said, it was sent directly to Sherlock and he won't let me read it."

Rider on the Storm by swabloo (G, 3,715 w., 1 Ch. || Alex Rider Crossover || BAMF John) – Sometimes he thinks about turning to Sherlock and saying, 'look, my name isn't actually John,' and telling him about how he's been living off adrenaline since he was fourteen.

The Unexpected Threat by J_Baillier (T, 4,283 w., 1 Ch. || Military AU / Pacific Rim Fusion || Established Relationship, Medical Conditions, Coronaviruses, Doctor John, Bratty Sherlock, Romance, Science Fiction, Futuristic Medicine, Ghost Drifting AKA Telepathy, Medical Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Healing) – The kaiju are not the only threat to the security and well-being of the staff of PPDC's Chard's Rift base. It's the year 2050, and a coronavirus epidemic sweeping the planet has reached The Azores. Part 4 of the At The Edge of Our Hope

lionheart by dreamweavernyx (G, 4,851 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Study, Friendship) – Some days, Molly finds her eyes straying to that drawer in her desk, the one holding a slim piece of wood and the memories of a life she's left behind.

Queer Eye: Johnlock Edition by fellshish (T, 5,799 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Queer Eye Fusion || Post S4, Humour, Angst with Happy Ending, Reality TV, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – John is Not Gay, Sherlock is Married to his Work. It’s been years and years, and Molly is fed up with her clueless friends. She nominates John for the new season of Netflix’s ‘Queer Eye’, and asks the Fab Five to not only renew his closet, but drag the man out of it.

Friend by esama (G, 7,909 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Death, Kid Fic) – Sherlock finds the skull when he's five.

Every Atom of This Summer on My Tongue by  221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (M, 9,524 w., 5 Ch. || 1980’s / Call Me By Your Name Fusion || Summer Romance, Desire, Pining, Angst With Happy Ending, POV Sherlock, Sexual Experimentation, Masturbation, Emotional Sex, Sensuality, 1980s Italy) – While vacationing at his family’s villa on the Italian coast, 18-year-old Sherlock finds himself attracted to John Watson, an older American graduate student working on his first novel. They fall into a passionate affair, desperately wishing their languid afternoons and sultry summer nights would never end.(Inspired by the novel 'Call Me By Your Name.' You don't need to have read the book or seen the film to enjoy this.)

All Is Fine by Iwantthatcoat (T, 11,063 w., 7 Ch. || Zoolander Crossover || Agender / Nonbinary Sherlock, Occasional Transphobic Language) – Sherlock's on a case...undercover at an exclusive fashion show as a model. That's right... he's giving it his All. Pop stars are dying, and there's one common thread...a scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and it's our duty to unravel it, and isolate it, and...make a really nice garment out of it.

Takes Two To Tango by phqyd_roar (E, 12,956 w., 6 Ch. || Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Crossover || Sherlock/Iain & Johnlock || Post S4 Fix It, Jealous John, Whirlwind Romance, Fluff and Angst, Dirty Talk, Bottom Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Alternate Ending) – Just when Sherlock Holmes is beginning to think his relationship with John Watson will never recover from all its ups and downs, he meets Iain MacKelpie, freelance photographer back from Afghanistan, who looks exactly like John Watson.

Better Call Sherlock by Gregorovitch (M, 13,032 w., 4 Ch. || Better Call Saul Crossover || Established Relationship, Case Fic, Legal Drama, Implied Sex, Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are assigned a case in Albuquerque, New Mexico this time. Shenanigans ensue, with lots of chicanery.

The Adventure of Downton Abbey by PlaidAdder (T, 13,427 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon / Downton Abby Crossover || Undercover for a Case, Case Fic) – Desperate to free her husband from prison, Anna Smith Bates tracks down Holmes in the country retreat he shares with Dr. Watson and persuades him to come out of retirement and investigate the death of Vera Bates. Holmes visits Downton Abbey under an assumed identity, with Watson in disguise as his valet. Working together again helps them cope with a recent trauma that severely tested their longstanding relationship--and also allows them to uncover a solution consistent with and yet so much more satisfying than the one used on the actual show.

Scream! by johnwatso (E, 15,250 w., 8 Ch. || Scream Crossover || Post S4, Horror / Slasher, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Case Fic, Minor Character Death, Copycat Killer, Three Garridebs Moment) – An unknown number starts calling Sherlock and asking questions about horror movies. John is pretty sure it's a serial killer.

The Sinking Of The Titanic: Sixty Years Later by flawedamythyst (T, 15,340 w., 1 Ch. || Historical Titanic Fusion || John POV, Deaths) – John Watson is interviewed for a documentary being made for the sixtieth anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. The story he tells is not the one the interviewer was expecting.

Sanctuary by a_different_equation (E, 15,437 w., 7 Ch. || Medieval AU / Canterbury Tales Fusion || Blacksmith Sherlock, Guard John, Secret Relationship, Dom Sherlock, Sub John, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, BAMF Female Characters) – England, 1230: John Watson is an ex-soldier who works as the head of the guards in his hometown. Sherlock Holmes, the local blacksmith, is his secret.

Over Cloud and Under Cloud by khorazir (T, 16,477 w., 3 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Cabin Pressure Crossover || Post-TRF, Angst, Humour, Pre-Slash, Pining) – After his Fall, Sherlock travels the world to destroy what remains of James Moriarty's criminal empire. When things don't go according to plan and he finds himself in desperate need of a discreet means of travel, cue MJN Air... Part 1 of the Over/Under series

The Hopes and Fears of all the Years by Joaquinbumblebee24 (T, 16,567 w., 11 Ch. || House MD Crossover || UAP Divergence, Illness, Medical Inaccuracies, Alternating POVs, POV House, POV John, Medical Professionals, Developing Relationship, Flashbacks, Sports References, Neurology/Neuroscience) – 27 years ago, House became the father of Sherlock Holmes. 27 years later, every father's worst nightmare came true when Sherlock's roommate, John Watson, called in the middle of the night to inform House that his son was ill.

It's About Time, Don't You Think by WaywardSpark (M, 17,113 w., 4 Ch. || About Time Fusion || Time Traveller John, Romantic Comedy, Magical Realism, Bars and Pubs, Pining John, Background Case) – If you were to ask Sherlock Holmes where he and John Watson met for the first time, he would confidently be able to tell you Lab room 2, St Bart's Hospital, London, 29th of January 2010 at 11:47 in the morning. For John Watson, it's an entirely different story.

In Arduis Fidelis by Raliena (T, 18,628 w., 10 Ch. || GI Joe Crossover || Captivity, Surgery, BAMF John, John “Three Continents” Watson, POV John Watson, Prisoner of War, Cobra - Freeform, soldier John, John-centric, Doctor John Watson, John is a Very Good Doctor, Violence) – Once upon a time John was a Soldier and a Doctor. And he was known John or Doc or Doctor. But things change. And he *earned* his right to the name “Three Continents Watson”. Part 1 of the Three Continents Watson series

Hinder-Them Holmes by breathesomeday (T, 19,485 w., 1 Ch. || Wreck-It Ralph Fusion / Gaming AU || Angst, Fluff) – “My name is Sherlock Holmes and I’m a bad guy.”

Until the End of my Days by chervilspotatoes (M, 20,272 w., 20 Ch. || Merlin Crossover / Medieval Magical AU || Sorcerer Sherlock, Prince John, Pining Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Teenlock, Servant Sherlock, BAMF Sherlock, BAMF John, Heroic Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Alternating POV, Protective Greg, Love Confessions, Soul Bond / Mates, Happy Ending) – Sherlock learns to embrace his destiny as Prince John's protector, but soon realizes he is in love with the unavailable prince. However, this knowledge does not stop him from staying by John's side as John becomes king and faces unforeseen circumstances.

If I had a boat I would sail to you by Sunnyrea (E, 20,576 w., 1 Ch. || Titanic Fusion) – John is completely different and special from anyone Sherlock would normally come in contact with - no talk of money and hidden family secrets, no surface, superfluous conversations and blatant lies. John was the most honest person in less than five minutes Sherlock has ever met. He wants to know everything else there is to know about John Watson.

I wake up and I wake up and you're still dead by thisprettywren (M, 24,226 w., 1 Ch. || Memento Fusion AU || Amnesia, Timelines, Case Fic) – Sherlock isn't the only one who's lost.

Lost At Sea by orphan_account (T, 24,445 w., 11 Ch. || Titanic Crossover || Johnlock and Adlock) – John Watson boards Titanic looking for a new life, free from all those terrible things he's seen and done. Sherlock Holmes boards Titanic reluctant, bound to a woman he does not want. Two souls, bathing in the stars forever, lost at sea.

hurry home by augustbird (E, 25,606 w., 1 Ch. || Skyfall / Bond Fusion || Sherlock as Q, John as 007) – When John is recruited into the MI6 to track down a security leak, he didn’t expect it to get this out of hand. At least he has Sherlock Holmes. Skyfall fusion. Sequel to us against.

The Man in the Crimson Cloak by Aelaer (T, 25,968 w., 6 Ch. || Dr. Strange Crossover || Post-S1 / Post Avengers Endgame, No Johnlock, Action / Adventure, POV Sherlock, Dimension Travel, BAMF Strange, BAMF Sherlock, Bratty Sherlock) – Sherlock’s terribly ordinary and outright dull day turns into something well beyond his wildest dreams when a most interesting stranger enters his flat. Part 3 of the Adventures Throughout the Multiverse series

A Visit To The Doctor by flawedamythyst (T, 28,318 w., 1 Ch. || ACD/BBC Crossover || Time Travel, Hollywood Physics) – When Watson gets ill, Holmes goes to extraordinary lengths to get him well again.

The Unsinkable Ship by drjohnhwatson (NR, 36,758 w., 5 Ch. || ACD Canon Holmes Titanic Fusion || Retirement, Established Relationship, Historical References) – Holmes and Watson board Titanic for her maiden voyage.

Keeping It Loki by AtlinMerrick (E, 39,016 w., 11 Ch. || MCU Crossover || Loki/Sherlock and Johnlock, Oral Sex, Banter, Storytelling, Dream Sex, Wet Dream, Anal, Sexy Talk, Domestics) – Look, it was a dream god damn it. It was just a sexy, toe-curling, kinky, cock-hardening, *wet* dream. Yet it didn't matter how many times John told Sherlock that, Sherlock got all red-faced and stalked out of the sitting room, and then stalked back with his mouth open but stalked off again without actually saying anything. Yes, well John Watson knew precisely what to do about that.

A Lost Heart - An Empty Home by Raliena (T, 41,183 w., 21 Ch. || GI Joe Fusion || TEH / Post-TFP, Mystery, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Three Continents Watson, Violence, BAMF John, Soldier John, Sherlock-centric) – Nearly three years have passed since Sherlock jumped, and now he comes home to finish what he started. He wants to finish with John by his side. But that may not be as simple as he first thought. Part 3 of Three Continents Watson

The Baker Street House by qalets (T, 42,046 w., 13 Ch. || Lake House Fusion || Mollstrade, Alternate Timelines, Time Travel, Epistolary, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Pining, Mutual Pining, Emotional Constipation, London) – At the end of his tenancy in a flat in Baker Street Dr John Watson starts a tentative correspondence with the previous tenant: a Mr Sherlock Holmes. But Sherlock only just moved in. Together, while two years apart, they begin to fall for each other through letters, while life, and cases, continue around them.

Here We Go Again by disfictional (E, 46,687 w., 10 Ch. || Mama Mia-Inspired Fusion || Post-S4, Older Rosie, Alternating POV, Reunion, Retirement, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Coming Out, Parentlock, Weddings, Fluff and Angst) – Ransacking some old trunks, Rosie Watson finds her father's old journal filled with remnants of a blog he used to keep about his association with Sherlock Holmes. In an attempt to meet the man who had a profound impact on her early years, Rosie invites the long-estranged detective to her wedding under false pretences.

Whirlwind by DiscordantWords (M, 50,640 w., 10 Ch. || WiP || Twister Fusion || Bad Weather, Storm Chasing, Post Break Up, Reunions, Non-Linear Narrative, Mutual Pining, Angst with Happy Ending) – New job, new truck, new fiancée... John Watson, former storm chaser, has settled into a comfortable new life. There's only one problem: John's already married. And the the divorce papers he's been sending to his former partner, Sherlock Holmes, keep going missing. So with his fiancée Mary by his side, John reluctantly makes a trip to see him in the hopes of finalizing their divorce once and for all. But John arrives in the midst of a very active storm season, and Sherlock very clearly hasn’t let go of the past. Against his better judgement, John finds himself talked into riding along after one last storm.

The Lost Duke by SelfSameLine (M, 51,395 w., 13 Ch. || Anastasia Fusion || Romance, Kidlock, Royalty, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers) – "We’re looking for him.” John pointed up the stairs to the portrait hanging proudly against the wall. It was blackened and torn in places, but two faces, one of a pretty woman and one of a dark haired boy remained unmarred, staring blankly out into the night.The boy’s eyebrows knitted together. “A royal?” Lestrade huffed. “The lost duke, yes. Haven’t you heard of him?”

If He Be Worthy by AndyHood (T, 58,110 w, 18 Ch. || Avengers / MCU Crossover || Friendship, Adventure) – In the aftermath of the alien invasion of London, Coulson's team is set out to retrieve a man, a man that had picked up Thor's hammer. John Watson hadn't meant to get mixed up in the alien invasion only intending to repay a favor. He had only been surveying the damage done by the aliens when he had tripped on a hammer, he didn't know the significance of being able to pick it up.

Il Traviato by kedgeree (E, 68,809 w., 18 Ch. || Pretty Woman Fusion || Romance, Prostitution, Case Fic, False Identity, First Kiss/Time) – A down-on-his-luck ex-soldier meets a wealthy businessman in need of a short-term companion. [TRANSLATION: 中文-普通话國語]

Real Time by Callie4180 (T, 74,935 w., 25 Ch. || 24 Fusion || Creepy Moriarty, Violence, BAMF Mrs Hudson, Suggestions of Torture, Biochemist Sherlock, Bodyguard John) – The world is under the threat of a biological weapon, and a brilliant biochemist needs protection. His own life is a mess, and he doesn't know who he can trust. He's going to have to be at his best every moment if he's going to survive. This is going to be the longest day of John Watson's life.

So Grant Us All a Change of Heart by ArwaMachine (E, 83,276 w., 5 Ch. || Christmas Carol Fusion || T6T Compliant, Pining, Angst with Happy Ending, Smut, Temporary Character Death, Drug Use / Reference, Suicide) – It’s Christmastime at Baker Street, but things are far from festive. Mary is dead, John and Sherlock’s friendship is all but ruined, and Sherlock has become a right dick about everything. More convinced than ever that sentiment is objectively useless, Sherlock needs a little paranormal intervention to see the error of his ways or else run the risk of losing all that is important to him.

I Am a Camera by mom2boys (T, 89,929 w., 36 Ch. || Enola Holmes Crossover || Developing Relationship, WW2 / Spanish Civil War, Weimar Germany, Period-Typical Homophobia, Nazi Germany, Fascism, Promiscuity, Espionage, BAMF John, Closeted John, Angst With Happy Ending) – So begins John H. Watson's Great Work. It is the story of two men who meet just before the tide of war and fascism sweeps across Europe and the world. Circumstances will separate them, but the arc of history is long and bends towards love.

The Hollow Ones by antietamfalls (M, 100,244 w., 23 Ch. || Walking Dead Fusion || Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Build, Emotional Constipation, Protective John, Hurt/Comfort) – The dead walk. Mangled corpses of the deceased rise and mindlessly feast upon the flesh of the living. John wakes up, alone and confused, into the remnants of a city gone mad. He will search for answers. He will find Sherlock at any cost. And he will learn that the living are far more dangerous than the dead. 

Metamorphosis by KtwoNtwo (T, 101,597 w., 29 w., || James Bond / Skyfall Fusion / Werewolf AU || Post-Skyfall, Werewolf Bond, Werewolf Q, Case Fic, Slow Build, Q is a Holmes) – “Other duties as assigned” takes on a whole new meaning when James Bond returns from a mission and finds himself juggling his 00 status, preternatural politics and having to act as pack leader to a newly created werewolf. Part 1 of The Government Pack

Keep the Car Running by earlgreytea68 (M, 125,124 w., 31 Ch. || Inception Fusion  || Tags to Be Added) – If Mycroft Holmes lived in a world where people could steal information from the subconsciouses of others, tell me he wouldn't be all over that when he had Moriarty in custody. Part 1 of KtCR

The Dragon's Spell Series by ImpossibleElement (M, 280,698 w. across 4 works || Descendants Fusion || Alternating POV, Heroes & Villains, Humour, Romance, Mystery, Drama, Slow Burn, Teenlock, Dragons, Dubious Sherlock) – In a world where magic is obsolete and the villains have been trapped inside an island without it; one young man will have a chance to change everything for himself and everyone else. For better or for worse. Definitely for worse.

Wild About Harry Series by PlaidAdder (T, 397,189  w. across 9 works || Doctor Who Crossover || Harry/Clara and Johnlock, Post-TRF, Canon Compliant, Dancing, Case Fics, Morning After, Teamwork, Drug Use, , Christmas, Alcoholism, Fix It Fics, Alternating POVs, Established Relationships) – This started as a post-Reichenbach fic and turned into a series in which Harry Watson is a repeating character. John and Sherlock get together in the first story ("Empty Houses") and thereafter it's either developing relationship or established relationship. Most of this is case fic and long, but there are a few shorter ones.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #crossovers and fusion fics #crossover fics #fusion fics #long post #marked for later fics